Archive of Our Own

- Oi! Yamada! – called Nemuri. – We are going to get some drinks, come with us!

Hizashi had been trying to leave the teachers lounge quietly without raising any suspicions, but he stopped when he heard her. He turned to answer with a big fake smile on his face and an excuse already in mind.

- Really? It had to be today, precisely? – he said with an exaggerated pout. – I can’t today, Nem.

- Wait, what? – protested her. – Come on! You are the one who has been pestering us to go out for ages! Today is Friday and I know for a fact that you don’t have to be on the radio tonight.

And that was now an excuse he couldn’t use anymore, why did he tell her about his schedule in the radio station? He let out an uncomfortable laugh while he thought what else he could say to be able to leave without raising more suspicions. It wasn’t like he could tell her the truth but maybe a half-truth would be fine.

- I seriously can’t, I’m sorry – he apologized again with the smile still in place. – I am actually meeting with someone this evening.

He knew instantly that it had been the wrong move. Nemuri’s eyes brightened and a perverted expression appeared in her face. She grabbed his arm and moved close while interrogating him with a lascivious smile.

- You have a hot date, Hizashi? – she asked but kept talking without waiting for his answer. – Who is it? Is something we know? Why you haven’t told us until now? Why is it a secret? Is she married? Is it a she? They are married, right? You pervert, promiscuous man! You know how much I love secret, passionate lovers!

That was weird, well, weirder than usual. At that point he was not even listening to her anymore, laughing loudly while simultaneously focused on freeing his arm from her clutch. Nemuri wasn’t even paying attention to him anymore, lost in her daydreaming with her eyes closed and letting go perverted sounds. Hizashi made the mistake to look around and saw all the other teachers with amused expressions but mostly ignoring them. Except Shota, of course, who was still sleeping on his desk. He tried to release his arm again unsuccessfully and his eyes fell on the clock on the wall. He was late.

- Hi. Za. Shi. – insisted Nemuri, apparently back from her fantasy world. – Now you HAVE to come with us and tell us everything!

Oh boy. She had her stubborn face on, there was no escaping now. He loved her; she was a great friend, but she was even more stubborn than him. He would have to reschedule his meeting; he really didn’t want to but there was no other way.

- Will you keep it down? – asked a rough voice. – I was trying to sleep.

Great, even Shota was awake now. He looked in his direction and found the man with an exasperated and tired face. He even felt bad for all the noise they were making; the man really could use some sleep. And some distraction. That was it.

- I’m really sorry Nem, I might be able to come later but I have to take care of something before – he repeated, with his best “lost puppy” face. – But why don’t you take Aizawa in my place? I know for a fact that he doesn’t have any patrolling tonight, so he is completely free!

‘Jackpot’ he thought when he saw the panicked expression on his best friend’s face while Nemuri shifted her focus to him. He had just pushed Shota under a bus, and he knew it, but he couldn’t feel bad about it. A night of socialising could only be good for the antisocial man. Usually he would have been the one dragging him to the next party or bar, if it had been any other day.

- Is that true, Aizawa? – asked Midnight with a delighted tone in her voice before letting go a long-suffering sigh. – You are not Yamada, but I guess it will have to be. It has been too long since I saw your cute drunk face, after all.

And with that she finally let his arm go to attach herself to Shota instead. Luckily for her, Eraserhead was not wearing his capture weapon at the moment, Hizashi was sure that if he had he would have tried to use it to avoid her. Now that he was free, he should really go but instead he stood there, watching two of the most important people in his life bickering and mock-fighting in front of them. His smile this time was real.

- Okay then! – he exclaimed, probably a bit too loud but he really didn’t care. – I will be going then! If you manage to get him happy-drunk, sent me pictures, Nem!

She smiled at him and gave him a thumbs-up signal. Shota instead was looking at him with a strange expression, almost suspicious. Fuck, time to leave. He turned around and put his jacket on before leaving the room and moving towards the exit.

- Mic! – he heard Shota call for him.

He stopped, looking behind him over his shoulder. Shota had left the room too, with Nemuri spying at them from the door frame. He really needed to leave now, or his time would be up even before getting there.

- Yeah? – he asked.

- Are you all right? – asked his best friend. – It’s not like you to miss an opportunity to get wasted.

That sounded really bad. If he hadn’t known Shota Aizawa since high school he would have thought that he was calling him an alcoholic. Fortunately, he knew him better than that. However, it would have been a lost opportunity if he didn’t mock him a bit.

- Is that your way to say that you will miss me, Shota-kun? – he said with a sweet voice, turning to smile at him and make some overexaggerated moves. – I knew you loved me, sweetheart!

Shota blushed scarlet and curl up a bit in a gesture he usually did when trying to hide his face in his scarf. Once he remembered that he wasn’t actually wearing it, he looked away and growled loudly. Really, for such a serious man, sometimes he was even cute.

- Shut up – he protested. – You know that’s not what I meant.

- I know, I know, sorry – he laughed, this time for real. – I can’t today, seriously. You know, today is the last Friday of the month.

He could literally see when the man realised what he meant by that. The last Friday of the month was when he had his monthly meeting with a therapist specialised in helping pro-heroes. For all the trauma after the last attack of Shigaraki, where so many people died. Or at least that was what Shota thought he was doing. It was what he told him the first time he asked, but it was actually a lie.

- Oh – Shota mumbled, his expression changing to a mix of worry and awkwardness. – I will have my phone with me if you need to call afterwards.

It was clearly an uncomfortable topic for Shota, he hated psychologists and therapists even more than hospitals or a lousy party. His friend was the kind of person that kept everything to himself and didn’t really knew how to open up to somebody else. Hizashi was sure that part of the reason of why he worked alone as an underground hero was because that way he didn’t need to interact with a lot of people on a daily basis. It was actually a miracle that they convinced him to become a teacher on the first place. The fact that he was offering to be there for Hizashi after his ‘therapy’ if he needed it was almost overwhelming. Specially because Hizashi was lying to him about it. He forced a smile, nod and turned around, leaving his friends behind.

- What? Do you actually know where he is going, Aizawa? – he heard Nemuri ask before turning the first corner on the hall.

‘No’, he thought, ‘neither of you have any idea of what I’m doing’.

- Any change? – he asked to the first guard, a guy who he hadn’t seen before.

He looked up at him, surprised. He was young, maybe too young to be there. Well, he supposed it was inevitable, there had been a lot of casualties in both fronts on the last battle with the League of Villains and the Liberation Army. But it was annoying when he had to give the same explanation on every visit.

- I’m Present Mic and I am here to see Kurogiri – he explained.

The boy was clearly doubting what to do, too scared out of his mind to try to stop him but unsure of what his superiors would say if he let him pass. Hizashi sighed, he had no patience for this. He had had a long, tiring week at the U.A. and a month full of anxious calls to his radio program. He wanted to finish with this and go home, maybe after stopping in a bar to get stupid drunk. Alone. He could never see his friends so soon after coming here, the guilt for deceiving them too fresh for him to smile and fake happiness. Luckily for him, a known man came to him at that moment.

- Present Mic! – he greeted him and offered a handshake. – We almost thought you weren’t coming this time, hero problems?

- Noise friends’ problems, actually - he answered while shaking his hand. – Sorry for being late.

- It’s okay – the other man answered. – He was actually asking for you, believe it or not.

He wanted to believe it, but he couldn’t. And even if he did, it didn’t mean anything. It had never meant anything before.

- Let’s not keep him waiting, then – he replied with a fake smile plastered to his face.

After signalling something to the young guard, his guide took him to the usual room. He had been here so many times that he could have gone on his own, but he understood the security precautions. It was a small room with only a table and a couple of chairs in front of a glass wall. Two more men were inside the room, looking in his direction briefly before turning his eyes again to the glass. Hizashi ignored them, knowing from previous visits that they were not as talkative as him. His guide sat down in one of the chairs, opened a notebook and turned on a recording device that was on the table. Hizashi walked to the other chair, removing his jacket on his way, and leaving it on the back of it before sitting. Only then he looked straight to the glass wall. On the other side, the villain Kurogiri was tied to a large chair, with two guards next to him. One of them, a woman called Miranda was touching him, which allowed her to temporarily restrain his quirk. He was awake then, time to begin the show.

- Helloooo!! How is my favourite listener today? – he asked loudly with his best showman smile. – Have you been a good boy?

The villain didn’t move but Hizashi was able to see a small twitch on the man’s shoulders. His black smoke also seemed to turn clearer for a moment. It was small but it was something. Deciding to ignore it for the moment, he pushed on.

- Maaan! I am exhausted today! – he said then, pushing his chair a bit backwards and resting on it more comfortably. – Work has been hectic lately, all of them! I really need a vacation but what would it be of my listeners and my students then? The world needs Present Mic!

He crossed his arms in one of his signature gestures and forced himself to laugh loudly. He thought about a topic he could bring up that wouldn’t expose any important information. The man in front of him was a known villain after all, independently of who he was at the beginning.

- It has also been really hot lately – he rambled. – You can feel the summer approaching every day and let me tell you: it will be a hot one this time! Hell on earth, almost!

Hell on earth. That reminded him of the last encounter with Shigaraki, months ago. Full cities and thousands of lives were lost that day, even now it was hard to believe they managed to survive. However, Shigaraki escaped. At least his quirk was removed with one of his own anti-quirk bullets but there were no guaranties that it would stay that way forever. That was why he was there, to coax information from the second in command of the League of Villains. Or at least that was the official reason.

- It reminds me of the time we went to a summer camp in our second year in UA – he says then, keeping his tone light but focusing his eyes on Kurogiri. – My friends and I got into a fight with a couple of guys from the area and as a consequence we were forbidden to get into the water. That was such an unfair punishment! What is the point of going to a beach camp if we weren’t allowed to swim?!

There was a small sound coming from the next room, it sounded almost like a laugh, but it was too low to be heard. Even though, it was a reaction. He tried to not get too hopeful about it. Kurogiri had been mostly unresponsive since the day he and Shota talked to him for the first time. On that day, it had been mostly Shota the one talking to the villain, and he actually managed to reach Oboro. It had been a painful day not only because it proved that Kurogiri was indeed a Nomu made from his childhood’s friend dead body. Shota had cried that day, like he hadn’t seen before. Shota’s quirk, Erasure, caused his eyes to be dry almost constantly, which indirectly made it really hard for the man to actually cry. Even so, he had cried that day, Hizashi couldn’t even imagine the pain his friend had to suffer to actually manage to cry.

- I guess the energy-saver was fine with it, he was never that fond of swimming – he continued, eyes fixed on the villain and avoiding using any personal name. – But for the rest of us it was horrible! It was so hot that we couldn’t even move away from the shadow.

Kurogiri head moved then, only for a few millimetres but Hizashi felt like the villain was trying to do something. He sat down properly, with his elbows on the table and his face resting on his interlaced hands. He stopped talking and waited, keeping a smile on his face, and trying to be encouraging without seeming hostile. After a few moments, a tremulous voice sounded in the room.

- Ca… cave…

Hizashi couldn’t control his smile from growing. Cave. That was a memory, a memory from Oboro. He was there, in some way or another, he was actually there. He felt a knot forming in his stomach but forced it down. He needed his voice.

- That’s right! – he exclaimed jovially. – I almost forgot about that! It was hot and boring on the beach so in the end we went exploring and found a small cave near the camp. It was our secret spot for the rest of the week, we even managed to convince the teachers to let us sleep there one night. It was awesome!

Next to him, the detective Tsukauchi wrote some notes in his notebook but didn’t say anything. Every time they managed to get some words from Kurogiri he wrote them down, even when it wasn’t related to the police case. Hizashi looked at him from the corner of his eye but the detective didn’t say anything so Hizashi continued talking about his memories during the summer camp. In the beginning he had been told to only ask questions regarding the League of Villains but those questions only managed to get a cut-off reaction from the Nomu that could last days, like being unconscious even when his vitals proved otherwise. Then, they decided to try to bring Oboro’s conscience and memories to the surface before the interrogation. It was what Shota did the first time and it had worked then. This method had shown little improvement but at least the villain seemed more alert now. One-ever-two-days meetings turned into weekly meetings, then into biweekly sessions and now Hizashi came once a month to talk to the Nomu about his childhood friend for an hour. It had been a slow process, but it seemed to be working, now at least they got a reaction sometimes. Hizashi was trying to stop himself of hoping that maybe Oboro would be completely himself again one day. It was dangerous to hope for that. His friend had been dead for fifteen years and the Nomu in front of him was not Oboro. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

- Those were the good days! – he exclaimed loudly, pushing his chair even further and putting his feet on the table while he rested with his arms behind his head. – I wish I could go back to then.

His voice had trembled on that sentence without his permission. How shameful for someone with a Voice quirk to lose control of his tone. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t think of those times during his day-to-day routine, he was usually too busy to have time for daydreaming. But after spending the last twenty minutes talking about it, it was hard to not remember some of the happiest moments in his life. Life was good then, amazing. When he had his two best friends with him and the feeling that there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish. He missed it. He missed Oboro. He missed the sarcastically funny, shy, and happy Shota. He had never been the same after that day. Neither had been Hizashi. Even though only one of his best friends died, he lost both of them that day.

- I should have been there – he whispered, he removed his glasses with one hand and covered his eyes with the other. – If I had been on the same agency with you both, it wouldn’t have happened. It was my quirk that made the building crash down, he used my quirk to kill my friend. It was my fault.

Fuck. He felt his eyes burn with contained tears and a pressure in his throat. The worst part was that it was true. The villain who killed Oboro was able to absorb other people’s quirks, increment them and throw them back. Hizashi’s quirk had been absorbed and used against His Purple Highness, the pro-hero with whom Oboro and Shota were doing their internship. As a consequence of the attack, a building near them collapsed and killed Oboro. It was his quirk, his fault. He had known that from the beginning, everyone knew it, but nobody ever mentioned it aloud. Not even himself.

- Not… fault

He incorporated when he heard Kurogiri’s voice again. Looking at him he realised that the fog had changed its shape and now it slightly resembled a human face, a familiar face. His eyes were still bright yellow, and it was still made of fog but that was without any doubt Oboro’s face. It was Oboro. Oboro saying that it had not been his fault. Oboro the one forgiving him. For some reason that made him incredibly angry. His glasses fell to the floor when he got up on his feet, putting his hands on the table and arguing back.

- Yes, it was! – he screamed, losing a bit of control over his quirk. – If I had been there you might have survived! If I had been there, he wouldn’t have needed to fight alone with that villain! If I had been there that monster wouldn’t have had my quirk to begin with. It should have been me!

He could feel the tension on the room and just then he remembered that Oboro and him were not alone. He felt a bit of shame for the emotional reaction and that calmed him down a notch. Instead, he felt tired and hopeless and for once he didn’t have the strength to fake otherwise.

- It should have been me – he repeated in a quieter voice. – He wouldn’t have been so affected if it had been me the one who died that day. Between the two of us, you were the closest to him. You were always the special one.

In front of him, Oboro’s face dissolved into the black fog again. Kurogiri was there again, disconnected as usual. It had been the first time Hizashi had managed to bring Oboro out and instead of asking anything relevant to the case he had wasted the opportunity. He looked to the side, to the detective, and saw him looking at his notebook with a sad and uncomfortable expression. Fuck. He should ask something about the League of Villains now, but he couldn’t force himself to do it. He felt heavy, old, exhausted, and depressed.

- I’m sorry detective – he muttered.

Hizashi moved away from the table, turning to the door. It was earlier than usual but he needed to leave.

- Grumpy… cat

He stopped and froze. He was not expecting to hear Kurogiri’s voice again, but that sentence didn’t make any sense. There was only one thing that came to his mind after hearing the words “Grumpy cat” but it couldn’t be it. It was impossible. He looked towards Kurogiri again, no words left in his mind. The villain looked like he was forcing himself to do or say something.

- Promise…

After that, the Nomu was cut off again, like it usually happened when forced to do too much. But those words. Those words could only have come from Oboro, no one else would have known their meaning.

“Let’s promise to take care of our grumpy cat together, Hizashi”

He could almost hear Oboro’s voice again, in the infirmary the day they made this promise. It was after Shota had injured himself and ended up in the infirmary again, worrying Oboro and him with his recklessness. That was what they were talking about when Oboro came up with the idea of that promise. Nobody else knew about it or its implications, not even Shota. Specially not Shota, “Grumpy cat” was their secret nickname for him, after all. On that day, they decided that Shota was incapable to take care of himself, so it was their responsibility as his best friends to take care of him in his place.

“With the two of us, if one of us can’t be there for any reason, there will always be the other one to pick up the slack”

Nobody else knew about that. Only Oboro and him. It was Oboro, it was really him, he was there. He felt the tears pushing to be released but he did his best to contain them. Present Mic didn’t cry. Present Mic was always the soul of the party, cheering everyone up. Present Mic was not allowed to cry. He turned to face Kurogiri, no, Oboro, for the last time.

- I have been picking up the slack for fifteen years, you lazy bitch – he complained jokingly, managing to force a small smile on his face. – You better wake up and compensate me for it, Oboro.

Then, he finally left the room and went directly to the men’s restroom. He needed a couple of minutes to himself. Only a couple of minutes and he would be smiling and laughing again. The show must go on, after all.

- I apologize for not asking any questions regarding the League of Villains, detective – he apologized to Tsukauchi. – Also, for losing my composure that way, it was unprofessional of me.

He was almost out, giving his last goodbyes to the detective. He had spent a bit more than a couple of minutes hiding in the restroom, but it had helped. He was feeling a lot better already, more in control of his emotions. However, the exhaustion and heaviness had not left him yet and he was looking forward to crash on his bed. Maybe to cry for a couple of hours behind sound-proof walls where nobody would see or hear him. He was almost there.

- Please, don’t apologize – refused the detective. – I know that what we are asking you to do is painful and for this I am really grateful. We are making progress, even if we don’t obtain information about Shigaraki in the end, these meetings are making me hope that the Nomu could be cured one day.

Cured. Like a disease. But that wasn’t it, right? Oboro Shirakumo was not sick, he was dead. He died fifteen years ago. What they had in a restraining chair was only a shadow of Oboro. There was not coming back from dead. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping.

- I know I have asked before, but maybe bringing Eraserhead too could be a good idea at this point – he heard the detective say. – I understand your reticence, but he was the one who managed to get a reaction from Kurogiri the first time.

- No – he refused, his tone not allowing any argument. – You saw how it affected him that one time, he won’t be doing it again if I have something to say about it.

- But… - Tsukauchi tried to refuse.

- I said no, detective – he cut him, using a bit of his quirk this time, not enough to hurt but useful to make his point. – That was my condition from the beginning, leave Aizawa out of it.

The detective didn’t say anything for a couple of moments, his eyes studying him. In the end, he apparently gave up because he sighed and pressed the top of his nose with a hand, eyes closed.

- I won’t force you; we are already asking a lot from you – he conceded, giving him back his glasses, which he apparently forgot in the interrogation room. – However, I really think it would help to include Eraserhead in this. Not only for Shirakumo’s sake, but yours too, Yamada. It’s a heavy burden to carry alone.

Hizashi swallowed his answer. It was not frequent for the detective to use his last name instead of his hero name. They were not friends, not yet, but their monthly meetings had made them become a bit closer than strangers. He knew that Tsukauchi was a good person and he was probably right. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make his friend go through the same as him every month. Not when all this situation was, after all, his fault. Bringing Shota in would mean telling him everything, including what the Kyudai Garaki told him months ago. That the attack that killed Oboro was meant for Shota, that it was actually Erasure the quirk they wanted. He couldn’t do it, the guilt would kill him, even though it was never his fault. It was killing Hizashi, even when he rationally knew it had not been his fault, that Oboro hadn’t actually been killed by his Voice quirk. Rationality was useless in these cases.

- I can stand it – he answered with a quiet voice. – I will stand it. There is no other option.

The detective didn’t say anything else or at least Hizashi didn’t hear him. His mind was elsewhere, floating on a cloud of exhaustion and sadness. Before he realised it, he was on the streets, walking home. He lived near the police station and usually the walk back improved his mood after these meetings, so he tended to leave his car at home. He took out his phone from his pocket and turned it on. He never turn it off, the need of being easily contacted in an emergency a requirement for his hero work, but when inside the police station it didn’t make a lot of difference. And the last thing he needed when being there was a distraction. He quickly checked his lost calls and texts from the last hour. Nemuri had been pestering her with messages and pictures of their colleagues drinking in one of their favourites pubs. The last picture had come in a couple of minutes ago and it showed Shota sleeping on the table with a beer on his hand and fake cat ears on his messy hair. It was such a ridiculous picture that he couldn’t stop the laugh it brought out of him. He doubted that Shota had chosen to wear those by himself, he probably felt asleep and Nemuri messed up with him. The laugh suddenly turned hysterical and, before he realised it, he was sobbing, with his phone still in his trembling hands.

He stopped right there on the street, a few corners away from his apartment, and leaned on the nearer building wall. Fuck. He had been so close to home. The last thing he wanted was having a breakdown in the middle of the street after seeing a fucking picture of his friend. His oblivious friend who was finally recovering after the trauma caused by learning the truth of Kurogiri’s origins and the battle that followed shortly after. A lot of heroes had died that day, but Shota had felt specially culpable of the death of the Shield Hero Crust, who in his last moments had saved his life. For a time, he closed up and overworked himself to the bone, exactly like it happened after Oboro’s death. But now he was opening up again, and he looked happier. However, it made Hizashi remember better times when they were a team of three instead of two. He covered his mouth, trying to repress his sobs before his quirk complicated the situation even further. He needed to get home, but he couldn’t make himself move.

- Hizashi.

He let out a scream at hearing his name coming from behind him, surprised for a moment that it hadn’t been imbued with his quirk. He had bad control of his voice when surprised in normal situations, it was a miracle he hadn’t destroyed half the street this time. However, he understood it when he turned and came face to face with the red bright eyes of Eraserhead. Shota had expected him to scream so he had been ready to erase his quirk. That explained one thing, but it didn’t provide any explanation to why he was there on the first place. He subtly checked his phone. Nemuri had just send him another picture of Shota, this time awakening with an angry face.

- How are you in two places at the same time? – he randomly asked, unable to stop himself.

The other man seemed confused, so he showed him his phone, with the chat opened and the two pictures with the time in clear view. For a moment he thought that maybe the man in front of him was someone impersonating Eraserhead, but the embarrassed look on the other man and the familiar gesture of touching the back of his neck erased his doubts. A villain wouldn’t have known all his gestures while being able to use Erasure at the same time. Or at least he hoped it, a villain with those abilities would be truly scary.

- Those pictures are old, from the last time we went drinking – answered Shota, blinking, and stopping his quirk. – I asked Nemuri to send them to you around this time.

- You tricked me – he deducted instantly. – You made me think you were out with her drinking and even asked her to send me stupid pictures of you as proof that you were with her.

Shota had lied to him. He had tricked him and now he was here. It was clear that his friend had seen through his own lies and deduced that something was up. Did that mean that he had followed him? Had Shota followed him to the police station, too? Did he know what Hizashi had been doing there? Why else would he be here? Maybe Shota had been expecting to find Hizashi in trouble. Or he hoped to find proof of his friend being a traitor, a villain. There was an unknown traitor related to UA after all, but Hizashi would have never expected his friend to suspect him. He never suspected even once of Eraserhead or Midnight being a traitor. They were his friends.

- So, you lied to me, tricked me, and followed me – he summarized. – Did you find what you were looking for? What were you even looking for? If this is you thinking that I am a traitor, that I was the one behind the attacks to the school, you can seriously go fuck yourself!

He turned around and began walking back to his apartment. He should be grateful for have been kicked out of his previous hysterical meltdown. There was no sadness in his mind now, only anger.

- It was not your fault – he heard Shota said.

He stopped but he didn’t turn again. No, he had heard it wrong. Shota couldn’t be implying what he though he was implying. He could not be referencing to his previous outburst in the police station’s room. His emotional moment when arguing with the remnants of Oboro.

- What did you just say? – he murmured.

- Oboro’s death was not your fault, Hizashi – repeated Shota in a monotonous voice. – I was right there, next to him. If it is anyone’s fault, it’s mine.

Hizashi turned at hearing that, Shota was looking at him seriously, talking about his own guilt without showing any emotion on his face. No, he couldn’t let him believe that, not again. Before realising, Hizashi had crossed the two steps separating them and was grabbing his arms.

- It was not your fault, Shota! – he replied in a louder voice that intended. – You did everything you could, you managed to bring down that monster by yourself even when a full team of pro-heroes couldn’t!

- I was the closest to him – insisted his friend in a dry tone.

- And it was my quirk that brought down that building on him! – he screamed, his quirk quickly supressed by Erasure before it even fully manifested. – Me who wasn’t there until it was too late! Me who is never there when I’m needed!

- It was not your fault, Hizashi – murmured Shota, with a softer look. – Not then, and not during the attack to UA.

Hizashi wanted to argue that, wanted to keep defending his position, but his throat closed up and he couldn’t make any words anymore. The tears began falling again and his full body was trembling.

- You have been there for me when I needed it most – continued Shota. – You have been letting me lean on you for fifteen years without complaining even once, while instead I have been letting you go through this alone for months.

- What… what do you mean? – Hizashi managed to ask.

- I followed you months ago and realised what you were doing – he explained with a guilty face. – I could have been upfront with you about it, but I didn’t. I let you suffer through it alone because it was easier for me. I am a lot more selfish than you, Hizashi.

He knew. Shota knew all about Hizashi’s monthly sessions. He knew about him lying to his friend about his “therapy sessions” but instead of feeling betrayed he was actually apologizing. It was a kind of apology without an actual apology, but he understood Shota’s way of communicating.

- You were there today – he said then, not really asking.

- I was outside, I couldn’t hear anything until you used your quirk – confessed Shota. – I didn’t know you felt guilty about it, you never said anything.

- What was the point of saying it aloud? – he uttered, moving back a step, and letting go of his friend. – Everybody knew it was my fault, but no one was saying anything, me saying it aloud would only have made everyone uncomfortable.

Shota was the one to move forward that time, grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling Hizashi down the few centimetres needed to be eye to eye with him. He had a serious but almost angry expression in his face.

- It. Was. Not. Your. Fault – he repeated, emphasizing every word.

Hizashi didn’t know what to answer to that. A part of him still believed it had been his fault, but it was clear on Shota’s face that he was determined to convince him of the contrary. Hell, even Oboro had said it was not his fault. Maybe.. maybe it was not entirely his fault. If his two best friends, the ones that had been more affected by this, believed that it was not his doing, maybe he could begin to think that too. Eventually.

- If I’m not allowed to blame myself for what happened, neither are you allowed to blame yourself for it – he finally said, fully expecting Shota to back down then.

- Deal – was his friend’s answer, instead.

He blinked, incredulous for a moment to actually have Eraserhead agreeing with Present Mic on anything. Look at that, miracles did exist after all.

- No blaming yourself for the attacks to UA, either – he added, decided to use this once-in-live occasion as much as possible.

- Don’t push it – growled Shota this time.

Hizashi couldn’t stop it. He laughed again. And, like last time, his laugh somehow morphed into sobs. Apparently his body moved on his own then because when he came back to himself he had his face hidden between Shota’s neck and shoulder, his arms surrounding his friend in a tight hug. Hug that Shota was corresponding, one of his hands in Hizashi’s back and the other in his messy hair.

- Next month, we will go together – he heard Shota saying.

Tears still falling from his eyes, Hizashi could only nod.