Late Night Comedy Hour

A kid should be dressed warmer than that, especially on a night this cold.

That was the first thing Shota thought when he saw him from his perch on a rooftop corner, before quickly correcting his thoughts to: A kid shouldn’t be out here this late at night at all.

He was thin and lanky, awkwardly long limbs hunched together because the t-shirt and threadbare sweatpants he was wearing probably weren't doing much to ward off the chill. Perhaps most noticeable was the cloud of purple hair that stuck out in seemingly random directions -- though in the age of quirks that wasn't particularly noteworthy. He looked like he was trying very hard to go unnoticed, which might have worked for him if he weren’t the only one on the sidewalk.

The only reason Shota had even noticed him, the reason he was here to see him at all , was a combination of him changing up his patrol route (habit, safety, and to keep criminals on their toes), the new path being a little more physically strenuous than he'd been expecting (nothing he couldn't handle, but he'd have to keep it in mind) and the cold stealing the breath from his lungs and forcing him to have to take a break in a place he ordinarily wouldn't.

As a hero, it was his job to make sure the kid was okay. As a person, Shota didn't really go out of his way to interact with children when he didn't have to, and so he made the decision, for the moment, to observe.

It wasn't as though the boy was in a hurry, nor did he seem to be in any sort of distress. Shota prayed that he was just going home from a friend's house or something similar, but if he was, it seemed he was going to make a stop, first -- and in the alley next to the building Shota had taken a break on, no less.

A kid making a turn into a dirty, unlit alleyway in the middle of the night was, you know, suspicious, right up until the moment that a dirty brown tabby cat pranced its way out from under a pile of boxes and up to the kid, who wasted no time in reaching into his pockets to feed it something. Clearly this was something that happened often, if the way the cat was headbutting the boy's hand was anything to go by. And if it caused Shota to crack a smile, well that was a secret he could keep to himself.

Still, this was a bad part of town to be walking around in at a quarter to midnight, kid or not, and if this was a habit, it probably shouldn't be. Shota knew that he tended to be intimidating at the best of times, so he figured his best bet would to scare the shit out of the kid, tell him that he could have been hurt if he had been a villain, and that he should go home and feed the cat in the daytime or something.

Getting down from the roof silently was easy and practiced, and he was only three stories up, anyways, but before he turned the corner something made him pause. He hadn't been able to hear it before, but it sounded like the kid was talking -- even from down here he had to strain to hear what he was saying, because his voice was so quiet and raspy. Was he sick? The kid really shouldn't be out in the cold in that case -- but once he actually listened the story was suddenly very different.

"At least you don't mind when I talk to you." The boy was saying, sounding gut-wrenchingly resigned for a kid that couldn't have been older than twelve, "Promise I wouldn't use my quirk on you, even if I could."

And well, fuck. Yeah, a normal, well adjusted kid probably wouldn't be wandering around in the middle of the night to go feed a cat, would they?

"I know, I know, you only like me because I feed you." The boy chided, then sighed, "You're lucky you have fur you know. 'S cold."

That forced Shota to come to a decision -- because it was cold, and late, and dangerous, and the boy currently squatting in the alleyway clearly hadn't considered any of that when he'd decided to come out tonight. But maybe hearing that the kid was suffering at least some kind of quirk discrimination had softened Shota enough to think that maybe scaring him out of his mind wasn't the best course of action. He'd have to try for stern but well meaning.

He made sure his footsteps were audible as he rounded the corner, and the boy was at least aware enough of his surroundings to glance over his shoulder at the sound. He still startled when he saw Shota's though, badly enough to send the cat shooting back under the pile of boxes that was precariously leaning on the wall. The kid was already halfway to his feet before Shota could say anything, eyes (which Shota noted were lined with bags so dark they almost looked like bruises) wide with alarm.

Well, he had good reaction time, if nothing else, and he also seemed to immediately come to the conclusion that the only way out of the alley was past him. He looked like he was thinking of making a break for it, and was just trying to figure out how he could make it.

"Do your parents know you're out here, kid?"

If anything the eyes that shot up to meet his only looked more alarmed, and the boy took a step backwards. It… Was a fair reaction. Shota knew how he looked from the outside. He put up one hand and reached for the pocket he kept his hero license with the other.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I know I don't look like it but I'm a hero."

The kid's eyes flickered to the card he pulled out and his expression pulled into something in between worried and disbelieving. Normally in a situation like this someone would either start interrogating or insulting him, but the boy's mouth stayed clamped shut. Shota already had a suspicion as to why that was.

He heaved a sigh. He had too many questions, none of which could be answered if the kid didn't talk, but it wasn't as though Shota could make him.

"I don't expect you need to be told this, but I'm sure you know how dangerous being out here this late is. You could have been in real trouble if I was anyone else."

That finally earned him a terse nod, though the boy's body language still screamed of wanting to be let go. So Shota stepped to the side, as a sort of peace offering, assuming that the kid would take the chance to run home. But he didn't, not right away, still eyeing Shota distrustfully, like he didn't trust him to not grab at him if he tried. Again, it wasn't a bad instinct to have, though it was a little worrying that a kid this young was already worried about things like that.

Shota waved one hand, "I'm not going to stop you if you go home." He hesitated for just a moment, "And if for whatever reason you don't want to go home, I can--"

That was what finally spurred the boy to action, there was a sudden blur of movement as he shook his head and all but sprinted past Shota and down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched and head down. Shota waited for the kid to glance at him once before unfurling his capture weapon and making his way back up to the rooftops.

Shota did not make a habit of tailing after children, but after that interaction a worry wormed in the bottom of his gut. He figured that the least he could do was make sure the kid got home safe. Maybe take a peek at home to make sure it was safe. Not that the kid made it easy -- he took a weirdly circuitous route home that spoke of someone who was used to having to lose followers, which was just another thing to add to the growing list of concerns.

As for the house he eventually arrived at … It was fine. Perfectly innocuous. Could maybe use a little power washing to the siding, but it didn't look horribly maintained. None of the lights were on, though that was the case in most of the neighborhood, this late at night.

Shota almost would have felt better if the kid had gone around the side to sneak in through a window, but he just walked right up to the front door and slid inside.

He watched the house for a few minutes more, but there was no change. Not even the flicker of a light as the boy got ready for bed.

So that was a dead end, for now.

Shota would have to keep an eye out.

It wasn't like he made a conscious decision to push his patrols further into the area, but Shota didn't stop himself when he realized what was happening.

There was a part of him that hoped that he wouldn't see the kid again, that it had been a one time fluke, and that there actually wasn't as much wrong as he'd suspected at first glance. Maybe the boy had learned his lesson and wouldn’t go out again. Still, Shota made a point to linger around that same alleyway -- bringing some of his own food for the cat. It didn't trust him nearly as much as it seemed to trust the kid, but he had the power of wet food on his side.

It was a week before Shota saw him again. He was at least wearing a hoodie this time, though it didn't look nearly thick enough to actually provide any real protection against the cold. Just like he suspected, the kid was headed straight for the alley, hands shoved in his pockets and head down. It was a little earlier this time, not that it really meant much, and the boy seemed to be on the lookout for followers. He didn't look up, though. Not many people did.

That meant when Shota dropped into the alley and cleared his throat the kid whirled around so fast that the cat yowled in surprise, claws catching on his hoodie before it dashed away.

The boy didn't even seem to care about the potential injury, already on his feet and backing away, same as last time. Shota leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and waited. After a long few seconds of inaction the kid's expression wavered just a bit, becoming less frightened and more confused. This time, Shota didn't say anything, the silence stretching uncomfortably long -- exactly what he wanted. It took a full minute of consideration from the boy before he looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows and finally opened his mouth.

"You’re here again." It was as quiet and croaky as everything else Shota has heard from the kid, and his voice quivered at the end, eyes dropping away from him. Shota made sure that he responded evenly.

"Yeah. I’d like to know why you’ve decided the middle of the night was the best time to feed a cat."

Wide purple eyes flicked back up to his face, looking surprised. Defensive, yes, but honest to god surprised that Shota had… What, talked to him? Hadn't yelled? No, he'd done that plenty the last time they'd met, so maybe it was that he'd talked back?

"I..." The kid started, and it seemed more than anything else that his voice gave out before he could finish speaking. He cleared his throat. "This is the only time I can come."

Shota nodded and hummed in acknowledgement, though it wasn't really an answer he liked. Convincing him to come at a better hour would be easier than telling him to stop showing up at all. And Shota wasn't exactly keen on abandoning a cat in need. He'd already learned that lesson once.

Having gained the confidence to speak once, the kid now eyed him up and down, nose scrunched up, "…You don't look like a hero."

Shota buried his face in his capture weapon so that it wasn't obvious that he was hiding a snort.

"That's on purpose. I'm underground."

The kid's eyebrows scrunched together, "I've never heard of that."

This time Shota did snort, which unfortunately had the side-effect of the boy tensing up again.

"That's also on purpose." He clarified, hoping his continued non-aggression would help the kid relax, "It's harder to do my job if everyone knows who I am and how my quirk works."

The boy opened his mouth like he wanted to ask more but… He didn't. He closed his mouth a moment later, jaw still tense with unasked questions.

Interesting.

"Well in any case, I am a hero, and it wouldn't be responsible of me to let a kid wander around alone in the middle of the night. So let's make a deal." He spoke slowly, considering his options. He couldn't actually stop the kid, there was nothing illegal about what he was doing. He probably could go to the boy's parents and let them know what was going on, only he wasn't quite convinced that was the safe thing to do. The kid’s voice wouldn't sound like that if he was talking at home -- or at school for that matter. "I've started patrolling out here, and I'm around at this time, anyways. If you're going to come out then do it around now, so I can keep an eye on you."

The boy stared at him for a long moment, rightfully suspicious.

"…There's a catch." The he croaked.

The real catch was that Shota would be watching him go to and from his house not only to make sure nothing happened between places, but to see if anything suspicious was happening at the home itself. What he said was, " Yeah. I'm gonna ask you some questions. I'm sure a local knows more about what goes on around here than I do, even if you don't realize it." If he could convince the kid that he was helping with his hero work, that would probably be for the best, and it wasn't as though he was lying. He'd gotten case-breaking tips from kids before. "And I'm also gonna need your name, I can't keep calling you kid forever."

The kid grimaced, but he obliged with a barely audible, "Shinso."

That would do, for now.

Honestly, Shota hoped that he was putting in all this effort for nothing. That it would just turn out that the kid was a little weird, but there was nothing actually wrong . He couldn't make himself risk anything else being true, though.

"Alright, Shinso. Now don't you think it's about time you get somewhere warm?"

Hitoshi had decided that Eraserhead was weird.

There was no reason for a hero to be interested in him, if the guy even was a hero. He sure didn't look like it, but apparently that was a whole thing. Hitoshi had gone to the school library the next day and determined that yes, underground heroes were real.

Something about that just… Didn't feel real to him. If there were heroes out there who didn't care about popularity and rankings, who actively didn't want those things, then why did it matter so much if his quirk was scary? If that was an option, then why did everyone insist so hard that he couldn't be a hero?

If Hitoshi was too busy using his quirk to save people, how could he be a villain?

If the scruffy homeless looking man wasn't lying, and he really was a hero, Hitoshi had to stand a chance at it, right? He was already pretty good at making sure no one paid attention to him…

Anyways, the guy, Eraserhead, was either a very weird hero or a very bad kidnapper. It was hard to pin down which, with the way the man kept not so subtly asking about his home life. Maybe he was trying to figure out if his fosters were drug-dealers or something? That would be a pain, because his current home let him get away with a lot, as long as he kept his mouth shut. No one cared about if he was in bed at curfew, as long as they didn't start getting truancy calls from school. 

This house wasn't so bad, and he wasn't going to risk moving to one that might be worse, so Hitoshi really didn't get why the guy kept asking about it.

And, well, if he was some villain trying to figure out if he could take him without anyone looking for him, wasn't that already kind of obvious?

No one wanted him. That's why he was here.

Eraserhead hadn't even asked about his quirk, but with the way he just responded to Hitoshi made it clear that he had no idea what it was. Honestly it was nice , having a conversation with someone. Even if Hitoshi didn't really feel like he knew how to do it anymore, and even if that someone was a weird old man.

He still didn't dare ask question though, even though he had many. Accidentally activating his quirk was as easy as a stray thought, and questions, things that asked for a response, were much easier to trip up on. Or so everyone told him anyways -- He mentally reaffirmed 'I am NOT going to brainwash you ' before everything he said just to be sure, because he knew that if he slipped up that this -- whatever the hell it was supposed to be -- would be over, one way or the other.

The supposed-hero did start bringing his own cans of cat food -- Hitoshi might have argued over it, if the man hadn't said he had cats at home, making him jealous enough not to bother-- which was nice. Saved him from having to smuggle bits of chicken from school lunch in his pocket all day.

He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, though. There had to be something the guy was after that weren't blasé answers about how home was 'fine' from an insomniac tween. He kind of hoped the drug-dealer angle was true, if anything. It'd be cool if he got to help solve a crime, even if it was like this.

It was Friday night, which meant that instead of having to tip-toe out the door, Hitoshi could just walk outside because anyone who might have noticed was probably out at a bar. Not that they likely would have stopped him, or anything.

The winter weather was really annoying, though. The whole reason he'd started wandering around at night in the first place was because he couldn't sleep and got bored. Unfortunately, he didn't really own anything nice enough to actually keep him warm. He could only really stand to be out for as long as it took to feed the cat before it started to get really unbearable, which meant returning home to sit alone in the dark for a few hours.

Apparently Eraserhead had noticed, too, because when he turned the corner to the alley the hero was waiting for him with something folded over his arm. The cat was warily watching from a few feet away, waiting for the sound of a can being opened before she dared get any closer to the tall man. Sparing no preamble, Eraserhead held the item out to him and grunted, "Put this on."

Hitoshi had gotten much better about not freezing up around the guy, but this was new enough to make him pause. A moment of examination revealed that he was being offered a jacket, one that was probably a little big for him, but... It looked warm. It was the kind that was thick and stiff so that it could withstand some bad weather, but lined with fleece on the inside. Hitoshi wanted to put it on and stuff his fingers in the pockets so that they wouldn't ache so much.

"Thanks but --" His voice hadn't been giving out as much since he'd started coming out here, but it still happened fairly often. Hitoshi ignored the rising embarrassment, cleared his throat, and powered through, "Thanks, but I can't."

He waited, tense, for Eraserhead's response. He'd never outright rejected a gift before, but he had once gotten in trouble for not seeming grateful enough, and this was far past that line. The man frowned, but he didn't start berating Hitoshi. He didn't even pull the offered coat away.

"Why not?" He asked, "It's cold and your clothes aren't enough to keep you warm. It would be dangerous and illogical not to."

Illogical, huh? This guy always had a weird way of putting things. And it was only illogical if you didn't have the full picture. He frowned right back.

"If someone sees me wearing a new coat, they're gonna think I stole it. I'd get in trouble."

No one would believe the truth, if he told it. 'Oh, a hero(?) gave it to me in an alley in the middle of the night.' Yeah, that would get him punished for sure.

Eraserhead didn't seem too taken aback by the answer. He just grunted and said, "Well at least wear it while you're here. If you're so concerned about it, I'll take it back when you go."

Hitoshi wasn't sure if the insistence was a point towards creepy or hero, but he… Really wanted to be warm right now. Wordlessly, he reached out and took the jacket, easily sliding it on over his own hoodie and shivering for what was hopefully going to be the last time tonight. When he shoved his hands into the pockets Hitoshi's eyes widened when realized that they were already warm. Eraserhead had preemptively put some of those chemical warming packs inside.

"Uh." He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, "T-Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Said Eraserhead, before the cat yowled at them, clearly hungry and impatient with the conversation.

If the two of them could see eye to eye on something, it was this. At the sound they both dropped into squats, the older man reaching into his own pocket to pull out a can of wet food and passing it over to the younger. Hitoshi was glad that he did that, because some part of him was honestly really worried about the cat liking Eraserhead more than him. At the sound of the lid being pulled back, the cat mewled and trotted over, letting Hitoshi pet behind her ears before pawing at his hands for him to set the can down.

They watched the cat eat in silence for a few seconds, before Eraserhead said, "So how are things at home?"

Hitoshi huffed out a breath. They'd been at this for a couple of weeks, and this was one thing the man had never failed to ask. The answer had never -- would never -- change.

"Fine."

"Mm. School?"

School was harder in some ways and easier in others. People noticed him more there, tried to make him talk so they could get him in trouble later. Sometimes tried to beat him up if they didn't like his face that day. But on the other hand, they remembered to feed him there.

"Fine."

Eraserhead hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't ask further. But it seemed the conversation wasn't quite done, he leaned back on his heels and pointed at the cat.

"Does she have a name, by the way?"

Hitoshi held back a scoff. He didn't see how that was going to help the guy solve any crimes. 

The cat was a stray. Hitoshi didn't know how long she'd survive out here, or how long he'd be able to stay around, himself. Naming things meant you got attached to them, and it made it hurt worse when you lost them. 

The last thing he'd named was a stuffed fox he'd gotten right when he entered foster care, but that had been torn up by an old foster sibling ages ago.

"No."

"Hm." Said Eraserhead, "What about Soup?"

…Soup? What about soup? Hitoshi only barely stopped himself from asking out loud, instead settling for a strangled huff and a disbelieving, "Soup."

The man pointed at the pile of boxes as through it was some kind of explanation. The labels of most of them were too faded to be read, but sure enough the one he was pointing to was still legible. It had previously been filled with cans of split-pea soup.

"Soup is a good name." The man defended himself, "Though if you don’t like it we could name her Pea."

That was so much worse. Hitoshi didn't bother to hide his horrified expression, at which Eraserhead narrowed his eyes and said, "Box, then."

The worst part was, Hitoshi didn't think he was being teased. The guy was being serious.

"Soup is fine." He said, even if that was only true when compared to the other options. The man nodded, satisfied.

Yeah. Eraserhead was really weird.

Shota huffed a sigh as he leaned back onto the couch, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. He hated the cold -- it made him slow and tired and aggravated his eyes. And yet, being home and having the chance to unwind was a blessing he was so bad at taking advantage of.

"Rough patrol?" The voice of his husband came from behind. For a radio host and spotlight hero, Hizashi's schedule synched up surprisingly well with Shota's own. Late nights at the station meant that sometimes, they would meet at home and have dinner at 3 AM. It was a nicer life than he would ever have thought to give himself, had he the choice.

"No. Crime goes down in winter, you know that."

"Mmhm. This is about the boy, then?"

Shota tried to relax into the hand that had landed on top of his head. Once upon a time they had both tried to leave their work at the door, so to speak. It hadn't worked very well. it was just too big a part of both of their lives.

"Yeah." He admitted, "His stomach kept growling today, and when I asked him if he'd had dinner, he wouldn't answer. So I asked if his parents fed him and he just said that he ate."

At this point there was no question of if something was wrong, it was more a matter of determining what and how bad it was. He had a long list of suspicions now, but annoyingly, nothing he could outright prove.

Shota sighed again, "He wouldn't accept food from me when I offered. I wish he would trust me enough to help. I'm no good with kids, ‘Zashi."

Those fingers started combing through his hair as Hizashi hummed in thought.

"I'm sure you're getting through to him Sho. Just think about yourself at that age, you probably would have taken a while to open up, too."

Shota huffed a humorless laugh, "Me at that age would never think about talking to a stranger. He…"

He trailed off. Hizashi knew where he was going with this. He'd probably spent hours laying out the evidence to his husband -- not being allowed to speak probably meant a voice quirk of some kind, and the kid never seemed concerned about any kind of curfew or getting caught. They both agreed about the fact that Shinso never talked about home, not even about small things, meant he was purposefully avoiding the topic and knew to avoid it. In Shota's mind that raised the biggest red flag of all. Hizashi was just as frustrated as he was with the situation. Maybe more, considering he'd spent a part of his own childhood not allowed to open his mouth.

The kid just seemed to be happy to talk to anyone at all, distressing as that was.

"You'll figure it out. He'll come to you when he's ready."

Shota just grunted. He wished that he didn't have to wait, and that he could just whisk the kid out of wherever it was that he wasn't allowed to talk, but things were never so easy. His husband knew that meant he had nothing more to say and that it was time to drop the subject.

"Okyakodon for dinner, you good with that?"

"Mhm. No onions on mine." He said, as if Hizashi didn't already know.

He rested his eyes in silence, enjoying the sounds and smells of cooking as they wafted through the room. It would have been a perfect evening, if his mind didn't keep drifting back to a too-thin purple haired boy. Was he at home right now? Was that a safe place for him to be?

Minutes passed before something interrupted the moment. A buzz from the phone he'd dropped on the coffee table when he'd come through the door. Shota opened his eyes and narrowed them at the intrusion. That was his work phone, which meant he'd gotten an email. So not actually urgent, but urgent enough to be worth bothering him with after his patrol was already finished. Shota groaned and reached for it.

"What is it?" Hizashi's voice echoed from the kitchen. Shota frowned, as he read, and it only deepened once he saw who it was from.

"Kaniyahiki wants to meet with me before I go on shift tomorrow."

He looked over the back of the couch to see where his husband had stopped stirring the pan, face pulled tight.

"It's probably important, if it's her."

"…She'll want to make me go undercover for something."

"You don't know that yet. You should at least talk to her"

"I know" Shota let his hands come back up to rub at his eyes again, "I will."

Fukukado Emi was easy going about a lot of things in her life, but work wasn't one of them. Sure, her hero persona was all about cracking jokes, and yes she was happy-go-lucky compared to most of the other heroes  in the underground, but that didn't mean she didn't take her job seriously. She was a hero, she saved people, and unfortunately that meant she'd had to get really good at dealing with paperwork and bureaucracy to do it.

Which meant that when a thick file was dropped on her desk, right as she was getting ready to go home, she was hard pressed to keep the twitch out of her eye.

When she looked up and saw who had dropped it, annoyance suddenly gave way to worry, because it was Eraserhead. Aizawa Shota. The most no-fun, no-nonsense guy Emi might have ever met in her entire life. Like, she hadn't even gotten him to laugh with her quirk kind of no-nonsense, and on top of that, the expression he wore was a tense frown that spoke of bad, bad news. She loved to tease him, true, but this really didn't seem like the time.

"I'm going on a mission." He said without any preamble at all, "You cover my route."

It wasn't a question of if she would. Eraserhead's patrols were notoriously awful and no one else wanted to do them. He had once threatened to make her his backup, if she, in his words, 'kept bothering him ' and then had followed through when she tried three knock-knock jokes on him in a row. She probably should have complained about it to her agency -- Eraserhead was an independent, he didn't have to have a backup -- but she hadn't, because she knew Eraserhead would only abandon his route if something big happened.

This must have been something big.

"I do." She said, pulling the file closer to her, "I take it there's a reason you dropped this off in person?"

"Mm." Aizawa grunted, one hand going up to rub at his eyes, "There's… Something new. It's complicated."

"Well don't waste time not explaining. Take a seat!"

Eraserhead did not take a seat, instead opting to loom over her as she put her chin in her hand and waited. It seemed to take a long few moments for Aizawa to figure out what he was going to say, hand never leaving the bridge of his nose.

"There's… A kid. I suspect he's not in a good situation and I've been trying to gain his trust. Been meeting up with him most every night. I don't want to just drop off the face of the earth, but…" He trailed off with a grimace, so Emi stepped in for him.

"…You're on a case so big you can't say no?"

"…Yeah." Eraser hissed through his teeth, "Something like that. Point being that I need you to at least let him know that I haven't abandoned him. Would be preferable if you didn't undo any of the work I've done, either."

"Well gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. How about you actually tell me what you know so I don't fuck it up?"

Aizawa looked a lot like he didn't want Emi talking to the kid at all, but he was out of options, and after a long, drawn out sigh, he talked.

Shinso wasn't allowed to talk, refused to ask questions, probably wasn't eating enough, and got away with sneaking out of his house nearly every single night. Eraser certainly had a case to make for neglect, and Emi understood fully why he hadn't done that yet. Even from a hero with a reputation like Eraserhead, claiming neglect would only get an investigation started, which could turn up something or it could not. If there was more going on than that -- and it sounded like there was -- then there was a real chance that things would get worse afterwards, and the people responsible would only get better at hiding it. Making sure the kid was okay after that would get even harder, and so, he was stuck walking a delicate tightrope until Shinso asked for help.

The fact Aizawa cared enough to this much out of his way for the kid was as surprising as it wasn't. As much as she liked to make fun of him, Emi had to admit that Eraserhead was a good hero, and being a good hero meant that he cared. The way he acted, she wondered sometimes if his problem wasn't that he was trying to stop himself from caring too much.

"You'll need to bring cat food." Eraserhead finished, "And a jacket, because the kid doesn't come out dressed for the weather. He won't keep it if you give it to him, he's afraid of being accused of stealing."

"Okay…" It was far from the weirdest thing she'd ever been requested. Still, "Cat food?"

"The alley I told you about." Aizawa narrowed his eyes, "He feeds a cat there. I've been bringing it for him so he probably won't have his own."

"…And he'll be very upset with both of us if the cat goes hungry, huh?" She couldn't stop the corner of her lips from quirking up, "Don't worry Eraser, I'll take care of your boy. And your cat."

Aizawa crossed his arms, "It is your job."

From him it sounded like a petulant little 'you'd better.' Emi snorted and waved him away.

"It is, and I'm good at it, or else you never would have let me do this even as a joke." She bit the inside of her cheek so as not to make the obvious pun, "Now go get ready for your big mission and leave me to get for the double shift I'm apparently working tonight."

Aizawa, the bastard, didn't even apologize or wave her goodbye. He just grunted and turned to walk away. Emi watched him go for a moment, then sighed and flipped open the file to see what there was to say about the rest of his route.

Emi was an irregularity among underground heroes, she knew. Her patrols tended to be late afternoon and early evening ordeals instead of the middle of the night. Her outfit was colorful (Well less-so, in winter, when she had to put on leggings and a puffy jacket). She operated a little more like a spotlight hero would -- walking around, being seen, letting everyone know she was around. It was always a good idea for heroes to have a connection to the community they were serving, and she leaned into that more than most.

Eraserhead must have been her polar opposite. She wasn't quite sure how to manage this route without the ability to run roofs like he did, because the buildings were so densely packed that she wasn't sure she'd be able to spot an ongoing crime even a block away. Still , she was determined not to fuck this up, and in a bid to make sure nothing went wrong, arrived at the address Aizawa had given as 'the kid's house'  ten minutes early. She didn't go poke around (yet) because she would likely get caught by the very person she was on the lookout for.

She treated the scene like a very serious stake-out for eight minutes, until the front door opened and a tiny figure stepped out, shoulders hunched. Eraser had certainly been right when he said that the kid didn't come out dressed for the weather -- that thin hoodie couldn't be doing much for him and just a few steps out the door he was rubbing his arms and shivering. Despite that, he seemed to have the presence of mind to look around and check for followers, and Emi couldn't help but wonder if he was looking out for someone who would get him in trouble, or for a friendly follower. Still, she didn't have years worth of underground experience only to be caught by a kid, no matter how attentive he was, and trailing him was a simple matter of ducking behind a corner every now and then.

When Shinso started to get close to where she figured the alley was, Emi broke away, jogging around and ahead of him, even pulling herself up a fire escape and down the other side so that she was able to beat him there without being seen. She had a plan -- tentatively titled 'You're probably not going to make the kid trust you, but at least you're not going to scare him.'

She made sure that when Shinso turned the corner of the alley, it was to the sight of a strange woman leaning over, an open can of cat food in her hand, making an exaggerated pspsps sound towards a pile of boxes. She caught, on the edge of her vision, the look of alarm, then shock, then confusion that passed over the kid's face as he hesitated at the entrance.

Emi considered herself a decent actor, but she was sure that there wasn't any show in the world that would have convinced Shinso that she was harmless. Still, she tried her best, blinking and turning to face the kid like she'd just noticed him.

"Oh! Hi." She smiled and waved with her unoccupied hand, "You're the one who's been helping out Eraserhead right? Shinso?"

Shinso stared at her, mouth working open and closed like he was trying to figure out what to say. Or, maybe, if he was allowed to say anything at all. This close she could see some of the other things Aizawa had been so worried about -- the eye bags, the gauntness, the general wariness with which he held himself (though that could be excused, given the situation). He was a cute little thing, though.

"You…" He finally said after a long moment, and yikes, yeah his voice sounded rough, "You aren't Eraserhead."

"Nope!" She confirmed, "I'm Ms. Joke. He got called away on a mission and he asked me to look out for you and uh --" She gestured broadly at the alley, "The cat?"

Shinso blinked slowly and then gave the world's longest suffering sigh.

"He named her Soup."

"He-- Eraserhead named the cat Soup?"

The kid gave her a serious nod, "I told him it was bad, but then he wanted to name her Pea. She probably won't come out since you're a stranger."

Emi had to cover her mouth and bite back a laugh. Her quirk was a deceptively simple one-- if she laughed, even a fake one, everyone who saw her felt compelled to join in. Years of practice had granted her a lot of power and control, and part of that control meant not laughing even when she found something really, legitimately funny. Accidentally using her quirk on Shinso wouldn't do anything for building trust.

Still, Aizawa Shota, naming a cat Soup. Comedy gold.

"That is pretty bad, yeah." She wheezed. Then took a deep breath, "Okay, okay. You can feed Soup --" she snorted, "-- In just a second. I have a party trick to show you first."

Shinso frowned and leaned back like he might run. Oops , Emi thought as she reached into the inside of her coat, I should have phrased that better. Though he did look curious at the square of fabric that she pulled out. It was about the size of her fist, but she unfolded it, and unfolded it again, and again, and again, until she held a fleece jacket in front of her.

"Eraser told me you got cold at night, so --" She held it out to him and for a long moment Shinso just stared at her oddly. Before he reached for the jacket, he tilted his head and said, "You're an underground hero."

He said it flatly. It wasn't a question, except It was. Aizawa had warned her about this and so she didn't even break stride.

"Yep!"

The kid's mouth thinned to a line, like he didn't really buy it, but he grabbed at the jacket and pulled it on over his head nonetheless. The fact that he was so suspicious twisted her heart, even though it was totally fair. Shinso pulled at the too-long sleeve and looked up at her with a pinched face. Then he pointed to the end of the alley.

"You should stand over here, or she won't come out."

Emi shrugged, set her can of cat food on the ground, and obliged the kid, who edged around her like she might bite him. He took her place, squatting down on the ground and reaching out to rattle the can on the ground. He kept glancing back at her, obviously uncomfortable.

She couldn't help but wonder if he was like this with Eraser -- but before too long a little cat-shaped shadow darted out from under the boxes and the boy had his attention split.

Soup. Emi held back a snicker.

The cat ate ravenously and finished off the food in less than a minute, before immediately retreating closer to the boxes it had been hiding under. Shinso turned to look at her and now she was fixed with two sets of distrustful eyes, one green and one purple. What was she meant to do? Aizawa had only asked her not to let things backslide but she didn't want to leave it at that if she could help it.

Before she could start puzzling together what she could say, Shinso opened his mouth again.

"Eraserhead usually asks me things."

Shinso stood up and turned to face her, but was still hunched in on himself, head lowered and fists stuffed into pockets. It was clear that he wasn't a fan of this part of the night.

"Oh does he?" She knew that, and knew that they had been very boring, logical questions. If the kid wasn't telling Eraser about his home life, he certainly wasn't going to spill anything to her on night one, "Well I'm just filling in until he’s finished with his mission, but I guess I should too, right? Hmm… Well, has anything interesting happened this week?"

Shinso blinked, raised his head, features painted with confusion. Like he'd never been asked that question before. Maybe he hadn't been -- Aizawa wasn't exactly a good conversationalist. The kid was clearly struggling for an answer, so Emi waved a hand around.

"You know anything funny. Or weird. Like, the other day I was on patrol and these guys were trying to rob a little corner store right? And I come in to stop them and I surprise one guy so badly that he used his quirk on his partner! Laid him right out. When he realized what he did he just surrendered then and there."

Well, surprise was pushing it. She'd used her quirk and the first man had started laughing so hard that he'd reached out to support himself on his partner. His quirk had been a five-point activation that knocked whoever he touched out. Emi decided to err on the side of caution when it came to talking about quirks, just in case. Definitely one of her most notable take-downs in recent memory, though.

"That’s… funny." Shinso said flatly, and because of the way he talked Emi had no idea if it was meant to be a question or a statement. She smiled at him.

"Well I think so, at least!"

"I…" The kid's frown was so deep, "I guess… At school. Someone was late but they climbed in through the window without the teacher noticing. That’s… funny."

Ah, youth. Emi would say she missed those days, if heroes climbing through windows to get to meetings wasn't unfortunately common.

"Yeah." She agreed, "That is pretty funny."

Maybe she was imagining it, but Shinso seemed to brighten a little at the praise. She didn't know how long she had, but maybe, just maybe, she could manage to help a little.

Hitoshi had long since discarded the advice people gave to kids to not talk to strangers. These days, those were the only people who would talk to him at all. It wasn't his fault that they were all so weird.

Ms. Joke had announced on her second night that she was going to make him laugh at least once before Eraserhead got back from whatever mission he was on. Hitoshi had grimaced and proceeded to frown at every joke she told. Most of them were bad puns, and the only thing funny about them was how hard she was trying. As far as he was concerned, the only thing she had going for her was the fact that she seemed to agree that Soup was a ridiculous name for a cat.

 …Though, she certainly looked a little more like a hero than Eraserhead did, and she asked questions that left him more able to talk about any crimes he saw. Not that he did , but it made the whole 'you're helping with hero work thing' at least a tiny bit believable.

He had to rule out the kidnapping idea at this point, because if that's what was going on it surely would have happened by now. His next best guess was that they were trying to test him, to see if he'd be a villain if they asked him to. But then, if they were heroes, maybe it was bad if they asked him to do something and he said no? Neither Eraserhead nor Ms. Joke had said anything about his quirk so far, so he had no idea how they knew. If they knew. It was starting to get to the point where he was going to have to suck it up and start asking questions if he really wanted to know, nerve-wracking as the idea was.

Not out loud, obviously. That was a recipe for disaster. He did it the same way he did when he really needed to know something at school -- he got a sheet of paper and scribbled down every question he could think of, then went back and second guessed himself and erased anything he thought might be too embarrassing for someone to find out he didn't know. The messy result got stashed in his hoodie pocket, crumpled by nervous hands as he made his way to the alleyway. He never did gather up the courage to give it to Ms. Joke, realizing at the last moment that it might lead to her asking why he was doing it this way. That might lead to talking about his quirk, which was way too dangerous for him to consider.

At least she was more talkative than Eraserhead was. Ms. Joke could take a flat statement from him like "Eraserhead is on a mission" and spin it into a long winded anecdote about how he had once slept so hard and long after a case that everyone thought he was affected by a quirk. Kind of funny, though Hitoshi refused to laugh or even smile at it, and it also didn't answer the question of whatever mission he was on now. She'd even had the bright idea to get different flavors of cat food to see which one Soup (ugh) liked the best. The current winner was shrimp and chicken.

On the fifth night she showed up, Ms. Joke asked to take a selfie with him. Unable to force himself to ask why , Hitoshi had only been able to gape until she winked and said that she was going to send it to Eraserhead 'to show him how much fun we're having without him.'  Honestly, he should have said no. There was no way that photographic evidence of him walking around at night would turn out well for him, but the idea of disappointing her, of making her stop talking to him, made something in his chest tighten up, so he forced his lips into a thin line and nodded.

He didn't think he'd looked very good in the picture, but Ms. Joke had cooed and added all kinds of filters before sending the message off to, he assumed, Eraserhead.

It was probably a red flag that he cared more about what some alleyway stranger thought of him than his foster parents or anyone at school, but he couldn't remember the last time they had wanted to do something like put an arm around his shoulders like she had, much less take a picture with him. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had wanted to do something like that.

Ms. Joke was weird, but she was okay.

Logically (ha) Emi knew that there was a good reason for Aizawa to have pushed his patrol route where he had; one that had nothing to do with Shinso. To put it bluntly, it was rough. It was lucky that her night started with talking to the kid, because otherwise it was almost a guarantee that something would come up before she could get to him.

Emi was certainly padding her take down record while she was out here, not that that was the sort of statistic underground heroes really cared about. It certainly only made her worry about Shinso walking around alone at night more than she already was. Since it was on her mind, she was at least a little prepared for the inevitable to happen.

It was well below freezing that night, the weather forecast had claimed they would be getting the season's first snow in the early hours of the morning. And as sometimes happened, Emi was faced with a crime on the way to start her patrol. The classic one guy robs a corner store while the other guy plays lookout setup. It had been called in to her at the tail end of the whole situation which meant that when she got to the scene it was to chase down the criminals while shouting jokes after them to try and get their attention on her. The first one fell for it almost right away, and she left him wheezing with laughter, handcuffed to a lamp post.

The second one was a tougher catch, and as she went after him it was more than just the pace of the sprint that had her heart picking up. Because he was running toward the street that Shinso usually took, and it was around the time that he should be walking it by now. The kid wasn't visible on the street when she turned on to it, at least, and so she tried to push it to the back of her mind.

"Hey! Why'd the villain cross the road?" She cupped her mouth and yelled. The incredulous look the runner sent back at her, and her triumphant, "Ha!" was all Emi needed to get him. He ran for a few more steps, then stumbled, unable to catch his breath as his air was now coming in gasps and giggles. He took a staggering stumble forward before turning to face her, lip bitten, eyes streaming angry tears as he held back another laugh. She hadn't gotten him good enough to stop him from trying to fight, and it looked like whatever his quirk was left him covered with bumpy ridges on his skin that left her hesitant to go in for a physical take down. Instead, she hit him with the punchline, "To get to the other sidekick! Haha!"

Not wanting to risk anything, she put a decent chunk of power into it. The man shuddered, leaning into himself as he took a gasping breath and broke out into a fit of giggles, interspersed with curses. From there it was hardly any trouble at all to get him on the ground, hands secured behind his back. She sent a quick message with the address of the man she'd left behind and made to pin the legs of the one she was with as she waited for pickup.

A pat on the head of the criminal and a reminder that he had the right to remain silent had him trying to muffle snorts into the concrete. All that was left for her to do here was wait for transport. Now that she finally had a moment, she swept over the street with a vigilant eye, and -- ah, there. Peeking out from around a corner was a tuft of purple hair. Shinso at least had the good sense to duck into hiding when he'd heard the commotion, and had ended up behind the sliver of wall on the porch of an apartment building. Now, he was watching the scene with wide eyes, one hand clutching the front of his hoodie.

Emi bit her lip and looked up and down the street. The police wouldn't be here for a while yet, but even from this distance she could already see that his face was flushed red from the cold. Beneath her, her quirk had worn off and the man was coughing as he tried to get his breath back.

Eh. He was already on the scene anyway. He froze when she caught his eye, didn't budge an inch when she waved at him. When she pulled out the tightly folded up coat (which was a pain to do every night, but damn it, it would be funny eventually) it took a long moment for him to understand, and an even longer moment for him to take a stuttering step forward and down the stairs. She held up a hand so that he wouldn't come too close and tossed the bundle underhand. Shinso scrambled to catch it, and did exactly what Emi was hoping for -- retreating to his hiding spot to put it on -- all this done quietly enough that the criminal she had pinned was none the wiser.

It took a long ten minutes for the police to arrive, lights on, sirens off. Every now and again Shinso would peek out, but he didn't move to leave, not until the cruiser came by and she handed the thief over. It was all done without much fanfare, no one wanting to be out in the cold for any longer than they had to be. She sent the transport off with a wave, and waited for it to round the corner before taking a step towards Shinso's hiding spot.

Emi didn't deal with kids during her hero work too often, but the look of wonder that usually showed on their face when seeing a hero wasn't totally foreign to her. She certainly wasn't expecting to see it on Shinso, though. The kid all but bounced down the steps to meet her, fist still curled in the front of his jacket, eyes still wide and awestruck.

"Hey kid." She waved again, letting a smile break through at his enthusiasm, "Cool to see a hero at work, huh?"

Shinso nodded, and then said something Emi was expecting even less. "You made him laugh with your quirk."

Usually when people, often especially kids, heard what her quirk was, it got called weak, or niche, or useless compared to what flashy spotlight heroes had. Shinso's excitement was kind of a first for her. First for him, too, considering this was the first time Emi had heard him talk about quirks, and he was the one who brought it up.

"Mm-hm!" Oh, god, was she supposed to play it up? "Pretty cool, right?"

Shinso's nod was slower this time, and he shifted from foot to foot.

"Is--" he cut himself off, "Do --"

He bit his lip, and finally, finally , it seemed like he couldn't hold it in anymore and blurted out, "Don't people get mad at you when you make them laugh?"

Emi didn't miss the way he curled in on himself when the question slipped out, and as thrown by the question as she was, she knew how important it was for her to answer it like it wasn't a big deal.

"Well it doesn't matter if the criminals get mad at me--" She tilted her head, hummed to give herself time to consider, because she knew what she said here mattered if this was what had finally gotten Shinso to ask, "As for everyone else… Well, that's what being an underground hero is for! My bosses trust me to do my job and no one who doesn't need to know about my quirk has to."

Shinso sucked in a breath, his eyes looking suspiciously shiny. There was a quiver to his lips, but the look in his eyes was still mostly hopeful instead of afraid -- no more questions from him though, and it looked like he was struggling to come up with a response. Emi threw him a bone.

"Do you wanna be a hero, Shinso?"

A visible swallow and another nod from the kid. At his age, it was probably the most common plan for the future there was, but something about the look on his face had Emi thinking that Shinso had considered it far more seriously than most.

"Well, you know…" She slowly, making sure he saw it, put a hand on his shoulder to start guiding him towards their usual meeting place, "All kinds of people with all kinds of quirks can become heroes."

With her hand still on his back, Emi felt the suppressed flinch. Still not ready to have that conversation, it seemed. So she didn't ask, instead saying, "Oh , did Eraser tell you about his quirk? It's a pretty unique one…"

At the shake of his head, Emi launched into a more in depth of Aizawa's quirk than he probably would have preferred. Shinso ate it up, though, a tiny smile starting to tick at the corner of his lips by the time they reached what she had now dubbed Soup Alley.

It wasn't the best way to make progress, but she'd made it all the same. So much to pick apart from just that one question. Emi leaned against the alley wall and watched as Shinso fed Soup (Salmon flavored, and eaten fast, though she'd have to try the flavor again since the later than usual hour might have influenced it).

So much hope in such a small (too-small) body. They had to make things work out for him.

There were a lot of reasons Shota decided to go independent, not least among them was the fact no one could force him to take a break when he didn’t really want one. There was something to be said for resting after a hard mission, and he didn't begrudge any of the heroes who did it, but if he tried (and he had, in the past) he knew he would go out of his mind overthinking how things could have gone.

(There had been one casualty, and that was one too many. Trigger could affect a quirk in many dangerous ways, and if only he'd realized, been able to erase it fast enough-- )

He'd learned lessons. He’d do better next time. The rest wouldn't do him any good to focus on.

Hizashi, at least, understood his need to keep moving forward. To find a new case and get his mind off the old one. Or, in this case, to return home to find his phone inundated with texts from one Emi Fukukado.

Some of them were useless. Strings of emojis and "aww shota you didn't tell me he was so cute!!!" Some were information that he really wondered how she coaxed out of the kid -- "he asked me a question today!!!! :) about my quirk. I think his has some kind of control element to it." One, bafflingly, was a picture of the two of them with a cat filter overlaid on their faces, and the caption "Soup????? "

He didn't need to go looking for any new problems when he'd left one behind.

It was with that in mind that he left for patrol on the very night he got back home, only his husband aware of his return to duty. Everyone else who needed to know would find out the first arrest he called in.

Except for Ms.Joke. She would find out when he appeared behind her as she peered around the corner that just got coverage of the door to Shinso's house, eyes glinting red. Bad idea to ambush another hero? Yes, very. But if Shota was going to find anything funny when it came to her, it would be the strangled yelp and the raised fist when she realized he was there and whirled on him.

"That was nearly a full second." He said flatly, "I could have done some serious damage, you know."

Fukukado wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. "But you didn't. So just know that when I get you back it's gonna be twice as good!" A fist thumped his shoulder, a little too hard to be just friendly, "Anyways welcome back, glad you told me. I'll have you know that I'm at least planning on seeing Shinso off, so don't think you can just boot me out."

He shrugged.

"I'm going to be patrolling tonight. If you also want to patrol here, I won't stop you."

"Oh! So, a team up mission--"

"No."

Before Joke could get any louder or rope him into anything ridiculous, the door down the street opened, and a Shinso-shaped figure stepped out. Shota took the excuse to ascend to the rooftops, leaving Fukukado to do whatever she normally did. She somehow beat him to the alleyway, actually, which annoyed him enough to make his eye twitch. Though they both timed it well enough that there was no time for either of them to comment on it before Shinso turned the corner.

He did that little freeze-assess-for-threats things he always did when someone was waiting for him, and his eyes lingered on Shota a little longer than usual.

"…You're here." There was something different about his voice. It was still rough, though it sounded like it had improved a bit. If Shota had to put a name to it though, he'd almost say that Shinso sounded a little less uncertain.

"Yeah! He didn't tell me either." Fukukado chimed in.

Shota sniffed. "I just got back."

Joke paused from where she was reaching into her coat to shoot a glance at him, eyebrows raised. He hoped he could dodge her inevitable future questions. For the moment he would do that by pulling the jacket he'd brought from the recess of his capture weapon.

When he'd left, Shinso had been accepting it from him without hesitation. Now, though, the kid paused, and it took Shota a moment to realize that it wasn't for any bad reason (depending on how you framed it), it was just that Fukukado was also holding out a bundle of fabric and he didn't seem to know which one to take.

Shota did not so much as twitch a face muscle. The best thing to do would be to not make a big deal about it, and hopefully Joke would get that memo too. Shinso didn't stare quite long enough for one of them to take it back, and the coat he reached out for was the one in Shota's hand. Logically, he knew that there could have been any number of reasons for it -- Shota had long arms, so it was closer, it wasn't as folded as whatever Joke was holding, and there were hand warmers in the pockets. The fact that Shinso had picked his coat was an absolutely ridiculous thing to feel smug about -- but that didn't mean Shota didn't anyways.

Joke, to her credit, didn't even bat an eye -- and before Shota could reach for the pouch where he kept the cat food, she'd gone for her own can and offered that to the kid instead.

"That one's beef paté!" She said, and for some reason Shinso tilted his head, hummed, and replied, "I think she likes chicken more, but we'll see."

He felt like he was missing something, but he didn't mention it and instead stepped aside with Fukukado as Shinso moved forward to lure the cat out. Soup seemed more than a little hesitant, no doubt because it was so crowded, but the cat trusted them all well enough by now that she did come forward.

For some reason Fukukado was giving him a side-eye, lips in a thin line like she was trying not to laugh. That was her usual expression, so Shota ignored it.

Shinso seemed tense today, actually leaving the can on the ground and glancing back at them, bottom lip rolled in his teeth.

"So, uhm… You're back." Shota nodded in acknowledgement, and the kid continued, "Does that mean --"

He cut himself off sharply, blood draining from his face, but that had almost been a question. Neither he nor Joke made any comment on it, and in fact Fukukado seemed to guess where he had been going with that because she leaned forward and said, "If you're wondering about me, then yeah I've gotta go back to my normal route now that Eraser is back." She elbowed him in the side, and he grunted. "Even though he should probably take a few days off after getting back from a mission. But! I have a great idea for tonight."

Oh, Shota didn't like the sound of that. But Shinso's eyes went a little wide and his expression went a little expectant, and he made the choice to stay quiet and let her do what she would. She might annoy him, but it looked like the kid hadn't gotten tired of her yet, and Shota wasn't going to deny him a good thing, if that's what this was.

Joke clapped her hands, "We can combine my going away party with Eraser's welcome back party! There's a 24 hour convenience store just up the road, so we can get some snacks, maybe some hot chocolate…"

Shinso didn't seem convinced, which was unsurprising coming from the kid who wouldn't accept a granola bar when he was obviously hungry 

…That might have been what Joke was playing at, actually. And, well, Shinso didn't seem un-convinced either. He hadn't said no yet, anyways.

"I didn't eat before coming out here, so I wouldn't mind." A lie. He'd sucked down a jelly pouch. Fukukado shot him an incredulous look because even she didn't realize he was engaging in a logical ruse.

Shinso's brows furrowed in confusion, but after a long moment of consideration he opened his mouth and said, "…Okay."

Fukukado grinned and waved him forward, and he took a single step before stuttering to a stop, "Okay, but-- " Shinso looked up at them very seriously, "I know that you're not supposed to go to other places with strangers. But uh-- I think that if you were going to do something to me you would have already. So. It's fine."

Alright, that was a lot to unpack.  Joke had slapped a hand over her mouth, though if it was to hide laughter or some other expression he couldn't say.

"We're not going to do anything to you kid." Shota offered. Shinso's lips twitched.

"I know that."

 …He'd just said as much, some sarcasm was perfectly fair here.

"And we're not strangers, so that part is fine, too!" Fukukado added. Shinso appeared to ponder that for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Anyways, let's get walking, I'd bet the store has heating on!"

The three of them must have made an interesting sight as they walked down the block, shoulders hunched against the cold as Joke prattled on about how she didn't even know there were so many cat food flavors until she'd started doing this. Shota had to imagine that she didn't even know half of it.

However they looked, it wasn't enough to draw more than a tired glance from the man behind the register as Joke pushed open the door. Fukukado immediately made a beeline for the aisle with junk food, and Shinso dutifully followed before pausing to look back at him. Shota made an effort to look as though he was considering the endcap of goods in front of him -- jelly, ironically enough, though the sugary kind that came in little plastic cups, not the nutrient pouches he preferred to eat.

Shinso pursed his lips. The kid didn't say anything but Shota got the distinct feeling that he was being judged.

 Well, he had said he hadn't eaten yet hadn’t he? Shota had never grown quite comfortable with the role model parts of his jobs, but going to the refrigerated section to grab a premade sandwich instead of junk was a pretty obvious choice. Eventually the kid left him to go investigate the candy and chips. Shota kept an eye on him through the mirror that the place had for security only to find him frowning and peering at the prices. 

Joke turned appeared at the end of the aisle, a box of snake cakes under one arm and hands occupied with two hot drinks. He nodded his head at Shinso and passed her on the way to make himself a coffee. This was her idea, after all, and she had managed to coax him this far. Hopefully she could figure out this situation, too.

He went for the coffee machine and poured it slowly, listening to the quiet conversation happening two aisles down.

"So what'cha thinkin? Sunflower seeds?"

Shinso's answer was silent, but Fukukado must have nudged him or something, because he could just hear a scratchy voice saying, "…They last a long time."

Ah. What a depressingly logical reason to choose a snack. There was some rustling, and then Joke clicked her tongue, "Shinso I'm hosting the party, I'm paying for the snacks. Hm, you know I think I want some chocolate covered peanuts, too…"

…Well if that was the solution she was going with. Shota reached for a larger cup and poured over his coffee, topping it off before ambling his way to the counter where Shinso was nervously fidgeting and Fukukado was piling up her snacks on the counter. Shota deposited his coffee and sandwich with no comment, earning himself a roll of the eyes from Joke. He wasn't particularly worried about her trying to get payback. Anything she was going to do to him over this was probably something she'd do anyways.

The cashier didn't greet them or make any comment as he scanned the items, not even as Fukukado leaned across the counter to whisper and point at something on the wall. He wordlessly leaned back to grab the box for a pre-paid burner phone and rang it up too. Shinso's eyes had gone wide at that but he clearly wasn't going to ask, and Fukukado apparently was not planning on explaining as boxes got tucked into bags and drinks were passed around.

"Alright, where should we post up? Shinso?"

The kid blinked up at her, looking a little overwhelmed, so Shota took that at his cue to step in.

"There's a park not far from here. It's got a gazebo."

"Oh you hear that? It's got a gazebo."

Shinso gave her a flat stare, which for some reason had Joke muffling a snort into her hand.

"Oh my god. Eraser, how have you rubbed off on him so much already?"

Shota shared a glance with the kid that seemed to say no, I don't get what she's talking about either. The heroine, predictably, did not let their lack of response phase her and instead smiled, shook her head and herded them out the door.

And that was how Shota ended up sitting next to Miss Joke on a park bench at midnight, kid between them, because they'd wordlessly decided it would keep him warmer. 

Fukukado kept up a mostly-one-sided conversation, though Shinso was responding to her more than he expected. He still wouldn't talk much about himself, but when she got onto the topic of heroes, he shyly declared the Wild Wild Pussycats as his favorites. Shota had said they were respectable, Joke had countered with a story of a time when they (Or Pixie-Bob, at least) hadn't been, he'd called her a gossip, and Shinso sat between them, listening with a tiny smile on his face that Shota wasn't sure he'd ever seen before.

Something about it all made him feel strangely content. Shinso was happy, if only for the moment, and Shota felt the foreign urge to just -- ruffle a hand through his hair. Keep him close and not let him go back to his shitty home. Maybe he'd gotten too personally attached. In the moment, he compromised by taking the half of his sandwich he hadn't touched and offering it to the kid.

"Here. I don't like tomatoes."

And Joke stopped Shinso from immediately rejecting him by bursting in with, "Why did you buy one with tomatoes if you don't like them!"

"The label just said club sandwich, nothing about tomatoes."

"Club sandwiches have tomatoes!"

Shota huffed, but they'd gotten their desired effect. Shinso had thought it through enough and tentatively took the food.

"Um… If it's really okay."

Shota nodded and Joke rolled her eyes and waved him off, "He won't eat it, Eraser is picky. And I've already eaten. Like a responsible person!"

Shota shrugged, "I keep nutrient jelly on me. I'll be fine"

Shinso rolled his lips between his teeth before quietly saying, "Okay. Thank you."

Shota took a long sip of coffee and pretended not to notice how fast the kid scarfed the sandwich down.

He accepted the snacks that Joke passed out as well, though maybe only because Shota took some himself.  But the night couldn't last forever. Hot drinks were finished, snacks dwindled, and the air grew colder. There were patrols to get to, and houses that were -- hopefully -- warm, at least in temperature. Before Shota could say anything, Joke hefted the bag again, one conspicuous box remaining.

"Alright! I've got one last thing before I go."

Shota thought he could see where this was going. It seemed far-fetched, but he hoped she managed to pull it off.

Out of the bag came the prepaid phone. Shinso watched with wide eyes as she picked open the box -- maybe seeing the writing on the wall too, but not quite believing it, yet.

She flipped it open and powered it on, rapidly tapping away as she talked. "Since I’m going away and I know Eraser isn't gonna keep me updated I got you something! Plus, it's not a party without a present."

Shinso's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes flicked over to Shota, as though maybe she was talking to him.

"So I put my number in here, and if you get tired of mean ol' Eraser, or you just wanna talk, I'll be there!"

She held it out to him, but Shinso seemed frozen to his spot and made no move to take it. Shota did, navigating to punch in his own number.

"Ah you see that?" Joke leaned over and stage-whispered to Shinso, "He’s jealous. Don't tell anyone, but Eraser really likes it when you text him pictures of cats."

…Yes, but Shota would make exception for the months worth of incomprehensible sparkly cat gifs she'd sent him.

Shota held out the phone again, Joke took it back from him and got up from her spot to kneel in front of Shinso. He still hadn't moved, or even made a sound, and she slowly reached out to take Shinso hand, turning it over and using her own fingers to make him curl his hand around the device.

Shinso jumped at the touch. "I- I don't-"

"Shinso." His mouth clamped closed at Fukukado's tone. Gentle, but with authority. "I'm giving this to you, okay? If you don't want it, you can throw it away, or destroy it, or even sell it to someone, and I won't mind. But if you want to talk to me, that's an option too, okay?"

Then she reached out to do the thing that Shota hadn't, ruffling her fingers through his hair.

Shinso took in a shaky, wet breath and nodded, white knuckled fingers shoving the phone deep into the pocket of his hoodie.

Shota hoped he kept it.

He had almost asked a question, and they had given him a phone.

Actually he had asked a question before, and Ms. Joke had answered him, and had let him keep talking, didn't even get mad at him, and gave him a phone. Which confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that they didn't know his quirk, not that Hitoshi didn't know that by now. All that really did was make him feel extra guilty when he shoved the flip phone in the space between the wall and his mattress so that no one would find it.

He couldn't quite bring himself to get rid of it, like Ms. Joke had said he could. What if he needed it? And it would be a waste, besides.

Though, what the underground heroes were trying to do was now painfully transparent, not that it kind of wasn't already. They thought he was in trouble, and they wanted to help him.

That just made the guilt worse, sitting in the bottom of his stomach like a stone. He was under no illusions -- this was as good as it got for a kid with a villain's quirk like his. Being ignored was better than any alternative. But the heroes didn't know about his quirk.

He knew she should tell them. That he was being selfish by having them continue to look after him. He looked forward to seeing Eraserhead and Soup every night as much as he hated the hollow feeling that opened in his chest afterwards. Wasting a hero's time was something a villain would do, he knew that, but every time he thought about saying something his tongue went to lead in his mouth.

He didn't want to be alone again.

For the moment he didn't have to worry about that. Ms. Joke had gotten into the habit of texting him at night, telling him trivia, and asking how his day had gone "because I know Eraser is too socially awkward for small talk."

It left him feeling a little off kilter every time that happened. She was just a substitute, she shouldn't have cared as much as she did, but she did. That’s what heroes were supposed to do, he supposed. If he managed to be a hero, he hoped he ended up like Ms. Joke.

Hitoshi found himself desperately searching for a middle ground that he just couldn't find. There was no way to make the heroes understand that he was fine and have them still stick around.

They had better things to be doing than looking out for him. Every text he got from Ms. Joke, every can of cat food Eraserhead bought weighed on him more and more, until he was starting to wonder if it was worth going out at all. But by this point, the heroes would probably go looking for him if he disappeared on them, and then he'd be wasting even more of their time.

Eventually he came to a decision: being alone was better than being selfish -- because being selfish was bad, and being bad was a one-way trip to villainhood. He still didn't want to get moved out of the home he was in, if he could help it, so he had to make them understand why he couldn't go.

It all came back, as it always did, to his quirk.

Ms. Joke had a quirk kind of like his. He hoped that maybe she would understand, and if she didn't, then she'd probably stop talking to him which would just achieve his goal, anyways. Plus, he couldn't be accused of using his quirk over text, and he had all the time in the world to anxiously sit and fret over the message he was about to send without worrying about losing his voice or getting too emotional.

The text he drafted to send her read, "I need to tell you something. About my quirk." It sat typed and undelivered for three days. In the end, he never sent it, because the guilt overwhelmed him in another way instead.

It was such a small thing. Eraserhead handed him the coat one night, and he'd reached into the pocket to find the cat food already there.

"Joke told me that you were keeping some kind of tally of what food she liked best." The hero explained with a shrug, "So I went out and got some new flavors."

It was hard to make out in the dark, but the label claimed the food was chicken and venison flavor. But more than that, there was still a sticker on it from where it had been marked on sale for 300 yen. Which was actually ridiculously expensive, as far as cat food went, more than twice anything he'd ever looked at, and this was on clearance.

Such a stupid, tiny thing to get choked up over, but Hitoshi was suddenly struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"Kid?" Eraserhead leaned forward to squint at him, "Is that alright? I don't know what you've already tried."

"It's --" His voice wavered, and he forced himself to suck in a breath that didn't do anything to stop the burning that was building behind his eyes, "It's fine, but you shouldn't spend so much effort on this. It's just… A cat."

If it had been Ms. Joke, he might have been drawn into a metaphorical conversation about how she liked this cat, and wanted to make sure the cat was taken care of. But it wasn't Ms. Joke, it was Eraserhead, and Eraserhead frowned, kneeled down to his level, and said, "This isn't about the cat."

Hitoshi's grip tightened on the can and let his head fall. This wasn't about the cat.

"Just uh--" He took another shaky breath. He didn't want to cry. Crying would make him look pathetic or maybe even get him in trouble for being manipulative, "It's nice, that you've been coming out here and talking to me. B-but it won't do anything."

The hero's eyebrows pinched together, the man not appearing to like that explanation one bit.

"It could, if you'd let it."

Hitoshi shook his head so hard he saw spots.

"I don't want it to. I'm fine." His throat was so tight, he was sure his voice was going to give out any moment now. Why wouldn't he get it?

"Kid--" Eraserhead extended a hand, but hesitated like he wasn't sure if it was okay. Hitoshi didn't really register the movement until the hero had decided to go through with it, and there was the weight of a warm hand on his shoulder. "Being in a place where you're not allowed to talk isn't fine."

He couldn't see. He wasn't -- he wasn't crying but tears had slipped out anyways. Eraserhead was an indistinct smudge in the dark but he didn't dare risk acknowledging it by wiping his eyes.

"It is." He insisted, "They ignore me here, as long as I don't. It's --" Say it. Say it. Tell him and he'll understand and he'll stop wasting his time and go back to doing hero things . "My quirk." He croaked. "I can make people do bad things with it, so it's safer if I don't talk to them. As long as I don't they leave me alone." His voice finally broke on the last word. Alone. Please don't leave me alone.

There was a long moment of silence, through which Hitoshi struggled to breath. As hard as he tried, he couldn't take more than a shuddering gasp, and it was like the air never reached his lungs.

"I think that's bullshit." Came Eraserhead's voice. Hitoshi squinted through his tears, surprise coloring his growing panic at the curse, "Just because you can do bad things with your quirk doesn't mean you will. That's no excuse for the way you've been treated."

Hitoshi wanted to believe him. He did , a little, because he wanted to be a hero, and that meant using his quirk to help people, but just because Eraserhead thought so didn't mean everyone else did. Life was unfair. That had been one of the first lessons that had been drilled into him, as soon he'd been hauled off to his first orphanage.

(He'd sat by the apartment door for hours and hours, waiting for someone to show up and let him in, but no one ever came. They'd left him alone).

Sometimes it was best to keep your head down and take what got thrown at you, to just try and survive. Life was unfair, and no one came to help kids like him.

Except -- there was a hero right in front of him, hand on his shoulder, who had been trying to help him this whole time.

Hitoshi opened his mouth to try and say something, anything but all that came out was a choked sob. Then another, and he couldn't breathe, because it wasn't fair. He wanted -- needed -- to get control of himself, but he couldn't. His whole body felt hot with shame -- for crying, for waiting this long, for needing help in the first place. Eraserhead said something to him that he couldn't really hear through the blood rushing in his ears, and suddenly he was being hugged.

Awkwardly, maybe, though he didn't really register that. He was being hugged, and that only made Hitoshi cry harder, hands coming up to cling to the closest thing they could reach, which turned out to be  Eraserhead's capture weapon.  He shuddered and gasped and eventually gave up trying to pull himself together entirely, curling into the hero's shoulder and hating himself for it, but not enough to pull away.

He wasn't sure how long passed like that, where all he could do was cling and sob and try to breathe, but after a while his body felt too heavy to continue doing even that. At some point Eraserhead had looped up and rested his hand on the back of Hitoshi's head, which was nice because it was starting to ache.

It took a few tries, and a concerted effort, but eventually pried his cold hands away to wipe at his face.

"M' sorry." He rasped. The breath he sucked in afterwards hurt, "I- I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for" Eraserhead let his arms drop, and Hitoshi was too embarrassed to complain, busy trying to clean off snot and tears from his face. "And if you want to talk about it, I'm right here."

He didn't want to talk about it, really, but at this point Hitoshi felt like he had to. If all this had been over not wanting to waste Eraserhead's time, and the man wasn't going to leave because of his quirk, then that really only left telling him everything and hoping he could do something. He didn't have a lot of hope, really. It wasn't like there was some secret nice home for him that would suddenly appear. But -- maybe there was, if Eraserhead asked for it. Or maybe there was something else he could do. The man was a hero, after all.

Hitoshi didn't talk, and never about his problems, but Eraserhead had already been such a huge exception to the first rule, it didn't feel like a big stretch to break the second.

"I--" He wiped his eyes and tried not to stutter, "I can try."

Just because things were going better didn't mean they were going good.

Shota wasn't exactly sure what made the kid break down when he had, but he now had a good list of reasons as to why. The way Shinso told it, he and Fukukado were the only support he had in the entire world. His teachers ignored bullying, his foster parents ignored him period. The kid had tried so hard not to look fragile when he admitted that it had been the first time he'd heard that his quirk wasn't bad.

Everything he heard just made rage boil higher in his chest for the kid. The things Shinso thought were 'fine' were heartbreaking.

"What do they do when you talk?" He'd asked.

"I haven't tried it here." Shinso had responded, eyes downcast. "But it's usually bad."

There was a small silver lining -- or at least Shota had thought there was a silver lining before talking it through with Hizashi and realizing that it only made things more complicated.

Shinso was in the foster system. On one hand, that meant that getting him out of the place he was in would be as easy as pulling out his hero license and laying out his observations. On the other, it meant that as far as the government was concerned, Shinso didn't have anywhere else to go.

"And, well I hate to break it to you Sho --" Hizashi had told him, jaw tight and hand over his, "But with the way the system is now, there's really no guarantee he'll be moved to a place that's any better."

He had known the basics, but having the details laid out didn't exactly paint a hopeful picture. 

When quirks had first appeared, the foster-system had been inundated with 'mutant' kids and the government had been desperate to find anyone willing to take them. The requirements needed to be a foster had gone down, the payment had gone up, and a lot of people who probably shouldn't be allowed to take care of kids took the opportunity. In all the years that had passed, the system had never really been fixed, and it hadn't been the best to begin with.

Short of finding a family to take him in himself, Shota couldn't actually promise Shinso much of anything. Which was horrible, because that very night he had let the boy lean on him and promised that he'd do everything he could to help.

"So what do I do then? I can't leave him there, but it's not safe to move him…" He'd sighed, half his weight pushed onto his husband as he put together a setlist for his next radio show.

"We can figure something out." His husband had replied with a frown, and then went still, typing fingers falling silent.

"You know." Said Hizashi after a long moment, "Since we're heroes we could probably get proper foster licenses pretty quickly."

Shota felt himself go still before he even registered the full thought. Heroes could take in children during emergencies, but that was only meant to last a few days at most. In Shinso's case, that would just put him right back into the same situation they'd be taking him from. But if they did things properly--

"Are you implying we should take him in?

Hizashi held up his hands, "It would just be 'till we find somewhere good for him to go, right? I mean-- I know we've agreed we can't really handle kids right now, but it's not like we can really do worse than that. And it’s not like we’re taking in a little kid, he seems pretty self-reliant based on what you told me…"

Hizashi was doing the rambling thing he did when he got nervous, which meant he was seriously considering it. The last time they had talked about kids, Hizashi had admitted he'd wanted one, someday, but knew that with their jobs it would be hard. Shota had felt indifferent, and had figured that someone indifferent shouldn't make the effort. If it could help Shinso, though…

"You know…" He said slowly, "I do hear they let anyone foster a kid these days."