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Tokoyami set Eri and Shōta down near temporary medical facilities, then landed himself.
Dark Shadow brought Eri to be checked out, playing a pat-a-cake game with her. Shōta's arms felt distressingly empty after the hours spent clinging.
Tokoyami opened his mouth to say something, but Shōta's deep bow halted his speech. “Thank you for finding us.”
Tokoyami spluttered. “Sir, I - no. You are my sensei.”
Shōta stayed low. “You saved my daughter. I can never repay that.”
“It was my light in a dark day,” Tokoyami replied stiffly and gave a small bow in return. Then he called to Dark Shadow and excused himself.
Upon returning to Eri's side, the girl wrapped her arms around Shōta. Her fingers buried in the fabric of his sodden t-shirt. She looked at him intently. “I'm never unlocking my tentacles ever again.”
He smiled tiredly. “Oh? What about going to school?”
She shrugged. “Maybe you'll be better at English if you have to come with me.”
“You've been listening to Hizashi too much.”
“Mirio-san said I shouldn't ask you for help with my English homework either.”
Shōta narrowed his eye at Eri. “Who do I have to blame for this level of sass?”
She smiled broadly. “I'm your girl.”
His chest twinged pleasantly. “Fair enough.”
One of the medical staff gestured for him to sit down for his own exam, but he dismissed them with a wave.
Eri held her hands up to him. Shōta carefully picked her up with his uninjured left arm. “Miss Chiyo is gonna be so mad at you.”
“She's right, you know.”
Shōta turned to face the man behind him, hyperaware of all the staff and media around them. “Mic,” he said blandly.
The blonde smiled blindingly and grabbed Shōta's free hand. “Shō-chan!”
“We are not alone,” Shōta replied, his voice low.
Hizashi leaned in and waggled his eyebrows. “So I can call you Shō-chan in private?”
Shōta scrunched up his shoulders to cover his face with his scarf.
Hizashi shifted his attention. “And our Eri-chan!”
She giggled and nestled her face into Shōta's neck. “Hi Mr. Zashi.”
Hizashi straightened up, but lowered his voice. “As soon as we heard about the accident, I kept trying and trying to call. Nezu confirmed from security cameras that you and Eri were on the train, and somehow 1A found out. Suddenly there's a busload of heroes and hero students on the way here. We were all so scared, kitten.”
Even though he'd wanted to be with Hizashi for so long, being called a pet name still felt off.
Too new maybe?
Shōta shifted on his feet, looking away.
“Thanks for keeping him safe for me, yo!” Hizashi held up a hand to Eri. She gave him an enthusiastic high-five.
Accounting for the sudden shift of her weight made his leg throb where it connected to his prosthesis. Shōta winced.
Hizashi noticed. He always notices.
“Let's find RG, yeah?” Hizashi pointed at Shōta with a Present Mic finger gun.
“I'm fine,” Shōta snapped and withdrew his hand.
Why did I do that?
Hizashi looked at Shōta like a frantic animal, and Shōta supposed that was fair. He felt raw, vulnerable.
What was it Eri said earlier? “I used up all my brave for today”?
“Sorry, Zashi,” he muttered. "I just - I want to go home. We need to go home."
The man's face relaxed and he gave a wink. “I've known you for 15 years, you little porcupine. Hasn't scared me off yet.”
Shōta flushed and his ears felt hot.
Too much. This is too much. Why is this too much?
“Stay here,” Hizashi said, squeezing his hand. “I'll let folks know you're okay but need your space. And then I can take you home.”
He nodded. Hizashi walked away, waving and calling to someone.
Eri yawned again. “Sometimes when we're finally safe, our feelings get big. Right? That's what you told me.”
Shōta nodded again.
Eri mumbled into his skin, sounding half-asleep. “I think it's nice that Mr. Zashi makes you feel safe enough for your feelings to get big.”
Is that what this is?
Shōta woke up in a soft bed but didn't bother to look around. He could tell by the man's scent that it was Hizashi carding his fingers through Shōta's bedhead.
Shōta hummed and leaned into the touch.
Hizashi giggled. “You really are a cat.”
A small smile spread across Shōta's face.
“My kitten,” Hizashi sighed happily. “Safe and sound, and purring away.”
With a smirk, Shōta rolled over and pinned the man to the bed below him. “I'll show you purring.”
“Then show me.” Hizashi snapped his teeth playfully at Shōta.
Their lips met. Kisses quickly became open, wetter and needier. Hizashi's hands tightened on Shōta's hips. Shōta moaned softly, nudging Hizashi's chin to the side to trail kisses down the man's neck.
Hizashi murmured, “mmm, what a playful kitten.”
Shōta nipped Hizashi's neck where it met his collarbone. The responding gasp sent a wave of heat through Shōta's whole body. The roll of his hips into Hizashi's was nearly involuntary.
At the sound of small feet running down the hallway, Shōta glared intently at the door. He tilted his head slightly and the lock rotated into place.
Eri wiggled the doorknob. After a second unsuccessful try, she called out, “can I watch cartoons before breakfast?”
“Yep, I'll be out in a few minutes,” Shōta replied, diving back down to suck on Hizashi's earlobe.
“We gonna talk about what just happened with the lock?” Hizashi asked breathlessly.
Shōta shuddered with another press of his hips. “Later.”
Yawning, Shōta leaned on the kitchen counter. His leg ached from the strain of yesterday, and the morning's extracurriculars didn't help. He poured his coffee with his eye barely cracked open.
Hizashi ran into the kitchen, squealing, right as Shōta took his first sip. Shōta reached out to steady the man without a thought. Hizashi's socked feet had almost lost purchase in his enthusiasm.
Hizashi held up his phone. “Shō-chan, it's sooooooo cute!”
Shōta leaned back so that he could actually see the screen. Hizashi turned it around and tapped the screen.
“Could it be? We here at Juko News hope so!” the speakers blared. Hizashi scooted next to him to watch together, their hips brushing together. “It looks like notoriously gruff and tough ‘final war’ veteran Eraserhead goes by another name!”
Shōta made a face and paused it. “How long has that been up?”
Hizashi pouted at the pause. “Only like 30 minutes. I'm sure Nezu's already working on taking it down so I saved it on my phone and the UA shared drives.”
“How did you find it?” Shōta demanded.
Hizashi smirked. “Midoriya sent it to the 1A group chat. When he got it, Shinso came to the door right away.”
“I was awake. You didn't tell me he was here.”
“You were getting dressed and he didn't want to stay.”
“Why not?”
Hizashi laughed. “Put yourself in his shoes. Would you want to stay?”
Shōta scowled.
Hizashi bounced on his toes. “Let me show you the rest.”
Hiding his face with his coffee cup, Shōta murmured, “Don't wanna. Delete it from your phone.”
“Nope. Doesn't Mr. Underground want to know what's out there about him for mission integrity or whatever?” Hizashi tapped play.
“It looks like Eraser was a passenger in the derailed bullet train between stations in Kanagawa and Shizuoka prefectures,” the newscaster continued. “As you can see in these photos captured by our staff photographer, the hero is looking rough for wear. He's sporting his signature scarf but is otherwise lacking his uniform and other support equipment.”
The photo on the screen showed his bow to Tokoyami. The damage to his clothes was evident - they were soaked and covered in mud. His t-shirt was wrinkled and bunched where Eri had held onto it. The black jeans were littered with small rips and one large tear on his right leg, allowing a glint of metal off his prosthesis to show.
Shōta shifted in discomfort.
“So who's this little angel, clearly another passenger from the train? One of our staff members recognized her from a raid several years ago.”
Shōta went pale as they showed a close-up of Eri's face. “Hizashi, this could be dangerous.”
Hizashi sighed dramatically. “You know Nezu's on that too. I don't think he realized I could hear him talking to himself when he was going through all that security footage. ‘I need to find my favorite humans.’”
Shōta flushed as the newscaster spoke again. “We determined that she was a ward of UA after the raid. Sources say that Eraserhead was her primary guardian from the start. Her adoption by the hero was finalized 6 months ago Congratulations to this sweet girl and Eraser-dad!”
The image on the screen this time showed Shōta from the waist up with Eri asleep on his shoulder. He was looking down at her with a small smile.
Shōta paused the video and held the phone closer to his face, examining every detail of the image. Her comfort. His tight hold in contrast to his calm but happy expression.
“We can make it your phone's lock screen, Eraser-dad,” Hizashi teased.
He shoved the phone back into Hizashi's hands and took a long drink of coffee. “That reminds me. My phone was in my back pocket through a train derailing, my entire back crashing into a ravine wall, and being soaked in river water. Even if I knew where it was, I'm sure that I'd need a new one.”
“25 minutes after sharing a story about Eraserhead's adoption of a young girl, Juzo News obtained exclusive rights to additional information and images from freelance journalist Tokuda Takeo!”
Shōta grabbed Hizashi's arm and drew him back over so they could both see the screen again.
“Tokuda reported hearing the girl call Eraserhead ‘Daddy,’ which is just the cutest! Tokuda stayed nearby in the hopes of capturing Eri and Eraserhead interacting. Unfortunately, the girl snoozed through when they left the scene.”
Shōta rolled his eye. “That was worth a follow up video?”
Hizashi shrugged. “It's adorable and there's basically no information about you out there, besides the war. I'm not surprised.”
“Eraser and Present Mic have reportedly been best friends for years, so how do we read the body language here?”
A wider perspective photograph appeared, showing both of them from head to toe. Shōta immediately recognized when Hizashi had called him “Shō-chan” the night before. His red face was partially turned away and hidden in his scarf. Hizashi was leaned into his space with a goofy grin and his eyebrows raised.
“It's good news for all of us that Tokuda is a patient man. Prepare for the real scoop. It'll break hearts!”
Shōta's breath stuttered at the image on screen. Shōta had stretched after settling Eri into the car and then rested his back against his own door. Hizashi was still in his hero costume, but had tied his hair in a low bun and stored his directional speaker in the trunk. It wasn't like they were alone, but everyone around them had seemed occupied. Shōta, against his better judgment, had caught Hizashi's hand and pulled the man against him and into a quick kiss. Tokuda had captured that moment.
The next image showed the moments after the kiss, when Hizashi had pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “you're both safe now. I've got you.”
Shōta was beyond relieved when the screen flitted back to the reporter. He'd broken down in tears after Hizashi's words. The photographer either didn't take the photo, or didn't sell it with the rest.
“Well that clears things up, doesn't it folks?” the reporter laughed. “Of course we don't know if things developed last night or have been going on for a while. But either way, we here at Juzo News like this softer side of Eraserhead!”
The final image was from earlier in the night. Shōta held a sleeping Eri and Hizashi held his other hand. Their faces radiated mutual admiration and affection.
Shōta paused the video on it and swallowed roughly. He didn't even know he could make a face like that one. What he did know was that only Hizashi could have ever made it happen.
Turning to Hizashi, he set his coffee down on the counter. Then he took the phone from the hands of an absolutely dumbstruck Hizashi and put it down as well.
Hizashi stared at Shōta with wide green eyes. “You wanted this, us…to be private. Are you okay?”
Shōta cradled Hizashi's face in both hands. He closed his eye to sort through his thoughts, get past his fear, and build the will to speak. He opened his mouth a few times, only to close it again.
“I know you have a hard time taking what's in your heart and putting it into words,” Hizashi soothed. “It's okay.”
Shōta shook his head vigorously. “No, I need to. I want to. It's just - it's too much. The feeling is too big. It's like I'm drowning in it.”
Hizashi rested his hands on Shōta's chest. The weight was soothing. “I'm here.”
A big, shaky breath. Then Shōta opened his eye and looked at Hizashi again. Hizashi gave a small, encouraging smile.
Shōta rubbed Hizashi's cheekbone softly with his thumb. He took courage from the sense of warmth.
Practically whispering from the tightness in his throat, Shōta said, “I don't care who knows about this. I love you, Hizashi.”
Hizashi's eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Shō. I love you too.”
The weight of finally saying those words to each other held them in place. After what felt endless, Shōta looked down at Hizashi's lips.
The blonde kept pressing them together and then releasing them. A years-old nervous tic.
Shōta raised an eyebrow. “You already saved that video too, didn't you?”
“Yes!” Hizashi darted out of the kitchen, sing-songing over his shoulder. “And maaaaaaaaybe sent them both to the staff chat!”
With a huff, Shōta finished his cup of coffee and looked into the bottom of the mug mournfully. “God damnit."