Chapter 2
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Flowers
Summary: Curiosity gets the best of you and you try to contact 'Eraserhead' so you could make sense of the sparkling feeling in your chest and perhaps you'd receive...flowers in the end?
[f/f] = favorite flower
Notes: Short chapter compared to the first. Comments are much appreciated. Question of the day: who is your favorite hero in Boku no Hero Academia?
You blinked your eyes rather sluggishly, adjusting to your slightly dim room that was adorned in small rays of light peeking through the curtains. An irritated groan escaped your lips. The events from last night flooded your mind as you rolled off the bed, kicking the sheets off in the process. You were feeling quite muzzy due to the lack of sleep—the policemen persisted with their questioning and the medics decided to check if you were alright, thus your morning grogginess.
Dragging your feet to the washroom to freshen up a bit, you lazily fumbled through your toiletries and stared at the mirror with droopy eyes. You always got a decent amount of sleep, though there were occasions when you didn't and last night was one of those peculiar occasions. You heaved a tired sigh, dipping your head into the sink bowl and allowed the cold water to trickle down your h/c hair to the nape of your neck.
"Eraserhead," you mumbled, the stentorian sound of water gushing above you silencing your audible mumbles.
Retracting your head back from the icy bliss pounding against your scalp, you fished out your toothbrush and dabbed it with the dental paste, brushing away in flurry as you studied your facial features once more. Your skin appeared to be much paler than before, and waves of exhaustion washed over you—the unfortunate side of your Quirk. Sure you could construct monstrous mirages of horrifying beasts that could paralyze one with fear but it drained your energy after putting it into practice and you did not like feeling extremely wary.
Forcing an illusion to fake a facade was much easier and simpler; it didn't require a lot of your energy in the end. But it was effortlessly broken down by a mere stranger who knew nothing about you—in trifling seconds!
You snapped out of your trance and rinsed your mouth prior to returning to your bedroom where your art project awaited you on your desk, unfinished structure designs scribbled onto the large A3 paper. You let out a small curse under your breath; you completely forgot about your work and it was due later that afternoon. Dropping your weight onto the chair, you scanned through the art piece and brushed the excessive pencil shavings off that still lingered on your paper from the last time you worked on it. The project was straightforward: draw the different elevations of an ordinary house with proper labeled measurements—piece of cake. But right now, you didn't feel like twirling your pencil.
Your mind was too preoccupied with last night's events and the mysterious hero: Eraserhead.
Your chest felt awfully hefty, and somehow something bubbly flared inside of you at the memory of the bedraggled black haired hero that had helped you—perhaps it was swelling admiration. You admitted that he was quite cool the way he coiled the cloth round his victims in expertise and they way he handled the situation with ease, just like a professional. You chuckled to yourself: he already was a professional.
Unknowingly, your hands shoved your project aside as you rested your head against the smooth texture of your desk, drawing quick breaths to soothe yourself.
You tried to do something heroic last night, with your weak Quirk and you couldn't fathom your mixed emotions at that time. You had an intense desire to aid the cowering customers shrouded in a thick fog of fear and for the first time, you felt that you could actually do something to help others instead of helping yourself.
You wanted to prove to the people of the past that you weren't worthless.
But at the last straw, your efforts were dashed and shattered before you could feel a sense of triumph course through your veins—you never got to hear the delightful 'thank yous' you wanted to hear after you won; selfish weren't you?
Not entirely.
You groaned yet again; this time in starvation. Bolting from your seat to raid the kitchen, your e/c orbs settled on the empty contents of the refrigerator and your stomach growled at the sight, ravenous for a meal. From the looks of things, you had to head out into town. And you detested the deafening noise of the passing cars with the harsh sunlight beating down onto the busybodies of several emerging from towering skyscrapers However, before you could change clothes and wear an appropriate attire a buzz caught your attention and your eyes flickered to your phone perched on the bedside table.
Picking it up, you muttered, "Hitomi, what happened?"
"Nothing actually. I just called 'cause boss wanted to relay some information onto you," the platinum blonde answered, a cough stifling his words.
"Boss?" You knitted your brows, "did he show up after yesterday?"
You heard a nervous laugh on the opposite end, "He arrived early this morning and I had to explain everything to him in detail but you know, I blacked out and he wants you to recite your point of view."
"Why does he want to know all that? Can't he just ask the police?"
"I don't know," Hitomi said in hushed whispers, "but I don't want to get on his bad side for asking. He said you can drop by in your free time but sometime this week."
"Alright," you agreed, taking a minute to pause, "how about work? Do I still have to come in to fill my shifts?"
Hitomi began to laugh hysterically, his voice crackling on the phone, "Of course not! The place's wrecked. We have a lot of things to get fixed and boss isn't too happy with the outcome of the robbery. Good thing that hero appeared just in the nick of time—we could have been goners!"
You didn't answer right away, recalling the breathtaking instant when you heard the sharp shrieking of the glass window bursting into crestfallen crystals when your attacker nearly dug his knife into your chest: you really were lucky.
"Yeah," you managed to utter, "could you let me know if we're back in business?"
"Sure!"
"Then I'll guess I'll see you when I show up at the shop. Send the boss my regards."
"Gladly," you swore you could see the blonde's Cheshire grin even if he was blocks away, "I heard that you did a pretty amazing job at handling those thieves. Good job by the way."
"Oh."
A faint smile crept onto your lips, a tiny speck of euphoria lighting itself in your heart—maybe you were wrong. As you twiddled with your fingers, an idea popped up in your head and you decided to break the uncanny silence,
"Hitomi, did you get the chance to speak with that hero who saved us?"
"Huh?" Hitomi said in puzzlement, "Oh, you mean Aizawa-san right? Man, that was a huge shock! I didn't expect him to be the one to save us. He checked up on me after I woke up; that stubborn mule is still lazy." A flame of curiosity kindled brilliantly inside of your chest: how on earth did Hitomi know him?
"His name is... Aizawa?" You murmured quietly to yourself, "Are you two friends?"
The blonde baker let out a surprised squeal, "What's this? Dear [Y/N]-chan wants to know about a person? Cue the confetti! The world is finally changing!" Chirpy titters echoed through the phone line.
"Ha ha, very funny." You shrugged nonchalantly at the man's childish behavior. "I just want to thank him again for what he did, nothing more so don't get any wrong ideas. Do you have his number or a way to contact him in any case?"
'Not that I know of. We just know each other from Junior High and all and he used to drop by for some coffee before you started working. I guess his hero work kept him occupied 'cause he hasn't swept in for quite a long time. You shouldn't bother yourself with him that much—he doesn't like attention."
You found this amusingly bizarre. Normally a hero would want the glimmering attention with the media swarming behind like buzzing bees, but that didn't seem the case with this 'Aizawa.'
"Okay, well thanks for calling. I have to go to the store to get some grub," you appraised, a tinge of disappointment clinging to your disheartened words.
Hitomi reverberated cheerfully in response, "Then I'll see you later this week! Have a nice day, [Y/N]!"
The phone clicked with its usual annoying beep and you buried it inside your handbag prior to striding to your closet in search for attire. A plain turquoise shirt with a pair of denim shorts should do the trick, right? Wrestling your work sneakers onto your feet, you tugged at the fluffy jacket hugging your figure and flung the door wide open, stepping outside your apartment to relinquish in the sheer frostiness of the chill morning. Mornings were always cold—regardless of the cozy warmth spring basked the mossy green leaves in comfort. You locked the door and made your way down the fleet of stairs, ignoring, for once, the gloomy air you usually put yourself in.
""Good thing I brought my jacket," you purred, raising the collar a bit higher.
You continued with a slow pace along the pavements, your pockets jingling with coins from a previous purchase. The convenience store was in sight, its bright red and blue neon lights on the sign illuminating the slightly darkened area bit by bit and you fished out your phone, glancing at the time. '06:30' am it read, and you grunted, shoving it back inside your bag. Considering the time you woke up, you had plenty of time to have a decent breakfast, finish your art project and return it by the afternoon—perfect.
The glass doors slid ajar and you walked in casually, but your e/c orbs did not fail to steal a glance at your untidy bundle of hair curled into a bun and a small frown crept onto your face. However, you were too fatigued to even bother with it; food, my dear friend, was much more important than appearance. As you ambled through the stacked shelves of snacks, you thought you saw familiar locks tinted with dark black in the corner of your eye and forgetting your true purpose of scavenging for breakfast, you followed the male through the store.
You could've set up a quick illusion to hide your presence, but you had a feeling that the hero would have definitely noticed you with or without your Quirk in action.
His movements skid to a halt—his dark grim eyes scanning through the store and you felt his harsh glare pierce through you as he spotted you, his mouth slowly opening,
"Are you... stalking me?"
You jerked from your hiding spot, flailing your arms in the air in denial, "Of course not! I-I just have something to say to you!" Your face was once again flushed with embarrassment like the previous night, stammers hindering your speech.
"Then why didn't you come straight up to me?" The black haired male loosened his grip on the plastic bag he was holding, "You're the girl from last night, right?" You nodded at his question. "Did you forget to say something last night?"
"Um, thank you again for helping me—no, for helping everyone at the coffee shop. I'm, uh, really grateful for what you did so," you bowed deeply, bungling for words to express your gratitude, "Is there something I can do to repay you?" You found it funny how your personality seemed to change in swift moments.
Eraserhead continued to stare you down, completely unsure of what to do with you. He certainly never had someone come directly at him with appreciation that wasn't the mass media with their aggravating flashing cameras and mouths that could spout lies in seconds. He shifted, bringing his free hand to tousle his black locks.
"How about I walk you home? You're kinda attracting attention."
You lifted your head up and noticed a few people stopping in their tracks to peer at what you were doing, "S-sorry. That's fine, I guess? But thank you again."
"There's no need to thank me," he groaned, ushering you to follow him, "I just did what a hero would do at a time like that." He stated it with ease, ignoring the fact that it was quite a big deal for you.
"But you saved my life, Aizawa-san."
"How did you- wait, you're friends with Tashikawa right?" Aizawa grumbled as he referred to Hitomi, knowing all-too well about the platinum blonde's gigantic, blabbering mouth.
You let out a giggle, "That's Hitomi for you."
The two of you halted at the cashier, the black haired male paying for his items and you stepped to the side to admire him from the sidelines—the place where you rightfully belonged in life. His hair was clearly in a mess like yours and his face was disheveled, your eyes settling on the black jumpsuit he was dressed in. As soon as he finished and stepped out of the store, you tackled him with a bemused question,
"Why are you still wearing your hero outfit?"
Aizawa noted with a low grunt, "Why are you pesky?" You let out a small huff in response.
"Just trying to make a conversation," you said, kicking the pebbles in your path as you walked alongside him and he merely groaned.
"You don't have to force yourself to talk to me. I'm fine with silence along the way," he informed you, wondering why he even offered to walk you home.
"No, I want to speak to you," you admitted rather bluntly without hesitation, "There's something about you that I can't put aside."
Aizawa's eyes widened ever so slightly, "You're pretty bold, aren't you?" It was around then that your face flared in deep scarlet upon realization, and you crossed your arms over your chest.
"Well," you began, "I'd be lying if I denied it. It's just that... last night you said something strange and it caught my of guard I suppose," he shot you a confused look and you pressed on, "You said you erased my Quirk—you erased the illusion I created around myself and I don't know. It's the first time that happened and I wanted to know more about you and if it had something to do with your Quirk. I'm sorry, I'm ranting too much."
"No, it's fine," Aizawa replied dully, "my Quirk is called 'Erasure' and I can erase a person's Quirk by looking at them. I think my Quirk was still in action when I looked at you."
Unbeknownst to you, the speed you two were walking at increased and the muffled sound of tapping engulfed your ears and thoughts, drowning out any possible reasoning.
"So your Quirk allows you to make illusions?" He inquired, observing how you suddenly felt agitated at the mention of your ability.
"Yeah, I can create mirages and illusions; small or big, but it requires a lot of my energy so I don't bother creating large threatening ones," you explained with a wave gesture, "Like this." You focused on your right hand that was hovering in front of you and in an instantaneous second, a thin string of black floated in a swirly pattern which ignited blazing blue flames on the tip of your fingertips and subsequently, it dissipated into thin air. In a blink of an eye, a bloody mask popped up and Aizawa couldn't deny that it startled him.
"Sorry, did it startle you?"
He shook his head in denial, "it's an interesting Quirk."
"I don't think so," you let out a raspy laugh, "it only works well if the user and victim concentrate on the area being used to construct the illusion. The mirages I create relies on the atmospheric conditions so I don't put it in practice that much. Plus, the maximum victims I can accommodate for are five. It's not that great."
"But if you practice then you could do it on a larger scale," Aizawa told you with tiny grumbles in his tone.
"That's the problem, I don't want to."
He scoffed at your answer, focusing on the giant steps he took forward as silence seeped in. You didn't really want to dwell on yourself—you wanted to know more about him instead. While you were falling into deep thought, Aizawa had stopped at a flower stall located right near your apartment, oblivious to his surroundings that this was your stop. You reached out to nudge his shoulder, but he spun round with a bouquet of [f/f], facing you with a monotone expression.
"Here," he motioned, "you seemed gloomy so I did the first thing that came to my mind. Women like flowers, right?"
You looked at him with wide eyes, disbelief written on your facial expression, "Y-yeah, but you didn't have to buy me a bouquet to the very least. I'm just a stranger to you anyway." Aizawa pushed the flowers to you and you had no choice but to receive it.
"I don't think we're strangers anymore," his locks swayed side to side in the small morning breeze, "your name?"
"[Y/N]," you uttered, a faint blush adorning your cheeks—probably from the sudden heat emitted from the rising sun in the blurry sky, "[L/N] [Y/N]."
Aizawa raised his free hand and waved as he trudged away from the flower stall, his back shrinking in size as he disappeared into the distance. You clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly to your chest, the sweet aroma of your favorite flowers flooding your nostrils. He didn't even know they were favorite flowers and gave it to you anyway.
And you couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at your lips in content.