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Blood was running down his arm, but that was the least of the young Eraserhead’s worries after what he was subjected to at the end of the battle–fellow hero intern Loud Cloud: killed in action.
Oboro Shirakumo’s body lay enveloped in shadows, but Eraserhead knew it was there.
Thunder rumbled, and the first drops of rain started to fall.
That day was when normalcy had departed Shota Aizawa’s life.
Shota took several steps forward towards his late friend. The sky grew even more dim, causing the silhouette of Oboro’s body and the carnage around them to fade to black.
The sun rose again, and Shota found himself already in an alley somewhere in Osaka, older, rougher, and exhausted, having arrived from Tokyo via night bus with just his suitcase, his sleeping bag, and the clothes on his back. He was on his way to another temporary accommodation before setting up shop, getting to work, and packing everything up to repeat the cycle elsewhere. He had been operating this way for the past two years now.
While top heroes like All Might, Endeavor, or Best Jeanist were plastered everywhere in the news, merchandise, commercials, and other sponsorships or publicity stunts, the name Eraserhead was just a whisper in the shadows, as he preferred, even if the circumstances weren’t as ideal.
He soon approached a cheap hotel. It was a bit pricier at ¥1,000 per night, but it did have a shower and a few vending machines, and there was a konbini across the street. The check-in process was quick, and he soon walked up to his room.
As Shota opened the door, he was welcomed not by a cramped room but instead a slightly bigger but still cramped office, his old agency in all of its minimalistic glory. He looked to his left and his right, now in another alley, surrounded by neighboring shops and businesses.
“Good morning,” greeted a voice.
Shota turned around to see a woman with hair in a vibrant shade of green. She was dressed in civilian clothing and was wearing a backpack. Though she was also carrying a distinct metal suitcase that gave herself away as a pro hero to those who knew as some still carried their costume that way.
“You’re Eraserhead, aren’t you?” she asked.
“You’d be correct,” he replied.
“Ms. Joke,” she introduced herself with a smile. “I just opened up my agency last week. It’s about six or seven doors down.” She giggled at herself, probably a joke he didn’t understand. “Otherwise, Fukukado Emi.” She extended her hand.
“Aizawa Shota.” He shook her hand.
“Maybe we’ll work together someday.”
“Perhaps,” he said politely but to mask some skepticism. He doubted he would see her face for long, but he already knew he would be proven very wrong.
He turned around to head back into his agency.
As soon as Shota passed through the door, the office had already changed into a bedroom. The lights were off, but the layout was still very familiar.
It was a UA dorm room, her room at the teacher dorms to be exact.
Shota looked at the mirror on the side and saw the scar under his eye, images of Shigaraki’s hand, Midoriya’s quirk development, and other incidents flashing into his mind.
Shota turned towards the bed and crouched down. Eri was a sound asleep under the covers.
Memories of the Shie Hassaikai raid felt very recent, and judging by Eri’s face, it probably was at this point in time. It was probably the first in a long time that the young girl appeared at peace as she slept.
He stood up and adjusted his scarf, standing over her like a sentry. He looked over at the doorframe where nothing but a void existed beyond it, filled with silhouettes of various villains.
Overhaul was front and center.
Ms. Joke appeared next to Shota with anything but a smile on her face. She cracked her knuckles before looking up at him. No words were said as their exchange was a nod from her and then looking back at Eri. Emi firmly grabbed his hand before heading towards the door together.
Shota woke up with his heart beating fast, but he exhaled when he quickly realized it was a dream. He already knew it was, but even to this day, his body was still getting used to his life having already slowed down.
He stared up at the ceiling as rays of the morning sun peeked in through closed curtains and blinds.
He looked down and saw Emi laying her head on his bare chest. Her hair was a bit tousled, and she wore an oversized t-shirt, most likely one of his. Her left hand rested on his chest, bearing a ring on one of her fingers. Though the ring was much different from the one she wore since he proposed to her.
Emi finally stirred awake, the visual of her eyes fluttering open captivating him. She blinked once, twice, and looked up at him wide-eyed. A smile instantly formed.
“Good morning, husband,” she said softly. She was visibly giddy over saying that exact sentence for the first time in her life.
“Morning, Emi,” he responded. He wrapped his arm around her, taking sight of the band on his own ring finger.
He looked into her eyes, at the rings, and then around the shared bedroom they were in.
Emi noticed the look on his face. “What’s the matter, Shota?”
“Oh, nothing. Just still getting used to… us, married.”
“Yet you were very eager to ‘celebrate’ with me last night,” she giggled with a wink. “But I get what you mean. It still feels like a dream to me, even if the ceremony literally happened yesterday.”
Shota pondered for a moment. “Honestly, I never thought this was possible for me for some time.”
“Yet we still managed to defy all odds,” she grinned. She climbed up to kiss him tenderly; he reciprocated with just as much gratitude. “You can rest now, Shota. Hizasahi won’t be back with Eri for another hour or so.”
“If you say so, Emi,” he yawned.
Emi returned to her position, snuggled up against Shota, securely in his arms as she closed her eyes once more. He kissed her temple before shutting his eyes again himself.
Eraserhead wandered down an alley after deciding that his patrol for the night was over. His boots patted against the wet pavement as it had rained earlier. He was physically drained, but he had at least enough money for next month’s rent. His phone then buzzed in his pocket.
The message was from Hizashi, asking if he wanted to meet up for a drink. Shota would accept.
Soon, he was standing outside the entrance of the izakaya. If he remembered correctly, this night was the night Hizashi told him that Nezu was interested in hiring Eraserhead to fill a teaching position at UA
However, once he entered, Present Mic was nowhere to be seen. Only two patrons sat at the counter, shrouded in shadows. Shota took a seat in between them. On his left was Nemuri, still in her Midnight costume. On his right was Oboro, older and filled with life, and in a more evolved version of his hero costume had Loud Cloud survived.
“One more beer, please,” Nemuri requested. The bartender set down a bottle in front of Shota and opened it up.
“Thanks,” Shota uttered. He reached out to grab the bottle, noting the appearance of his wedding ring on his finger.
“To Mr. and Mrs. Aizawa!” said Oboro as he raised his bottle, prompting Shota and Nemuri to do the same. The three of them then clinked their bottles together and all took a sip.
“Wish we could’ve been there yesterday,” Oboro said.
Shota sighed. “Yeah, me, too.” He took another sip.
“We’re still happy for you, Shota,” Nemuri added.
“Thank you,” he nodded.
For a brief moment, Shota took a good look at his friends, reminded of the fragility of life, yet at the same time, he felt content with what he was still able to get out of it.