Eraserhead.
What a stupid name.
Shouta Aizawa, that's my name, the hero thinks to himself.
With long strides, he marches his way down the slick urban streets of labyrinthine Musufatu. The thin ghostly mist that had permeated the air during the funeral continues to slither through the asphalt pathways, coiling its ghostly grasp around people's ankles as they walk.
His hands remain firmly planted in his coats heavy pockets, shaking and shivering from the shock of his own answer. His hair continues to drip from the rain, his ponytail having long separated to form one sloppy blob of tangled, damp strands.
Strangers step out of his way as he trounces his way back from the funeral. The rain is unceasing, pounding against umbrella and bare head alike, substantially heavier than the light drizzle of an hour before.
I should have slapped Yamada years ago for conceiving such a stupid name. And myself for that matter! How dare I agree to such an idea!
Aizawa grumbles to himself, droplets trailing from his ghastly pale visage. His grim demeanor, harsh glance, and phantasmic presence turns heads as he makes his way through the city. Strangers chatter among themselves as he passes by, judging his behavior with questions like, "What's wrong with that guy?", "Is he a hero? Doesn't seem like it." or the ever present, "Don't I know that guy?"
A quirkless hero? Is the kid suicidal? Literally attending the funeral of someone his age and he has the gall to ask such a mindless question.
Absolute idiot.
Aizawa continues to conceive of reasons to justify his outburst, presenting every possible argument he can. Yet, for every reason and every excuse, the feeling in his stomach fails to pass.
It just.
Won't.
Leave.
Pity? Sadness? God forbid, compassion?
Aizawa tries to shake the feelings from his gut.
Kid should see what I deal with nightly.
How horrid people can truly be. Anyone who did would turn and run. Hero applications would cease then and there. But no, all they see is All Might taking a final stand and coming out on top.
All they see is what the news wants them to see, the glitz, glamour, and glory of heroism. Never the gore, gloom, or gashes.
Nonstop information on the "Hero Narrative", of endless triumph and success, convincing anyone they can be a hero. No doubt the constant media spin convinces people like that kid to pursue heroism.
Even that day the media refused to call it quits.
Dozens dead, hundreds injured, and billions in property damage.
Nothing heroic about being a hero, Aizawa thinks to himself.
That day continues to haunt him.
The day Katsuki Bakugo died.
As the rain continues to pelt his cranium, Aizawa passes a newspaper stand in front of a coffee shop, its windows foggy from the cold exterior and warm inside. A bell rings with each opening and closing of the door as citizens seek refuge from the onslaught of precipitation.
Attached to the wall, under a canopy, a rack of newspapers are laid out against the wall, with the furthest issues soaked to the very bottom with rain. Unreadable, the ink of these issues have bled down to the final page.
Bored and searching for respite from his endless thoughts, he grabs a dry issue from the back. He's always much preferred paperback to the servitude of technology. Untraceable.
The headline catches his eye:
QUIRK ENHANCERS ON THE STREET?
Civilians on the street pass by the hero, glancing at him with the sides of their eyes. Some step out of their way to avoid him, keeping their eyes locked on the shady man.
Not caring, Aizawa opens the paper, stopping to read in the middle of the walkway, more focused on his intrigue to the top story than the concerns of bystanders on the street.
"Scientists have long wondered regarding the source of Quirks and their catalysts, especially concerning their possible consequences on human physiology. A team of American researches believe they've answered the question, identifying a series of mutations within multiple genes. In a particularly engaging study, these same scientists, Dr. Abraham Erskine and Dr. Bruce Banner, introduced a series of genetic mutations using CRISPR into a chosen quirkless applicant from the United States Armed Forces, in the hopes of witnessing a similar series of mutations. The results were astounding, with the patient exhibiting a powerful quirk that amplified his own physical abilities tenfold. With this data, multiple scientists are working to see if an applicable "Quirk Producer" can be applied to quirkless individuals, but ethical concerns are plenty after the chaos seen in Kamino Ward, which resulted in the retirement of All Might and the death of 33 civilians, an unknown number of villains, and 1 student hero."
Closing the newspaper, Aizawa stares ahead briefly, deep in thought.
A quirk producer? Could be a more advanced strain of...
Aizawa's thoughts bat around his clouded mind, interrupted by other rogue concepts.
1 student hero.
Student.
Aizawa shakes his head, furrowing his brows in an attempt to refocus his mind.
A more advanced strain of Trigger. I'll have to find my files, re-open the investigation. Maybe talk to...
As he grumbles to himself of a possible plan, Aizawa mindlessly stares into his reflection in the coffee shop window. The image is fogged and blurry, distorted by the constantly changing temperature.
His distinctive, crimson gaze is blurred. Their striking red image reminiscent of another pair of red eyes he had come to know.
Staring back at him, Katsuki Bakugo's muted, burning eyes glare into Aizawa's soul.
Turning his head to avoid the image, Aizawa tries to step away from the reflection to focus his fuzzy mind.
No success. Katsuki, and how Aizawa failed him, is the only thing on his mind.
How he could have saved his student, in fact, how he should have. How, although often misguided, Katsuki was on a path to greatness. A path that'll never be fulfilled.
As Aizawa turns away from the reflection, he steps directly into a bystander's path. Bumping shoulders, Aizawa is jolted back to reality by the sudden shock, his bloodshot gaze focused once again.
"Get out of the way! Idiot..." the man scoffs as he walks away. Brushing off his shoulder with a glare, Aizawa stands on the side of the walkway. Other civilians give him passing glances, a mix of scorn, disgust, and concern for his lack of social etiquette.
This is the society he fights so "valiantly" for?
His mind races back to that day.
The day Katsuki Bakugo died.
A coalition of heroes had been sent, led by the legendary All Might, instructed to save Aizawa's student. To nullify the threat of the League of Villains. To end their reign of terror once and for all.
Look where we are now.
And yet where was the heroic "Eraserhead"? Where did the Hero Association place the instructor of Katsuki Bakugo, the man who oversaw his education and growth?
Back at UA, to relay information to the police.
Kicked to the sidelines, kept out of action.
And yet here, despite his quirk, despite how "Eraserhead" could have completely declawed the might of All for One, how the greatest villain of this generation would be powerless if his infamous quirk had been rendered null, they left "Eraserhead" out of combat.
There'd be no enhancement, no power ups, no stealing of quirks. Just one glare and All for One is powerless. Nothing but a respirator attached to a broken body.
But no. A conflict of interests would prevent "Eraserhead" from fulfilling his duties. The danger was "simply too high".
And now, the Symbol of Peace is gone, Kamino Ward is devastated, and Katsuki Bakugo is dead.
To top it all off, who did the Hero Association task with notifying the Bakugo family?
All Might had been too wounded in his climactic fight to have any breath left in him, Endeavor is ironically "too cold".
No, they sent "Eraserhead", a hero they had kept back from the fray into their house, under their roof, to tell them that their son was dead. To bring them to the morgue.
To identify what was left of him.
Aizawa continues his odyssey back home, eyes burning from exhaustion.
The image of Katsuki Bakugo begins to blur with that of the emerald-eyed kid. Practically the antithesis of Katsuki.
Timid, green-eyed, and freckled from head to toe. Remarkably different from his past student.
And yet he carried a similar... je ne sai quo.
Perhaps he had been too harsh to that kid.
But... he could never risk it. He wouldn't let another kid face the same fate as Katsuki Bakugo, not another bodybag. He's seen too much strife come from it.
His class had felt so empty without him, without his brash, loud voice and constant insults. He was loud, annoying, and frankly far too arrogant. But... It did liven up the class.
Ochaco stayed home that week. Can't blame her. After Tenya, she only had Bakugo. What a strange compliment the two were, she cooled his jets down more than Aizawa had seen with any other duo. Reduced the lion to a mouse.
Can't imagine her pain.
How cruel the world has been to poor old "Eraserhead". Soon, his cynicism might bleed into his students. He had been trying his best the last few weeks to remain hopeful for them.
Oh, how he had failed them.
What kind of bastards purposefully aim at children in order to strike at men?
Aizawa stops in his tracks. The rain trickles down the back of his coat, from his hair, down his face. The feeling of cold droplets dripping down his back returns him to the land of the living.
He reaches into his inner coat pocket and pops out a pack of cigarettes, sliding a new one out.
He didn't use to smoke.
This one's new.
Holding a hand over his lighter, Aizawa looks up to the skies while puffing his smoke.
Rain's fitting for such a drab day.
He coughs from the smoke. Still getting used to it.
Was I too harsh on the kid?
He just wants to be a hero, to help, to do what Aizawa had always wanted.
At his age, Aizawa was the same way. Hell, if quirk enhancers do become public, maybe he'll finally have a chance.
Maybe...
Aizawa zones out as he steps forward, head slouched, cigarette in mouth. His lengthy stride occasionally colliding with a localized puddle, sending even more droplets crashing through the air.
His mouth tastes of burnt ash.
He chews on cigarette butts when stressed.
He's been chewing on a lot of cigarette butts recently.
Perhaps I should turn around and talk to the kid again, give him a little hope.
But...
What if, if Aizawa did give him hope, who's to say that kid wouldn't be in the same place as Katsuki? In his own way, during his own path to heroism, perhaps he'll end up in the same place.
The same place as the day Katsuki Bakugo died.
Inside a black body bag, killed by a world that hurts everyone around Shouta Aizawa.
No, he thinks, it's better if I didn't go back.
How long have I been out? Aizawa wonders, turning to inspect his new surroundings.
Looking around, the sky had long gone dark, his path now illuminated by the bright neon pinks, blues, and yellows of Japan.
His mouth no longer tastes of ash.
The cigarette's long gone out.
Dropping the expended butt to the ground, Aizawa steps into the nearest alleyway. Inspecting his surroundings, making sure he hasn't been followed, he lets out a sigh of relief. Slipping a pair of slitted golden goggles out from under his coat, he places them over his eyes.
A slithering, silver tendril of cloth slips out from Aizawa's overcoat. Pulling the bulky coat off of his back, the slithering mass of cloth wraps itself around his thin body.
Propelling himself into the air using the cloth wrapped around his body, he prepares for another night as Eraserhead instead of Shouta Aizawa.
He always preferred the night anyways.