a/n: good morning good morning, friends.
sorry for no chapter last weekend - but I'm back now with a few small updates.
first off: you're all gonna be getting a lot more D author's notes. Enjoy that ;) Hemza has stepped back a little to work on some of his own projects (including a podcast with some friends!) so I'm taking care of the bulk of this story.
secondly: because I'm taking care of Affinity now, I'm going to be spacing out our updates a little. I'll have chapters out every 2 weeks, instead of once a weekend. I know that sucks and isn't ideal - but I need to give myself some time to work on each chapter and make sure they're as good as possible.
ty all for sticking around and understanding. love y'all.
as always - check out the socials nrdgrl_ for updates on the story & my life, and I'll see y'all in 2 weeks.
Shota knew something wasn't right the instant he saw Emiko walk out of the building 30 minutes before he'd been expecting to see her. He knew she hadn't been actively participating in therapy, but she'd at least sit through the entire appointment before making her way down to the ground floor and out to the waiting vehicle.
It was even more obvious when he noticed the tears still lingering in her lashes as she moved towards him. Her hands were trembling and her nose was red, and she looked like she'd been crying only seconds before leaving.
As she moved closer, her copper hair glinted in the setting sun. The light caught her face and the scar over her left eye seemed to glow, Aizawa felt his chest tighten at the sight. He knew she'd been injured, had seen her in the hospital with her eye patch on almost daily for weeks on end. He'd seen her on her release day, had watched as she fidgeted with her hair to hide the fresh scar and milky appearance of her once bright blue eyes. He'd watched her look in the windows lining the outside of the UA dorm buildings, wincing each time she caught her own gaze.
But somehow, despite all of that, seeing the scar glowing painfully white in the setting sun made him more emotional than he'd expected. He knew all of his students would leave with some sort of scar or injury - that was, unfortunately, the nature of being a hero.
So when Emiko opened the car door and slumped into the seat beside him, fighting back tears, he knew he couldn't just… leave it alone.
"Are you okay, Emiko?"
She crumbled in front of him, tears suddenly pouring from her eyes. She was trembling, burying her face in her knees. Shota spluttered for a moment, unsure of what to do now that she was sobbing in front of him. That moment faded quickly, though, as she started to rock back and forth.
He quickly bundled her in his arms, pulling her tight to his chest. It was uncomfortable for him, the way his body was contorted - but he didn't care. All he could focus on now was giving the young girl in front of him as much comfort as he could.
She buried her face in his chest, sobbing into the clean fabric of his dress shirt. He'd taken to wearing dress clothes to and from her therapy appointments, just in case any media outlets saw him. He wanted to present well, to try and take the heat off of UA as much as possible.
"It's okay, Emiko. You're okay." He whispered, moving his hand slowly up her back. She was sobbing so heavily he could feel it each time she took a breath. He could hear it in her lungs and it made his chest ache.
She whimpered, tightening her fingers in the back of his shirt. He stayed silent after that, running his hand up and down her spine, careful to avoid brushing across her hair. He'd noticed in the past few weeks that she'd avoided touching it as much as possible. She kept her fingers away from the still jagged ends, focusing only on the bangs that lay crooked across her injured eye.
He didn't know how long they sat like that, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and her fingers fisted in his shirt. He just held her close, letting her cry. No words were shared for the time spent like that, both Shota and Emiko listening only to the sound of their own breathing and the heaving sobs escaping the young girl.
Eventually, she pulled away. Her eyes were red and swollen, still leaking slightly. Her cheeks were damp and her skin was blotchy, though somehow she looked better than she had earlier. To his untrained eye, it looked like she just needed someone to sit and hold her while she broke, someone to allow herself to fall to pieces before she picked herself back up.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Aizawa." She whispered, keeping her gaze averted from his own. "I don't know what happened just there."
"It's alright, Emiko. You don't need to apologize." He answered, pulling back slightly. "I'm assuming you don't want to talk about it?"
She was quiet for a moment, processing his question. She swiped a hand under her her eyes, wiping away any remaining tears before pulling her shoulders back and steeling her gaze on him.
"Do you think it'd be okay if I did?" She stared right at him as she asked, no doubt expecting him to say no.
"It's more than okay."
She nodded slightly, dropping her gaze down as if she was embarrassed.
"I don't think he's the right therapist for me, Aizawa." She started, fidgeting with the stitches still sitting fresh in the palm of her hand. "I know I didn't put in as much effort as I should have, but…"
"That's okay, Emiko. We have plenty of other therapists available for you to meet with."
"Do you think I need therapy?" She asked, and Shota paused.
"I think that you went through something awful, and I think having a professional help you through the healing process would be hugely beneficial. Of course," he paused, taking in her expression. He wanted to make sure he didn't push too hard, didn't say the wrong thing and force her to shut down again. "Of course, I won't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with."
Emiko sighed, "Mako told me that I was never alone, and that I never had been."
Shota scoffed, and swore he saw a hint of a smirk cross Emiko's face.
"I know it was meant to be comforting and philosophical or whatever, but it just made me mad, y'know?" The longer she spoke the more animated she became, her hands slowly moving around her. "It's like… I was kidnapped and tortured for days and I lost my eye, and he tells me I wasn't alone during it?!"
"I think it was meant more as a metaphor-"
"I know, okay! But still, it just felt like such an out of touch thing to say. It just made me realize that maybe…" she paused, scrubbing a hand over her face in irritation. "Maybe nobody will ever understand what I went through. Maybe I am supposed to grieve what I have lost on my own, you know? Because, really, how can I burden any of my friends with this?"
"Your feelings are not a burden, Emiko."
"You have to say that, Aizawa. It's your job as a teacher."
"Your feelings are not a burden, Emiko."
He would repeat that as many times as it took for her to understand, because Shota understood more than most just how terrifying and lonely it was to feel as though feelings were a burden on those who cared for him.
"Aizawa-"
"Emiko. You are not a burden. Your feelings are not a burden. Nothing you went through makes you less worthy of love and care."
"But my friends deserve me at my best, and I am not at my best."
"Your friends don't care whether you are at your best or not, Emiko. They care about you and your well-being."
A frustrated groan escaped her lips as she tried to get her point across, and Shota couldn't help but smile. He knew all too well the feeling of being left behind, of being too sad or too angry or too withdrawn for the people he cared about. He'd spent the first few years of he and Hizashi's friendship running, and he likely wouldn't have had a friendship with the much louder man if Hizashi hadn't been so stubborn.
"When I was your age, Emiko, I struggled with the same feelings you are right now." He started, shutting his eyes and letting the memories wash over him. "Obviously not the kidnapping and torture aspect, but the feelings of never being quite good enough to be friends with the people around me."
Though his eyes were shut, Aizawa could hear Emiko shift slightly, and he continued telling his story.
"My first few months of Highschool, nobody spoke to me. I sat alone during lunch and only trained with others when absolutely necessary. I was sure that I was better on my own, because I was a burden to my family, so surely I would be a burden to any potential friends."
Shota could see it, the way his classmates all looked at him curiously, never quite ready to make the first move in communicating.
"But one day I was sitting at my desk, and Hiza-" he caught himself quickly, "Present Mic came bursting in the door yelling about something that I can't even remember. I was the only one in the room, though, so he was just yelling at me."
Emiko let out a soft laugh, as though picturing a young Shota Aizawa being screamed at by a teenage Present Mic.
"So even though it was likely an announcement for the whole class, I was the only one who heard it. From that moment on, he didn't leave me alone. He adopted me much the same way you adopted Shinsou, from Gen Ed."
He imagined Emiko was smiling at that comparison, seeing as how Shinso was the only person she'd let into her room since the students all moved into the dorms.
"I tried to pull away, but he was determined to make me new friends. So, he introduced me to his friends. Your father, Ms. Midnight, a young man named Oboro - and eventually, your aunt."
He could see them all sitting around the lunch table, Oboro and Hizashi laughing loudly at some terrible joke Hisato had made and likely butchered. Sakura stopping by occasionally with flushed cheeks to tease her brother about his awful sense of humour, Midnight flirting with every single person who walked past their table. Though parts of his memories from highschool were tainted with sadness, a few made it out unscathed.
"No matter how poorly I thought of myself, that small group of friends I called my own never let me forget that I was important to them. Whenever I would retreat in myself, which I did often, one of them would come and snap me out of it."
He opened his eyes, surprised to see Emiko staring back at him, transfixed.
"I know it's scary to let people in, Emiko, but you've got to do it. I'm not saying it's got to be right away or even tomorrow… but eventually you'll realize that the people around you love you just as you are, and are willing to stick around and help you through it."
Emiko nodded slightly, swallowing past what he assumed was a lump in her throat.
"It's just hard… I don't want to let anyone down."
"How would you let them down?"
"I don't know if I am strong enough to go through therapy. I don't know if I can relive what I went through. Seeing all of that once was enough, and I don't know if there's anyone I'll ever feel comfortable talking to about it."
"I know it's hard to imagine now, Emiko, but there will be someone you can talk to. I'm sure of it."
"But-"
"If you don't feel therapy is the right solution, that's fine. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do."
She nodded, her red hair shifting across her face, exposing the white eye that drew most people's attention.
"But that being said - you need to talk to someone. It can be anyone. Me, Nezu, Present Mic. It could be a friend or your aunt,"
Emiko shot him a dirty look at the mention of her caretaker, and he made a mental note to let Sakura know that he'd tried.
"Or it can be a therapist. That is a non-negotiable. Do you understand?"
Again, Emiko only nodded.
"What was my dad like?"
The question caught him off guard, as he hadn't known her father particularly well. They'd been classmates, sure, and even friendly enough to hangout occasionally. He was closer with Oboro than he was to Shota or Hizashi, and when Oboro died, they lost contact somewhat.
"He was kinder than most people I know." Aizawa began, trying to think of how to describe someone he hadn't known in a decade. "And funny. But not funny in an overt way - he never tried to be funny."
Emiko was smiling across from him, no longer averting her gaze or tearing at her stitches.
"He and my friend Oboro were close, so I didn't know him as well as I could have… but I knew him well enough to know that he was a good person. He never shied away from helping others, and always went out of his way to train with those who asked."
"Did you ever meet my mom?"
Again, Shota is caught off guard by the question. Especially given recent encounters, he'd never expected Emiko to ask about her mother.
"I did."
"And?"
"And… your mother was difficult. She was a transfer student, one in the support course. She wasn't particularly gifted from what I remember, though I suppose given her… connections, that makes sense."
"Why do you ask?"
"I wanted to know if I was anything like them."
She said it so simply, it took Aizawa a moment to formulate an answer.
"You have your fathers kind heart. I've never seen you turn down assistance from someone who asks you. You are just as righteous and just as I remember him being."
She looked at him expectantly, waiting for more information on her parents. He couldn't imagine how difficult it must be not truly knowing the people you were created from.
"You have your mothers temper, though."
Emiko's gaze flashes with anger momentarily, before she calms her anger.
"That isn't necessarily only bad. While your mother was quick to anger, she was also quick to forgive."
As quickly as anger covered her face it cleared, replaced by something akin to acceptance.
"You are a product of everyone who has ever loved you, Emiko."
"Thank you, Mr. Aizawa. For listening, for letting me cry."
"You don't have to thank me, problem child."
As the conversation fettered out, Emiko leaned forward and tapped on the glass, signaling the driver to take the pair home. It was now beyond the time they were expected back, and Aizawa knew he'd have to explain to Nezu why he hadn't answered the handful of texts he'd likely received.
"Let's go home," Emiko whispered, letting her head rest against the window sill. "I've got some apologizing to do."
