The Music of Sweet News
"Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face."
(Juliet - Act 2, Scene 5)
Hizashi got home before his roommate did, and decided there was nothing he wanted to do more than sit on the couch with his cat and eat a tub of vanilla ice cream as he watched the latest reports (after a shower and a costume change, of course).
ERASERHEAD VS. PRESENT MIC!
That was the news headline, and he couldn't've felt prouder. Every station was talking about the new 'hero' and villain, and Hizashi only regretted that he wouldn't see the look on the idiot's face when he saw the name and put the pieces together.
…No, it wasn't right to call him an idiot. Despite the situation, the man had been an expert with that knife. If Hizashi hadn't had his tech, he'd definitely have a few extra holes in him right now…
He heard the front door, and his roommate called out, "I'm home!"
"Welcome home," he echoed through another vanilla spoonful.
Nemuri Kayama came into the living room, rubbing the back of her head, her hair still down from work. "What a night…" She slumped on the couch beside him and swiped his precious ice-cream tub, although Hizashi didn't put up much of a struggle before relinquishing it.
"Wanna talk about it?"
She shook her head and glanced at the TV as she swallowed a quick mouthful of vanilla. "Eraserhead, huh?"
"That's what they're calling him," he said innocently. "Your patrol could've been worse – a lot worse – and you know it."
She looked at him, her eyes searching. The orbs dipped down to the ice-cream tub. "Do you wanna talk about your day?"
"I'm [pissed]," he grumbled as he stole back the dessert tub, "and it's not for the reason you think: Higari broke up with me. Bastard couldn't even wait 'til the end of work to do it either, had to do it when I clocked in, like a dickbag."
Nemuri hissed, "Tough break. I bet work's gonna be awkward tomorrow."
Hizashi sighed and handed back the vanilla ice-cream so he could hug a pillow against his chest. "Na, I'm super mature."
"You're wearing a pair of pink cat pyjamas."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm mature, not straight."
"At least the break-up explains why you've been hogging all my ice-cream, unless something else happened tonight that you wanna talk about…"
He winked. "Nothing. At. All."
"Well, now that you've broken up…" She scooted close to him and pulled the cushion away, her face devilish. "You gonna let me ask about it?"
He rolled his eyes and when he spoke next, he was mimicking her voice. "Zaza, was he a real 'power loader' between the sheets? What sort of kinky stuff did you do with his fingers? How did your poor-"
"Okay, okay," she conceded, "I'll drop it…"
"It just feels like a waste of three years, and I am [super bitter]."
"Did you love him?"
He rolled his eyes. "We had a good thing going. I always tried to make time for him, not my fault my schedule's-"
"You're avoiding the question."
He pouted at her, accusingly. "You know the answer. There's only one guy I've ever loved…"
"Maybe you should date people our age. I get that love and libido don't always see age as an issue, but the guy was thirty-two, right?"
"Right, because I'm just magically going to run into people our age…"
"Not magically," she said as she stood and moved to store the coveted ice-cream back in the freezer before either of them turned into pigs. His cat (named Heater) hurried after her, hoping for a late-night snack, but Nemuri didn't crumble (truly she had a stronger will than Hizashi did). "You forget 'bout what's coming up?"
The blond pulled out his civilian phone and checked his meticulously detailed calendar, and sure enough he realised what she was referring to. "[Shit], forgot the reunion was this week." Something itched at the back of his mind, and it wasn't just his hearing-aids (although now that he thought about it, they were itchy too). "Think Shouta'll be there?" His chest fluttered.
Nemuri returned to the living room and leaned against the doorframe, a delicate frown shifting her features. "It's a mandatory event, since they love sharing all the success stories, like ours, but…"
Yeah, Hizashi Yamada was technically a success story. He'd graduated top of his Support Class, and had worked for Hero HQ ever since, designing tech for heroes and civilians alike. The pay was great. In fact, he would've been more than financially comfortable had that been his only job, but instead he worked three different gigs.
He worked for Hero HQ, was a DJ-for-Hire and ran his own radio show once a week. It kept him busy, and now he didn't have to worry about a needy boyfriend, he could focus on more important things, like his villainous antics.
"I wonder what Shouta's up to nowadays," he murmured, mostly to himself. An Erasure Quirk…
Pick a voice and tell me what the fuck is going on.
He felt his Quirk squirm in his throat as he tried to copy the sound, but he knew he was unsuccessful – he couldn't copy from a memory.
"You think Aizawa magically wants anything to do with us?" she asked, humourless disbelief in her tone. "He abandoned us! I know what happened was horrible, for both of you, but we didn't deserve to get shut out like that. I won't forgive him for how he treated you… The things he said and…"
Hizashi groaned and pulled the cat close against him, remembering back to better days. A kitten in a rainstorm, and two boys with their uniforms soaked through. "[OKAY]," he called in English, "I get it. Still, it might be nice to bridge that gap again, if he wants to." He wanted to try, at the very least.
"Pick up a one-night-stand at the reunion," she said as her eyes drifted between the TV and Hizashi. "Someone from our year, who you think'll be good in bed – that'll help you forget all about Power Loader and his magic fingers."
"You're really gross sometimes, you know that?" The scene of Eraserhead and Present Mic fighting resumed, and they both watched intently. "Be careful," he told her softly.
"Of which one?" she countered, a grin crossing her face.
He laughed. "The villain."
-x-
ERASERHEAD VS. PRESENT MIC!
Shouta turned the TV off calmly, although the rage was burning hot in his gut.
I'm gonna call you Eraserhead.
They were calling him a brand-new hero, and the man responsible was the one in the clip they referred to as the villain. He grabbed a few yen coins from his table, with a plan to go to the nearest public phonebooth to call the station and tell them 'Eraserhead' was actually a villain (and Present Mic was just an attention seeking joke), but he decided he was too tired for that much effort.
He wasn't stupid enough to call on his mobile either, so he decided to do … nothing at all. Aizawa dropped the money and glanced lazily around his shoddy home.
To call it an apartment was overly generous. The place had more in common with a closet than anything else, with the only difference being the attached bathroom. His entire life fit into these two small rooms, so that's all he needed. Even the furniture was sparse, with barely anything besides the table, the small TV, and a minibar. The place didn't have a kitchen, just a small portable stove and a kettle full of tap water (although these were mostly untouched). In the corner were a few tins of cheap cat food, although he didn't actually own a cat since the landlord had allergies (and seemingly a sixth sense whenever he'd snuck one home in the past).
Hell, he didn't bother with a futon either; his trusty yellow sleeping bag kept him warm through the cold nights.
His mask sat to the side, the red lenses in dire need of replacement. Only now had the ringing stopped, and he gathered enough energy to move to the bathroom and splash water on his face, to ensure his queasiness subsided. Dried blood still clung to his ears but, although it itched, he determined to wash it off in the shower instead.
In the dirty mirror, he caught sight of his reflection.
His unbrushed hair reached the tops of his shoulders and it was the same black as the course stubble that covered his jawline. For the past few years he'd worked as a bouncer, and the facial hair had been a necessary touch to up his level of intimidation.
Eraserhead.
He scowled at his reflection. Soon this wouldn't matter. In a few days, everyone would forget all about this little hiccup in his plan. The citizens were fickle creatures.
In a few days, Aizawa could debut successfully, although now he had to choose a new hero to takedown since Midnight would be too guarded.
But who…?
He pulled out his phone and checked over his schedule, sighing when he reminded himself how busy he was. He had work most nights this week, and the school reunion was also approaching.
Perhaps he could use the opportunity to plant explosives and-
Where was he going to get explosives? How could he afford them?
Present Mic had been right, and he hated it. Aizawa was a solo villain, without any contacts he could rely on for cheap supplies or integral information. He worked alone, naturally. He didn't exactly get a lot of money for his bouncer career either, but he knew the job inside and out, and hadn't felt particularly interested in quitting and seeking something with higher pay.
He'd made his mask himself, and even that had taken him months and multiple attempts.
Now he didn't even have his knife.
Some underground villain he was…
"A villain only bar," he murmured to himself, thoughtful. It was an interesting concept, and when he thought about it, it made some sense, especially with the bartender's remarkable Quirk. Aizawa had some contacts in villain circles, of course, but they were few, far between and unimpressive small fry. Despite the annoyance of his first visit, a second visit could be useful.
He pulled off his sweaty black jumpsuit and stepped inside the shower, not bothering to test the temperature as he lifted the tap. The water was always too hot or too cold, with no in between, but the lack of pain told him tonight it was the latter.
You wanna kill heroes? Get yourself some tech. I'm sure we could come to some sorta agreement about the payment…
He washed his hair half-heartedly, his mind distracted by the events of his failed debut as he rinsed away the dried blood. No, it'd been worse than a failure: the news was calling him a hero.
Well, he just had to debut for real, and make sure it was as bloody and as violent as possible. Next time, he would leave no room for doubt.
-x-
Work was awkward the next day, but Hizashi pretended it didn't bother him. Power Loader avoided him whenever possible and he was thankful for that – he had far too much on his mind to bother with small talk. However, today Hizashi had a unique task: investigate the 'strange new villain's' platform structure with his ex-boyfriend.
Shit. The platform should've automatically detonated upon sensing zero people nearby, but something must've malfunctioned. If Power Loader saw the internals, Present Mic was done for: Higari was the only person in the entire world who'd recognise Hizashi's technical trademarks.
"Hey," Hizashi said softly, feigning discomfort as he spoke with his ex, "I'd rather do this alone." If he acted convincingly, he could pretend he didn't want Power Loader around due to awkward tension after their breakup, as opposed to his more nefarious reasoning.
Higari nodded in understanding and tried to stay professional. "Okay, just be thorough with the report, Hi- …Yamada." Perfect.
He'd rewire the explosive and set it off manually. It would be suspicious, unless…
If he got caught in the explosion, he'd appear innocent. Yes, he'd be just a helpless young techie, tinkering with something a tad too advanced, and… Well, he was a great actor.
-x-
The bottom floor had been gutted, but no one'd been injured – Hizashi had ensured that. Now the cubicles were void of life and would continue to be so until the all-clear was signalled. It was thrilling to know how much control he had over the workers' lives. If he said the platform wasn't safe, he could drag out their 'vacation' for several days before they'd call in a second opinion, but he wasn't crazy enough to do that.
He walked up the stairs without complaint, although he was sweaty by the time he reached the top. Not out of breath, though: Hizashi was rarely out of breath.
His platform was predominantly untouched, with nothing moved or altered since last night, and he instantly set to work, pulling out his portable screwdriver and accessing the internal wiring through the central control panel. One of the cable circuits had been detached, probably by his voice when he'd gone all-out at Eraserhead, but it was a rather routine fix.
He secured the wiring and reinserted the cable, sighing when a small green light appeared to his left. The moment he walked away, the platform would explode, but he'd look too suspicious if he got out scot-free. He'd have to lessen the explosive force and let himself get accidentally caught in the subdued blow. It was a stupid plan, and a basic one too, but sometimes to fool people you just had to do something stupid. He fiddled with the switch, but froze when he saw the green light turn red and-
His hearing-aids cut out as sound ripped the air. The force slammed into him like a brick wall, and he skidded and bounced across the rooftop, his body felling like a ragdoll's. A sense of weightlessness kicked his head into gear, and he managed to grab the edge of the building moments before he was completely flung free.
His glasses were gone and everything was a blur. His hearing-aids couldn't decide if they were broken or not. All he heard was discordant ringing. Hizashi nebulously realised that his legs were dangling in open air, with an eleven-storey drop awaiting below.
Heat ran down his forehead, and his body was aching, but if he let go, he'd certainly die.
His head was jumping all over the place, but he tried to centre himself by logic-ing through the chain of events. The platform had exploded. The blast had been lessened, thanks to his last-minute tinkering, but he'd been too close to the centre of the explosion. The sensor must've malfunctioned too, and he cursed himself for not checking that part first.
Now he was dangling for his life. His head was ringing, his senses were askew, and he was in pain.
Well, his stupid plan had been a success, he told himself numbly. Now he needed to survive the aftermath.
Hizashi heard screams below, a detail that answered the earlier question about his hearing-aids. Even so, he couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes. He was the one who should've been screaming…
Nevertheless, he had an audience, and that calmed him, despite the circumstances.
The blond tried to pull himself up, but that was easier said than done. His workouts always focused on flexibility and finesse as opposed to physical strength, and while he was by no means a weak man, his body felt incredibly heavy. He just needed to properly lever his hips and-
There were more cries from below. He risked a look back and was amazed by the sight of a shadow leaping across the gap from the nearest building. They landed neatly beside his arms and wordlessly grabbed Hizashi to help him up.
Oh good, a hero.
Their grip wasn't gentle, but he didn't rebuff the help. A pleasant spark coursed through him at the contact, especially when strong arms wrapped around him, steadied him, and once Hizashi was safe he finally looked at his saviour, words of gratitude already on his tongue until-
Cracked red lenses leered over him.
Shit.
Eraserhead was his 'saviour'.
So many questions ran through his mind, but all were ultimately unnecessary. Eraser was surely going to kill him for last night, and Present Mic didn't have any tech to defend himself this time. He could use his Quirk, but-
The building shook. He and Eraserhead glanced at the smouldering platform – the speakers must've blown through the support structures below.
"It's gonna collapse," Hizashi said quickly as he analysed the immediate situation. In his shock, he'd forgotten to change his voice. Now Eraserhead knew-
The man grabbed him and held him close as he leapt for the nearest roof. There was a roar as the building caved, and more screams echoed below, but all Hizashi could feel was the warmth of this man pressed against him. Something about his scent was comforting. He knew it shouldn't've been; this man should've reeked of death and pain and terror, but…
Once safe, the man instantly released him. Hizashi's butt hit the ground, and he hissed at the slight discomfort, but Eraserhead was above him and the blond had worse things to focus on. He was certainly done for. The man would kill him brutally, would probably torture him slowly, but instead the villain did something … unexpected.
Eraserhead fled.
Hizashi stared in amazement as the 'villain' disappeared into an alleyway below, leaving the blond to sit there alone in utter confusion. His mind was almost blank. The only question left running through his head drowned out every other possible thought with its sheer absurdity.
Had Eraserhead just saved him?