The Artist and the Hero (Aizawa x OC)

A Chance Encounter

"Izumi, you're awake!" my brother exclaimed before carefully hugging me. "When we got a call from the police, we feared the worst."

"Are you okay, honey?" my mom asked, tears falling down her cheeks.

"I'm okay, I just have some cuts on my arms and hands. You know, Eraserhead is the one that saved my life," I smiled.

"Well if we ever get to meet him, remind me to thank him," my dad said, patting my hand in comfort.

"What happened, anyway? The police didn't give us any details about the attack," Kaito crossed his arms.

"Well, there I was shopping for a birthday present for you when all of a sudden, a funny-looking villain pops up out of nowhere! He took me hostage when he found me trying to escape. In the end, he dropped me off a building and I found myself being saved by Eraserhead."

"We're so glad you're safe, Izumi," my mom cried. She hugged me, which prompted a group hug from my whole family. After that whole escapade, I had to take time off from my job at the art museum so that I could heal. The doctor told me to apply a cream and bandages to my arms and hands for two weeks, which also meant I couldn't hold a paintbrush properly until I was completely healed. My brother had to stay with me to help me do things like pick up a mug, which was humiliating.

By the second week, however, I could do things mostly normally. I still couldn't work, but I could resume painting, which kept me sane. I was a shop associate by day, and an artist by night. I had always dreamed of selling my own paintings, but I never had the opportunity to do so. Instead, I took the job of a shop associate at my favorite art museum, so I could at least be around paintings for part of the day.

I couldn't paint as well with my stupid bandages on, however. On my third failed attempt, I gave up and went to the café next door to my apartment. The smell of coffee wafted up my nose and instantly calmed me. I ordered my drink and walked away to wait by the tables. On my journey to the tables, however, I almost bumped right into someone. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention," I looked up and froze at the person standing in front of me. The man had raven black hair, black eyes, and scruffy-looking stubble. As soon as he spoke, I knew who he was right away.

"It's alright."

"Wait, you're Eraserhead aren't you?" I asked in a hushed tone. He probably didn't want any attention drawn to himself, and I wasn't about to ruin his day.

"Yes, I am," he sighed, reaching into his pocket for, what I assumed, to be a pen. Oh, he thought I wanted his autograph. Before I embarrassed myself more, I interrupted him.

"I'm sorry, I don't know if you remember me, but you saved my life about a week ago. I was the girl that fell off of a building," I chuckled. His eyes sparkled in recognition, and he gave a small smile.

"Oh yeah, I remember you. I assume you're doing alright?"

"I'm fine, just a few minor cuts. Seriously, if you hadn't been there, I wouldn't be standing here today."

"I was just doing my job, miss..." he trailed off.

"Okazaki Izumi," I shook his hand, "but you can just call me Izumi."

"Aizawa Shota, but you can call me Shota if you're allowing me to call you by your first name."

"Well, it's nice to properly meet you, Shota," I smiled.

"Likewise." We stood there in awkward silence for a minute before I did something incredibly stupid.

"Hey, I know we just officially met, but I feel like I need to repay you somehow," I laughed nervously.

"Izumi, you don't have to-"

"I'm being serious. If you want, you could walk with me around the park nearby."

"You don't have to repay me," he smiled in amusement, "but I would like to join you."

"Great, just let me grab my coffee." Once we arrived at the park, we started talking about our personal lives. I learned that he had a soft spot for cats, he can never get enough sleep, and he was a teacher at UA. When he asked about my hobby, I couldn't stop talking about how I loved to paint. I told him that I had always wanted to be an artist ever since my parents gave me my first paintbrushes and paint, which was when I was five. I told him about my job as a shop associate at my favorite art museum and how I had a small art studio at my apartment.

I didn't even notice I was rambling until I saw him smirking at me. "Oh, I was rambling wasn't I? I'm sorry, I tend to do that when someone asks me about painting," I felt my face grow hot.

"It's okay, I liked hearing about it. I didn't know you were so interested in painting."

"Oh, well thank you," I jumped when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. My brother had texted me that he was coming over for dinner, as well as helping me apply the cream to my cuts. "I'm sorry, but I have to get home. It was really nice talking to you, though."

"I enjoyed it, too," he paused as if contemplating something. "This may seem weird, but do you want to exchange numbers?"

"I would love to!" I said as I took his phone to put my number in there. "Cool, I guess I have a pro hero in my contact list," I laughed.

"And I have a future famous painter in mine," he smiled at me. I blushed once more, his comment catching me off guard.

"Aw, that was really sweet, thank you. I guess I'll see you around, Shota?"

"Of course, hopefully not when you're in imminent danger."

"Let's hope not," I giggled, "anyway, see you later!" I waved goodbye before heading back to my apartment. I may have not gotten to paint today, but I made a new friend, who was a pro hero at that. My brother was gonna flip.