Nonchalant

Chapter 27

"Holy crap. There's no way you wrote all of this. And with so little time, too."

Aizawa blinked in disbelief. There was two whole paragraphs from general facts about the man's apparent quirk to ways to harness it to the maximum.

This kid was either a monster or a genius. He didn't want to imagine what Nezu would do if he found out about him.

Kuzu simple blinked back at him, eyes ever-empty.

Aizawa's eyes drifted to his hoodie. He could make out the faint marks of the bloodstain. Judging by how crumpled the area was, Kuzu had scrubbed hard.

"I'll take my leave now." Kuzu turned but Aizawa shot out an end of his scarf.

"There's no way I'm letting you get away again. I can call for backup." Aizawa kept his stare, daring the kid to make another move as he pulled his phone. Kuzu kept his cool.

"Hey, Eraser."

"What?"

"The guy's waking up."

Aizawa turned his head and saw the man stirring. 

Kuzu took the opportunity to break an arm out from the loose fabric. He grabbed his pipe and looped it over his head, tying the scarf end into a knot and making a run for it.

He got away.

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Aizawa was feeling as empty as Kuzu's eyes were.

His paperwork was a mess. His documents were a headache. The homework assignments he needed to grade were all over the place. Really, did his students learn nothing from his lessons? Ectoplasm had sent him a picture of one of his student's math homework, and it made him question his competence as a teacher.

Hime leaped atop and settled herself on his laptop, stretching out and staring at him blankly.

"Rude," Aizawa got up to pull out her food bowl. "There are other ways to get my attention."

Hime did not attempt to apologize.

Aizawa pulled his work back and took a sip of coffee. 

Kuzu had gotten away. Again. Aizawa could usually secure a handful of robbers or thugs, but a single kid was elusive enough to keep slipping away?

It was infuriating. The fact that the kid wouldn't let him help. 

He reminded Aizawa about another kid. One that was gone forever and Aizawa would hold himself accountable for all time.

 "It wasn't your fault, Shota. You did your best, talking to him. At the very least, you were an outlet for all the emotions he wanted to share when no one else would listen." 

Hizashi made a point, but the crushing guilt was stronger than comforting words from his friend. Aizawa knew he could have done more. Helped him out. 

In the end, the gift remains in his shelf, collecting dust. He didn't have the heart to throw it away.

Aizawa slammed his head on the table. He had to stop thinking about him. The past is the past, and he needed to stop dwelling on it. He also needed to stop associating the two, or else the migraines would never end.

His apartment was filled with the sound of keyboard clicks and the sound of his cat contently chewing away at her kibble.

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Too close.

Izuku huffed and panted, gasping for air. No wonder. He'd run at least a mile or two without stopping to breathe.

Izuku couldn't stop. Not with Eraser on his tail, having been relieved of both child and man by a trio of police officers.

He was now huddled in his blankets, dealing with a bruise and a scrape on his arm.

Izuku had come to the realization that he needed more than scavenging.

He needed a job. 

It would be hard, but not impossible. A desperate shop owner could probably hire him on the pretense that they were relatives or family friends and he just wanted to help out. His uncle hadn't been able to say no to his pleading eyes and hired him with an amused sigh, and little Izuku would continue to work part-time at whatever shop he was lucky enough to stumble across.

 If he saved enough money, maybe he'd even be able to rent a cheap place, so long as he never bought food or any necessities. Izuku could also sell some scrap metal at the beach and collect recyclables for cash.

Money is annoying.

Izuku heaved a sigh and went back to scribbling in his notebook.

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He'd been to five small stores and he did it.

One of them caved when they saw how well he could cook. As he's had to deal with his own meals since he was eight and gradually work his way up, it would be simple enough to make cakes for a coffee shop. Somewhat fun, too.

The shop owner had been hesitant, but when Izuku said that he just wanted to help his mother, she'd insisted on offering a higher-than-average hourly pay and an 'allowance' for "being such a hardworking boy". By allowance she meant that he could take home half of the leftover food for himself. Izuku could have cried.

She was a nice woman, with an air of familiarity Izuku couldn't quite place.

He also started tomorrow, so Izuku had to pick his cleanest and least bloody clothes. Hopefully, Miss Aoi wouldn't notice the small splotch of blood on the sleeve, but it was concealed well in the dark fabric.

Izuku started inspecting the recipes she'd given him and memorizing them. It would be easier when he actually started baking, so he wouldn't have to keep consulting the sheets of paper.

Humorous. Now you're on your way to becoming a housewife. This is simply amazing.

Guys can like baking too. 

You'll mess up eventually, and she'll get annoyed and chase you away. What do you plan on doing then?

Other alternatives. Now shut up. I need to memorize this.

The voice in his head was irritating, but realistic. It always told Izuku the cold hard truth, and this was no different. As long as he did his job perfectly, Miss Aoi hopefully would not get rid of him. 

Solid plan. He was not panicking.

Izuku pinched himself to come back to reality. 

Lmao I winged this so hard

It's a mess and I didn't do enough research on wages and rental rates and stuff like that

Tips are welcome lol

Also sorry for not posting in like a month TwT