Chapter Text
Loving And Fighting, Accusing, Denying
The first time, it was a complete coincidence. Shouta hadn’t been expecting it, nor was he looking for it. It simply caught his attention as he was on the rooftop, scouting for more criminals. He had been going through his phone, looking through the files he had been sent through the agency, when the light from his phone fell on it and he saw it.
It was just scribbling. Black over the gray cement. It made him curious. He was on a high rise building, and the door to the rooftop seemed permanently closed. So he couldn’t help but wonder who wrote it, and what they wrote. So he crouched down, and flashed his phone’s flashlight over it.
Shouta hoped with all his heart it wasn’t the last breathing words of a life he couldn’t save. Even if there had been no other way, he can’t bear it. He knows it’s weak of him. So, so, incredibly weak for someone who wears the title of a Pro Hero.
But the little lives lost were such a heavy burden. And he was already carrying so much of it.
He switched on the flash, and directed it to the words.
I feel like a one way mirror,
You see what you want to see.
Unless you look too closely into me.
It was a quote. Or Shouta assumed it was one. He wasn’t sure what qualified as a quote. He was never good at literature anyways. He barely passed those classes during his school years. That field belonged more to his golden retriever humanized best friend.
Written in decent, curvy handwriting. It looked old, and faded. Or maybe, the ink didn’t sink onto the surface as well as expected of a marker. Shouta repeated the lines over, and over again in his mind.
He hadn’t put too much thought into it when he took out the marker he always carried around with him. (A marker or a pen. You never know when you might need it. For himself or for others. Drawing with black on his skin was much kinder than drawing with silver.) He flipped the cap open and scribbled down next to the quote.
Slight amusement coiled inside of him as he wrote. He was a hero, but he was vandalizing public property. Hizashi and Nemuri would be so proud. He could hear them cackle in the back of his mind. (The little hidden part where he liked to keep miniaturized versions of all people important to him. He would listen to their made up response, and seek help when he couldn’t get to the real version of them.) But oh well, not like anyone was going to read his ‘reply’ anyways.
Has anyone ever tried looking too close? Do you want anyone to?
With that he closed his marker, and put it back into his utility belt. He read over his writing to make sure there were no accidental spelling errors. He was oddly particular like that. Not a ‘grammar police’ as they said. He didn’t care about the mistakes others made, he only cared about the ones he did.
He didn’t stay on the roof for too long. The sound of something crashing against a trashcan caught his attention. And just like that, he was jumping off the roof, Capture Weapon outstretched to grab onto the handrail of the nearest balcony.
He didn’t think of the quote, or his reply after that.For a fairly decent amount of time.
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Shouta found himself back on the rooftop once again, nearly after a week. It was only after he landed there did he recall his discovery from a while ago. It was late in the night,(or early in the morning), depending on how you saw it.
He wasn’t expecting anything as he walked over to the parapet wall where he had found scribble. Chances of anyone being able to come up here was rare as it was. But, to come up twice didn’t seem as probable. So, it was an understandable response when he couldn’t believe his eyes, crouched in front of the spot.
Because right below his rushed scribbling, was another, much more well written line.
Has anyone ever tried looking too close? Do you want anyone to?
No, I’d ask them not to look too close. It’s dark inside.
Shouta knew it was written by the same person who had written the quote. The handwriting was the same. Only the ink was much fresher. Like it had been written recently. He pressed his finger over the writing, and dragged it down. Then he checked his finger tip. The ink was still wet. Shouta frowned. It had to be written a few minutes before he had arrived.
Standing up, he went over to the rooftop door and checked the lock. It was locked. Dread settled inside of him as he rushed to the parapet and looked down. Hoping not to see what he was dreading. He checked all the sides, and sighed in relief when he saw nobody on the ground below.
He paused for a moment and tried to recall if had seen anyone else leaving the rooftop before he had arrived. He was sure there was no one. But there could always be a chance that there had been someone, but he had missed it.
He was pretty high up, so the chances of it being just anyone was ruled out. One had to have some kind of flight based quirk, or had to be used to jumping from roof to roof to be this high up.
He walked back to the wall of the parapet and crouched down. He tilted his head as he studied the scribbling. After a few seconds, he decided to take out his marker, and wrote his reply down.
Last time was out of curiosity, and his own self amusement. This time it was an experiment.
Is it bad if it is dark inside?
Shouta checked the surroundings once more, before deciding to head back to his home. His patrol hours were over anyways.
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The third time, Shouta was actually curious to see if he would get a reply. Before he landed on the rooftop, he had checked from a distance to see if anyone was present. And as soon as he landed on the rooftop, he checked the rooftop door to see if it was still locked. He tried both pushing and pulling it. But it didn’t budge an inch.
Once he was sure that there had been no one on the rooftop before him, he went to the wall where the scribbles were and crouched down. Despite coming here, in hopes to see a reply, he wasn’t actually expecting one. So, he was slightly surprised when there was a reply.
Is it bad if it is dark inside?
Everyone is scared of the dark, aren't they?
Once again, he pressed his finger against the words. The ink wasn’t as fresh as before. But it was still glossy. So it had been written a few minutes ago.
Shouta tried to think what kind of person would have written this. He tried to form an image. There was no way to figure out the person’s gender. But he could assume an age. There weren’t any spelling errors, nor grammatical errors. The person who wrote this had to be at least older than 10.
But then, there was also the part that this scribble was found on the roof of an empty building. Someone had to have flight based quirk, or quirk that gave the person the ability to either stay float or fly in one manner or the other. Or it had to be someone with enough courage to jump from roof to roof this high above.
There weren’t a lot of people that could do that. Not at night at least. Because the lack of proper light, made jumping across the roof a lot more difficult. Also, it had to be someone quick. Otherwise there was no way Shouta wouldn’t spot them before they left.
Shouta wondered if it was a vigilante. But all the vigilantes he was aware of worked on the other side of the city. The part where there were more crimes. This part of the city was fairly empty at night. Shouta only came here because it was on route to his apartment.
‘Is it someone new?’ He wondered.
But it at least had to be a few weeks since the first message. There was no way no one had heard of a new vigilante in the city. Even if they were based here.
‘If it wasn’t a vigilante, then who?’Shouta wondered. ‘It can’t be someone young.’ He assumed the person to be at least above 18. They had to be if they could parkour over roofs at night with ease and speed.
He could no longer pass the messages as a sort of vandalism. Once was coincidence, twice was happenstance, but thrice is a pattern. Someone had come up to the roof repeatedly and written their reply.
And whoever it was, knew about Eraserhead’s patrol grounds, or it was just a two consecutive coincidences that the other person just happened to write their reply the very day Shouta decided to check on the rooftop.
He took his phone, and took a picture of the scribbles. Then, he made a new file in his note app, and saved the picture there along with the date and time.
False. A lot of people aren’t scared of the dark. Blind people, people with night vision or… well, most phones have flashlights these days. And well, dark places are good for naps. So, I personally like dark places.
He tried to lift the mood of the messages with his reply. He got up and looked around, checking if anyone was watching before heading back. That day, he took a different route home.
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After the fourth time, Shouta was concerned, worried, alarmed, and confused all together. Because once again there was a reply, and once again the ink looked fresh. But there hadn't been anyone around.
He had no idea who was writing the replies, how, or why.
What if you find a huge mess hidden in the darkness?
Shouta stared at the reply and frowned. Slightly concerned for the person who had been writing the replies. ‘Are they okay?’ he wondered.
He had asked the other Underground Heroes to keep an eye on this area, but they didn’t notice anyone suspicious, or on the rooftops.
‘Do they have a stealth based quirk?’ He wondered. In that case, Shouta won’t be able to notice them. But after thinking about it for a bit longer, he discarded the thought. There were several other things to consider.
One, even if they had a stealth quirk strong enough to completely hide their presence, it didn’t explain how they reached this place. He knew for sure there wasn’t any Underground Hero or vigilante who had a stealth quirk like that. And if they were a villain, they would’ve attacked him by now. It was illogical not to.
So, it was a civilian, or a hero in training. Once again, he discarded the second option. The only high school training heroes anywhere in West Tokyo was UA. The other highschools were all on the other side.
And this time, Shouta didn’t come back after a week. But instead, after three days. He broke out of his pattern, and yet there was a reply ready for him. So whoever it was, didn’t rely on his schedule.
And anyone younger than hero-in-training, wouldn’t have enough experience or expertise to maneuver these roofs at night with ease.
And if they did… then that was a whole different problem.
Shouta took out his marker and wrote his reply.
Well, that’s okay. I can just clean up the place and nap.
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Shouta went to check the rooftop the next day, in the afternoon after his classes were over. There wasn’t a reply.
‘So whoever it was only came here at night.’ He thought before leaving. But he made sure to look around anyway before he left.
He once again visited the rooftop the very same day at night. To his surprise, there was a reply. Once again the ink was fresh, and looked recent.
Shouta wondered if it was some kind of quirk.
At this point, he could no longer consider the possibility of the person knowing his schedule or following him. His decision to visit the rooftop twice the same day had been a spur of the moment decision.
He sighed, and pushed his hair back as he read the reply.
Why go through that much effort? It’s useless junk anyways. You can always find better places to nap.
He hummed, and rubbed his neck. He was definitely starting to get concerned about the other person. Frowning, he took out his marker and wrote his reply.
What if I don’t want to? What if I CHOOSE to be there? Plus, ‘One man’s junk is another man’s treasure’ is a pretty famous quote.
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Shouta grunted as he tied up the criminal with his Capture Weapon and held him in his place. After that, he contacted the police and informed them of his arrest. He rolled the criminal on his belly before sitting down on him.
“Hey!” The villain complained.
“Shut up.” Shouta mumbled and took out his phone. He opened his note app and looked through the pictures he had collected. He clicked on the picture of the first message, and held his phone in front of the criminal’s face.
“Whatcha think about this?” He asked monotonously.
The villain stared at the screen, and then tried to look at him. “Really?”
Shouta stared. The villain huffed and grunted, wiggling underneath him for a moment before he stared back at the screen.
“It’s lame.” He said.
Shouta kicked his heel into the side of his back. The villain cried out in pain. “You’re lame.”
He heard the sound of sirens approaching and got up, “And that’s why you’re going to get arrested.”
“Shut up.” The villain grumbled.
Shouta ignored him and turned his attention to the police officer who had arrived. He gave a quick and brief summary of the arrest, before leaving with the promise to send the documents for the arrest later on.
Excuse him for his abrupt leave, but he had to be somewhere.
A rooftop in specific.
Shouta wasn’t sure what kind of reply to expect this time. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t anticipating his next visit. Because as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t visit everyday.
He patrolled the nastier part of the city. Visiting the rooftop, which was one the very other side of his patrol ground would be strenuous and illogical. Unless he was subbing in for someone else, or heading back home.
Of all things Shouta had been expecting, it had not been a teenager standing near the edge of the rooftop.
Shouta came to an abrupt stop the moment he spotted the shadowed figure on the rooftop. It definitely was a kid, judging by their height in comparison to the height of the parapet.
It wasn’t his first time seeing a sight like that. He saw young souls sitting on the edge of the life far too often that he would like. And no matter how many times he saw it, it never got easier. Each time his heart clenched painfully in his chest and blood ran cold in his veins.
He doesn’t falter in his steps. In moments like this each second counts. ( A second earlier and he would still be alive, living his dream. They would still be a team. A hero agency of their very own. Just a second. One-)
His steps are quiet and silent until he’s close enough. Once he was within reach to shoot out his Capture Weapon in the worst case scenario, he let his footsteps be heard. The figure, a young child— so, so terrifyingly young. The youngest he had seen so far. His heartbeat skyrocketed. The fist sized organ hammered painfully against his ribs. Like it was trying to climb its way out of his throat— didn’t show any outward signs of noticing his presence.
They were leaning against the parapet in a manner more casual than the situation demanded. Arms crossed, with their head tilted up to the sky. It wasn’t the posture of someone who had given up on everything. They were standing at the edge, almost like they were admiring the starless sky.
“Kid?” He called out anyway. He could never be too sure.
The kid didn’t startle, and looked at him over their shoulder. Then, they smiled, and said, “Hello, Eraserhead.”