Woo, sorry for the long pause between updates, guys! School's really been kicking it to me this semester, but you can't keep a good writer down!
A few quick notes to go over:
Just a quick update dealing with the timeline, but I won't be dealing with the Overhaul and Eri arc. Please assume that these events happen in Class 1-A's second year - as well as any further manga/anime plot elements. The rest of this story takes place throughout the rest of first year and possibly crossing over into the summer break. I don't want this story to grow too expansive where it was just meant to be a short thing, but corndog-patrol on tumblr has art of their original version of this AU that has Mic meeting Eri and it is absolutely adorable! As for me, well, I'm going to give our boys and 1-A a bit of a break. We'll see about Eri popping up in future drabbles, though!
Another note, I've changed the spelling of Shota to Shouta where I learned that Wikipedia is a fool that should never be trusted. I'll be using the spelling of Shouta from here on out, but there will be a final edit to the story once completed so that the earlier chapters are updated to reflect this - any other names I messed up will also be fixed.
With all of that said, enjoy!
"Your body moved before you could think, huh…" Shouta stared at the streets below him, the image of cracked roads and dim street lights blurring into a single color as he let his thoughts drift back to the other night with Mic. "What am I going to do with you, Mic?"
Shouta had responded to the alert of a bank robbery and had been the closest hero on patrol at the time. He had gone in expecting hostages and thugs or villains who had been twisted by the cruelty of the world - or had given in to their own cruelty. Instead he had slipped in and saw Present Mic bleeding with a gun trained on him.
The blood hadn't been a priority. Mic, whether villain or vigilante, had grown used to the pain of a difficult fight. The sight of a gun being pointed at him with a finger on the trigger had been anxiety inducing, but the expression on Mic's face - the expression of acceptance as if he knew he was going to die and had already accepted it as fact… That had been heartbreaking.
There was a second where Shouta had seen his student and a hand reaching out to crumble her down to dust. It hadn't been a reminder he needed, and it was only years of fighting and doing hero work that had him reacting on instinct, changing the path of the bullet and sparring Present Mic of death. Shouta hadn't spared him from a lecture, though, but then the man had gone and said that.
"My body moved on its own before I could think."
It was a joke among pro heroes. It wasn't a well-known joke, but it wasn't a secret, either. Every good pro hero, whether aware or not, they always managed to say the same thing. Their debut, the first time they helped someone, the moment they realized they knew what they wanted to do, it was the same phrase said again and again no matter the circumstances.
Their bodies moved before they could think. It was the mark of a good hero. It was the mark of a good hero - one who cared more about the safety of people than the rankings or media attention. These days being a pro hero was akin to being a celebrity, but even then the feelings were often the same.
Shouta groaned and shoved his goggles down to rub at his eyes, fingers pausing and twitching as they touched the familiar piece of gear, thoughts of Mic drifting up even more than before. The overwhelming abundance of memories and thoughts were drowned out by one single conclusion, though.
Present Mic was not, and never had been, a villain. There was no way for him to be a villain when he was too afraid of his own quirk and only used it when he was helping people. He protected children and saved teenagers he didn't even know, he broke up fights if they got too rough, and he was willing to let himself get shot to help those who he had never met before. Present Mic may have called himself the 'Voice Villain,' but it was clear that he was anything but.
Even half the police in his area thought Mic was a vigilante! After the report he had filled for the bank robbery, half the force had asked him who the vigilante was that had been at the scene. Shouta hadn't had the heart to correct their assumptions. Plus, it was going to be that much funnier when they were told the hostages were saved by another villain.
The sound of tired footsteps had Shouta coming out of his thoughts and tugging his goggles back up, reminding himself that he was on patrol. A glance down showed a man with long blonde hair that was pulled back in a bun, grumpy expression on his face.
The grumpy expression on his face was why it took so long for Shouta to realize that the man was familiar due to the fact this was the barista he saw at his regular coffee place. He didn't even know that the shop closed this late.
"-stupid fucking douchebag. I could kill him and people would thank me. Oh, Yamada, you murdered your boss? Well, yes, because he made me stay four hours past closing and clean and-" The words drifted up through the air towards him before dropping back into bitter grumbling and mumbling, Shouta feeling his lips twitch into a smile.
He would have to remember to try and be a touch nicer towards him in the morning if he was there. Back to back closing and morning shifts weren't exactly fun, especially when he already looked exhausted and overworked. Seeing people like this made Shouta wonder what Mic's day job was. The man had to be doing something. Hm. He probably DJ'd at a local club.
Looking back down, Shouta now saw two figures in the shadows where the street lights didn't reach instead of just the one. Readying his binding cloth, Shouta took a moment to assess the situation before he saw the flash of a gun.
Jumping down, Shouta barely landed before he was shouting loud enough to get their attention, "Hey!" The gun was now trained on Shouta, which, good. The civilian, the same barista, was tense and had a pale face and shocked expression, entire body drawn in tight. He seemed to be favoring his right shoulder, so it was possible he was hurt, but Shouta hadn't heard a gunshot, at least.
"Who are you supposed to be?" The man who held the gun sounded panicked and ready to pull the trigger. Shouta would've been amused if there wasn't a hostage or a gun involved.
"I'm the guy that's going to kick your ass." It was possible Shouta took some aggression out when it came to the fight that followed, but Shouta didn't have much sympathy for those who contemplated murder as being an acceptable risk.
Making sure the knots were tight and the police were on their way, Shouta finally looked to the civilian, gaze flicking him over quickly to assess for damage. The man was rambling about how he was okay, full of nervous energy. He looked ready to vibrate out of his skin and there seemed to be some sort of damage to his shoulder.
"You sure you're okay?" Shouta asked, pushing his goggles up and finally cutting into the rambling. He a had a lot of practice with Mic, after all.
"Of course! He didn't get a scratch on me!" Something was… not wrong, but not quite right, either. Shouta felt like he was a few steps off from where he should be, and it wasn't a feeling he particularly liked. Usually he was still half-asleep when talking to this man, so maybe that was it.
"Well," Shouta sighed, turning back to keep an eye on the defeated villain. He wasn't much moving. "You should at least come with me to make a report."
"No!" That was a very strong reaction to the idea of going to the police. Maybe the other just hated paperwork. Shouta could relate to that. "I mean… I'll just head home - thanks for the help, Eraserhead."
"Mm." Jumpy, but he wasn't bleeding and didn't seem in any extreme pain, and if he didn't want to make a report or press charges, then Shouta could let him off easily enough. Strange, though. It was very rare that a civilian knew his name considering his status of being underground.
The feeling of the wrong steps turned into that of a missed step. It was odd, but maybe Shouta was just putting too much thought into it. If Mic were there, he would probably…
Shouta's thoughts trailed off into silence as he felt a million little clues come into complete focus in a way that had him torn between incomprehensible anger and utter despair.
There wasn't any other way to react when he realized his barista of the past few months was Present Mic.
::
Shouta really should have seen this sooner. He was groggy with the hour or two of sleep he had managed, but he pushed himself to focus as he stared at the barista who had a nametag he had never bothered to read before. Present Mic's family name was Yamada and Shouta was feeling more and more like an idiot by the second.
Not only had Present Mic been in front of him since the very beginning of this whole mess, but he couldn't even complain about it to anyone. He could never let this realization be known – to Nemuri, especially.
"Hey, there! You're actually pretty early, this morning!" Yamada greeted, his tone an exact match for Mic's in every way possible.
"I couldn't sleep so I decided to start the day early." Shouta was only half aware of the words coming out of his mouth as he did his best not to be obvious about his staring. The more he looked, the more stupid he felt.
Yamada was wearing the same bulky glasses that Mic had worn all those months ago when his own sunglasses had still been broken. There were the hearing aids that Shouta caught glimpses of when Mic's headphones weren't on. There was that stupid mustache that should have been a dead giveaway and all of it was tied together with bright green eyes that were shining as if they knew him and fuck. Present Mic had been serving him coffee the whole damn time. This was Mic and he knew exactly who Shouta was.
"Maybe you shouldn't be drinking coffee, then," Yamada - Mic - teased, smile fond and warm in a way that Mic never let himself really show. "I wanted to say thank you, by the way, for last night. It's good to have a hero around these parts."
"It's my job," Shouta shrugged off, trying to get over his panic and calm himself down. It wasn't working as much as he wanted it to.
"Well, thank you anyways, Eraserhead," Yamada laughed, everything about him soft and quiet in a way that Present Mic never let himself be. Shouta had thought his feelings had been bad before, but this… Jeez.
"Aizawa," Shouta said quietly, pleased when Yamada blinked at him in confusion. "I'm off duty in the mornings, so it's Aizawa Shouta."
"Oh." The word was a soft exhale, Yamada's eyes wide and bright and a smile on his face that looked fragile. If Shouta hadn't known who this was before, then this moment would have given it away. "Well, then, it's only right if you call me Yamada. Yamada Hizashi. Um, nice to meet you?"
"Right. Nice to meet you." Shouta was fucked. His name was Yamada Hizashi. Present Mic's name was Hizashi which literally meant the perception of sunshine. Shouta was filled with a dawning horror as he silently realized how many times he had compared the man's smile to sunshine.
"Right, your order!" Yamada quickly moved to get the items, passing by a teenager coworker who was hissing something at him as he scribbled on an empty coffee cup before filling it. Shouta couldn't even be upset he only counted two espresso shots instead of his usual six.
Yamada bustled around the small area and looked to hiss something back to his now glaring coworker before setting Shouta's coffee and a bag of cute cat muffins on the counter. "Here you go, Aizawa-san! Consider this one on the house as thanks for last night."
"Oh, uh…" This man was too sweet. This man was literally sunshine and Shouta had no idea how to deal with it. It was one thing dealing with Mic's cockiness and rapid wit, but it was another dealing with this soft and quiet barista who gave the warmest smiles. "That's really-"
"I won't take no for an answer," Yamada insisted, pushing the items closer and then crossing his arms. "And I can be a lot more stubborn than you can!"
"That part I didn't doubt," Shouta muttered, taking the items and half hiding behind his binding cloth as he eyed Yamada. "Thank you."
"Of course! Just don't make me say that stupid 'have a lovely day' phrase," Yamada mock frowned, sticking his tongue out. "It's so lame!" The frown disappeared in favor of one of those bright smiles. "Have a nice day, Aizawa-san!"
Shouta managed to keep himself together, as well as mumble back a response, and make it all the way to the U. A. staff room. He was in complete control of himself for the entire time. The moment he sat down, though, he let his head hit the desk, cheek squished against the desk as he felt his cheeks redden.
"My, my, what's this, Shou-chan? Are you feeling embarrassed over something?" Nemuri, the utter vulture,was leaning off his chair in a second. Shouta did his best to ignore her and instead looked at his coffee cup which… didn't have his name written on it. Instead, scrawled across his cup in looping lines:
Sound does not travel when no one hears
Yet you have always listened for me
From my loudest shouts
To my quietest whispers
My voice has never fallen on deaf ears since you
Is it any wonder I fell for you
Like the last sharp note of a song
Trailing off before dropping into unknown
"Holy shit, are you dying? Your face just got so red?" Nemuri's shocked voice barely even registered, Shouta only staring at where Present Mic had written a love poem on his coffee cup. Oh, god, how often had he done this? Had Shouta been throwing away cups with love notes on them this whole time?
Shouta turned his head to rest his forehead against his desk, his co-workers chatting above him in a way to where it was nothing except for white noise.
Jeez… Shouta had never felt so blind as he did now.