Work Text:
-It never changes, it always stays the same
A smack here and a yell there
No one ever notices,
Not even the victim and villain themselves-
“You’re late.” Was the first thing that Aizawa heard as he entered the apartment, Eriko’s scolding voice echoing through the hallway. He took his shoes and coat off, hanging the latter by the door. The house smelled of dinner, and it seemed brighter than ever. He entered the kitchen and quickly kissed his son’s forehead along with his daughter’s before sitting down.
“Sorry, boss kept me in for longer.” Eriko was clearly displeased, the scowl on the woman’s face showing her true feelings. Yumi grinned at him, at least someone was happy that he was at home. Well, maybe the baby as well, but he was currently too busy playing in his highchair to care about the world around him.
“Daddy, do you want to hear about my day today?” Aizawa nodded, a small smile spreading across his face.
“I’d love to. Tell me all about it darling.” And that she did, as Yumi spoke of her classmates and friends, of the things she had learned and the lessons life had taught her, Aizawa could forget. Aizawa could forget about his fuming wife, about the woman who he knew wanted his head. He could focus on his dearest daughter instead and allow himself to drown in happiness he knew would evaporate eventually.
Later that night, when both the kids were asleep, Eriko confronted him.
“I hate that you’re always late.” Her voice was more angry than sorrowful, but a mix of both could make one assume that it was frustration. Aizawa looked down guiltily, exhaling softly.
“I hate it too honey, you know I do. I’ve been trying to cut down on the hours, I promise I have.” Regret creeped into his tone as he spoke, his voice soft and tender. He didn’t dare look into her eyes.
“Yumi is always so sad to see you gone, you’re never there for her…” Eriko’s tone was venomous, still soft, yet striking.
“You know I’m trying, and I try to support her as much as possible when I’m here.” He was almost pleading for her to see reason,
“She doesn’t trust you; you know, she tells me at night. She says she hates you; she wishes you were at home more. She says that she would love you if you were home to love her.” Bullshit spilled from his wife’s lips, attempting to trap him into a cage of guilt. Aizawa didn’t know that Yumi trusted him more than Eriko, Aizawa didn’t know that Yumi knew everything. All he knew was the guilt he felt and the feeling of being trapped.
A backhanded slap echoed across the room, as did a loud bang afterwards. Eriko’s hand was now raised in the air, and Aizawa had fallen to the floor. He knew that the blood was seeping from the cut on his forehead, he could smell it.
“Eriko…” his voice was pleading, begging for her to come back. However, she walked out, firing with fury and rage. What Aizawa didn’t realise was that he was scared of her, he was scared of losing her despite having already lost her beyond repair. He was scared of her controlling his negative emotions.
Neither of them spotted the little girl who peeked from the door at her father. The little girl who witnessed many of their fights. Neither had noticed little Yumi, who’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of her dad hurt and on the floor.
-He cries himself to sleep at night, hoping that the untamed beast doesn’t wake from her slumber
He’s skeptical and doubtful, questioning his reality
Everything he has ever known about his current life could perhaps be a mere image
Could this be considered immoral?-
Night was at its darkest, the stars glowed brightly and moon shined, granting light to the bedroom in which Aizawa slept. He couldn’t sleep, he was hyperaware of the band-aid on his forehead and of everything around him. Guilt consumed him, as it always did nowadays.
The sharp cries of his baby rang through the household, and with Eriko asleep, it was Aizawa’s job to check on him. So, he stood up, and walked to the baby’s nursery, opening the door softly. Akira, the baby, almost immediately softened his cries at the sight of his father. Aizawa picked him up from the crib and held him in his arms, rocking the baby and shushing him inaudibly.
“Why are you crying, hm?” Aizawa checked Akira, he was dry, not hungry or thirsty, nothing. He just wanted to see his father again, to be in his father’s arms once more.
Aizawa spoke quietly to the now sleeping baby, gently patting the little hair he had on his young head as he spoke. Akira relaxed more and more over those few seconds, without even realizing it.
“Why would you want your Dad, hm?” Akira didn’t answer, clearly asleep and unable to talk, however, Aizawa kept speaking. He paced around the room slowly, rocking the baby softly in time with his footsteps.
“Am I good enough for you? I mean, apparently Yumi hates me and Eriko always love to tell me off whenever she gets the chance. Is this… is this normal?” The baby shifted slightly, almost in protest. Aizawa chuckled cynically, pressing a kiss to Akira’s forehead.
“Oh, I love you Akira, I really do. And I love your sister. You two are my only joys in life.” He sighed softly, tears gathering at his eyes at the mere thought of his children feeling hurt by him. When Akira grew older, would he resent his father the same way he thought Yumi did…? When Akira grew older, would he not care for the father who loved him wholeheartedly? Aizawa did not know the answer to these questions, and it only saddened him further.
“Do you love me?” His voice cracked slightly, despite his whispers. Tears gathered further, guilt brimmed from his heart and it took over him entirely.
“I’m sorry Akira. I am.” His voice was filled with sincerity, salty tears pouring from his eyes and onto the carpet underneath him. The baby nestled into him more, clinging to the fabric of his night shirt. The mere thought of his children hurt by him was enough to set him off the edge.
“I deserve every hit, every slap and every word for what I’ve done to you. You deserve to have two parents in your life who make you happy and who you can trust.” The effects of Eriko’s words had entirely seeped through long ago. This dynamic was a train that road in a loop, never-ending, never changing.
“Do you really hate me, Akira? Do you hate me the way your sister does?” Out of his earshot, tiny footsteps pandered their way to the doorway, and growing hands pressed themselves against the wall. A small girl poked her head out and watched on. Yumi.
“I love you both so much, and I try to be home as often as I can, but I can’t handle it. I can’t handle the yelling and the hitting. I’m weak, I know. I deserve this, and I want to get out. Does this make me a bad person?” Aizawa’s voice almost gave up on him entirely as he began to sob, his chest erratically moving up and down in time to his heavy sobs.
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.” He cried in earnest, struggling to breathe. He collapsed into the armchair beside the crib, still holding the baby tightly to him, but not in a way that constricted him. It was no longer the baby’s sharp cries that rung through the house, it was now the heavy sobs of the father who haunted the ears of those who heard them.
“Daddy?”
-He waves it off and dismisses it as a whole
Assuring those around him to not worry
About his tear-stained cheeks
And his diamond ring scar-
Aizawa entered the headquarters, pants in hand and boxers exposed to all those who could see him. Soichiro was the first one to turn around, then Matsuda, then Mogi. Matsuda greeted him loudly as per usual, earning himself a smack on the back of the head by Mogi. Chief was the first to address him properly, looking almost concerned.
“Are you alright?” He gestured to the band-aid on the side of his forehead. Aizawa dismissed it with a slight bow, clearing his throat afterwards.
“I just had a little fight with my wife. Because my daughter’s still young and I usually do really long hours.” His voice was a grumble, both from lack of sleep and from nature. It almost seemed instinctual for Aizawa to say such things, almost as if he had trained and wired himself to do it. No one could see the lingering sadness in his eyes; however, L could understand the connotation behind Aizawa’s words. He was a detective first and foremost, even with such small clues.
Aizawa was feeling turmoil and conflict within him, he felt so badly. He deserved this, he thought and he knew that he deserved this, yet, something didn’t feel right. Some of the things Eriko said felt like lies and some of the hits felt wrongly given. As a policeman, he had seen cases about marital abuse before, and knew what they looked like. As a result, he often attempted to ignore the fact that the relationships he saw in those cases and his own relationship were frighteningly similar.
Nothing would change, and if he wanted to stay with his kids, then he had to keep riding his wave of misery.
-It’s long hours and avoidance that helps loop this dynamic time and time again
However, what the man knows for sure
Is that no matter how many hours he cut or deleted
Things would always stay the same-
It was 10pm, and Aizawa was still at his desk, typing dutifully on his computer. It was only him and L in the room, the sound of a clicking mouse and the rapid typing on the keyboard was all that could be heard. Work ended 4 hours ago, Aizawa shouldn’t have still been there, however, if he could avoid his wife’s furious eyes and her wrath, he would risk almost anything.
Eventually, L’s clicking came to a halt.
“Aizawa-san, work ended 4 hours, 6 minutes and 23 seconds ago, shouldn’t you be at home…?” His voice was soft as it always was, but not gentle, certainly not. Aizawa turned to left to face L instead of the screen.
“Oh… sorry. I had work to get done.” He didn’t have any work to get done, he was currently doing what Matsuda forgot to do. It was a lie, and L could see through him.
“Please go home Aizawa-san, it’s far too late to be working.” A flash of panic appeared on Aizawa’s face, his eyes widening slightly.
“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning.” His voice wavered only slightly, not enough to be noticeable to the human ear. “Goodnight Ryuzaki.”
“Goodnight, Aizawa-san.” Aizawa took his leave and walked out of the room, back to his home with both his worst nightmare and his only sources of happiness.
He just hoped Eriko wasn’t waiting for him.
-Action; the hits, the lies, the guilt-tripping, the toxicity
The first step to a nightmare of guilt that he couldn’t wake up from
Grief; the guilt that follows with such actions
The convincing of false beliefs and negative thoughts sew their way into the mind of the victim
Dismissal; the denying to both oneself and to the others surrounding them
The action that may do more harm than good in the far future
Avoidance; the long hours and the tiredness, numbing him from it all for at least a couple of hours
The one double-sided sword in this fight of right and wrong
Repeat: it all starts again, never to end unless something changes.-