Chapter Text
Chapter 4: Aizawa POV
Shota is so exhausted. He barely slept last night, not with Hizashi waking up every few hours in cold sweats and shaking. The kid’s file dragged out all the feelings Hizashi has been suppressing since they were teenagers, and with Shota only being able to convince him to see a therapist this past year, Hizashi isn’t as prepared for this as he needs to be.
Now, they are pacing the kitchen, on hold with Shinsou’s case worker, Mrs. Kida, because apparently they need to report with her before going after their- the kid.
“You hit me hard, Zash,” Shota grumbles, he knows he is whining, but can’t help it. The low tune of the hold music is going to drive him crazy and Hizashi did hit him hard as fuck. Thank God Shinsou changed his original command.
“Be glad I haven’t screamed and make this entire block deaf,” Hizashi grumbles back, raking his hand through his long hair for the tenth time. Going to him, Shota sweeps all his husbands hair back into a half do. Hizashi just washed it yesterday and at this rate, it'll be too greasy to avoid another wash by tonight, disrupting the long held schedule Hizashi has built for it. Shota doesn’t fully understand the obsession with the maintenance routine, but the silk strands in his finger are proof that it works. Kissing his husband's cheek, Shota focuses on breathing deeply as he wraps his arms around Hizashi, modeling the coping skills his husband needs to be doing.
Ever so slowly, the tension in Hizashi lessens and they are left standing there together, the hold music too damn chipper for how they feel. After far too long, the music stops and a high pitched, sickly sweet voice answers.
“Hello, this is Kida with the Children Guidance Center of Musutafu, how can I help you?”
Shota snatches the phone off the breakfast bar, turning the speaker on and cranking the volume to ensure Hizashi could hear her too.
“Hello Kida, this is Aizawa Shota and Yamada Hizashi, we are calling you to report Shinsou Hitoshi as a runaway. During the foster briefing to gain our licenses, the protocol is to report to you first and allow police to handle the process, but as Pro Heroes, we would like to be included in the search for Shinsou.”
There is a long pause and quiet typing, annoyance and anxiety building in Shota's chest with every passing second.
“Ooookay, so with Shinsou, he is considered a high risk threat in these situations, the last time he ran away he sent multiple officers to wander aimlessly in the city before they were able to find him sleeping and get a muzzle on the kid before he woke up. With that being said, even with how dangerous he is, you two as his guardians absolutely can not aid in the search, it is against the law and our agency's policy, Pro Hero or otherwise. Besides, the local station is going to want a specialized unit going after someone like Shinsou, lord knows they'll need it.” Kida ends with a sour laugh.
Shota can feel the heat radiating off of Hizashi, knowing his face is bright red without needing to turn. Hizashi is sucking in air to speak, but Shota opens his mouth first.
“Kida, with all due respect, there is no need to deem Shinsou a threat, he is a scared and lost kid. I understand the policy, but if there is any room to bend, I can guarantee Mic and I would be able to bring Shinsou home much sooner than the average police officer.” Shota feels like he is making a deal with a terrorist, what kind of CGC employee writes a kid off as so dangerous he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt? The dismissive annoyance in Kida's tone is clear as she makes her final remark.
“With all due respect, Mr. Aizawa, you have no idea what this kid is actually capable of. I'll send you his full files tonight, the ones you have are summary sheets we use to just get the kids placed. You deserve to know the kind of quirk you have living with you and how Shinsou has used it in the past. You will receive updates from the police officer assigned to be your liaison, expect the first update by this evening. Have a good day!” The line goes dead.
“Oh fuck her! Is she being serious, that is so beyond-”
“Hizashi, you're yelling.”
Shota doesn't blame him at all, but the last thing they need to worry about is replacing all their dishware. Again. Snapping his jaw closed with a hard click of his teeth, Hizashi begins pacing again, hands on his hips.
“What the fuck are we going to do? They don’t seriously expect us to “haVe A gOoD dAY” when our kid is running the streets?!” Taking another deep breath to reign in his quirk, Hizashi stops pacing to squat with his head in his hands. When he lifts his head back up, Shota feels his heart break a little at how lost his lover looks. “What the fuck, Sho. I thought it would be good to tell him everything, you know, the whole knowledge is power thing.”
Taking a seat on the floor next to him, Shota leans into his husband’s side gently, enough to comfort but not knock off balance. He’s been running the conversation in his mind since waking up from Shinsou’s manipulation and while he may have an idea of what went wrong, without Shinsou to confirm it is nothing but a theory.
“I think he feels we view him as a project for our own egos. That the logistics of collecting information to remove him from the Hano residence meant we allowed him to continue being abused which…I can’t fault that thought process, unfortunately. I just never expected that level of anger from him, he has a bit of sarcasm in him but that rage…I wasn’t expecting it.” Hizashi takes Shota’s hand and he realizes they are both shaking. “We are really fucking this up, huh.”
It has been a week since Oboro died and it hasn’t stopped raining since. Every day he walks to school in this uncharacteristic wave of storms, Shota is brought back to that day. With every drop of rain soaking his uniform and sling, Shota is suddenly choking on the concrete dust of the collapsed building, the screams of the school children consuming his hearing and the phantom flashes of Yamada’s quirk in his peripheral vision. ‘Hizashi…’
They went to the hospital together, long after the blood stain that was Oboro had been washed away in the downpour, but they haven’t seen each other since. Shota knows he needs to speak with the blond, knows he is grieving and traumatized too. He knows that they were supposed to go on their first date tomorrow. A first date he won’t be going to. The chime of a text coming through pulls Shota out of his thoughts, the clock catching his attention before looking at the message.
“Shit,” Shota curses, picking up his pace to attempt to make it to class under five minutes late.
- The Next Day -
“Shotaaaaaaa! Wait up!”
Shota’s shoulders bunch, for the first time it isn’t because of the volume, but the owner of the voice. It is almost entirely habit that makes him stop while his brain yells at him to keep walking. He turns in time to put a hand out, stopping Hizashi’s arm from looping around him. The flash of hurt on his friend's face stabs at Shota’s heart, but he can’t quite bring himself to lower his hand until Hizashi recovers and clasps his own hands together. They stare at each other for a long moment, Hizashi’s face flickering through a cacophony of emotions: hurt, confusion, back to hurt and ultimately landing on… Shota has never seen Hizashi’s beautiful features contorted in such rage. His green eyes, where they once held a glitter of amusement and affection every time they landed on Shota are now filled with brimming tears and a light of fury unknown to him. His mouth, larger than the average person's, typically held in a slanted, unnerving smile that makes Shota’s stomach flutter in the best worst way, has twisted into a closed mouth sneer that crinkles his adorable nose. Shota knows they are standing on the sidewalks outside of UA, the mid-afternoon traffic bustling past them, but being the cause and subject of that look on Hizashi’s face has made the floor fall out from under Shota’s feet. He opens his mouth, feeling the need to speak for the first time in a week, but Hizashi beats him to it.
“You know what, Aizawa, fine. I have tried to be there for you, I have texted you, called you, hunted for you in between class and after every day! I get it, you are hurting, so am I! If you want to be alone, be alone!” Hizashi stomps past him, clipping Shota’s shoulder on his way past.
“I-,” Shota tries, he really does. But Hizashi is already down the road, the sound of the street burying his sorry attempt at getting his best friend love back. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Shota goes to his notifications, inhaling sharply.
*21 missed calls from: Loud Mouth (Yamada Hizashi)*
*83 text messages from: Loud Mouth (Yamada Hizashi)*
*36 text messages from: Sushi’s Mom (Nemuri Kayama)*
*10 missed calls from: Sushi’s Mom (Nemuri Kayama)*
The stupid names Shota let them put in his phone bring unnecessary tears to his eyes, scrolling further, Shota chokes on the building phlegm in his throat.
*1 text message from: Air Head (Oboro Shirakumo)
He is opening the text before he decides to.
Air Head (Oboro Shirakumo): Yamada told me he asked you out finally!! I can’t wait to be the best man at your wedding 😘 See you tomorrow for patrol 🌬️☁️
The sun has set by the time Shota leaves his spot on the sidewalk. ‘Everything is so fucked’
Smacking his thigh, Shota stands, pulling Hizashi up with him. This is ridiculous, they aren’t just going to stand around while Shinsou is running wild, confused and scared.
“Come on, we can find him ourselves,” Shota decides. Hizashi tenses next to him, the arm holding hands locked in its position, jerking Shota to a halt.
“We could lose him, Sho, if they find out we broke policy and found for him ourselves,” Hizashi swallows hard, “I’m anxious too, but I am not willing to risk him.”
The sound of Shota’s quick inhale is loud in the suddenly still room. He knows Hizashi is right. They absolutely should not break policy and protocol, Hell, they were the speakers for UA’s most recent safety seminar regarding the ethics and importance of said things in the Pro Hero world. But this is about Hitoshi. Hitoshi, who is angry with them because they made it sound like he was an afterthought of their own egos, left to suffer for months on end while the adults around him knew and watched. Shota slowly pulls his hand out of his husband's hold.
“I have to, Zashi. You know I do. I won’t be caught, I swear, I am used to going undetected through these alleys. You should stay home, you’re too noticeable. But if those files show up, for the love of everything, please don’t read them by yourself.”
“What happens when you do find him? How do we explain that?” Hizash crosses his arms.
Grabbing his capture scarf from the entry hook, Shots throws it on and begins lacing his boots, determination settling into his bones as the sun stretches into almost afternoon.
“We will say that he came home on his own. And get him a new caseworker, I don’t care what is in those files, he isn’t going anywhere and he deserves to be innocent until proven guilty, or whatever those Americans say.”
Familiar hands land on his shoulders, their grip tight. Shota stills as Hizashi slides his hands over his torso to wrap himself around Shota, his lover’s face buried in-between his own shoulder blades. Shota places his hands over Hizashi’s where they rest on his stomach.
“I will be careful, I promise. I will bring him home. We will get this right.”
Hizashi’s hands ball into fist under his own, voice muffled against Shota’s back.
“He looks just like him, y’know. When he was sitting on the bed, the light was hitting his face just right for the scar on the bridge of his nose to shine. Did you see it?”
It takes almost a full minute for Shota to breathe again, “Yeah. I know. It is even worse when we are training. The day he came with his hair in a ponytail I had to ‘take a phone call’ before starting.”
Shota turns to face his husband, hands cupping Hizashi’s cheeks, thumbs running over the aged matching scars on the tips of his cheekbones.
“I will be right back. With Hitoshi.”