Chapter Text
It was a beautiful night out, perfect for patrolling. There was a gentle breeze, whispering soft songs in the ears of those who listen as the moon hungover, large and bright. Shouta could count every star in the sky, a rarity for the city where light pollution blocks out the beauty of nature. He could spend hours on the roof tops, sitting and gazing, but Shouta knew he had a job to do, even if tonight presented itself as a quiet night.
Leaping down from the building, using a series of parkour moves to keep him from hurting himself, the 25-year-old decided to take a stroll in the nearby park. Why not enjoy the night? The park was dark, with just enough light to illuminate the walkway throughout the park. Shouta passed a couple sitting on the bench, pressed up against each other, clearly enjoying the night. He found it hard to pry his eyes away from the personal moment, his hand finding its way to the mark on his shoulder. There sat a lone feline gazing at the moon in a field of spider lilies. The mark was uncolored except for the red of the lilies that seeped through like the familiar color of blood.
When Shouta first obtained the mark, the flowers were absent, leaving only the cat and the moon. One day, he felt an unimaginable pain. A pain so bad, that it crippled him and kept him home for three days. Shouta thought his soulmate died when he saw the lilies appear. They say that the mark typically has no meaning and it had been proven throughout the years that there was no significance to the mark beyond that the soulmate of said person shared the exact same mark. He tried desperately to ignore the quiet nagging feeling of despair in the back of his head at the thought of his mate possibly having passed, but Shouta decided to try and be optimistic. He found that optimism to be harder to hold onto every day.
The brunette was just passing by an alleyway when he heard a commotion. Shouta peered inside. He saw a fairly short man, around 5’5, cornering a man whom was much taller than he was. It seemed to be an exchange of some sort, but Shouta couldn’t hear, so he inched closer.
“The Master is not thrilled with your performance, Kisuke.”
The voice was flat, monotonous, and yet threatening. Though the other was at a significant height disadvantage, he seemed so large compared to the quivering man in front of him. Shouta realized that this was the rank A villain, Implosion. He had been hunting for him for the past few weeks before eventually resigning to the fact that there were no leads. To see him cornered and shivering of the usually egotistical man was unnerving.
“Please, give me time! I can have exactly what you need, but I just need more time!” The smaller scoffed, his green curls bouncing as he swirled a knife around his fingers. Every inch of the man’s body was covered in black except for his eyes and hair. He wore a mask that showed a toothy grin made of jagged lines.
“I don’t think there is anything you can give.”
Blood spewed out from Implosion’s neck and mouth as the other slit his throat with his knife. He cleaned it on the dying man’s shirt before sheathing it. Everything happened so fast that Shouta had no time to react, he sat frozen. The other turned to walk away before noticing the hero watching his every move.
“Well, hello, lost little lamb. What brings you to my neck of the woods?” His voice was silky and smooth, enticing the other to talk, his eyes golden. Shouta unfroze and began to ramble before promptly shutting his mouth and activating his quirk. His hair rose and eyes bled crimson, causing the other’s golden glow to melt into a soft green glow. One perfectly manicured; green eyebrow raised.
“Impressive that you knew I was using my quirk on you, but you were always impressive, Eraser.” Shouta’s eyes widened. How did this person know who he was? He didn’t recognize him from any lists of criminals and villains impending capture. Just who was he?
“How do you know who I am?” Shouta barked.
“You see, I used to look up to you. In fact, I looked up to heroes in general. They were so cool and brave with how they saved people. And I wanted to be just like them!” The voice gained an octave or two making the man sound more like a boy. Those poisonous eyes were trained on him. He felt like they were burning him alive. “You in particular caught my attention. I used to analyze heroes as a hobby, and you were so cool and out of the spotlight. I wanted to be just like you. I just wanted to help!” Shouta kept his eyes trained on the boy as he watched the once stoic young man unravel.
“What changed?” It was said so softly, so quietly that the other almost didn’t hear him. Glowing eyes snapped back to him.
“What changed? Being told my entire life that I could never be a hero. My entire life I have been beaten and thrown to the wolves because of something I could not control. When my quirk finally came in? The bullying continued. It still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. But I could handle that.” His tone was somber. The dull glow became a fierce blaze as he continued speaking, voice becoming icy. “Then a murder attempt was tried on my mother and my own life. They didn’t succeed with me, but my beautiful mother…she was killed. And when I woke up, I died with her.” The glow slowly faded, leaving nothing but dull, mossy eyes.
“No hero came that day. No hero questioned the ten-year-old homeless boy hiding in abandoned buildings and stealing food to survive. No one ever wondered why any child should wear dirty clothes and have grime smeared on their face.”
“No one saved me, and more importantly, no one saved my mom.” Shouta’s heart almost broke as he listened to this boy’s story. He knew for certain that this was no man, this was a teen who experienced heartbreak and was forced to grow up and his path was not one pathed to success. He watched as tears began to well up in his eyes. Shouta took a step forward.
“I can help you if you want. I can provide housing and food and water. Get you back on your feet.” The boy laughed a melodious laugh, echoing in the walls of the alleyway.
“I always knew you were different, Eraserhead. You became a hero because you wanted to save people. That’s the number one rule of being a hero, right? The rescue comes first,” his voice broke. He took a moment to collect himself before steeling himself to continue. “I appreciate you reaching out to me, but I have a mission I cannot abandon. If no one will save others, we just have to save ourselves. The bastard that killed my mother will die.”
“Kid, how old are you?”
“Old enough to know and live death with familiarity.” The boy raised a hand towards Shouta, his palm facing the man. “Good bye, for now.” Shouta didn’t have enough time to react to the metal pole flying at him out of the corner of his eye. Everything went black.
When he woke up, he found himself surrounded by four white walls and an incessant beeping. Shouta ripped the IV and monitors off of him, causing the heart rate monitor to flatline. A nurse rushed into the room before looking around and breathing a sigh of relief.
“Oh, Mr. Aizawa! I’m glad you’re awake. You suffered from a concussion, seems like you were hit by a metal pole!” Her jolly attitude was too much for Shouta in this moment and he could feel his head pounding from what he would like to think was the lack of caffeine in his bloodstream. He craved coffee. “Our doctors healed your head trauma; the damage has been minimalized and reversed. You should just have a minor headache which should pass in a few hours. I recommend taking Tylenol until the pain passes. Once the discharge paperwork is filled, you’re good to go!” Joy.
On his walk home, Shouta thought long and hard about the boy he met in the alley. He had so many questions. How did he get to the hospital? What happened with Implosion? Who was that boy?
Shouta knew he had a couple of phone calls he had to make.