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revenant-ao3 · 9 months ago

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The Hounds of Fate - Ch 4

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The next four days test Shoto’s capacity for rational thought versus mounting paranoia. Whenever he hits the street, there’s a nonzero chance that the sensation of being watched will hit him. It comes on unpredictable tides and leaves Shoto uncertain of what’s real and what’s an imagined feeling.

It finds him when he goes down to the family-run konbini he found near Kabukicho Tower, but not when he takes a risky detour through the Marunochi line. Sometimes, the presence appears, like a breath on the back of his neck, but at other moments he’s free to walk the street without anything more than curious side eyes from unsuspecting residents. There is no rhyme or reason. He looks out of the corner of his eye and checks the reflection of windows he passes, but there’s not a shadow of a soul. Yet, he’s sure, so very, very sure, that someone is stalking him. It’s in the prickling of his neck and the heavy weight on his back.

It’s made him into a recluse. Those few trips he chanced were enough for him to figure out that he couldn’t identify a pattern to his stalker. If he’d been able to determine a certain area is riskier than another or a particular time is more likely to draw that gaze, then he could plan accordingly. Having someone incalculable tailing him is as dangerous as it is alarming. He can’t gauge how much of a threat being in populated areas is, if there will be collateral should a confrontation occur. It’d be monumentally stupid of him to risk alleys and industrial zones as those prime spots for ambushes. He feels cornered. It’s infuriating, to put it mildly.

What he needs time to think.

He’ll lay low for a little, see if interest in him wanes. Doubtful, he thinks with irritation. If that woman is involved as he suspects, then he’s a specific target for some unknown reason.

It’d also be wise to think of an escape plan. If they’re searching for him, then his home is at risk. All it takes is one slip-up for his safety to be totally compromised. He’ll need to find somewhere new, if worse comes to worse. Nichome could be viable. Gentrification and rising property values have seen some of the businesses and bars in the area close, so there’s likely somewhere he can squat for the time being.

He puts a pin in that thought for the moment as he slips back in through the side window of his self-claimed home. The bag in his hand rustles and he’s a little worried he’ll spill the container of food old man Tagawa from the konbini forced on him. The man was still grateful that Shoto had stopped a robbery, even though Shoto had only walked in to get some bento boxes. The would-be thief was too nervous to actually do any harm and went down without a real fight. Hardly heroic work on Shoto’s part. That little act allowed him to enter freely with his mask – and occasionally get a discount.

The offering of homemade food is new. Touching. Shoto isn’t used to seeing evidence of how his deeds echo out and impact those around him. Ishikawa was the first with her kind drawing. Now this. It fills him with warmth, but also an odd rush of anxiety. He can’t pinpoint why it makes him nervous.

His feet just touch the linoleum when a voice startles him from inside the room. Inside his room.

“So, this is where you live.”

Shoto nearly ices the whole block in surprise.

His head whips around only to see Eraserhead crouched down near the door, almost unnoticeable in the dim light. Soba is batting the hero’s scarf around like a toy while the hero occasionally tugs it to rile up the kitten.

Seeing Eraserhead here, in his safe space, is a little surreal. It leaves Shoto wrong-footed. That line he didn’t cross before seeking out Eraserhead on his turf? It feels sufficiently crossed. His metaphorical hackles raise at the intrusion.

Eraserhead knows. All it will take is one step too far in the hero’s eyes, one transgression too many for his hideout to get raided. For as much as he’s come to trust Eraserhead, he doesn’t trust him that much. He doesn’t know the pro’s ticks or limits. Shoto could mess up without even realizing it and then all his hard work will be undone. He'll be back to being the Masterpiece again.

It’s a good thing he’d already been mentally mapping out potential areas to move because now he most certainly is going to have to.

“You followed me?” he asks incredulously. Aggravation stains his voice and leaks into his posture.

It’s ridiculous to feel a little hint of betrayal because it’s only logical that Eraserhead would have tailed him at some point. Shoto knows he can’t fault the man for actually bothering to do his job. But logic and emotion don’t always see eye to eye. He sincerely doubts Eraserhead would appreciate it if he showed up in his house unannounced, after all. To make matters worse, though, his appearance muddies Shoto’s perception even further. How much of that feeling of being followed had been Eraserhead?

The hero glances up at him, expression unimpressed. He makes no effort to move from the corner he’s claimed.

“Astute observation,” he says. It's almost certainly a jab. That only serves to irritate Shoto further.

He sets his bag down with a deliberately heavy thud and folds his arms. The purpose of this house call is unknown but it can’t be anything good. It’s unlikely Eraserhead would tip his hand and reveal his knowledge of Shoto’s rather depressing home unless there’s a valid reason. He eyes up the hero, trying to parse his current state so he knows whether he needs to dive back out the window while the hero is distracted.

The man’s brows are pinched and the bags under his eyes are darker than Shoto recalls them being. There’s a terseness in the line of his lips; like a grimace that never came into full fruition. Eraserhead’s natural disposition tended toward ‘unhappy’, but he doesn’t look unhappy with Shoto in specific.

He’s no empath, but Shoto thinks that something might be bothering the hero, and something that concerning is likely no easy matter.

The tension in his shoulders unwinds bit by bit. He’s not elated with this sudden appearance and his need to move, but the anger in him dims. A resigned sigh breaks the silence.

“How long have you known?” he asks a little tiredly.

Eraserhead pauses his petting and looks at him. His stare is intense, studying.

“Since after giving you that update on Ishikawa,” the hero says, blunt and honest.

That answer both does and doesn’t surprise Shoto. He expected Eraserhead to have tailed him somewhere around the beginning of their first encounter. What catches him off guard in that admission is the implication that the hero has kept his whereabouts secret from officials. It would have taken little effort to pass on the information and see Shoto dragged away for his ‘unlawful’ actions. It actually puts Shoto a little more at ease to know it happened that long ago. If it were a recent development, that sting of betrayal would turn into a stab. He leans against the wall and watches the hero play with his kitten, as if doing so will solve whatever problem’s hounding him.

“Did you break in just to pet Soba?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. It’s an easy opening. Shoto’s gained the barest trace of tact in recent months. Not much, mind, but some.

“No,” Eraserhead confirms. That not-grimace grows in strength as he untangles the kitten from his scarf and stands up. His attention is now wholly and undividedly on Shoto. “That woman’s name is Yuki Mura. She was reported missing six months ago.”

Ah, an update then.

He tilts his head in thought. The woman looked remarkably well for a missing person – not that Shoto has any room to speak. He’s in a similar boat, after all. Sometimes a missing person isn’t exactly missing. Context matters, which is something he lacks in her situation. He sets aside her questionable condition for the time being.

“Something about this is bothering you,” he points out, stating the obvious yet again. “You wouldn’t show up here just to tell me her name and status.”

Eraserhead hums, low and short, a quick staccato agreement.

“Based on public registry records, she has an emitter-class information quirk. She can detect and gather intel on the quirks of those around her.”

His heart lurches. That mystified expression she’d given him and the way she kept looking at him like she couldn't believe her eyes, makes far too much sense now.

“Useful,” Shoto murmurs, not at all liking where this is going.

Eraserhead grunts, and Shoto thinks that means he agrees but it might also mean the hero is yet again unimpressed by his lack of nuanced answers. He thinks it’s definitely the former when the hero levels him with a heavy stare.

“The caveat is she needs to be within three meters of the target,” he says with a voice just as weighty.

Fuck.

He had been hoping his initial conclusion was wrong, but that’s looking less and less likely. The woman needs to be within close proximity to utilize her quirk. Staging a mugging is an exceptionally easy way to close the distance with high-profile heroes and vigilantes (and vigilante-adjacent teens).

“So, those were staged events. She was gathering information on our quirks,” he muses out loud.

His entire identity is compromised now. It isn’t just a matter of moving hideouts. He’ll have to entirely drop this non-identity he’s cultivated. To his knowledge, there isn’t another quirk like his around, at least not in Japan. She’ll know. What she can do with that information… God, the possibilities frighten him.

“That’s the assumption I’m working under,” Eraserhead says. His expression is about as foreboding as Shoto’s currently feeling.

He ran into her around eleven days ago. That’s a disconcerting amount of time to have this sensitive information. Who knows who has this information now.

And that’s the most unsettling part. There has to be an ulterior motive here. Why else would she vanish only to start gathering intel on quirks? Did someone set her on his trail? The idea that it was Endeavor came and went like a wisp in the wind. If that were the case, Shoto would have been found and dragged home already, that’s an almost guaranteed certainty.

“I thought those thugs seemed oddly well-prepared,” Shoto says, mostly to himself as he puts a mental timeline together. In this small room, however, there’s nowhere for his voice to get lost.

Eraserhead nails him with a hard look. Shoto thinks he’s misstepped for a minute.

“Explain.”

He’s investigating, never mind.

“That time I was trying to go to the laundromat and I was ambushed, they seemed better trained than the random criminals I’ve encountered. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was slacking in my training or because they were waiting for me,” Shoto explains.

He knew there was something off about the encounter. While he can attribute part of it to his lapse in training, he felt like they were oddly organized. There was a synchronicity in the way they fought that spoke of experience battling together. That isn’t common in normal street gangs. Shoto feels just a little vindicated by the realization. That momentary victory is quickly swept away by the reminder that he was being targeted by someone for some unknown reason. Someone who may very well know his identity.

Fuck, he thinks again with more feeling.

He can practically see the expletive pass across Eraserhead’s own face as the same pieces fall into place.

The hero seems to just barely hold back a sigh as he speaks, “And this happened—”

“—After I stopped the cutpurse. Two days after, to be precise,” Shoto finishes.

“That was a planned assault,” Eraserhead says, taking his turn with stating the obvious. It doesn’t lessen the impact.

The two fall into contemplative silence.

Eraserhead remains almost stone-faced, save for that pinch in his brows and the slight downward curl of his lips. Shoto is no more expressive beneath his mask.

He tries to keep his mind on the facts and start to plot out a course of action. It’s hard to do when fear begins to creep up his spine. The thought just keeps returning to him over and over, no matter how hard he tries to shove it to the side.

They know. They know. I’m going to be found soon.

This nebulous ‘they’ is driving him to distress. Someone, somewhere knows him and has been following him. His skin crawls. He hasn’t felt this unsafe and uncertain since he ran away. As awful as it may be, he felt like he could walk the streets more freely and securely than he could in his old home. There wasn’t anyone he could think of that frightened him the way Endeavor did, so there was a sense of safety to be found out here. But that’s been torn from him again. He hates it. Hates how fucking unfair life is. Why can’t he be left alone? Why can’t he just live in peace? Now he can’t even sleep without anxiety clawing at him, warning him that someone might be lurking nearby, waiting to strike.

It was one thing for him to have an on-and-off stalker, it’s another for that stalker to potentially be fully aware of what he’s capable of. Part of his advantage is his anonymity. No one knows just how powerful he can actually be in a fight. It’s his ace-in-the-hole if shit truly hits the fan.

“Could it be your father?” Eraserhead asks suddenly. “Have her sniff you out and then send in a retrieval force?”

The idea he dismissed earlier comes back. He turns it over in his head carefully. Endeavor certainly had the sway and money to hire outside help in retrieving him, but the idea doesn’t sit right with him.

“Unlikely,” Shoto says decisively after a moment of thought. “He’d never stoop to hiring others to do his dirty work. Not unless he’s significantly more desperate than I thought.”

And he’d have to be pretty damn desperate to reach out to someone who’s likely involved with something less-than-legal to do this. Even then, Shoto doubts he’d send a retrieval force to get him. It’d be a point of pride for his father to arrive and drag him back home himself.

Eraserhead makes a noncommittal noise as he considers Shoto’s reasoning.

“Don’t discount the possibility. Based on what you’ve said, he’s put a lot of time, money, and effort into creating you,” he says. His nearly blank expression breaks as his lips curl in distaste. “You might be surprised at the lengths he’ll go to get you back.”

True, Shoto haltingly concedes. Could his father really be that far gone? Shoto’s his masterpiece, the culmination of over twenty years of fucked up genetic tinkering and ego stroking. Could his disappearance be the final straw that breaks him? He immediately throws that notion away because if he confronts it and what it might entail, then he’ll be struck with such godawful fear that he might just dissociate and never return. A reality where Endeavor is possessive to that extent is one he wants no part in.

“I still don’t think it’s him,” he says slowly, less certain now but pushing on because he needs that to be true. “But, I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’ll be kept in mind, alright. In the very, very, very far corners of his mind, under lock and key.

He needs to move his train of thought before it derails into mounting panic entirely.

The facts. Focus on the facts. What’s tangible? What can be worked out?

Shoto taps his finger against the wall. A flake of peeling paint comes off after the third strike.

“When did you save her?” he asks, a connection forming that throws even more uncertainty onto his pile.

Eraserhead’s eyes are sharp, intuitive. It makes Shoto wonder if he’s on the same wavelength already. He probably got there before I did.

“Eight days ago,” he says without hesitation. It wouldn’t be surprising if the hero had memorized the encounter down to the minute. That certainly seems like an Eraserhead thing to do.

“I encountered her nearly two weeks ago. So, I was definitely the initial target,” Shoto says with a frown.

Another ambiguous noise comes from the hero. He looks deep in thought, eyes focused on the wall like it can solve this burgeoning problem. By the way that furrow deepens those thoughts aren’t particularly reassuring. The lack of comment bodes ill, Shoto fears. It feels like he’s missing something.

“Is there more?” he asks warily.

Black eyes shift from the wall to him. Eraserhead is quiet, internally warring with something.

Shoto waits silently for him to reach his resolution.

It comes when Eraserhead’s shoulders take a faint, almost defeated slump. He rubs the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“There isn’t much I’m at liberty to say as it involves an ongoing investigation,” he says, voice gritty and dragging, like even allowing this to meet the air rubs him the wrong way. “I’m telling you what I'm able to because I believe it affects you directly. This remains strictly between us, do you understand?”

He fixes Shoto with that familiar heavy warning stare. It takes him back to their first meeting. His eyes are sincere, both in the belief that this is a necessity and that consequences will find Shoto if he breaks this vow.

Not like I have anyone to tell.

Still, he knows how much it must frustrate the man to toe the line like this. There has to be a damn good reason. (That is not the reassuring thought it should be.)

“You have my word,” Shoto says with the utmost sincerity.

“I better,” Eraserhead mutters. Then, he sighs again before speaking. “There’s been a spike in missing persons cases. It correlates with just after Mura’s disappearance was reported. I have reason to suspect people are being targeted for their quirks and she’s the scout.”

The hero tilts his face down to hide the way his expression shifts into one that looks faintly like he just bit into a particularly bitter lemon.

This is decidedly bad news, in Shoto’s opinion. Those nerves he’s been slowly easing into submission kick back up. There aren’t many reasons these events would line up. The most likely scenario, unfortunately, is also the worst.

“Trafficking,” he says, voice far more nonchalant than he’s feeling. If that’s the case, he might find himself preferring it was actually Endeavor siccing the dogs on him.

...Actually, he’s still split on that. He’ll have to think it over some more. Regardless, it’s a lose-lose, in his eyes.

“That’s my current theory,” Eraserhead says. He at least has the emotional capacity and maturity to sound grim.

Shoto wonders how many times the word ‘fuck’ can cross his mind before it loses any sense of meaning because it’s putting in overtime today.

“And I’m a probable mark,” he states.

He reaches up to rub his face, mentally and emotionally exhausted by this revelation but ends up more-or-less facepalming his mask.

“It makes sense,” Eraserhead says, expression flat and voice teetering on the verge of displeased.

“It does,” he agrees.

Unfortunately. The moment that woman got a whiff of his quirk, it was over for him. There’s no way she wouldn’t report it to whoever she works for. Shoto doesn’t know how much his father paid for his mother, but he imagines the price is a fraction of what someone would pay for him.

Is this how Mom felt when the deal had first been brought up?

The thought makes him nauseous.

Shoto turns and faces the wall to slip his hands under his mask and press heavily against his eyes. He gives himself a scant few seconds to collect himself. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Now, time to work.

With his allotted time for mental recovery used up, he fixes his mask and turns back around. Eraserhead is looking at the opposite wall, where Ishikawa’s drawing is taped. Shoto thinks that maybe he just noticed the drawing. Then, Eraserhead glances at him, notices he's composed himself, and shifts to face him again. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that Eraserhead is respecting his privacy, but it still sends a tiny shock through him. Of all the heroes he could have run into and unofficially worked with, he can safely say – at least mentally – that he’s glad it was Eraserhead. It’s just unfortunate that Shoto dragged him into this mess.

The realization hits him late and he feels stupid for not having considered this sooner. He’s been too caught up in the horrific ordeal of being known to even consider how Eraserhead is tied into this. Since she showed up around him too, that means—

"You might be a target too,” he says suddenly, words a little rushed with comprehension.

Eraserhead's expression doesn't shift, as if it's hardly noteworthy. Shoto isn’t sure if it’s because he’s got a good handle on his emotions or if, yet again, Shoto’s behind the curve. Probably both, if he’s being realistic.

“How do you figure?” the hero asks. The question comes out flat, barely curious.

It makes Shoto a little uncertain with his sudden revelation. Still, if there's a chance he's correct, he owes it to Eraserhead to put it all out there. Anything that can help is good.

“Since her initial disappearance, you never ran into her even though she was in the area. But just a few days after you assisted me in their initial ambush, she appeared around you. I don't think that's a coincidence,” he explains.

The pro barely bats an eye. His gaze is probing now.

“And why would she have waited to approach me?”

There's an authority in his question that rings bells in Shoto's head. It reminds him of one of his old teachers who'd ask a question with a specific answer in mind. Getting it wrong tended to end with him writing the correct answer down over and over until it was memorized. Somehow, he doubts thats the case here. Even so, if Shoto didn’t know any better, he’d say this sounds more like a test than an exchange of information. It makes him carefully dissect his thoughts and arrange his words. He isn’t sure what Eraserhead’s looking for, but he doesn’t want to disappoint the man. That manages to feel more important at this moment than the very possible traffickers on his tail. Talk about skewed priorities.

“If your theory on her being a scout is correct, she likely wanted to avoid being around heroes,” he answers carefully, even though he feels like it's an exceptionally obvious answer.

It’s what made the most sense in his head. He’s done his damnedest to avoid heroes since he ran away and he isn’t potentially involved in quirk trafficking. He can’t imagine she’d be any more eager to stop and chat.

“But what changed?” Eraserhead asks in that non-questioning tone.

Shoto mulls it over. There’d have to be a good reason to risk being around a pro. If the roles were reversed, what would make me change my mind?

He always hated these hypothetical scenarios, putting himself in the mind of a criminal to determine what they may or may not do. It’s not that it’s hard, but that it’s easy. He doesn’t like the implication that brings with it. To ease his mind, he assures himself it’s just that criminals tend to be predictable and follow certain profiles. Study them enough and most follow a subconscious pattern. (It only quells so much self-doubt.)

But, if he were on their side in this situation, there’d have to be a great reward to take the risk of getting close to Eraserhead. And Shoto can think of exactly one reward worth it in that very specific line of business.

“During that ambush, you used your quirk on them,” he points out. He already dislikes this theory but it feels plausible, at least from his perspective. “Maybe it made it back to the others that you could do something that nullified quirks. It could have sparked their interest.”

Eraserhead’s quirk is unique and, to put it frankly, fucking terrifying in the right hands. The idea that someone can strip a person of their powers is horrific. Put that in the hands of criminals and there’d be absolute chaos. The world is supremely fortunate Eraserhead is a good man. Shoto loathes to think about what it’d be like if that weren’t the case.

The hero hums at the speculation, making Shoto suddenly doubt himself.

“And if no one has tried to attack me since that encounter?” Eraserhead asks.

That’s a good question. Shoto was ambushed just a couple of days after his run-in with Mura. It’s been over a week for Eraserhead. They likely would have tried something at this point, even if just to test his capabilities and formulate a real plan of attack.

“Has anyone?” he asks, mind running a mile a minute.

Eraserhead fixes him with a flat look.

“That’s what you should’ve asked first,” he says, not unlike a teacher correcting a wrong answer.

He feels a little chided, but not in a bad way. If anything, this is helping him see how much he needs to work on his analytical skills. He’s not bad, but in an active situation such as this, it’s now obvious he could be better.

Wait.

Shoto blinks behind the mask a little dumbly.

“Is this part of my training?”

He tries not to let himself get hopeful, but this does feel suspiciously like he’s being guided.

Eraserhead snorts and gives him a look that conveys the sensation that he’d roll his eyes if he felt the statement was worthy of it. Shoto would very much like to learn how he does those microexpressions so well.

“I never agreed to train you,” he points out apathetically.

Which, true, he didn’t agree. Is this one of those nonverbal things people seem to just get? Because Shoto never learned how to pick up on those. Or is Eraserhead being serious and he’s only walking Shoto through this as a consolation? Oh, how he hates trying to sort through social subtext.

He doesn’t get long to work through Eraserhead’s dispassionate answer before the hero is speaking again.

“If I haven’t been attacked, what’s your theory?” he asks more insistently.

With the way he’s staring, Shoto’s still of the mind that the hero already figured this out.

He tosses one possibility around, then another. They’ve scoped him out but haven’t made a move...His thoughts trail off and find their way down to his mouth, where he starts to think aloud, tossing a working idea Eraserhead’s way.

“Then, I assume that means you’ve been either classified as too high-risk to target or your quirk was deemed undesirable, though I don’t believe that’s the case,” he says slowly, thoughtfully.

That causes Eraserhead to raise his brows just a bit, a hint at his interest in his thought process.

“And why not?”

Well, that’s easy enough to answer, at least.

“Your quirk is exceptionally powerful in a variety of scenarios and most quirks are susceptible to it. If this really is a trafficking case, then I imagine plenty of people would pay extremely well for it,” he says like it’s a statement of fact. Shoto may not have first-hand experience with traffickers, but he does have plenty of experience with an individual obsessed with strong quirks. One like erasure? That’s a no-brainer. If they can concoct a way to turn the hero - either willingly or unwillingly - or utilize his quirk without his consent, then he'd be one of the biggest sellers, Shoto is damned sure of it. What's a dual quirk to one that cancels it out? Who cares if the Number Two hero is on the way if they can shut his quirk off?

The biggest obstacle would be subduing Eraserhead for capture. The first strike is the most important in his case.

Eraserhead has yet to blink and it’s starting to unnerve Shoto a little. His attention is absolute.

“So, then I’m too much of a risk?” he asks, more curious about the logic behind it than the actual statement.

“Yes, I think so,” Shoto says firmly.

“Why?”

At this point, Shoto’s almost positive this is some sort of lesson, but he’s hesitant to bring it up again. He doesn’t want to push any buttons or cut it short. So, he focuses on the question again, working through it like it’s a math problem.

“Not only are you a pro,” he starts slowly but confidently, “but a skilled one that can counter much of what they throw at you. Trying to catch you would cost them time, money, and men while they could be targeting easier marks.”

Eraserhead is quiet, like he’s waiting for more. It makes Shoto want to shift with inadequacy. There must be something he’s missing.

“Any other theories?” Eraserhead asks after another few seconds tick by in silence.

There’s definitely something I’ve overlooked. What the hell could it be?

He tries to mentally retrace his steps and not let the feeling of incompetency weigh him down. This is good, even if it’s uncomfortable. It means he’s learning.

Okay, point one: Eraserhead was scoped out. Point two: He hasn’t been attacked, meaning they’re avoiding him. Potentially from a lack of interest or, in my opinion, fear.

He taps his fingers against the wall again. It draws Soba’s attention who pounces on clumsy paws, trying to swat his hand. It momentarily breaks his concentration. He smiles at the playful kitten before sliding down so Soba can climb on his lap. While he brainstorms, he pats the kitten to the same rhythm he’d been tapping the wall. Just across from him, Eraserhead hides a faint smirk in his scarf.

Maybe I’m thinking too narrowly. He’s been naively assuming it’s an either-or situation. Either they want Eraserhead but he’s too much of a risk or he isn’t seen as suitable. But that’s foolish. Shoto was equating his ambush to what they'd do for Eraserhead, but their threat levels aren't the same. Eight days is relatively little time to plan an assault on a pro hero. Shoto is an alleged vigilante with a strong quirk and little other known information. They may have thought he wasn’t formally trained enough to handle a group, thus the quick ambush. But Eraserhead is a licensed professional. If it's an organized group, then they'd know better than to employ the same tactic - especially since it failed the first time.

They could be biding their time, waiting to find someone they think can confront the pro. It’d have to be either a heteromorphic quirk, someone exceptionally skilled in CQC, or a combination. Even then, they’d have to be able to catch the pro unaware – a feat in and of itself. That’s something Shoto’s become well aware of. It certainly doesn't help that Shinjuku is his turf. Every encounter starts in his advantage unless he's utterly surprised. Springing a trap on him would be wise, but an exercise in patience and strategy that many would fail at.

Shoto scratches under Soba's chin as he thinks. He looks up at the hero and tilts his head in thought, considering the slouching man carefully. It's easy to underestimate the hero, Shoto certainly had in their first encounter. The thugs in that ambush barely had a chance to realize what was happening before they were knocked out.

They'd need an excellent setup. What if...

A thought crosses his mind, reaching and a bit ridiculous, in his opinion, but entirely possible. In fact, the plausibility is what makes it ridiculous.

“You’d be too much of a threat to face head-on and on your turf. But if they could maneuver you into a favorable position…” he muses out loud, the uncertainty obvious in the way he leaves his sentence hanging.

He gets a reassuring nod from Eraserhead. That little gesture is a more encouraging sign than anything Endeavor ever gave during training. He tries not to let himself smile at the action. It wasn’t even praise, come on.

He ignores his own pathetically delicate sense of self-worth and trucks on.

“I think if they caught me, they’d set a trap for you,” he says. It’s almost embarrassing to even throw that suggestion out there. It puts a weight on their acquaintanceship that wasn’t present before, like he’s unilaterally deciding the importance of it. The fact that Shoto even cares that Eraserhead might be offended or disgusted by the notion is aggravating. He's done well enough up until this point alone. If Eraserhead thinks this connection is weak or that Shoto isn't worth the effort of saving, then that should be that. He's out here to survive, not develop some weird parasocial relationship with a hero he barely knows just because the man was civil to him. (Easier said than done when those small mercies and shows of kindness made him feel like maybe things would be okay one day.)

Eraserhead doesn’t exactly quell those doubts with his impassive expression, like he’s scoring each answer Shoto gives.

“Why would they assume I’d go for you?” he asks, distant as can be.

“Other than the fact that you’re a hero?” Shoto asks and it’s almost a miracle it didn’t come out with more sarcasm. He even managed to bite back on the scoff that wanted to come out. How very mature of him.

That lackluster answer gets him a tepid look in response. It feels strangely like he was just docked points on a test that doesn’t even exist. Goddamn it.

He just sighs and continues on, “We’ve been seen fighting together. Mura also saw us talking on the roof. It’d be a safe assumption that we’re acquaintances. If they’re set on getting you as well, then it’d be most logical to lure you into their home field where they have the advantage. Two birds, one stone.”

Shoto really, really hopes Eraserhead doesn’t give him another, And? He’s running out of brainpower here. Soba nips at his finger when he stops petting him.

“Behave,” he tells the kitten quietly, as if he’ll understand what Shoto’s saying, and more importantly, listen. He ignores the snort from Eraserhead.

“Decent reasoning,” the hero finally says, like Shoto just gave a nice little report on Quirk History and not a theory on why they’re both in immediate danger from traffickers.

Hey, he’ll take the victories and praises where he can get them. He isn’t that picky.

“You thought of all of this already, didn’t you?” he asks because he has to know.

Despite Eraserhead's efforts, Shoto can still see the way his face twitches. If it weren’t for his position on the ground, Shoto's willing to bet there’s a slight smirk on Eraserhead’s face now. That’s one of the few expressions he's picked up on that the man makes obvious, like it's the only acceptable one outside of 'tired' and 'annoyed'.

“Perhaps,” he says, leaving no room for doubt that it’s really an emphatic yes.

So, this had been some sort of mental workout or lesson after all. That makes Shoto a little happier than he probably should be, given this entire fucked up situation. He watches as Eraserhead pushes off the wall and turns toward the door.

“You’d be a good teacher,” Shoto says out of the blue before Eraserhead can slip away. He’s not sure why he says it, but he believes it, which is pretty funny as he can’t actually picture the man tolerating a room full of children for more than five minutes at a time. Then again, he did well with Ishikawa. The scruffy and generally dour hero proved surprisingly personable when it came to the child, at least in his own prickly way. And, maybe Shoto's strange in this department, but he appreciates the direct and exacting way Eraserhead approaches things, even lessons. There's no filler or platitudes to sort through, just the facts.

Yes, Shoto stands by his unbidden statement.

It causes Eraserhead to pause in his tracks and stare at him, expression devoid of emotion.

“Hilarious,” he deadpans.

Shoto blinks slowly, confusedly. He hadn’t meant it to be funny.

“...It is?” he asks, because perhaps he’s missing something? Did he offend the hero? Maybe he actually really dislikes kids and Ishikawa was a one-off?

Eraserhead stares at him, eyebrow twitching ever so slightly. Then, he rolls his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

“Just keep your earpiece on,” he says to the ceiling tile. (Shoto is, in fact, socially aware enough to understand that the hero is addressing him and not the ceiling.) Then, after mentally collecting his soul from wherever it tried to fly off to, Eraserhead looks back at him. “It might be vital now.”

Shoto gives a firm nod, trying to convey how serious he’s taking this, which is made marginally harder with the way Soba has now climbed onto his shoulder.

“Same goes for you, Eraser,” he says. “I’ll be there if you need me.”

He knows he’s likely the very last person Eraserhead would ever call on, if he’s even on the list at all, but he wants the sentiment to be known regardless. Shoto may still be working through his trust issues, but he doesn’t want to see the hero hurt if can help it.

Eraserhead gives him that ambiguous grunt he takes as an, I’m acknowledging your words but not agreeing to them, and exits the room with nary a goodbye. Shoto shrugs and plays with Soba more vigorously. He starts to mentally catalog everything he’ll need to pack. It’s thankfully a small list, but it’ll still be a hassle to move it all. Still, it’s a necessity now. He’s idled in one spot too long and it’s become a liability. If not because of heroes, then because he can’t be certain those looking for him haven’t figured it out yet. For all he knows, they could be planning an assault at this very moment.

---

Luck, rarely in Shoto's favor, seems to hear his musings and laughs.

---

Near Shinjuku Station’s East Exit:

“You sure about this?” a bored man asks with a voice like ash.

“Positive,” comes another voice to his left. Heartier, confident. “He’s been good at throwing me off, but I got him. I know it.”

#shoto todoroki #shota aizawa #shouto todoroki #aizawa shouta #fanfic #hounds of fate #my writing #vigilante!shoto

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