Aizawa

Aizawa Shouta groaned when a series of loud knocks interrupted his 11AM nap. He had just been on a draining raid that night: after months of preparation, the police, a team of fellow underground heroes and him had finally busted a trafficking ring he’d had his eyes on for a while. What they’d found at their base was even worse than he’d imagined; rows upon rows of cages full of animals and quirkless children, twisted experiments to create new quirks. At least, that’s what Most of the kids were dead when the team got there, and Aizawa just knew that he would have nightmares about this one for months, if not years. If only he’d been faster, more efficient at collecting clues, maybe more kids would have lived, maybe he would have been able to save all of- Anyway, his point was that he really needed that nap, for his sanity. So he immediately wrapped himself in a cocoon of sheets and dug his head into his pillow, looking like a human burrito with a giant cluster of seaweed on top thanks to his long black hair.

But clearly, whoever was outside his apartment knew him because they just KEPT. BANGING. AT HIS DOOR! Eventually, Aizawa had to come to terms with the fact that they weren’t going to go away by themselves. He left his cocoon and dragged his raggedy, hobo-looking ass towards the entryway. His skin was pastier than usual, and his eyes had gone from bloodshot to practically blood-filled, if such a thing was possible.When he finally opened the door, he couldn’t help but groan. He liked detective Tsukauchi enough, considered him somewhat of a friend, even -but don’t tell anyone-, but his appearance usually meant that Eraserhead’s services were required. “Detective Tsukauchi,”*he greeted professionally, no matter how much he just wanted to curl up into a corner and sleep the day away. His tone was gruff, and his voice hoarse from lack of sleep (and crying himself to sleep after that absolute nightmare of a raid), but he would still do whatever was needed to help, however reluctantly. “Aizawa,” responded Tsukauchi, careful not to use his hero name when he was in civilian garb. “May I come in?”

Once they were both inside, door securely locked behind the two men, Tsukauchi cut right to the chase. “You still have your hero foster license, right?”

Aizawa blinked at that, feeling a (stronger) headache incoming. He groaned, hair cascading over his scruffy face as his shoulders slumped with defeat. He knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse whatever the detective was about to ask of him, but he had to try. “Naomasa, please don’t-”

“It’s just for a few weeks, Shouta. And you know the kid really needs it, you saw what those sick people were doing to them. Just a few weeks, until we find someone who wants to take care of them long term. I promise you’ll be able to return to your solitary life soon.”

A short staredown ensued, before Aizawa, both too tired and unable to refuse helping a kid in need, slumped with a defeated sigh. “Fine.”

It seemed that Detective Tsuakuchi was expecting this, because he pulled out a walkie talkie, contacting the police car that had been waiting in front of Aizawa’s apartment this whole time. “Bring in the kid.”