Chapter 4: NeverEndingDay
Aug 7th, XX45, 7:23pm
Aizawa had no frame of reference for what to expect when it came to The Chang'e Hare.
The boy (probably 13? Tall for a 13 year old) had shown more inconsistency with his character than any other vigilante Shota had ever encountered in his eight years of being an independent Pro-Hero, and all he could do was watch.
Yamada teases him-says he's going soft, the nerve-but Shota genuinely wants to find out what makes this little boy go tick. That actually makes him sound like an evil scientist or something.
Yuck.
He climbs after the rabbit, jumping over a flower box on the road and keeping pace all the way around the corner, quickly recognizing the arches of the small Chang'e Chinese shrine had recently been refurbished, the new roof looking cleaner than it had in years.
Aizawa distantly wondered if it was because the people had noticed The Rabbit's help around the neighborhood more.
Has the boy ever even gone against any villains?
There have been whispers of victims guided safely home, purses received and the occasional chore or delivery being made but Aizawa was racking his brain for more info.
He should just ask the kid later.
It's clear now that the rabbit in front of him is violently shaking and Shota has no idea how to get a rabbit down from a panic attack.
Gleaming black fur bristles, hesitates, and Shota readies his scarf for a possible attack.
The breeze fights against them as they run up an old hiking trail, the cold chill of nighttime washes over them and it's then that he realizes why the boy is so scared.
Past the smell of wet soil and the rustle of foliage is the unmistakable, sharp iron smell of blood.
It's then that he realizes that this is not something any child should have any reason to see-It's then that he understands the rush and the fear and all the things that caused the boy with wide eyes to cower.
As quickly as he can manage he picks up the kicking and fighting rabbit and slips the boy in his scarf, holding him close and definitely not flinching when sharp claws dig into his shoulder.
He holds the child close, cradles him against his neck, and calls Tsukauchi Naomasa on his phone.
He tunes out the wind when the phone starts ringing, somewhere in the back of his mind tells him it's going to storm tonight. One and a half rings in and the call picks up, a tired sigh the only sound filtering over the microphone.
"Eraserhead, what can I do for you?"
The words are drawn out and Shota-no, Eraserhead thinks it's strange to be so tired at 8:00pm. Although he isn't really one to talk, considering his sleep schedule.
"You know the Chang'e Shrine?" he waits for the conformational humm on the other end of the phone. "Homicide, about a mile and a half down the east trail, behind the shrine,"
The silence on the other end of the phone echoed for a second, Tsukachi's attention seemingly grabbed, before the call ended with a quick "Give me ten,"
-o-
7:40pm
Izuku is sure that this is his best escape from the police yet. Eraserhead's scarf smells like coffee and whatever cologne he wears-kinda smells like cinnamon? Whatever the case he adjusts himself in the scarf so his claws are no longer digging into Aizawa's shoulder and neck, but rather cradled in the weapon like it's a hammock.
A really comfy hammock.
Like holy crow, wow, it perfectly cradles him and-oh look the police are here.
The spinning red and blue lights and the accompanied "weeeee-woooo" sounds turn the corner, and Izuku realizes that he somehow missed Aizawa walking almost two miles back to the shrine.
It's been a really really long day.
Aizawa starts talking to the officers and Izuku tries his darndest to ignore every word about the body in the woods, the dead man who was left to bleed out because someone had something so terrible against him that hisheaddeservedtobesmashedin-- woah ok maybe rabbit senses could pick up more than he thought. Wow, uhhh. That was...traumatizing.
Maybe he should stop thinking for a minute and zone out? Would zoning out help someone ignore the image of a brutally murdered body they found in the woods or would it make it worse?
A large hand pushed through the scarf and started running it's fingers through his thick fur, stilling momentarily when he twitched, but continuing again when he relaxed into the light scratches he received around his ears.
Oh, Eraserhead was probably encouraging him to stop squeaking. Haha oops. He didn't realize that the Muttering transferred over to his bunny form. Good to know.
Eraserhead shifted again, this time helping curl Izuku deeper in the scarf, hiding him from someone approaching. Izuku heard the steps of someone grow closer-a different pace then the swarming paramedics and officers.
"Tsukauchi," Izuku felt the words vibrate through Eraser's chest, the sound tickling his ears and threatening his nose into a sneeze. Don't sneeze Izuku-don't sneeze- he sneezed.
The small sniffle and the "cheep" he made to punctuate the point made both Eraser and "Tsukauchi" still. The previous professionalism stalled like an old engine and Izuku only curled tighter into himself to escape any repercussions. Good job, Izuku. Much wow.
Tsukauchi shuffled his feet, it sounded like he was either unsure if he should ask or just electing to ignore the sound.
"Eraserhead," ah, electing to ignore it "Can you tell me about anything you saw? What brought you here, or how you found the corpse?" the man, Eraser, straightened his back some, a show of respect? Or maybe just getting comfortable. Either way, Eraser straightened his back and started to answer Tsukachi's questions,
"The boy?" a second passed and Izuku assumes Tsukauchi nods, Eraser continues, "He led me here, he ran into me a couple times earlier-" boy, was that an underestimation, "-and he ended up finding me again to lead me here," his flat tone still made his ears tickle. Probably because Izuku was so close to the man's chest. Huh, he should write that down for later. Good to know.
"And is there any chance that the kid is responsible?"
The question cut so deep it made Izuku flinch. Aizawa just hardened his stance and-presumably-looked Tsukauchi dead in the eye. Izuku waited, his air had disappeared and he felt as if he was floating away.
"No."
The word was so definite that it tethered him back to reality, breathe in, breathe out, match Eraser's breath- HOLY SHIT, FUCK- breathe in, breathe out, everything is fine.
(Izuku didn't want to go home tonight)
-o-
7:something pm (presumably later in the evening)
Aizawa Shota could say with the confidence of the grown-ass man that he was, perfectly and without fault, absolutely not-fine.
Completely, utterly, without fail, not okay.
The kid (a literal, presumably homeless, minor that he had to keep from Nedzu at all costs) had sneezed. Mid-conversation with the detective in charge of the Chang'e Hare case. This-this had to be divine punishment from Chang'e herself.
He was momentarily saved when Dt. Tsukauchi elected to ignore the noise and ask questions, as he should. Considering it's his job to ask questions, it was only logical that he eliminate as many possibilities in the case as possible before continuing the investigation.
If it was completely logical and expected, though, why was he sent reeling at the detective's last question?
"Is there any chance that the kid is responsible?" FUCK OFF.
Aizawa quickly cut the temper tantrum down, the puddling anger had no right to be so acrid- it made staying professional very difficult. Well, as professional as a Hobo hiding a rabbit fugitive in their scarf can look.
Small details, small details.
Tsukachi's reaction to his sharp tone was nothing unexpected, the scrunching of his eyebrows, probably a few more questions pooling waiting to leak out, but Aizawa was willing to ignore everything right now for the Problem-Child cradled in his capture weapon.
Aizawa gave a quick nod of dismissal, an excuse of continuing patrol thrown in the air, something about being on time-nothing that could be held against him. Whatever it was that he said was clearly not believed. Not that it was exactly a lie-nothing to set off Tsukauchi's quirk-but something that wasn't quite real enough to be used as an excuse for a quick escape.
Not that Aizawa cared. Today had been long, almost unending, and Eraserhead was no longer needed. Eraserhead was good at his job, and don't get him wrong, Aizawa Shota is good at his job too, but Eraserhead is a seasoned Pro-Hero. Aizawa Shota is a stiff necked Teacher at a Pro-Hero School.
Not that anyone could point out a difference.
Maybe he knew a couple people who could, but he wouldn't admit it.
Something that he never considered while roof jumping was that if a large portion of his capture weapon was taken up by a small black rabbit, then he had exactly that much less capture weapon to use in his jumping excapade. This would seem like the plain and simple facts, but the consequences of having even that much less capture-weapon was something that had not crossed his mind until he was stumbling over an alley and onto the opposite roof with grace he hasn't had since his second year of highschool.
Which is to say, he had lept from one roof to another with no grace at all. Whatsoever.
He was barely saved from squashing the boy, by said boy throwing himself out of his scarf before they landed. Well, to amend that statement, the boy landed, and Aizawa Shota made the least graceful slide across a roof of his Pro-Hero career.
When he had stopped sliding across concrete, he had accepted his fate of completely embarrassing himself and rolled over onto his back to stare at the sky.
It was a beautiful sky, past the churning storm clouds and crisp wind. The clouds were dark blue-something Hizashi would appreciate- and twisting, writhing like they knew something they didn't know how to say. He had kids act like that in class;not sure how to answer a question, unwilling to even try.
His stargazing was interrupted by two clawed paws pressing against his head and a pair of tired green eyes looking down on his eyes..
Oh yeah, today was supposed to be an off day.
He should go home and finish his beer.
"Yeah, Problem-Child," the boy tilted his head, ears turning away from him, "how about we go get your sweater, hmm?"
the lump of fur pouncing on his chest with renewed vigor, a quick yes, so Aizawa got up from his resting place, rearranged his scarf, and they set off again. This time the boy was running beside him, not in his scarf-thank kami.
By the time they made it to the apartment building it was 9pm, the run back taking a little longer than the run there.
Shota was ready to swipe the boy up and tuck him in his arms when the boy went a little further than Shota's door and put a paw up on his neighbors door.
Ah-right, sweater.
Shota stared down at the rabbit, the boy staring right back at him.
"Are you sure?"
The rabbit nodded.
"You can borrow clothes from me, y'know,"
The boy shook his head, he put his other paw up on the door.
"Uhhg, fine." Shota slumped, not excited to talk to more people, and knocked on his neighbors door.
Shota had never actually talked to his neighbor(Hizashi would rag on him for it) but he was never interested in talking to the short man.
When the very same short man opened his front door to Aizawa Shota glaring down at him, he had every right to be surprised.
Shota sighed, "I need the clothes off your balcony,"
His neighbor's surprised look became more exaggerated before morphing to confusion.
That could have been said better. The rabbit at his feet stomped a hind leg in annoyance, gaining the short man's attention before the crease in his brow smoothed out.
"Oh, Izuku, okay-" he left the door open and beckoned both the man and the rabbit in, "you could have said so! My goodness, I had no idea what you meant, come in, come in, tea? You know-" the short man rambled on to the rabbit now sitting on his couch and Shota took the moment to slip onto the balcony and swipe up the pile of clothes there.
On his way to the front door he nodded at his neighbor, sent a look to the boy-vigilante-apparently named Izuku- and opened the door as a way to communicate his want to leave as soon as possible. Izuku hopped down from the couch-effectively cutting off the man in front of him, and hopped out the front door with Shota.
-o-
9:19pm
It was a strange interaction.
Something that had left Hase staring out the front door as Eraser closed it with his free hand.
Something that had left Izuku slightly dazed and excited to have his sweater back.
Eraser, or maybe he was Aizawa again? Either way, the man led Izuku back to his door, unlocked it and opened the door in one swift motion, allowing Izuku to slip in front of Aizawa.
Eraser locked the door behind them, and continued deeper into the home as Izuku followed.
A door was opened, the pile of cloth in the man's arms was gently placed on the ground, and Izuku was promptly scooped and dumped onto a bathroom carpet, the door swiftly closed behind him.
He shifted back and slid on his boxers, hoodie, old ragged jeans, and walked into the main apartment again, the smell of coffee and cat food wafting past his nose, leading him to the kitchen where the tired man sat at the table with his head against the wooden top.
As Izuku approached the table the man raised his head, "Izuku, huh?"
It was weird to talk to him so nonchalantly, as if they hadn't been playing an odd game of cat and mouse since July. As if Izuku did not just run into Aizawa's apartment earlier today on the verge of a panic attack because he found a dead body in the woods, next to his home.
It was odd to sit across from the Pro-Hero at his kitchen table and answer his question with a soft, "Yeah," like the man hadn't gotten out of his seat with another question, "Coco?" already fishing the chocolate powder out of the cupboard.
The silence was cut by the tinking of cups and spoons, the soft meows of cats walking around the home.
Nothing and everything had happened today. Quick avoidance, the swift interactions to keep distance, the fast escape when Izuku had grown too overwhelmed to stay in human form. And now, the two of them, sitting across from each other sipping coco.
When a small black cat slipped into the room, Aizawa's eyes widened and he shot out of his chair and across the room, he grabbed a pair of house slippers off the genken, throwing them at Izuku from where the man was by the front door.
"Quick!" was all Aizawa said, and before Izuku could slide them both on, confused as he was, the small, black cat's eyes gleamed and he shot underneath the table.
He shoved one slipper on-not soon enough- only for his other naked foot to become a chew toy for the red-eyed feline.
Tumbling out the chair with a string of curses, an attempt to escape the small cat attached to his toe.
This was not something he was expecting when he had agreed to have a sit and some coco.
Aizawa was calm again, taking his time to reach over and scoop the cat off of Izuku with an amused huff, throwing the dropped right slipper next to the boy.
Said slipper was slid on, Izuku still grumbling and mumbling as he sat at the table again.
"What the hell, Eraser," was Izuku's half hearted attempt to explain his displeasure, calm-reflective attitude thoroughly doused by the gremlin cat in Aizawa's clutch.
The cat was stretched across Eraser's arm, the small cat taking up his forearm, little head cradled in the man's hand as he retook his position on the opposite end of the table,"Sorry for Ketchup," his fingers curled around the kitty's head, Izuku's nose crinkled, "She has something," he said 'something' with a teasing lilt that took Izuku by surprise, "against stranger's feet, the little bastard,"
Said little bastard hopped off his arm with a grand leap, took a careful glance under the table, realized Izuku was wearing slippers, and darted away into the house.
Awkward silence stretched between them, Izuku's ears swiveled, his nose twitched, the air was growing stiffer and Izuku knew that he had to say something.
Aizawa continues to sip on his Coco and before the cup could be fully set on the table, Izuku sinks further in the chair, "Your cats are nice,"
The tink of the cup against the table filled the pause.
Aizawa sat up straighter, Izuku slumped further in the chair.
The sigh Aizawa breathed was less of a huff of annoyance, but more of a tired huff, trying to encourage Izuku to pipe up what he was getting at. At least, that's how he translated it.
To be frank (okay, what did that phrase mean? Who was frank, and why do people want to be him?)Izuku was scared, alone, cold (more poetic than saying lonely), and more willing than anyone he knew to mess up his whole existence.
It was an awful mix of past trauma, fear of abandonment, the hate he held against those willing to abandon, and the fear that letting himself want would only encourage the people around him to turn their backs.
It made a wonderful pie, the kind with thin sweet crusts, delicate flavor and enough variation in color to encourage you to keep looking at it. The kind that deceived you into taking a heaping bite, but when you did you realized it was laced with pure crack cocaine and was actually made by the neighborhood tweaker.
Very fun, to say the least.
Izuku looked back into Aizawa's face, hoping to hope that it was an encouraging pinch of the eyebrows and not a disappointed one that contorted his face.
Kami, disappointed adults suck.
"I-" Izuku had no idea what to say. 'Oh hey, thanks for the coco, do you mind if I indefinitely live at your house because going back to the shrine will give me nightmares?'.
Or maybe, 'oh wow, so glad you were trying to arrest me for a month, because now that we know each other so well, do you mind pseudo adopting a whole child because he has a lot of terrible things happening in his head and really doesn't want to face anyone but you right now?'
Neither of those options sound, uuuuh, ideal.
He tries again, "I, uh, really don't wanna see my Granny," the statement floats on the table, resting there feather light, not changing a single thing in the room.
Aizawa raises a brow, the movement caught behind the raising of his cup and the movement of Ketchup-Cat crawling back in his arms.
Anxiety creeps like a hand; the curling of fingers brushing his throat and giving a quick twist to his esophagus. His ears stand on end, swiveling and twitching at every purr and shift.
"I-" he tries again, tears threaten and he tries his best to beat them off with a stick, "I'm sorry, I really don't wanna go home either-" he cuts himself of with a hiccup, mist coming to his eyes with a practiced, prepared, sort of ease.
Izuku doesn't miss the quick twitch from Aizawa at the mention of 'Home', nor does he try to evade any questions passed across the table, "Home?"
The simple question is answered, no circles or deals, no games either, "The shrine,"
A nod from the man, "Does your Granny know? Your parents?"
Izuku continues to cry, features relaxed but tears still streaming-he's glad rabbits don't cry because of emotions, he's not sure he would enjoy a flooded world-he answers the questions, "Granny and I aren't related," Aizawa nods, "She makes me dinner, teaches me, I do the rest." Aizawa's eyebrows are pinched again, "Not for lack of trying on her part though,"
Aizawa leans forward a touch, barely anything at all, "Parents?" He asks again.
"None," is all Izuku gives.
There is a beat of quiet, Ketchup springing away again and Aizawa heaving a sigh, likely processing everything. Izuku likes being able to talk to people other than Granny. So often he's just a target to talk at, even if the conversation is hard and Izuku wants to curl up and die, it's a small comfort.
The beat of silence is filled again by Aizawa's voice, "Okay one last question," suspenseful pause, "The office or the couch?"
Well, that was unexpected.
His ears still, one turning behind him, and Izuku thinks over his options, Chang'e knows Izuku hasn't slept on a couch in Too Long.
So he asks an important question, "Mattress of futon? In the office,"
Aizawa's face relaxes-well, kinda-"Mattress,"
Well, that answers that.
His tears slow, he sets his features in determination, a huff of breath escapes him.
"Office!"
Aizawa stands with a sigh, a few bones popping, cup abandoned. He grabs a plastic bag off the counter and gives a nod, "Office,"
They walk down the hall and Izuku wants nothing more than to forget today ever happened.
(Notes: Thank you for the reviews and! and all the traffic this fic has gotten, unreal. new quarter is abt to start so I will be slower to update, but I am far too invested in this fic to abandon it, so no fear, random citizen. be safe out there babes, and let me know if this chapter sucks.)
