Her body was soft in his arms.
The smooth curve of her spine to the nape of her fragile neck, the peach skin of her arms, her chest. She was nowhere near fit- all of her body parts were cushioned by the remnants of baby fat, but she was...little. Petite. Like a fluttering little bird.
Or, rather, a wide-eyed, dumbstruck fawn.
I really need to stop with the animal analogies.
Instead, Shota Aizawa turned to another mystifying thought.
What were the odds- of all the parks, of all the times and places to be, that she, of the thousands of people in the same city, would come crashing into him again? Literally?
Her mouth, full and dastardly pink, sat agape, mirroring the shock in the rest of her features. She looked so ridiculously stupid Aizawa couldn't help but smile, even just a little.
"We've really got to stop meeting like this," Came his casual comment. Color bloomed in her cheeks- the first reaction displayed since her fall. She kept staring like a dumb little fish. Surprisingly, Aizawa held her gaze, enjoying the moment.
" Chiyo- Chiyo! Honey, are you okay?"
A woman significantly taller than the one in his arms approached at a quickened pace, face drawn in the image of motherly concern. She was donning black yoga pants and a grey top, sports bra purposely apparent underneath. The slight wrinkles near her eyes and journeying into her top glistened with sweat.
Glancing down, Aizawa realized Chiyo was wearing the exact same outfit, sans aging signs. The little smile from before grew all on its own as horror etched itself into Chiyo's face.
"Oh my god," She breathed, expression severe as she looked anywhere but him and the approaching woman- her mother, by his guess. Chiyo appeared to be trying to evaporate out of the situation, shrinking into him and away from her mom on reflex. Aizawa marveled if her quirk- or any- were capable of such a thing. The face before his was snatched by swift, demanding hands, turning the daughter's face every which way. If possible, Chiyo darkened several shades before trying to swat the hand away.
"Are you okay? Did you hurt your head?" Her voice was panicked.
"I'm fine, mom."
Angry brown eyes turned suddenly to Aizawa. "If you harmed her in any way, I'll see to it that-"
"I ran into him, mom, please-"
"Excuse me," The deep voice surprised both women, attracting their undivided attention. Chiyo's eyes drank him in and he shifted, unused to the way she was currently watching him, the way her body felt against his. Gently he helped her stand on her own, turning to give a slight bow to her mother. Chiyo moved away quickly, still very obviously embarrassed, and that strange, amused feeling continued to warm Aizawa's throat.
"I am Shota Aizawa. It's a pleasure to meet you," He introduced formally.
Mrs. Tsutomi squinted.
"His hair's just up, mom. It's him," Chiyo mumbled into her shoulder. She was trying desperately hard not to look at him, face still red as a cherry. "Aizawa, this is my mother, Mrs. Tsutomi,"
The middle-aged woman still didn't seem convinced. Aizawa wondered if he should activate his quirk as evidence, then realized Chiyo's distaste for said powers probably stemmed from this familial root. He thought of speaking of UA or his professional career as proof instead, just as a firm hand suddenly gripped his jaw and pulled him forward.
"Mom," Chiyo hissed, clearly horrified as her mother physically assaulted a professional hero. She scratched nervously at her wrist, looking as if she wanted to intervene but, probably from years of experience, knew it impossible to stop the hellbent woman. Mrs. Tsutomi scrutinized his passive face before at last nodding.
"Red eyes. Bored, vacant expression. Black hair. I believe you, Mr. Aizawa," Mrs. Tsutomi affirmed as if someone had told her differently. She smiled, suddenly peevish. "Are you telling me you've been hiding all that handsome under that scraggly hair all this time?"
"Oh my god." Chiyo hid behind her hands and for the first time in a while, Aizawa felt a sprig of embarrassment branch through his chest. He released something caught between a cough and a laugh, rubbing his neck. Apparently, however, Mrs. Tsutomi wasn't finished with him.
"Were you ears burning or something? We were just talking about you-"
"Mom," Chiyo pleaded, grabbing her hand and trying to pull her away. It was interesting, watching the ever-calm Tsutomi from school act like a humming bundle of nerves, completely not in control of her expressions or emotions. She'd lost her cool yesterday, sure, but this was a new side entirely. One he might even prefer. All this time, has she only been so cold around me?
"It was nice seeing you, Mr. Aizawa, but we really need to get back on schedule-"
"Oh?" Aizawa interrupted, engaging with her mother. He knew his behavior to UA's newest teacher hadn't been the most respectful, but he hadn't really expected her to mention it to others. Even now she seemed ready to disappear from Japan altogether over having this conversation unfold. Mrs. Tsutomi yanked her hand away from Chiyo, not even glancing back before throwing her daughter under the bus.
"She said she thinks you hate her. Not that I know why, as she won't give me very concrete details." The elder Tsutomi placed her hands on her hips, humorless. "So, what is it? Because she's a woman? Because she isn't like you professional heroes, risking her neck every single day? Or is it because she simply looks like an easy target? Is that the kind of man you really are, Shota Aizawa?"
Anger. Indignance.
These were natural, logical emotional responses to this woman's bold words.
Instead Aizawa only felt guilt.
Is that the kind of man you are?
"Mom, let's just go," Chiyo said quietly. A new resolve had raised her shoulders. She didn't reach for her mother, whose eyes were still ablaze on Aizawa, but walked off on her own, out of the situation she clearly hadn't wanted to be a part of from the beginning.
Is this the kind of man you really are?
"Wait, Tsutomi-" His body moved on instinct, stalling her exit with the simple physical contact of catching her hand.
She looked to their connected skin and then his face, and he was struck again by the clearness of her eyes, the lingering chubbiness of her cheeks. Wisps of hair were caught on her forehead, the sides of her face. One particular piece had caught the corner of her mouth. Aizawa fought the urge to brush it aside.
"Can I- May I speak with you, privately?"
Chiyo looked as if he'd just asked for a kidney. She glanced at her mom who immediately jumped to life, rushing by as if swept up on a high wind, waving cheerfully as she hustled off. In just moments she was totally out of sight, leaving the couple seemingly alone in the lush park. Chiyo looked up at him again, eyes just a fraction wider. Aizawa cleared his strangely dry throat.
"I attempted a few days ago to apologize but was interrupted by the final bell and never found another opportunity to mention my shitty behavior. Or, rather, I didn't try to. My actions towards you have been far under UA's standard and were uncalled for. I was having a shitty day and took it out on you, and I apologize for that."
"What made it so shitty?"
"Er, what?"
"Why was your day so shitty?" She asked, beginning to leisurely walk down the path her mother had fled down. Aizawa was prodded along, having failed to relinquish her fingers from before. Now aware he released her, something inside quietly wanting the opposite. He suppressed the sentiment immediately, burying it under deep layers of sensibility and exhaustion.
"Tiredness. The prospect of teaching high schoolers complicated subjects like decoherence and quantum entanglement. Physics. The annoying, placid drone of a new teacher's voice roaming into my safe space. You know, the normal."
Is he...mocking me?
I looked up in surprise only to find him watching me, a side of his mouth bent. I stared on incredulously.
Is he...teasing me?
We were walking, side by side, on a sunny Saturday morning, alone.
Outside of school.
No obligations, no forced pleasantries.
Is this a dream? Am I actually still at home, waiting for Nasu's demanding yeowls to wake me up? I pinched myself just in case, noting the too-real pain. Shota Aizawa's brow furrowed at the action, hair sliding across his forehead with the movement. Somehow he didn't seem as intimidating in "normal" clothing. The thick bands of material weren't snaked around his neck; just a simple outfit of soft greys, revealing long, pale arms and legs.
Mom was right. He really is hot.
I pinched myself again; this time as punishment for such a thought.
"So. Do you come here often? What do you even call what you're doing?" Aizawa asked with a haphazard gesture towards my clothing. I glanced down and shrugged.
"We go running on Saturday mornings."
"Just Saturday?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You aren't going to lose any weight running just once a week."
Ah, there's the Aizawa I know.
"I don't recall saying that was the purpose- what are you trying to insinuate?"
"Hey, look."
"Don't try and change the subject-" I began. My words staggered like skipping rocks when Aizawa turned and pointed at my left forearm. I stopped and glanced down, only to catch the final act of a monstrous mosquito taking flight from my skin. I'd felt a tug in my system so minuscule I hadn't reacted. A large, angry welt was already giving rise, itching imminent. I heaved a mighty groan. It was nearly fall- shouldn't all the bugs be dead by this time in the season?
"Here," Aizawa commented and, taking my arm with both hands, met the bite halfway by leaning in. I staggered, completely taken aback, as he placed his lips against my skin, the feel of his wet tongue sending shivers down my spine and creating a vortex where my stomach once was.
"Wh-What are you doing?" The voice that left me was as high as my mind, completely betraying any calm aura I could've given off. If someone makes you uncomfortable, leave immediately, mom's nagging warning suddenly suggested. I felt the usual prickle of downy hair rise across my nape. Two dark eyes watched me before returning to my arm, giving one gentle suck before pulling away. Carefully, he wiped the area with one slow thumb and blew cool air against the pinked incline.
"Menthol is a cooling agent and found in most toothpastes. I brushed my teeth right before I came here," Aizawa explained as if this were common knowledge, lowering his mouth to my arm again and bursting every butterfly-filled balloon in my chest.
"Did you know a mosquito's bite is done by six needle-like pieces? There's two sharp scalpels and two tubes that hold your skin open while the other two pieces insert and probe around looking for a vein. So it's not just the long 'mosquito nose'- it's six individual needles going into your skin. Isn't that fucking insane?"
He was rambling, almost to himself, blowing on my arm between sentences and rubbing my once-wound. Is this what I sounded like last night?
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Hm? Oh, nothing. Sorry," I was probably gazing up like some lovesick puppy, based on the disturbed quality tickling his scruffed face.
It was just nice- refreshing even- to know there was at least one other person out there who shared bizarre information with others and seemed actually interested in it.
"Did you know only the female mosquito sucks blood? The males live off plant nectars,"
"Typical women," Aizawa flatly responded. He released my arm and I smiled.
"What's that supposed to mean, huh?"
"Speaking of frightening women," Aizawa changed the subject smoothly, nodding forward. Mom's familiar shape was on the horizon; she'd seen someone she knew and was now chatting ninety to nothing, expression lively. Probably asking about their last physical exam or something equally uncomfortable. I laughed awkwardly, not denying his adjective usage.
Aizawa, even though she'd certainly put him through the ringer, had been abundantly polite to mom. It was kind of...attractive.
"She's my best friend. I know she can be a lot to handle, but she's the best human being I've ever met," I answered truthfully. Just as I poured out my love for her greatness, mom pinched the hanging skin of the old woman's arm she was speaking to, giving it an over exaggerated jiggle. I nearly fell on my face in embarrassment.
"Scratch that: she's an excessive amount to handle."
The tall frame of the aloof hero bent and he let out another scoffing chuckle, looking ahead as he answered, "She seems to care for you a lot, though. I commend her for that."
"Because it's such a hard thing to do, caring about me?" I responded jokingly, nearly choking on my own awkward stupidness.
Why would you say that? Why the hell would you ask something like that? Horror probably colored every ounce of my skin and an involuntary spasm nearly made me twist my ankle off. I considered running away from the situation I'd just created.
Maybe he'll see me as some enigma, leaving a teasing, devil-may-care question to reflect on as I leave him in the dust.
I put pressure on my trembling leg and immediately tripped over a raised block of cement, doing an idiotic shuffle to avoid breaking every tooth in my idiot face. A strong hand caught my arm, reinforcing my balance, and again I wished I could just evaporate right out of existence. I dared to peek through my escaping hair at the once-so-grouchy man of my nightmares, wondering how I ever got myself in these situations.
That small half-smile was licking his face again, and my heart beat in unconscious triumph.
Stop it. Stop it right now. Get your shit together, Chiyo. You've already met the love of your life, remember? He showed up and literally swept you off your feet last night?
...I was pretty sure, anyway.
"You're something else, you know that?" His voice was nearly laughing. Be still my heart. "It's probably not hard to care for you, but taking care of you must be an entirely different story."
I sniffed.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Mmm," Aizawa hummed. We began walking once again; this time, I was careful to watch the trail before us. "This is what, the third time you've fallen in the span of a week? Your emotional states are sporadic, you have a quirk you don't use regardless of its usefulness, you probably don't even own your own washer and dryer-"
"Excuse me?" I cut him off, both verbally and physically, anger flickering in my chest "First of all, I don't remember ever saying I didn't use my quirk; secondly, even if it's true that I don't use it, which I'm neither accepting or denying, I don't see how that would make me difficult to care for." I avoided the laundry comment altogether; half of the last load was still in mom's living room, waiting for pick-up.
"Really?" He asked, genuinely surprised.
"Really."
"Hm."
He brushed past me, as if that was enough of a response. I stood my ground, glaring at his back. How could someone go from volcanic hot to arctic cool like that? Was he even aware of his arrogant boldness? "So that's it? Just a hmm?"
"Chiyo, think about it," He called over his shoulder, voice unreadable. "In a world of quirks, if you're gifted with one that could save even one life, protect one student, wouldn't it then make you a burden to society, let alone the ones who care for you, to not use it?"
The spine strolling him away was long, as confident as a taut bowstring. A soft breeze caught his shirt and with it he seemed to straighten, at last glancing over his shoulder to meet my eyes. My heart pounced into my throat, though from fear or something else I wasn't sure.
His eyes were dark, tired, but there was something else there, too. An awareness.
As if he saw right through me.
"I guess...I'm just not that type of man, the one who's complacent with a burdensome existence just to avoid pain or fear. Not if it means allowing those I care about to be harmed."
He threw a passing wave over his shoulder before starting off in a run, growing in pace the further he went.
The trees swayed in the breeze, birds chirped gaily from their branches. A group of children shrieked in joy as their kite finally took to the wind, sailing as fast as Shota Aizawa's legs, carrying both away from their corresponding persons.
And there I stood like a statue, frozen and stone-cold, crafted in place for all to witness.
Was he right?
I could feel it, the water of my bones writhing, rebelling against my shape. The buzzing, quiet at first, grew with each impeding thought.
All this time, have I...Have I just been a coward?
No. It was more complicated than that.
My blood roiled. I had to tell someone, anyone, about my festering dilemma, before my veins strangled the life out of me. Someone kind. Understanding. Someone other than mom.
And I knew exactly who my knight in thoughtful armor was.
I slapped my fist against the other palm, setting the idea in motion.
For the first time in years, I would discuss what I only expressed in the privacy of my mind, what I tore myself apart over only to realize no one was around to help reassemble the pieces.
I'll do it tonight.
Mom had finally noticed my solo status and waved cheerfully. I stretched, tendons moaning as I rolled my shoulders and took off at a brisk pace.
I stopped almost immediately, eyes wide with realization and chest thumping once more.
Had Aizawa referred to me as...Chiyo?
"What kind of man are you?"
What kind of man was he, indeed.
Chiyo Tsutomi's face had burned itself into his retinas, looking up at him like some vulnerable princess, locked in the tallest tower, naive and weak to the entire world.
But there had been a glimmer, a spark of willpower.
The burn of her eyes, the licking flame of anger that washed over her and lapped against him. Defiant. Momentarily fearless. Alive.
Shota stopped his back-breaking pace, frame arching as he breathed, hands on the shaking legs that had carried him easily half a mile from where he left her in mere moments. He straightened, allowing the sweat to slide across his temple before brushing it away.
The ice queen wasn't so frosted as he originally thought, but she was still hiding something, locked away in that troublesome mind of hers.
Absently- dangerously- he wondered if he'd glimpsed spring through her unguarded eyes.
The once-distant laughter of children was now suddenly too close for comfort. Aizawa turned warily to the cause of the sound before his breath caught, struck by the sight.
A spanse of the park was dedicated to underground fountains, splurting great gushes of water to the abundant pleasure of children every twenty seconds or so. Parents sat on shady benches, towels and snacks readily on hand, as children ran around the rubbered ground, screaming each time the water once again shot out near their feet, soaking their bodies and drenching their hair. This in itself wouldn't have been enough to catch Aizawa's attention, or to cause the level in which the children were squealing.
The water, rather than rushing out of the ground and flying back to earth, was suspended by an invisible force, floating weightlessly.
Children ran through panes of water, thin as glass, creating their own harmless explosions; others collected droplets like falling diamonds, only to throw them back towards the sky.
It was beautiful.
The parents stared oddly on, pleasantly surprised, and Aizawa didn't need to activate his own quirk to realize none of these children were capable or responsible for this crystalline sight.
"I can...manage water."
With one final glance he moved on, mind once again returning to the mysterious Chiyo Tsutomi.
Perhaps there was more to her than he realized.
