Chapter 23: Once

Ren

After several minutes, Ren got bored. About fifty feet from the charred warehouse was another abandoned building. She walked around it, looking at how the trees over time had overtaken one side of the edifice. Limbs had made their way through several windows, roots had torn up the sidewalks, and vines had smothered most of the brick facing. Ren kept walking and turned the corner, finding a large atrium on her right taking up about half the length of that side of the building. She continued, stepping inside the area and was surprised this space wasn't overtaken by flora or fauna. A decorative wall jutted up in the middle of the atrium and a bright mural was painted on it. She approached it and found herself face to face with a beautifully drawn and painted All Might. He was life-sized and wearing his Silver Age costume. Best Jeanist was at his left, and Edgeshot was on his right, and several of their sidekicks filled the space on the outer edges. She walked to the other side of the wall, expecting the mural to continue.

As she turned and focused her eyes on the wall, she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her gaze met bright blue eyes in a face as familiar to her as her own. A broad grin on a handsome face. Deep laugh lines around the eyes and a shock of blonde waves framing the perfectly depicted painting of Goro's face. Ren couldn't breathe, her body froze, and she felt like she had no control over it. A panic she knew she had no reason to feel filled her whole being. And then her mind was flooded with those feelings she had been pushing back the last month she had been at UA. She had built a dam inside herself to hold them off, and she thought it was strong enough. But now waves of anxiety and utter unhappiness ran through her. Her life would never be as full as it was with him. She would never feel that closeness with anyone else, that joy. Even trying to would be an insult to his memory and the love they once shared. Her heart was racing, beating so fast in her chest she felt her ribs would burst open. She couldn't catch her breath. She felt like she was dying. A panic attack. Logically, she knew she wouldn't die, but it felt like it. She wished at that moment she could let go. Join Goro and not have to feel this emptiness ever again. She dropped to her knees and tried to desperately catch her breath.

Aizawa

"Tracks, like something on rollers," Aizawa said into his cell phone as he crouched down looking closely at the charred floor. He had been on the phone for a few minutes with Tsukauchi, going over anything he had found that was suspicious in the warehouse.

"Yes. We have found those at all four locations," Tsukauchi's voice replied in Aizawa's ear.

"And the residue? That left circular patterns?" Aizawa asked.

"We thought maybe it was an accelerant, but tests showed it wasn't."

"Hmmmmm."

"What do you think?" Tsukauchi asked.

"Well, maybe you're looking at a quirk. Some metamorphic quirks have people secreting fluids, maybe when they're activating their abilities." He paused for a bit. "The same two prints have been found at the other locations?"

"Yes."

"I'll get back to you if I think of anything else. I think you may be looking at someone with a warping quirk or teleportation of some kind."

"How come?" Tsukauchi asked.

"Both the sites I looked at, footprints of one of the suspects never seem to leave one area."

"I'll look into that again at the first two sites. Thanks, Aizawa."

"Sure."

"You'll be hearing from me again."

"Of course."

Aizawa hung up the phone and sighed. He wished he had more to offer but he was as stymied as Tsukauchi. He walked out of the building and found Ren was no longer waiting by the motorcycle. He had taken longer than he had thought and assumed she had gotten bored and went for a walk. A building nearby caught his eye and he walked towards it. He placed his hands in his pockets as he observed how nature had overtaken the long-forgotten building. As he turned the corner he saw an atrium and as he walked past it, he suddenly saw Ren on her knees, hunched over, her hands barely holding her trembling frame above the ground. He rushed to her side, trying to assess the situation as quickly as possible. Had she been attacked? As he kneeled next to her, he looked around to make sure no one was hiding or lurking in the shadows.

"Ren?" he said to her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. His eyes fell on the wall in front of her and then he understood. Her breathing was shallow and quick. He placed a hand on her back and it was damp with sweat.

"Ren. It's okay." She was having a panic attack. Although he had never had one, he had been around others who had. It would have to pass. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and waited. "It's going to be okay, Ren."

"I… can't…" was all she could muster between ragged breaths.

"I'm here," Aizawa said, wondering what else he could say or do to calm her. After a few minutes, Ren leaned back, her face pale and devoid of any emotion. She looked at Aizawa as if she was awakening from a dream. Or a nightmare was more like it.

"I want to go home," Ren said quietly, not quite meeting his gaze. Aizawa nodded at her. He helped her up since she was still shaking slightly. He wrapped an arm around her trying to aid her in walking. Her eyes were downcast and her face was rigid and now pained. Aizawa had planned for them to go to a nearby festival after he checked out the building. They would have grabbed lunch and participated in the local festivities in the nearby village. But now he wanted to kick himself for dragging her along on a work assignment. Not that he could have predicted this would happen. That seeing a life-like painting of Goro would send her into this state. After several minutes of walking quite slowly, they made it to the motorcycle. Aizawa wondered if Ren was even in a state where riding on the back would be safe.

"If the motorcycle back to Musutafu is too much, I can drive us to the nearby village and I can find a place where you can rest," Aizawa said, watching Ren intently.

"I'll be fine. I'm okay now. I just want to go home." She looked up at him now and somehow managed a small smile. She was trying to reassure him. Set him at ease. But he could tell she was still hurting. She did seem less shaky now.

He started to drive back, but didn't speed this time and was careful on the turns. She had her arms wrapped around him tightly, the strength reassuring him that she would make it through the drive back. As they pulled into her driveway, she immediately dismounted the bike and walked to the door of her house. She unlocked it hastily and went inside, leaving the front door ajar. Aizawa wasn't sure what she wanted, but he didn't want to leave her. He followed inside, closing the door behind him, and took off his boots. Ren was sitting on the couch, her eyes unfocused and downcast.

He took off his binding cloths, hanging them on the coat rack, and sat next to her, placing an arm around her. She turned into him, burying her face against his shoulder and she started to cry. Aizawa's heart began to race, he wasn't expecting this and wasn't prepared. "I'm sorry," she gasped as she wept. Her crying intensified, her body shaking, and it seemed she had hit a point where she couldn't control it any longer. She managed another feeble, "I'm sorry," and stood up suddenly. He tried to hold on to her, gently grabbing her arm, but she had moved quickly, and her momentum walking away had her gloved arm and hand slipping through his fingers.

"Ren, wait." He followed her, but she made it to her bathroom, quickly shutting the door, and he heard it lock. He heard her continue to cry through the closed door, wailing in tones that could break even the hardest of hearts. She managed a "please, leave," between breaths. After several more seconds of crying, he heard her say again, "please go home, Shota," the words broken up by her sobbing. He closed his eyes, placed his hand on the closed door, and took a deep breath.

Ren

She couldn't stop. The tears kept coming, her voice hoarse as she cried out. It felt like the day she had been told Goro was dead. They had confirmed it with DNA testing. His body had been burnt beyond recognition. He had gone into a burning building to save civilians and at some point, debris had fallen on him knocking him out and leaving him defenseless to the fires that raged. How could it still hurt so much after all this time? And now Shota Aizawa knew how completely broken she was. He had to have had suspicions after the nightmare the other night. But this would lay all her secrets bare. How beyond repair she was. As an administrator, she worried now he would feel she was incapable of teaching to the extent of what was expected of her at a school as prestigious as UA. And of course, their blossoming romance now could only stop dead in its tracks. Aizawa was known as the rational man and her overly emotional display and her lack of control would send him to the nearest exit to distance himself from the train wreck Ren knew she was and had unsuccessfully tried to hide.

She was sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom sink, her upper legs drawn to her chest, her face buried in her knees as she continued to cry. It was as if she had to make up for the time she had been at UA the last month and had not mourned for Goro because she had been so busy. She had pushed him out of her mind as much as possible. Her throat suddenly felt raw, and she began to gag. She had cried too hard and too much. She rushed to the toilet and lifted the lid up, her mouth filling with the sweet, sickly tang of excess saliva now that she was dry heaving and couldn't stop. She spit into the bowl and started to force herself to take big breaths and calm herself. "Stop," she whispered to herself, trying to gain control. After a couple of minutes, she was only sniffling and she seemed to now be through the worst of it. She had not heard Aizawa so she assumed he had left as she asked. She grabbed a washcloth from the cupboard above the toilet and wet it with warm water from the sink. She washed her face and then dared to look in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and tired and her face haggard and sickly looking. She hung up the wet cloth over the faucet and opened the door.

The lighting of the living room was low, evening had moved in, bathing the room in warm orange tones signaling the end of the day. Had she been in the bathroom that long? At least an hour. She walked towards her bedroom wanting nothing more than to sleep. To leave this terrible day behind and hope she could have a dreamless rest. As she walked through the living room, she saw the light in the kitchen was on, and she smelt food being cooked. Had Aizawa stayed? Part of her hoped he had, and part of her hoped he had not. It would be so very awkward if he was there. If he had heard how long she had cried, to the point of making herself sick. She slowly stepped into the kitchen and saw him standing in front of the stove. His hair was in a loose bun at the nape of his neck. Ren couldn't bring herself to say anything so she quietly sat at the bar. She must have not been that quiet because Aizawa turned to face her. He stared at her with an impassive look on his face. She decided that was better than pity.

"I made soup, just noodles with broth and an egg."

"Yeah, I need to go shopping," Ren answered, her voice sounding a bit nasally. Her head felt stuffy, her throat scratchy, and she was beyond exhausted. But the soup did smell good. Aizawa dished her a bowl and set it in front of her. He looked at her silently and waited, standing at the bar with his hands on the counter. He was waiting for her to eat it would seem. She started to eat and he turned around now and prepared himself a bowl. They ate in silence, Ren was too tired to feel awkward about it.

Aizawa was the first to break the silence. "Feeling any better?" he asked her as she finished the last of her soup. The food did seem to rejuvenate her in a way. But as she reflected on his question, she realized she didn't feel anything now. She didn't feel sad, but she didn't feel "better." She was completely numb. In some ways, this was worse than the absolute grief she felt earlier. She had taken too long to answer, and Aizawa gave her a look that truly surprised her. A look of knowing.

"I think I… I just want to sleep."

Aizawa nodded at her. He took her by the hand and walked her to her bedroom. She felt like she was in a trance, but Aizawa being there somehow made it bearable, and she was beyond thankful he had stayed now.

Aizawa

He had wanted to leave. She had cried so hard, she had made herself sick. It had stirred up buried memories from his past and he didn't want to think about them. He had stood up, then, and walked to the door, grabbing his cloths from the coat rack. She had asked him to leave, so it would be okay if he left he rationalized. She didn't want an audience for this breakdown. For this raw display of emotion. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he could still hear her keening sobs. He shook his head and realized what a selfish piece of shit he was. He took off his binding cloths, hung them on the rack again, and went to the kitchen. He would busy himself he had thought. Make dinner for her, be a decent person for a change instead of running away when things got hard. When emotions ran rampant and were no longer predictable.

When she had come out sometime later she was a shell of her usual self. She had looked worse than he had expected. And when he had asked her if she felt better, the look in her eyes told him the truth she couldn't speak. She felt nothing now. It was like looking at an image of himself from his past. His second year at UA. He knew what that emptiness looked like. He saw it in the mirror for months when he was seventeen. Gently leading her by her hand to the bedroom, he had hoped a good night's sleep would make things more bearable for Ren in the morning. As he tucked her in, she didn't or couldn't meet his gaze.

"Take tomorrow off. I'll cover your classes along with Matsuda and Thirteen. Get some rest, Ren."

She now looked up at him. "You aren't leaving, are you? Please don't. Stay the night?" Her voice was low and even, belying the pleading words. Her eyes weren't begging. They were empty shells and that was somehow so much worse than tears. He nodded at her. Part of him wanted to leave for cowardly reasons, but he tried to push those thoughts away. Dealing with her emotions and his own was now bordering on too much. Some hero he was. She stared at him in a daze. He nodded at her and climbed on the bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her. She exhaled a relieved breath and that somehow made it easier to stay. It didn't take long for her breathing to become even and for Ren to fall asleep. He closed his eyes and wished the same for himself.

/

"This is literally like the only time he's this quiet," Oboro said with a laugh. He and Shota were laying on their stomachs on a homemade pallet of several blankets and quilts in Shota's living room reading manga. Hizashi was pacing a few feet away from them, his nose in a comic book, reading it intently.

"Sit down. You're gonna trip and fall on us," Shota grumbled as he looked up at Hizashi warily. Hizashi was in street clothes, dark indigo skinny jeans and a vintage grunge band shirt that had words in English that Shota couldn't pronounce if he tried. He took his best naps during English class. Hizashi wore faded red flannel wrapped around his waist and mismatched socks. His hair, the top part having grown so long in length recently, had fallen over his eyes a bit, over his rose-tinted glasses to be exact.

Oboro grinned. "He always does this with 'X-men.' Wish I studied more in English so I could read it and see what the big deal's about." Oboro shifted to where he was sitting and grabbed a pillow. Shota glanced over at his friend sitting next to him, the caramel-toned skin of his knee peaking through the holes of his faded denim jeans. He wore a long-sleeved purple shirt with a bright, neon yellow logo on it that Shota didn't recognize. Shota wasn't one to care about fashion or labels. Oboro's light blue, wavy hair billowed out and up like a cloud, giving him the appearance of always being in constant movement, ready for anything and everything. It fit his personality perfectly Shota reflected, trying to not get too annoyed with the thought. Why did he have such energetic and boisterous friends? It was like he was a glutton for punishment. Shota knew what Oboro was going to do with that pillow. And sure enough, Oboro launched it at Hizashi. It flew threw the air, making contact with the front of Hizashi and the comic he held way too close to his own face.

"Hey! You're gonna dent the cover or tear the pages!" Hizashi bellowed.

"And you're gonna trip and fall if you keep pacing like that! Sit down!" Oboro laughed again.

"Fine," Hizashi said with a sigh as he sat cross-legged next to Shota. Shota shook his head and rolled his eyes and then continued with his manga. After about two minutes, Hizashi stood up and gingerly deposited his comic into his backpack, having finished it. "Okay! Let's watch a movie! Or I brought some records. We could listen to some music."

"It's getting late. My aunt won't want us being too noisy," Shota said low, not looking up from his manga. Oboro took the manga out of Shota's hands, and this was met with a dirty look and many mutterings from Shota.

"Come on, grumpy. We'll watch a movie but keep the volume low," Oboro said as he nudged Shota with a pointy elbow.

"Fine…" Shota replied in a low drawl.

"Yeeeeeaaahh!" Hizashi exclaimed.

"Too loud…" Shota mumbled under his breath.

The boys had grabbed snacks from their backpacks and Hizashi produced sodas from his duffel bag. They had started a horror movie. Oboro had promised Hizashi there were no mutant bugs or even regular bugs in it. They had a four-day weekend and the boys had decided they would start this mini-vacation staying up late watching movies and eating as much junk food as possible. They had spent all their savings on sodas and snacks that afternoon and now halfway through the first movie, Hizashi had already fallen asleep. He had succumbed to a sugar crash apparently after the copious amounts of sweets he had practically inhaled the previous hour. He had taken over the couch and his long arm draped down touching the carpet, his quiet snoring coming out in a perfect rhythm like a metronome.

"Lightweight," Oboro said with a snicker looking over at their sleeping friend. Oboro turned to Shota now. They were both lying on their stomachs next to each other, propped on their elbows, snacks and sodas perfectly in reach. Oboro reached over and tapped the yellow goggles Shota was wearing around his neck like a necklace. "You wear these almost every day now and I noticed you were wearing your binding cloths with your street clothes today when we went to the Market." Shota turned to look at his friend, and Oboro gave him a small smile. He almost always had a smile on his face. Shota told himself it was annoying that Oboro was upbeat constantly. But Oboro was his closest friend, his best friend, and that continuous smile was such a part of Oboro that Shota somehow also adored it, even though he didn't want to. It was like he didn't have a choice. That smile was the last thing he saw in his mind when he went to sleep and the first thing he thought of when he would wake up each morning.

Shota looked back at the TV screen as he spoke. "I think it's a good idea to always be ready to jump into action, even when you're off the clock. You never know when villains will strike. I don't think being a hero is just something you do part of the time. It's an 'all the time' thing." He saw Oboro shift to a seated position, legs crossed, out of the corner of his eye.

"When did you get so hard-core, Shota!" He couldn't help but turn away from the TV again and look back at Oboro. Oboro was beaming at him, and Shota had a funny feeling in his stomach. He probably ate too many sweets. "They're gonna have to stop calling us the Three Dumbingos! You're a serious force to be reckoned with now. I saw you in combat training today and you were on fire with your cloths. You've really upped your mobility game! You're seriously givin' me a run for my money and I ride around in a frickin' cloud, man! It's crazy." Shota felt his cheeks start to blush and he reflexively frowned since in his mind it canceled out the blushing. He looked away from Oboro back at the TV.

"It's not a big deal 'Boro," he said trying to sound as unfazed as possible, but the compliment sent a slight tingle through his whole body. Oboro had a way of making Shota feel like he could do anything. That he could be an amazing hero. Or be amazing at anything he tried. Oboro's supportive words were genuine and someday Shota hoped he could tell him how important their friendship was to him instead of downplaying it. Being so apathetic to everything had become such an ingrained part of Shota's personality since he was small that even when he didn't feel that way he struggled to not reflexively show it.

"So we'll be Shota and the Two Dumbingos!" Oboro laughed.

Like he was on cue, Hizashi snored abruptly, very loud and out of sync from his steady pattern, drool sliding out of his wide-open mouth. Seconds later, he reverted back to his metronome-like, quiet snoring. Oboro and Shota stared at him.

"Or maybe EraserCloud and the One Dumbingo," Shota said smirking.

Before Shota realized the words that slipped out of his mouth and regretting having said them, Oboro exclaimed, "Awe man! That's adorable! EraserCloud! I love it!" He threw an arm around Shota's shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

"Get off me…" Shota mumbled pushing his shoulder towards Oboro, trying to push him away. "You're always so touchy feely…." he muttered under his breath, annoyed. Oboro chuckled as he sat back up away from his friend.

"Four days off!" Oboro said wistfully. "This breaks gonna be awesome! Wait. Shota. Please tell me you aren't going in for workstudy during the break."

Shota nodded as he ate a pocky stick, not looking away from the TV screen. "Monday morning. But just for a few hours."

"Ahhh man, that blows. Hizashi and I were talking about going up to Tokyo on Monday. You have to come with us. See if His Purple Highness will let you switch it to next Friday."

Shota shrugged. "Sure. Whatever," he said in his usual monotone.

"I'm working Friday so we can do a shift together. More fun that way," Oboro said way too upbeat for the middle of the night.

"Yeah…." Shota replied, not paying attention.

Shota suddenly felt a pillow smack him upside the head. He glared at Oboro and grabbed the pillow. "What the hell…" he grumbled.

He was met with a sly smile from Oboro. "You're not paying attention! I'm trying to get us on the same shift. Don't you like it when we work together?" Oboro asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe not now," Shota said trying to yank the pillow out of Oboro's grasp. "Let go, you're gonna tear it." Shota now shifted to where he was sitting on his knees so he had more leverage.

"Promise me you'll call the agency in the morning to switch your shift."

"Fine. I promise," Shota replied irritated. Oboro smiled but didn't let go of the pillow. "I said let go, 'Boro." Oboro didn't let go of the pillow. "You're being more annoying than Hizashi tonight. I didn't know that was possible." Oboro grinned even bigger and then yanked the pillow forcefully towards himself. Shota stubbornly didn't let go so was pulled towards Oboro until he bumped into him, his chest hitting Oboro on the shoulder. "What's gotten into you…" Before Shota could finish his grumbly complaint, Oboro quickly leaned in and kissed Shota on the mouth. Shota's body went completely stiff in surprise. Oboro retreated, looking at Shota intently, his own face worried and somehow surprised as well.

"I…. I'm sorry….I" Oboro stammered. Shota's heart was beating wildly in his chest and his mind was a jumble of thoughts he couldn't slow down enough to make sense of. Somehow his body moved, even though he rationally couldn't piece together what the heck he was doing or even thinking. He leaned towards Oboro, closed his eyes, and kissed him back.

/

"Shota!"

He looked frantically around but couldn't find him. "Oboro! Where are you?!" He had been yelling his name so loud and so long, his throat was raw and sore. Things kept changing. At first they were in Gym Gamma and no matter how many of Cementoss' creations he climbed up and looked around, he couldn't find Oboro. Oboro kept calling him though. Shota could tell he was in danger with the way he belted out his name.

"Shota!"

Now Shota was on a rooftop. He heard Oboro call him again; it sounded like he was several buildings away. Shota shot his binding cloths to an exposed pipe on the roof of the adjacent building and desperately raced towards Oboro's voice. He kept leaping from rooftop to rooftop but somehow Oboro was only getting farther away.

His surrounding changed yet again and now he was surrounded by piles of rubble. Pieces of a collapsed building all around him. "Oboro?" he asked tentatively. He felt dread rise inside him. He began to move pieces of debris. Oboro was trapped. He knew this somehow. He had to get him out of the rubble. He heard a barely whispered "Shota," sound behind him. As he turned, he knew what he would see, and then he was in agony that he had guessed correctly. A body draped with a sheet, bloodied at the end where the head would be. Shota dropped to his knees his head filled with desperate cries that were too heartbroken for him to comprehend. It took him several seconds to realize it was him who was screaming.

/

Aizawa's eyes shot open, his chest heaving with heavy breaths, his body covered in sweat. He was met with absolute darkness and at first didn't know where he was. He heard a faint noise next to him, someone muttering something incomprehensible under their breath. That noise centered him thankfully. It was Ren. He was lying on her bed, next to her. He carefully and silently left the bed and walked into the dark living room. He sat on the couch with his head in his hands trying to rationalize away the memory that he had relived in his dream. It was like it had happened yesterday. Everything about it was so perfect and real. Everything about Oboro had rung so true, that long weekend in November when their close friendship had morphed into something more. No way his mind could have imagined up the facsimile of Oboro in such utter perfection, but it had. The happiest time in his life. And then the nightmare. The cold hard truth of it all being ripped away from him such a short time later. He felt the catch in his throat. This was all too much. Ren's reaction the day before had made his own memories of losing someone so close to him come to the surface. He had tried so hard to bury it the last decade. Had jumped ship on relationships that somehow had blossomed underneath his feet without him being aware they were happening. Had even kept his closest friends, Mic and Kayama, at arm's length with his coolness. And now he would do it to Ren.

Would he just ghost her? Or break it off abruptly? That would be the less cruel thing. Or would he become so cold and distant that she would be the one to break it off with him. He had done that before. Sometimes purposefully and other times subconsciously. He knew he was falling in love with her. And he didn't want to hurt her because he cared for her. But it was like he had no choice. This was how it always played out. Would always play out. Because deep down he was a coward when it came to his own heart. Why protect something so withered and useless anyway he thought nastily to himself. He stood up and could barely make out his boots at the front door and his cloths on the coat rack now that his eyes had had time to adjust to the dark. This was it. He was going to leave Ren, and there was no coming back.

And that's when he felt it. A presence all around him and inside him. It was so familiar it made tears sting the edges of Aizawa's eyes and made him hold his shuddering breath. It was painful and beautiful and Aizawa thought perhaps he was losing his mind. Had he been hit with some residue of a quirk from a villain at the warehouse site? No. That was an insult to the very experience he was having. He no longer felt hopeless now, but he felt unbelievable sadness and maybe that was a good thing. To feel anything because Ren was numb and that was so much worse. "Oboro." He said his name because he knew he was there somehow. "Do you really think I can do it? Am I strong enough?" he gruffly whispered into the darkness. And he swore he felt it then. A hand on his upper arm. An arm wrapped around his shoulder. A pat on his back. All the ways he had supported him and reassured him in his youth. And Shota made up his mind then.

Ren

Ren woke from her sleep, the light from around the closed blinds of her bedroom window sneaking their way onto her face. It was late morning and Ren realized she was incredibly late for work. She leapt out of bed, saw the clock read 9:45, and frantically tried to remember where she last laid her phone down so she could call work. As she ran into her living room, she stopped dead in her tracks. Shota was sitting on her couch, his laptop in his lap, tapping away. The events she had momentarily forgotten in her franticness of being late hit her suddenly, but before she had a chance to react, Shota looked up at her.

"I called in sick days for both of us. Our classes are covered so nothing to worry about. I was going to cook breakfast, but you really are out of everything. Get dressed and I'll take you to this bakery that Mic and I go to on Sunday mornings."

She didn't really feel like doing anything. Now that she had the sense to gather herself, she wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep some more. To forget. The numbness was spreading throughout her again. As if Shota could read her mind, "No choice, Ren. Shower and get dressed. Let's go get breakfast."

She felt foolish to ask it, but somehow she wanted that reassurance. "And you'll…. still be here when I get out of the shower?"

Shota nodded. "Yes. I'll be here. I promise."

End Chapter

Author's Note:

There is a method to my madness with how I handle Aizawa's name, (when I call him Shota vs. Aizawa) I promise I'm not being inconsistent. I have put a lot of thought into it. I just hope it doesn't come off like I forget how I as the author and also other characters address him. It's an artistic choice I hope doesn't seem too jarring. Thanks for reading 😊