Aizawa was far too scared, he had never encountered an actual villain before and spoken with one. This thought made the man chuckle.
"But you talk to one all the time, Shota." The man snickered in amusement as he glanced back at the boy and grinned wide to see he was faced with flaring red eyes and floating black hair.
"Yes, go ahead, keep using it. Ah, you look just like your dear old daddy!" He told him and Aizawa blinked, furiously rubbing his eyes when his hair fell down.
"Shota. We could train you to be something far better! Far stronger! He's been holding you back!" He declared, offering a hand to the boy, Aizawa took a step back.
"No thanks. I intend to get stronger so I can beat people like you and the league!" Aizawa stated, gaining more confidence and scowling with fists clenched.
"Beat people like us? You'll have to beat yourself, too then, Shota." The man smirked and Aizawa wanted to draw his eyes away from the eerie man but remembered the words of his father involving battle or suspicious characters.
"'Always try to keep them in your line of sight.'"
Aizawa kept himself on guard, tense and ready to activate his quirk at any moment even though all the man could do was read minds. He did his best to remain calm during such a stressful situation.
"I'm gonna be a hero one day and you guys can't stop me!" Aizawa hissed, trying to sound intimidating but he failed when his voice cracked at a few words, amusing the villain.
"Shota, I can see into your memories, not just read your mind and do you know what I see? From a certain moment in your childhood? A deep sense of guilt from when you-!" Aizawa wouldn't let the man finish and chose to flee instead. The boy felt like a coward but, even though he could easily punch him in the gut, he just wanted to get home as soon as possible. The teen knew his dad was waiting as always and had gotten used to it, since Aizawa always told him he went to a knitting club and that was the supposed reason for the scarf's existence.
He darted through his shitty neighborhood, now more paranoid than ever, ran into his house, closing the door behind himself as quietly as possible but there was still a click sound from the screen door that his father heard. His father was lying in his recliner, watching TV, but still had his keen hearing.
"Shota!" He called out and the quivering boy hesitantly answered.
"Y-yes?" He muttered.
"Get me some wine." The man ordered and the teen went to their liquor cabinet in his best attempt at seeming normal.
"Feeling ca-classy to-day? And I'm guessing, eeyuh, y-you, um, don't care which brand?" The boy asked, turning behind himself to find his lazy father yawn then nod. He picked out a random bottle and one of the fancier cups they owned, trying to talk while he poured, causing it to overflow.
"'Ya seem a bit shaky, Shota." Stated as he handed the fancy, filled almost to the brim cup if part of it hadn't spilled over, over to his already messy black-haired father. Shota stared at his father's black hair and eyes, the most noticeable trait they shared as father and son, and it gave him all sorts of mixed feelings. The boy gripped his nauseous stomach, even though he knew it was empty, there also lied a hint of rage, a bit of sadness, a mass of guilt when he thought of the things that were his own fault, fear, and yet deep down at the very bottom of the barrel in Shota's heart full of negative emotions towards his father, there still lied an extremely tiny, miniscule piece of him that still cared for the man just a tiny bit but only during times when he was looking away from him, when he was docile, times like these were the times in which he actually somewhat cared for the scumbag.
"Y-yeah. Um-." He deeply pondered whether or not he should tell the truth. At this time, he wanted to savor it, not ruin it by sending his father into a presumed panic attack or having him decide that they suddenly have to live in a bunker for the boy's "safety". He also purposefully poured him the wine with the least amount of alcohol in it since he's far less patient otherwise. Now could be the best chance though, before he gets too rough.
"Something happen?" The man ask and the boy, so weak-willed against his father, couldn't think up a good lie so he just stayed silent and looked away nervously with an, unintentionally but clearly guilty or nervous expression.
"Shota! Answer me!" Even without his alcohol, the man was still rather impatient, but he lasted several minutes without raising his voice, something he knew Shota hated and saw the boy wince at. The teen remained silent even when the man got out of his recliner, then grabbed Shota's arm. He frantically squirmed in his grip, tears running down his face at the obviously terrible pain his arm was causing him.
"Alright alright!" He gave in and his father released his arm, in favor of lifting him up by the collar of his shirt.
"It was...a villain." Shota muttered and his father let go of his uniform shirt. Shota fell a couple feet and landed hard on his rear but was quick to curl up in a ball. His father started pacing around the room, running his fingers through his hair, clearly stressed and terrified and asked him a bunch of questions.
"Do they know where we live?"
"He didn't say."
"How much did they tell you? How big has the league gotten?"
"Not much and I don't know."
"Did they try anything or do anything to you?"
"Just said some things to mess with me.
"How much do they know?"
"They..., they have a guy who can read minds. He's the one that came up to me. I would've beaten him up but my feet just acted on their own and made me run away. I feel like a coward."
"You still made it home in one piece."
"Yeah, I'm going to my room." Shota got back to his feet and wobbled over there.
"Don't you want some dinner first?" The man pointed at the cup of ramen by the microwave and the boy merely shook his head.
"No." He was still sick from earlier.
The boy went to his room, greeted by a black cat sleeping on his window sill and eating out of a can of cat food he had placed there. The sight was rather calming and eased his nerves a bit but he was still shaking. He didn't have the nudge the cat away or strength to pull her in so he just left her be as he flopped onto his bed and curled back into a shivering ball of fear.
