It was meant to be peaceful. A perfectly calm Saturday evening. But that was how it was always going to be. Nobody planned for this stuff.
Hizashi and Eri had gone shopping, and they decided they should bring Hitoshi outside before he hibernated on Sunday— a mixture of cold weather and insomnia did that sometimes. Silver was allowed to remain at home but only because she had homework from Rat-Bear and looking at it always made Hizashi's head spin.
Then some kind of horn started blaring so loud Silver snapped her pencil in half and had to slap her hands over her ears. Glad Nezu had yet to fill the rest of the apartment blocks with tenants who would be furious with the noise, Silver's eyes darted the room, searching for a device capable of this kind of volume.
Then Hizashi's phone managed to vibrate itself off the table. Of course he would have a phone loud enough to wake the dead, of course he would manage to leave it behind while he went shopping (he hadn't even said which shop he was going to so it wasn't like she could go get him), of course he would leave Silver alone to try to figure out what had happened and how to make it stop.
The phone had landed on the carpet face down, light on the back flashing blindingly bright in a repetitive pattern. She was going to have to get close to make it stop. Of all the moments this could've happened, why not when the man who was near-deaf was here? As it was, she was going to be near-deaf by the end of this.
She darted forward, shoulders up by her ears, and she flipped the phone over before throwing herself back. Her head was starting to pound with the blaring.
Her heart dropped through her stomach.
The words 'SOS Aizawa Shouta' sat there innocently, bold and bright against the black background. Three little words.
Three little letters.
Suddenly her head wasn't pounding. Suddenly the horn didn't matter. Suddenly she should've demanded to know more about the stupid mission he didn't even want to go on but was doing anyway. Suddenly her dad was in danger and the most illogical course of action was thrumming through her muscles.
But no. She couldn't do that. Couldn't be that. There was danger, yes, danger that she could help. She knew how to handle that. She could do this. She'd done this a hundred times. Someone was in trouble, and they were calling for help.
She had to be smart or she wouldn't be help. She tapped the phone screen, an acknowledgement of the SOS, and sent a text to Hitoshi with her own phone. Hopefully he'd see in time.
'SOS Eraser' it read, with the address still burning bright on Hizashi's phone screen tacked on the end. She assumed that was where Aizawa was now, or at least his last known address. Hitoshi would pass it on to Hizashi as soon as he saw it and Hizashi would know what was meant to be done with it. She'd done her part in that, now all she had to worry about was her own choice.
Except there was no choice. Eraser hadn't and wouldn't hesitate if their roles were reversed; she didn't plan on holding out on him now.
She grabbed her school bag, opening the pocket with her actual school stuff in it and tipping it upside down. She slung it over her shoulder.
Now she had a first aid kit in case the SOS was about an injury.
The window was left cracked open, each step folding grass under her trainers once she'd dropped down the fire escape. It wasn't hidden in the first row of trees, but the second. Tucked in an old squirrel nest burrowed into the tree, wrapped in a plastic bag and a blanket, were two guns and a set of throwing stars she hadn't touched in over half a year. One of the guns was far smaller than the other, small enough in fact that she could tuck it into the side of her shoe, while the larger required more thought. More thought she didn't have the time for. As for the stars well, she jammed them into her pocket, hoped they wouldn't tear through her clothes and hoped she wouldn't have to use them.
Her silver jacket counted as part of her hero costume now, so she had to keep it at school— ridiculous as that rule was. And none of her other clothes had anything akin to a holster. She didn't like it, but she tucked the second gun into her waistband, pulled her top over it, and got moving.
***
Aizawa was having what some might call a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Personally, he preferred the term shit— it was both more accurate, and took less of the energy he really needed right about now.
It all started with Nezu (it always did). Someone, someway, somehow, the creature had got involved in this case Aizawa had been trying so hard to avoid because he knew exactly how dangerous it was and he couldn't do that anymore. Not with Eri, not with Silver, not with Hitoshi. Every underground hero worth their stripes knew a good mission from a bad mission and this was firmly in the bad.
But that was why it had gone untouched for so long. Underfunded. Under-informed. Understaffed. The few police officers involved were told one hero and one hero only. For a case like this, the only heroes who'd willingly join would be heroes with a death wish. Aizawa was not that, and yet, here he was.
And this, this right here, was why this case was a bad case.
His head was spinning, pounding with a mixture of a concussion and whatever the hell drugs they'd injected him with. With the warmth he was used to feeling in the back of his mind— the same warmth he reached for whenever he needed to erase a quirk— gone, he assumed at least one of the drugs was a quirk-inhibitor. The old kind too, one that gave nightmare migraines days after the last dose. Hence why they were now illegal to use unless prescribed.
He'd gone for a simple stakeout, but they'd known exactly where he was watching them from. It was the stupid lack of info. The group or gang or whatever they were— stupid lack of info— were much more skilled than anyone theorised. That or there was an unknown quirk— an unknown quirk was a dangerous quirk— in play.
Now he was caught. He'd managed to sound his panic button in time (where that little device was now, he didn't want to talk about but it was sending a GPS signal straight to Hizashi and the police so, as long as it did its job— unlike everything else involved in this case— Aizawa didn't care). Cold and sharp, the fear of a signal jammer pierced the fuzz over his pounding skull before the gentle hum of bad drugs blurred the thought out until he was grasping at cotton candy.
It was fine. Someone would come. Any moment now. He did that thing to make sure of it, didn't he? Mm, probably. He was normally pretty reliable like that.
Not like now. Now he was mushbrainmanthing. Notoriously unreliable. Mushmanthingbrain was mushy. Like... like... like mush.
Manmushbrainthing was also sleep-wanting. Desiring? Needing? Deprived? Words? Tuna? Catfish?
Cats were nice. They were so floofy and floofy and snuggles and floof.
Cats deserved all the hugs. He had hugs to give. He needed to give the hugs. The little people also deserved the hugs though. They'd have to share the hugs, just like they shared the apartment. Lots and lots and lots of hugs.
He wanted a hug.
Noise! How inter-
Dark eyes snapped wide. She wasn't meant to be here. Bad. This wasn't how it was meant to be. She couldn't be here. Not safe. She was meant to be safe. She was meant to be home. Bad. Bad. Bad.
"Eraser, calm down."
No! No, he would not calm down. "Why-" Oh, yeah, that was why he wasn't talking. Dry throat. Desert sand.
Deserts were so much warmer than right here. He'd like to be warm right now.
"Before you get angry, I'm not here to fight, and I haven't fought. Ok?"
That sounded like something he should've been worried about. He was worried about that. Yes. Fighting was bad. This was already bad enough. "Why are you here?" he asked, or tried to ask. He wasn't sure how many of the sounds actually made it out of his mouth.
"For you, obviously." He pulled away as she reached her hands towards his head, movements slow and hold gentle as she checked him over for the wound he knew was there somewhere. Each slight movement made him wince, skull caving in under the pressure. "Just try and stay awake," she said, but he felt so heavy. "I'm going to untie you, ok?"
Freedom! Perfect. Wonderful. Brilliant. More words. More tuna. More catfish. More floof.
"Did they drug you?"
That was a question. Questions normally had answers. Unless they were rhetoric. Rhetory. Rhetoryical. Even more words. Even more-
"Ok, they did. Good to know."
His throat felt desert-ier. He didn't like it. And it didn't make sense. Because he wasn't talking. Unless he was.
"Eraser, you're definitely talking." She was already behind him, something rough scraping over his skin. It felt mean, but that wasn't her intention. Well, it might've been a little bit, only because he'd got himself caught. That was his bad. She was allowed to be angry at him for that. He was angry at himself for that— which was actually kind of stupid, people have limits, dummy, and with a case like this, it was bound to happen. He'd been outnumbered. He should just be glad he was alive.
Instead he was sulking. Like a kid. He had lots of kids. Three good kids. The rest of them were stress-inducing hellions he could really do without but at least they'd make decent heroes if they made it through their last year.
Silver chuckled. "I'll be sure to pass that along."
"You do that."
She snorted and his arms flopped, almost making him cry out as stiff shoulders swung forwards. An instant later he was sprawled on the floor (and he assumed he'd fallen somehow because Silver wouldn't have pushed him down) and she was crouched beside him, one hand clutched around the back of his collar.
"Sorry. Stay down."
Or maybe she did push him down. But like, not in a mean way, because now there were other people in the room. Proper mean people and that was bad. Unless they were secretly friendly. Silver used to be a bad guy, but she was a secretly-friendly bad guy, and now she was a good guy.
"You idiots should be glad I was here!" Silver spat, voice cold and tone venomous.
And that was good, she was a cool good guy. He preferred her as a good guy. She was nice, and she played nice with the hellions. And she always seemed to like having them around. He was pretty sure she'd found them weird at first— and he didn't blame her, his hellions were not normal in the slightest— but now she was more used to them. She was one with the weird that had become their normal. She fit right in, like a snuggly jigsaw piece.
"The damn hero got out of the ropes. Are you so incapable you can't do a decent fucking knot?" She hefted him up with all the strength in her tiny body and practically threw him back into the chair.
And yeah, some of her edges were still a little rough sometimes and she had a lot of doubt in herself and in faith and in... other stuff like trust and faith and stuff. There was a point to this. He'd had a thought. The thought had an end. He didn't know what it was anymore. Oh well, she deserved hugs. Like Hitoshi.
"Oh the hero tried to escape, did he?"
"That's what I just said."
And Eri too. He didn't get it. How could anyone ever look at any one of those three and decide to hurt them? Their little faces were so cute and adorable and innocent— ok, maybe not massively innocent in Silver's case, but at the same time that wasn't really her fault. But Eri was so small, and Hitoshi and Silver had been hurt when they were small too. Small things shouldn't be hurt.
"Maybe we should show him what happens when our prisoners don't behave."
It was like kicking a puppy. Not even villains kicked puppies. Only evil people kicked puppies. Like Endeavour. Endeavour was the kind of person who would kick a puppy and smile. Aizawa wasn't even a dog person but he would never kick a puppy.
"The guy's drugged up and he hit his head so bad he probably lost a couple hundred braincells. Not much point doing that now when he won't know what's going on."
They were so little. And so young. They should've been having hugs and hugs and warm things like chocolate and baking. Nurture stuff. Safety. They should definitely have been safe. They should've been all that the whole time. But people were sucky so that hadn't happened. There were too many puppy-kickers out there.
"I think a little pain might wake our hero up."
Puppy-kickers and hair-yankers too. He didn't like the mean people pulling his hair. It hurt. It felt bad.
"Damaging him now is pointless."
Yeah. That was his kid. That was his kid making a logical argument like the queen she was. His kid was awesome. All his kids were awesome. Awesome and cute and strong and so amazingly great.
"Oh come on, live a little."
The bad guy's eyes clouded over until they were stark white and fingers wiggled by his neck. 'Wiggled'. Such a weird word. It even looked like what it was. 'Wiggled'.
"My quirk's been aching to play."
Aizawa cringed at the bangs and crashes so close and so far. But then his hair stopped screaming at him so that was cool but-
She said she wouldn't fight!
He reached for his quirk, pulling at weakened threads but pulling hard enough to get it active. She was fighting. She was fighting and she wasn't meant to be fighting. But she was keeping them herded into his line of sight. She was smart too. She knew an unknown quirk was a dangerous quirk. She was letting him help. She was strong enough. Smart enough. Good enough.
He blinked at some point. He wasn't entirely sure when because once his eyes closed, he couldn't quite get them open again. Not until he realised he was trying to reactivate his quirk rather than simply open his eyes.
"You still with me, Eraser?"
And she was ok when he finally figured it out and saw her, but it could've gone wrong. Any moment, it could've gone wrong and she could've been hurt and he'd never have forgiven himself. She could've died right here while he couldn't even open his eyes and all because she followed him here.
"Have a little faith in me. I managed alone for a long time. I can take care of myself."
That wasn't the point. She wasn't meant to take care of herself. And things could go wrong. Things always went wrong.
"Just relax, and try to stay awake. The police will be here any-" The door burst open- "second." She sighed. "You want to try standing?"
He nodded despite the cascade of pain it brought down on him and Silver ducked down to support him as he tried to get balanced on his feet. "He needs medical attention," she called out, taking a few steps that he managed to stumble along with.
Someone took up his other side, their height making it a lot easier to hold him up, but Silver stayed with him even in the ambulance.
"Are you family?" The doors were already closed, the van already on the move, it was too late for anyone to kick her out either way.
"Yes."
***
Aizawa hadn't been hurt badly. Hizashi kept repeating that in his mind over and over. He watched the steady rise and fall of his husband's chest as he lay on the hospital bed— they were here too often, far too often. Aizawa hadn't been hurt badly.
He had a concussion, but that was already healing nicely. A few minor scrapes and bruises. There were no broken bones, no fractured skulls or ocular damage. The worst of it was the drugs currently working their way out of his system and all they'd done was make him sleepy and delirious.
Eri was currently tucked into Aizawa's side, he'd unconsciously wrapped an arm around her almost as soon as she'd climbed up there and it was probably the comfiest place to sleep in the room so nobody was about to move her, especially since Aizawa didn't have any real injuries to be mindful of. Silver had nestled herself on the floor in the corner of the room opposite the door, one arm under her head while the other wrapped over her side. Hizashi and Hitoshi had taken the two chairs, Hitoshi currently out as cold as Silver.
All of them had experienced quite the adrenaline rush today, it was no wonder the kids were all tuckered out. That didn't quite explain why Hizashi was still awake though. Perhaps the continuing state of anxiety he'd found himself in was the cause. Despite being here, despite knowing his husband was fine, despite getting the chance to talk to him for a few minutes earlier to prove that he was fine, Hizashi was still one big writhing mass of nervous.
When he and Aizawa got married, hell, when they started dating, they knew what they were getting into. It was always going to be fear and worry and waiting in a hospital with nothing but nausea, hope, and dread. But neither could imagine a life without the other. It was worth the pain if they could be beside each other. Still, sometimes Hizashi wished they'd picked safer jobs.
A flash of movement to his left drew Hizashi's gaze over to where Silver was now sat bolt upright, one hand steady against the floor while the other was pulled behind her back to where Hizashi knew there was one weapon or another. In what little lamplight made it through the blinds, Hizashi could see her grey eyes glitter as they darted about the room. Her breaths were steady, but that had long since stopped being a useful indicator in most situations. She practically used her smooth and steady breathing (the one she used to reserve for fights before the damage was done to her heart) constantly and now was no different.
"Silver?" He kept his voice gentle and low, thankfully he hadn't removed his hearing aids since it was far harder to know his own volume without them.
Her eyes stilled, locked on his. With the way she woke up, it was fair to assume she'd had a nightmare. But Silver's nightmares came in different shapes and sizes, she could be fine or she could be not fine, it was a tossup as to which one until he found some way to figure it out.
"Are you ok?"
Her lips parted but the only sound that made it out was a choked garble before she snapped her mouth shut again. Slowly though, eyes still on him, her hand fell from her back without drawing any weapons. She shuffled towards him, sliding almost silently across the floor until her head rested against the cheap plastic chair. She was curled into a tight ball, eyes still wide and watchful, so she hadn't snapped out of the nightmare entirely yet.
He tried to think back to when Aizawa had told him about what her worst nightmares were like and they'd brainstormed possible ways to help pull her out of those moments when her line between reality and dream had been rubbed away like chalk. What they came up with had essentially amounted to anything that reminded her of life now. Little things like familiar tics or habits, smells they knew she liked. Anything that didn't remind her of her childhood was best.
But when her childhood accounted for thirteen years of her sixteen, it was difficult to know what wouldn't remind her of her childhood.
Carefully, he moved his hand to her head, keeping his movements well-telegraphed so she could pull away. She didn't move, but the tension in her muscles doubled as soon as he made contact.
Maybe this had been a bad idea. The head was a very vulnerable part of the body. It held one of the most key organs and was not as difficult to injure as perhaps it should've been for evolution's sake. It wasn't so out there to think someone had targeted her head before, grabbing it, squeezing it, slamming it into the floor, yanking her around by her hair. Silver liked her hair short for a reason.
She always said it was about making sure it didn't get in her eyes when she needed to shoot. She always said long hair annoyed her. She always said it was much less hassle keeping it short, for taking care of it and all that jazz. But sometimes it felt like she needed it short. It wasn't so long ago that she'd cut it so short Hizashi couldn't catch his fingers in it if he tried.
She'd cut it so short, it couldn't possibly be grabbed.
He shook his head, knocking loose the dark thoughts he couldn't and didn't want to be dealing with right now. He ruffled her hair slowly but fondly and some of that tension bled out instantly.
He found himself losing tension he hadn't realised had built up.
It was almost a random thought that had him humming a moment later. He said humming, but it wasn't really 'humming' per se. His quirk meant a lot of the system he used to make sound worked differently to most people's. The sound he made now was an imitation of humming, but it was a little quieter. The sound reverberated in his chest much more than his head (as it did when other's hummed).
He wasn't entirely sure what song it was, he couldn't put a name to the tune but he did recognise it. It would come to him later. What mattered was the way Silver slumped, the wary stiffness washing out of her with each rumbling note.
"I'm going to stay here a while," she whispered just loud enough to be heard over the 'humming' and Hizashi got the feeling she was asking for permission.
He looked at how she was positioned, back a little twisted, neck tilted in a way that would leave it stiff and aching within an hour or two, let alone what it would be like when she woke up. There was definitely a better place to sleep than the floor. Only, there was no room left on the bed, no more chairs for her to lie on, and Aizawa's sleeping bag had gone missing.
"Are you sure you're comfy down there?" At least when she'd been in the corner, she'd been lying in a less contorted position. But she wouldn't have moved over here unless there was some reason behind it so he wasn't about to tell her to go back. And if she wanted to be here then there weren't any places where she could sleep easier. The bed was taken, there were only the two chairs. He leaned forward, an idea pinging up in his mind. "Is it ok if I lift you up?" There was a big difference between ruffling her hair and picking her up, he'd only do it with her permission.
She glanced up at him, brow drawn into a frown. He simply waited, a light smile on his face— hopefully a comforting one. She nodded and he slipped off his chair, moving into a crouch beside her. Her legs shifted to make it easier for him as he placed one arm under her knees while the other wrapped around her back. He lifted her just enough to flop right back into the chair, with Silver now sat on his lap with her arms around his neck and head over his shoulder.
He resettled himself on the chair with the added weight of 148cm of pure muscle and closed his eyes.
"You didn't have to pick me up for just that, you know," Silver whispered.
He shrugged, careful of the head resting on his shoulder. "Would you've come up here if I asked?" He also hadn't been all that sure how to ask her.
"Probably not." It would've been a mixture of her not wanting to bother him and the action being unnecessary since she truly could have slept fine on the floor. Maybe a certain degree believing that agreeing would be some sign of weakness. That wanting this made her weak or soft. And she wasn't soft. It was just that physical contact was nice sometimes. It probably had something to do with hugs giving off pleasant endorphins or something like that, probably. If a smile released endorphins, a hug must too. It sounded right.
"Are you good up here?" he checked.
She hummed a quiet agreement and Hizashi felt her gradually relax. "Why are you so nice?" Her voice was so quiet he almost missed it, even in the near-silent room.
He considered the question for a few moments. It seemed silly, but, at the same time, it was hard to answer. He supposed he was nice because being nice made people happy and he liked seeing people happy. "Why are you?" he asked instead.
Her arms tightened a little around him, not enough to hurt him but enough that he felt the change. She didn't give an answer or any response at all. He didn't mind it, closing his eyes again and trying to drift off.
"Most people don't survive this long around me."
Hizashi's brow furrowed, eyes blinking open as he turned his head to see her better. It didn't make much of a difference, all he got was a better view of her hair. One arm holding her close, he moved the other to cradle her head, running his fingers through the short strands there.
Was that meant to be the answer to his question? Silver was kind because the people around her didn't last, because she considered herself a danger and a threat to those around her, and if she was already putting them at risk then she didn't want to add cruelty to that list?
Was that why she was so good at running? Why she'd never stayed in one place too long until now? If nobody survived long around her, then it was safest to stay on the move, make it so nobody was around her long enough to get hurt.
"Silver, that's not on you. You don't put people at risk just by existing in their presence. That's not how it works."
She was silent again and waiting didn't bring any response. He wanted to believe it was because she'd fallen asleep.
"You try with everything you have to do what's right. What bad people do in response to that isn't something you can account for, isn't something you could ever be blamed for," he told her. She needed to know. She deserved to know. He couldn't let her go on believing her mere existence was a threat. He couldn't let her go on thinking the only way to truly protect those she cared about, was to live her life alone. "Every hero who's ever lived has thought that it was better to keep people at arm's length. This life is dangerous, but somebody has to do it." He felt like he was doing this all out of order. The wrong words now could really do damage. "But if you go through life doing your job and never allowing yourself to live the life that you're making safe for so many others, you'll forget what you're fighting for." And that was always the most dangerous part of the job. Most heroes who forgot, either ended up dead soon after or fell into a darker path that sent them straight to prison. It was the lucky few who managed to retire, fewer still who managed to make a living for themselves after. "What's the point in fighting for a safer world if you never give yourself the chance to live happily in it?"
Time passed and finally, the last two members of the family fell asleep. All of them safe and together.
:)
Hope you guys enjoyed your weekly dose of FluffAngst *grins*
Nervous about commenting? What song/s do you know that is/are just generally happy or jolly? My friend suggested 'Sunroof', I quite like 'Best I Ever Had'.