Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Under the cover of the new moon's darkness, Eraserhead silently traversed the cityscape, leaping from one rooftop to another. The faint glow of stars and distant city lights provided the only illumination. Little did he know that the enigmatic figure known as Warper was observing him from the shadows.

As Eraserhead landed on a rooftop, he sensed a subtle distortion in the air. Unfazed, he scanned the surroundings with his vigilant eyes, trying to pierce through the obscurity. Suddenly, a calm yet detached voice cut through the silence.

"Eraserhead, patrolling the night I see. How intriguing."

Startled, Eraserhead swiftly turned toward the source of the voice, his eyes narrowing. In the dim light, he could barely make out the silhouette of a tall figure.

"Who's there?" Eraserhead demanded, his voice firm.

A figure stepped into the faint glow, their form partially obscured by the darkness. Their black and indigo attire blended with the shadows, and their eyes glowed an eerie ice blue. Long, black hair cascaded down their back ending with dark blue tips. Wolf ears and tail that mirrored their hair swaying softly in the wind. Goat-like horns make for a more menacing look.

"No need for hostility, Eraserhead. The name’s Warper," They said,their voice maintaining its detached composure. "I've been watching you, patrolling, you are quite entertaining."

‘Eraserhead's capture weapon was at the ready as he eyed Warper cautiously. "What do you want?"

"Want? Nothing, really. Just an appreciation for someone who operates in the late hours of the night, much like me," Warper responded, their tone sending a shiver down Eraserhead's spine.

He couldn't help but feel an unsettling presence about them, coupled with the fact that their face remained locked in a calm, detached expression. "Are you a villain?"

"Villain? No, just someone who understands the delicate balance of chaos and order. Though, I guess you can lable me as a vigilante of sorts," Warper replied cryptically.

Eraserhead had zero clue what ‘someone who understands the delicate balance of chaos and order’ meant, so he decided to ask. "What's your game?"

"No game, just observation. And perhaps a bit of amusement," they said, their words echoing in the night.

Eraserhead wasn't accustomed to such encounters. "If you're not causing too much trouble, and actually want to help, I'll let you be. But stay out of my way."

"Such a straightforward hero," Warper mused. "Do be careful, Eraserhead. The boundary between order and chaos is thinner than you might think."

Eraserhead continued to regard Warper warily, his eyes narrowing in the low light. As the shadows clung to their form, he noticed something peculiar—a smile, a perpetually unsettling one that adorned their face. It was a grin that seemed to defy the calm detachment of the rest of their demeanor. A smile that appeared forced, almost wrong in its permanence.

"So, Eraserhead, do you find my presence a bit disturbing? You seem a bit tense." Warper remarked, Their voice still maintaining its eerie formality.

Eraserhead couldn't help but feel a shiver crawl down his spine at the sight of that perpetual, unnatural smile. "What's with that grin of yours?"

"Oh, this?" Warper gestured to their unsettling smile. "Consider it my own brand of humor. Life is a dance death, after all. Sometimes, one must wear a mask, even if it's a smile that doesn't quite fit."

Eraserhead found himself increasingly perplexed by the figure before him. "Why reveal yourself to me?"

"Entertainment, perhaps. Or maybe I just felt the need to see how you are for myself, I haven’t watched you for long, just heard a few thing about you hear and there," Warper replied, their eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity, bending down slightly to be closer to Eraserheads height.

Eraserhead remained vigilant but became partically irritated, he need to get back to work. "Listen, I don't need someone distracting me from my work, we’ve talked long enough, so would you politely just leave."

The forced smile on Warper's face remained as they stepped backward, the shadows begining to envelope them once more. "Fair enough, Eraserhead. Continue your little patrol. Perhaps our paths will cross again, F̴̝̌R̷̨̮̒I̶̗̲̋̈́Ȩ̷̞̉N̶̯̟̊͂D̶̻̮̎͗ ."

With that, They vanished into the darkness, leaving Eraserhead to ponder the encounter. He pressed forward, shaking off the lingering unease from his encounter with Warper. The city still demanded his attention, and the night was far from over. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, he resumed his patrol, his mind focused on the task at hand.

The encounter with the weird vigilante lingered in the recesses of his thoughts, but Eraserhead pushed it aside. The city was full of mysteries, and he had a duty to maintain order. As he moved through the darkness, his keen eyes scanned the shadows, ever watchful for signs of trouble.

The night continued, quiet and mysterious, with only the distant hum of the city below. Eraserhead, the hero dedicated to erasing quirks and restoring order, moved through the night like a silent guardian, ready to confront whatever challenges lay ahead.

—

Aizawa pushed open the door to his apartment, he was late again and the weight of the night's patrol was evident in his every step. The warm, soft glow of the living room spilled into the hallway, revealing his humand, Mic sitting on the couch, wide awake despite the late hour.

"Sho!" Mic exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. He crossed the room in a few strides, concern etched on his face. "You're back late. Everything okay?"

Aizawa let out a tired sigh, toeing off his boots. "Yeah, just a standard patrol. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Mic tilted his head, studying Aizawa closely. "You sure? You seem a bit off."

Aizawa waved it off, moving towards the kitchen. "Long night, that's all. Go back to sleep, Hizashi."

But Mic wasn't having it. He followed Aizawa, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "I couldn't sleep. I was worried about you."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, pouring himself a glass of water. "Worried? I can handle myself."

Mic grinned, closing the distance between them. "Yeah, but I can't help but worry about my favorite underground hero."

Aizawa rolled his eyes, taking a sip of water. "Favorite, huh?"

Mic nodded, then his expression turned serious. "So, spill. What happened on patrol?"

Aizawa moved to the living room, dropping onto the couch. Mic joined him, the concern still evident on his face. "Met a new vigilante. Goes by the name Warper. Strange one."

Mic settled beside him, eyes never leaving Aizawa's face. "Vigilante, huh? You know how unpredictable they can be. What's weird about this Warper person?"

Aizawa scratched his head, trying to find the right words. "They're... off. Detached. And they had this constant, creepy smile on their face."

Mic leaned back, absorbing the information. "That doesn't sound good, Sho. Vigilantes can be a real threat."

Aizawa nodded. "I know. But this one, Warper, didn't seem malicious. Just odd. I don't think they mean any harm."

Mic sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? We don't need any more trouble."

Aizawa nodded, appreciating Mic's concern. "I will, Hizashi. Now, let's both get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day."

They headed to bed, the events of the night lingering in the air. Aizawa couldn't shake the image of Warper's unsettling smile, and Mic couldn't shake his worry for the hero he loved. So they both decided to snuggle up to each other for comfort.

—

The next morning arrived with the blaring sound of Aizawa's alarm, cutting through the remnants of his deep sleep. As usual, he woke up feeling groggy, his eyes squinting against the intrusion of the morning light that flooded his bedroom. The absence of his husband in the bed and the enticing aroma of breakfast wafting through the air signaled that Mic was already up and about.

With a begrudging sigh, Aizawa forced himself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet meeting the cool floor. He ambled into the bathroom, his movements slow and deliberate. The routine of getting ready for the day kicked in: a quick change into different attire, a brief yet thorough teeth-brushing session. Thankfully, with summer break in full swing, he was spared the necessity of donning his hero costume, opting instead for something more casual.

Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Aizawa contemplated briefly before deciding to tie it up into a messy bun. It was a more practical choice for a casual day. He stepped out of the bathroom, the smell of breakfast growing stronger as he approached the kitchen.

Greeting his husband with a gruff, "Morning," Aizawa walked steped into the kitchen. Mic, already immersed in cooking, turned with a bright smile that rivaled the early sun streaming through the kitchen window. The radiance of that grin made Aizawa briefly wish for sunglasses.

"Hey, sleepyhead! Morning to you too!" Mic's voice carried a contagious enthusiasm as he flipped something sizzling in the pan.

Aizawa, not one for morning cheer, merely grunted in acknowledgment. He couldn't deny, though, despite being his polar opposite he loved that man dearly. Aizawa, deciding to give his husband some affection, approached Mic, who was engrossed in thehis cooking. A gentle kiss planted on Mic's cheek was enough to prompt a radiant smile from the ever-cheerful man. The morning sunlight filtering through the kitchen window seemed to illuminate Mic's joy even more.

Aizawa couldn't help but smile in response, the corners of his usually stoic mouth softening at the sight of Mic's happiness. Mic was in the midst of preparing tamagoyaki, the tantalizing aroma of the rolled omelet filling the air.

As Mic skillfully maneuvered the spatula, Aizawa leaned against the kitchen counter, watching his husband with a quiet admiration. The domesticity of the scene was not lost on him — the comforting routine of shared mornings, the clinking of utensils, and the warmth of their shared space.

The small kitchen held a certain charm with its mix of smells — the smell of Mic’s cooking, the lingering scent of coffee brewing in the background. Aizawa's eyes briefly flickered to the neat arrangement of their kitchen, a testament to the domestic life they had built together.

His earlier gruffness seemed to dissipate slightly in the cozy atmosphere. Aizawa reached for a couple of plates, setting them on the table as he prepared for the upcoming breakfast. The rhythmic sounds of morning continued, punctuated by the occasional laughter and banter that filled the air. It was in these everyday moments that Aizawa found solace, a reprieve from the chaos of hero life.

The tamagoyaki, now a perfect golden hue, was expertly sliced and plated by Mic. As they sat down to share the meal, the morning unfolded into a quiet symphony of shared glances, soft smiles, and the warmth of a home well-lived in.

It took only a few minutes before the peaceful morning was shattered by the shrill, intrusive ringtone of Aizawa's phone. Its jarring tones reverberated through the once-tranquil kitchen, punctuating the air with a sense of urgency. Aizawa, recognizing the caller ID as his old friend Tsukauchi, couldn't help but feel a knot of concern forming in his gut. Tsukauchi rarely called unless there was pressing hero work to discuss.

As he picked up the phone, the atmosphere in the room shifted from domestic calm to an air of tension. The familiar voice of Tsukauchi cut through the silence, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Eraserhead," Tsukauchi began, his tone professional and unyielding, "we've got a situation. Two well-known villains found dead. Bodies nearly unrecognizable. And there's a strange note."

Aizawa's brow furrowed, a mix of curiosity and concern etching his features. "Details?"

Tsukauchi swiftly provided the grim specifics, painting a macabre picture of the crime scene. Aizawa's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information, the weight of responsibility settling upon his shoulders. "I'll be there, 20 minutes or less."

The call ended, and Aizawa's gaze met Mic's, a silent understanding passing between them. Aizawa was needed for something that transcended their usual morning routine.

Rising from the table, the chair scraping against the floor in his haste, Aizawa moved with purpose toward the bedroom. The air was thick with tension as he shed his casual attire, the routine act of donning his hero costume becoming a solemn ceremony. The dark fabric clung to him, a second skin that marked the transition from domesticity to the relentless demands of hero duty.

As he secured the scarf around his neck, his expression remained focused, a steely resolve settling over him. Aizawa cast a final glance back at Mic, his husband, the man who brought warmth to his mornings.

"I'll be at the police station," Aizawa informed, his voice firm. "We need to go over the evidence."

Mic nodded, his expression mirroring concern. "Be careful, Sho."

With that, Aizawa headed toward the door, leaving the warmth of their home behind. The morning had abruptly shifted from domestic bliss to the stark reality of hero work, and Aizawa, as Eraserhead, was ready to face the challenges that awaited him. The police station loomed ahead, a nexus of activity and urgency where he would join Tsukauchi to unravel the mysteries hidden within the grim details of the crime scene.

Knowing that the morning hours often contained a lot of traffic and feeling a sense of urgency, Aizawa decided to forgo the usual traffic-laden commute and instead opted for a quicker, more direct approach. Leaping across the city's rooftops, his body moved with a fluidity honed through years of hero work. The early morning air rushed past him as he navigated the urban landscape, aiming to reach the police station in a timely manner.

In less than twenty minutes, Aizawa landed gracefully on the rooftop adjacent to the police station and then carefully jumped down onto the ground. The city below was beginning to buzz with the activity of people starting their workday. Determined, Aizawa made his way inside, acknowledging the security at the front desk with a swift flash of his I.D.

Navigating through the familiar corridors, he arrived at Tsukauchi's office. Without bothering to knock, Aizawa opened the door, revealing the office cluttered with stacks of paperwork and files. Tsukauchi, seated behind his desk, greeted him with a nod.

"Eraserhead," Tsukauchi acknowledged, a grave seriousness in his voice. He gestured towards a chair, indicating for Aizawa to sit. Without a word, he slid a cup of coffee across the desk.

Aizawa took the offered seat, his expression unreadable as he accepted the coffee. The warmth of the cup did little to dispel the chill that seemed to settle in the room. Tsukauchi reached into a drawer, retrieving a stack of files that held the grim details of the case. He cautioned Aizawa before sliding the folder across the desk.

"Be prepared. The photos are not easy to look at," Tsukauchi warned, his eyes reflecting the weight of the investigation.

Aizawa nodded, acknowledging the severity of the situation. With a slow inhale, he opened the folder. The first photo hit him like a physical blow. A dead man lay before him, his head nearly pulverized, and a grotesque wound on his torso suggested a vicious attack. The visceral reality of the crime scene threatened to overwhelm even someone as seasoned as Eraserhead. Fighting back the urge to vomit, Aizawa steeled himself for the difficult task that lay ahead as he took the next photo.

The second photograph proved to be worse, surpassing the grim horror of the first. The man in the image suffered a fate so grotesque that Aizawa struggled to find words to describe it. The body lay in two pieces, a grotesque puzzle held together only by the victim's own entrails. The visceral brutality of the scene made Aizawa's stomach churn, an unsettling concoction of revulsion and disbelief.

As his eyes moved to the man's face, he was met with a visage of unimaginable horror. The once-human features were now a canvas of destruction — burnt, charred, and eyeless. The nose and lips were mercilessly seared away, leaving behind grotesque voids in the place of facial features. Limbs were twisted in ways that defied the natural order, suggesting a level of violence that transcended mere brutality.

‘Aizawa battled the rising nausea, his throat tightening in response to the gruesome images before him. The room seemed to close in as he forced himself to focus, his eyes fixated on the disturbing details captured by the unforgiving lens of the crime scene photographs.

Turning his attention to the bag containing the note, Aizawa's eyes narrowed at the unnerving message scrawled on it. "Took out the garbage for ya!" accompanied by a disturbingly cheerful smiley face. A chill ran down Aizawa's spine as he pondered the sadistic intent behind the message. These men may have been villains, but the brutality inflicted upon them seemed to defy any sense of justice.

The weight of the investigation pressed upon him, and Aizawa couldn't shake the haunting images etched into his mind. Despite his stoicism, the emotional toll of witnessing such violence lingered. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as Aizawa contemplated the unsettling reality that these individuals, no matter their crimes, were subjected to a fate beyond the bounds of reason and decency.

Quiclkly moving past the pictures, Aizawa delved into the records, each detail etching a darker portrait of the deceased men. The first, Jūrō Shichirou, was a 48-year-old man entrenched in the grim world of child trafficking. A registered sex offender. His quirk, Sandstorm, allowed him to create and manipulate sand, a tool Aizawa surmised was used to capture unsuspecting victims, particularly children.

The second man, Ryouta Takeo, at 32, shared a disturbing connection with Shichirou, both tied to the same vile child trafficking ring. Takeo's quirk, Dizzy Punch, held a cruel simplicity — inducing dizziness with a punch. Aizawa's expression remained impassive as he absorbed the information, recognizing the twisted synergy between the two criminals.

As he stared at their records, Aizawa couldn't escape the grim understanding behind the note's message. "Took out the garbage for ya!" The implication became clear. These men, Jūrō Shichirou and Ryouta Takeo, were nothing more than human garbage in the eyes of their assailant. The note spoke to a person's twisted sense of justice, meting out a punishment that surpassed the boundaries of what was considerd ethical.

Despite Aizawa's disdain for their actions, the unsettling reality of their brutal demise left a lingering unease. Closing the folder with a heavy sigh, Aizawa placed it back on Tsukauchi's desk, the weight of the disturbing images lingering in the room. Tsukauchi, ever the seasoned detective, shifted his attention to Eraserhead, acknowledging the difficult nature of the task ahead.

"Your job," Tsukauchi stated, leaning back in his chair, "is to reach out to some vigilantes. See if they know anything about this incident. Given your position as an underground hero, you might have better access."

Aizawa nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the responsibility bestowed upon him. The mention of seeking out new vigilantes sparked a memory from the previous night. Aizawa's eyes narrowed in thought as he recalled his encounter with Warper.

"I did meet a new vigilante last night," Aizawa informed Tsukauchi. "Goes by the name Warper."

Tsukauchi's interest was piqued as he raised an eyebrow. "Warper? Do you think they could be involved in these murders?"

Aizawa paused, considering his words carefully. "I don't think Warper did it. I mean they seemed a bit off, but they were more passive than aggressive. Although I wouldn't rule them out entirely, they didn't strike me as the type to resort to this level of violence."

Tsukauchi nodded, absorbing the information. "Just keep an eye on Warper. We need to explore every lead. If there's any connection, even remotely, we can't afford to overlook it."

With a curt agreement, Aizawa rose from the chair, the gravity of the investigation weighing on his shoulders. As he left Tsukauchi's office, though, for some reason, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen and soon.

Chapter Text

The night air hung heavy as Eraserhead moved across the city's rooftops, his sharp eyes scanning the urban landscape for any signs of vigilant activity. A sense of anticipation fueled his patrol, the hope of encountering a vigilante or two lingering in the shadows.

He leaped from one rooftop to another, a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. The rhythmic cadence of his movements echoed in the quiet night as he traversed the sprawling urban canvas. Time passed, the city below murmuring with the subdued hum of nocturnal life, before the stillness was shattered by a distant scream.

Without hesitation, Eraserhead pivoted toward the sound, his gaze fixed on the source of the distress. The urgency of the situation propelled him forward, each calculated leap bringing him closer to the alley where the scream had originated. He moved with a silent determination, cautious not to make any missteps that might compromise his swift approach.

Arriving at the edge of the roof overlooking the alleyway in which the scream came from, Eraserhead paused, his keen eyes assessing the scene below. Four figures came into view — one of which was definitely Warper. Warper had a man pinned down closer to the alley's entrance, the creepy smile they wore still plastered on their face.

In the shadows near the back of the alley, Eraserhead spotted another unfamiliar figure, presumably another vigilante. Clad in dark clothing, particularly a hooded jacket, and sporting an electronic mask covering the lower half of their face, the vigilante's outfit emitted an unsettling glowing green hue.

His focus shifted back to Warper, and to his surprise, Warper had spotted him, their piercing, glowing eyes met his. The disconcerting gaze sent a shiver down Eraserhead's spine, a feeling he couldn't quite shake.

Considering the fact that Warper had already spotted him and there was no need for being descreet. Eraserhead made a swift decision to try and help as he could. As his boots softly landed on the ground, the other vigilante flintched. Though, their initial wariness soon dissipated upon rseeing Eraserhead, they seemed to reconise him.

Eraserhead couldn't help but question why he seem’s to be recognized by so many lately, a nagging curiosity that lingered in the back of his mind.

His attention shifted when he heard the sound of something dragging against concreate. Eraserhead turned to witness Warper effortlessly dragging the subdued perpetrator towards him.

Without uttering a word to Eraserhead, Warper gently dropped the unconscious man at his feet. Their enigmatic demeanor remained unchanged as they moved away, approaching the other vigilante with an almost silent efficiency.

Concern etched on Eraserhead's features, he approached the vigilante he didn't recognize, questioning, "Is the victim okay?" The victim, was a small woman with no visible quirk, lay on the ground, visibly shaken but seemingly unharmed.

The hooded figure nodded, the electronic mask glowing softly as they replied, "Yeah, just a bit shaken up and might have a concussion, otherwise they are fine."

Eraserhead acknowledged the response with a silent nod. Deciding it was best to know the newer vigilante’s name or at least tittle. Turning his attention to the hooded figure, he straightforwardly asked, "Who are you?"

The vigilante, responded in a small voice with a slight stutter, "You c-an call me Vertigo."

Eraserhead couldn't help but find the name peculiar. He wondered if it held any significance to their quirk.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as Warper's attention snapped in a different direction, an acute awareness evident in their movements. Eraserhead observed as their ears twitched, a subtle indication of heightened senses. In a barely audible whisper, Warper uttered, "Police."

The revelation caused a palpable tension, particularly affecting Vertigo, who visibly tensed. Eraserhead knew the imminent departure of both vigilantes was evident, a shared instinct to evade the approaching law enforcement. Before they could vanish into the shadows, Eraserhead intervened, his authoritative voice cutting through the stillness.

"Wait. I need to talk to you both, wait on a roof near by while I take care of this," Eraserhead stated, his gaze unwavering.

They both paused and looked at each other. A moment of suspicion lingered in Vertigo's expression, while Warper's face remained unchanged. After a brief exchanged glances, they seemed to reach a consensus, nodding in agreement. Eraserhead gestured toward a nearby rooftop, where they could wait and converse away from prying eyes.

Both Vertigo and Warper gracefully ascended to the rooftop. Vertigo only struggled slightly at the end, while Warper went up with seemingly no effort and then helped Vertigo up.

As the distant wails of approaching police sirens grew louder, Eraserhead swiftly took action. With practiced efficiency, he secured the unconscious villain, binding them securely, a preventative measure to ensure they wouldn't be causing any further trouble, though he doubted that the villain would get up anytime soon anyway. Warper gave them quite the beating.

Turning his attention to the victim, Eraserhead approached with a reassuring presence. In a soft voice, he offered words of comfort, assuring them, "It's okay. The police are on their way."

The victim, visibly calmer than before but a bit disoriented, nodded in acknowledgment, finding solace in Eraserhead's words. The distant wailing of police sirens steadily grew louder as several patrol cars pulled up. Uniformed officers emerged, and Eraserhead walked up to them.

Eraserhead promptly presented his ID, providing a succinct briefing on the unfolding events. He detailed the intervention, the actions of the two vigilantes, and the current state of the victim. He knew that it was best not to tell the police that the two vigilantes were presuambly still here as he needed them to trust him. So, whith a note of frustration in his voice, he mentioned that the vigilantes had fled before he could address them.

The police officers, though undoubtedly accustomed to the unpredictability of vigilantism, exchanged glances that hinted at a mix of understanding and routine exasperation.

Ultimately, the decision was made to transport the victim to the hospital as a precaution, considering the potential for head trauma. An ambulance arrived, its flashing lights casting an ethereal glow in the darkened alley. The victim, now stable but requiring further evaluation, was carefully placed under the care of the medical professionals.

With the police departed, Eraserhead vaulted onto the rooftop where the two vigilantes, hoppefully, awaited. As luck would have it they were both there, though their demeanor, or at least Vertigo’s suggested a wariness. Though Warper did seem to be positioning themselves protectively in front of Vertigo.

Cutting through the silent tension, Warper initiated the conversation, their face maintaining the same detached expression. "What do you want to talk about, Eraser?"

Eraserhead, although slightly annoyed by the nickname, wasted no time, diving straight into the heart of the matter. "Do either of you know anything about the murder of Jūrō Shichirou and Ryouta Takeo?"

Vertigo shook their head in the negative, a gesture that seemed genuine. In contrast, Warper remained silent for a moment before speaking up. “Although I know of those two, I didn’t kill them myself.” Eraserhead acknowledged the response with a nod, appreciating the straightforwardness.

Feeling as if it was best to confirm, Eraserhead proposed, "I'd like you both to come with me for an interview. My detective friend has a truth quirk. It'll help clarify things."

The request prompted an unmistakable tension in Vertigo's demeanor, and, for the first time since their first encounter, Warper's perpetual smile wavered slightly, and in a firm tone, they uttered a decisive "no." Eraserhead, while understanding the reluctance, couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. It was a long shot, but the offer of cooperation, even under scrutiny, might have provided insights into the case.

Taking a moment to address a more personal aspect amidst the tense atmosphere, Eraserhead posed a question that felt somewhat out of place but necessary. "What are your pronouns?" he inquired, “I know this seems out of place but we might not get to meet again for a long time and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Vertigo responded with a simple "he/him," establishing a straightforward preference. Warper, on the other hand, offered a more open response, stating that any pronouns were acceptable, devoid of any specific inclination.

As Eraserhead processed the information, a faint sound caught his attention. For a brief moment, he turned away, perhaps compelled by an instinct or the distant echoes of an approaching disturbance. When he pivoted back, however, both Vertigo and Warper had vanished, leaving behind only the lingering silence of the empty rooftop.

The duo had slipped away like shadows into the night, leaving Eraserhead alone with the unanswered questions that continued to hang in the air. Like seriously how the hell did the leave in the five seconds he turned around without him hearing a single thing?

—

The soft morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room as Aizawa, wrapped in the cocoon of slumber, resisted the inevitable intrusion of wakefulness. The distant murmur of his husband's voice, laden with a teasing lilt, drifted into his consciousness like a persistent melody.

Mic, with an enthusiasm that bordered on obnoxious cheerfulness, attempted to rouse Aizawa from his peaceful repose. "Come on, Sho, time to wake up! The day's waiting for you!"

Aizawa, however, was determined to cling to the remnants of sleep. With a grumbled protest, his voice muffled by the pillow he'd buried his face into, he resisted the call of the waking world. The cozy embrace of the bed seemed far more inviting than the demands of the day.

Mic, undeterred by his husband's half-hearted resistance, continued his playful banter, a mix of teasing and affection woven into his words. "Sho, you can't stay in bed forever. We have stuffed planed for today, and besides, I made your favorite coffee."

The mention of coffee, a tactic often employed by Mic to lure Aizawa out of bed, elicited a barely audible groan from beneath the pillow. Aizawa, torn between the comfort of his dreams and the tantalizing aroma of a promised cup of coffee, knew he couldn't evade the inevitable forever.

After a brief internal struggle, Aizawa relented. With a resigned sigh, he finally pushed himself up, disentangling from the warmth of the blankets. Satisfied that his husband was now awake Mic went back to the kitchen to continue with breakfast.

With Mic's cheerful departure to the kitchen, Aizawa begrudgingly accepted the inevitable and embarked on the familiar morning routine. He moved with a well-practiced efficiency, fully aware that delaying any longer would only lead to more teasing from his exuberant husband.

Aizawa started with a quick, invigorating shower, the cascade of warm water washing away the remnants of sleep. After the shower, sliped into some casual morning clothing, opting for a simple ensemble that reflected a blend of comfort and functionality.

The muted sounds of the apartment carried the echoes of Mic's culinary endeavors, an enticing promise that drew Aizawa toward the kitchen. Before joining his husband, Aizawa methodically brushed his teeth with a no-nonsense efficiency.

Entering the kitchen, Aizawa was greeted by the aroma of the breakfast that Mic had prepared with evident enthusiasm. The table was adorned with an array of dishes — miso soup, tamagoyaki, rice, and pickled vegetables. The sight elicited a subtle smile from Aizawa, a silent acknowledgment of Mic's efforts to make the morning a little brighter.

As they settled into breakfast, the domestic tranquility of the moment enveloped the couple, a brief respite before the demands of the hero's day beckoned. The shared meal, steeped in the flavors of tradition and familiarity, provided a quiet moment of connection, a grounding force in the whirlwind of their daily lives.

Now satiated by the hearty breakfast, Aizawa and Mic found themselves gravitating toward the plush comfort of the couch. The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow that enveloped the room in a tranquil ambiance.

Nestled together on the couch, Aizawa and Mic indulged in a quiet moment of shared serenity. Aizawa, who typically exuded an air of stoicism, allowed himself the luxury of a soft smile as he leaned into the comforting presence of his husband. Mic, with his vibrant personality, reveled in the simple joy of being close to Aizawa.

As they lounged on the couch, surrounded by the afterglow of breakfast, Aizawa and Mic engaged in a more detailed discussion about potential activities for the day.

Mic, ever the enthusiast, suggested, "What about that new cafe with the live music? We could grab some coffee and just enjoy the vibe."

Aizawa, while appreciating the idea, countered with a practical consideration. "The cafe might be crowded. How about the park first? We can relax, maybe have a picnic."

Mic grinned at the proposal, nodding in agreement. "Sounds like a plan! We can pack some snacks and just chill. Maybe even catch a nap under the trees."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at the mention of a nap, a subtle yet fond amusement playing on his features. "Napping in public, are sure?"

Mic chuckled, unapologetic. "It’ll be fine Sho. Besides, it's a perfect day for it."
Aizawa, leaning into the practical side of things, proposed, "What about the museum? It's been a while since we visited, and there might be some interesting exhibits."

Mic, always ready for a bit of excitement, countered with a playful grin. "True, but we could also go to the arcade. It's been ages since we had a good game competition."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, a rare hint of amusement in his gaze. "You just want a chance to beat me at something, don't you?"

Mic laughed, not denying the accusation. "Guilty as charged! But seriously, it could be fun."

As they continued to toss around ideas, the conversation shifted to the more mundane aspects of the day. Mic, ever the planner, asked, "Did you want to grab groceries later? We're running a bit low on some stuff."

Aizawa, appreciating the practical reminder, nodded. "Sure, we can swing by the store. Maybe we can cook something together for dinner."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, blending practical considerations with whimsical notions. They discussed potential movie choices for the evening, debated the merits of trying a new recipe versus ordering takeout, and even delved into the ongoing debate of which hero-themed board game to play later.

In the midst of it all, the real joy lay not just in the decisions to be made but in the shared process of deciding. Aizawa and Mic, partners in both life and leisure, found comfort and delight in the simple act of planning a day filled with the warmth of each other's presence.
Thinking of something, Mic's mischievous grin widened as he decided to add a playful tease to the ongoing discussion. "You know, Sho, I was thinking you should be the one to drive today. It's good for you, builds character, and all that."

Aizawa shot him a deadpan look, well aware of the underlying mischief in Mic's suggestion. "You just don't want to deal with the traffic, do you?"

Mic feigned innocence, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Who, me? I just thought you might enjoy the scenic route. Plus, I'm a great co-pilot."

Aizawa sighed in mock exasperation. "You're just trying to avoid having to navigate the city. Fine, I'll drive. But only if you promise not to distract me with your singing this time."

Mic chuckled, remembering the last impromptu karaoke session in the car. "Deal. No singing unless it's a really good song on the radio."

With the matter settled, they continued their planning, deciding on the museum for the morning, the park for a leisurely picnic, and perhaps the arcade for some friendly competition in the afternoon. The prospect of grocery shopping and a joint cooking venture for dinner rounded out their day's agenda.

Today is going to be a good day. Aizawa knew it, was going to be a day where he and his husband could just relax and have fun.

Chapter Text

The soft hum of the engine filled the interior of the car as Aizawa took the driver's seat, Mic settling into the passenger side. The cityscape unfolded before them as they embarked on the first leg of their day's adventure, heading toward the museum.

Mic, comfortably situated, glanced over at Aizawa with a sly smile. "You know, Sho, driving suits you. Very stoic, very hero-like."

Aizawa rolled his eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm not sure hero-like is the term I'd use for driving, but I'll take the compliment."

As they navigated through the city streets, the conversation flowed naturally, touching on topics both trivial and profound. Mic, always one to embrace spontaneity, pointed out a small bakery they hadn't noticed before.

"Hey, wanna grab some pastries for later?" Mic suggested, already reaching for his wallet.

Aizawa considered the proposal, glancing at the bakery with a thoughtful expression. "Sure, why not? But only if you promise not to complain about my choice of pastries."

Mic grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Deal. As long as you promise not to eat them all before we get home."

Aizawa chuckled, a rare display of amusement. "I make no promises."

With that they stopped by the bakery carfully exiting their car. Hand in hand they walked into the bakery.

The sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries enveloped them as they stepped into the quaint bakery. Aizawa and Mic exchanged a glance, their shared agreement evident as they decided to indulge in a quick treat for the journey ahead.

Mic, with an air of enthusiasm, pointed to a display of assorted pastries. "How about a couple of those cream-filled pastries? They look amazing."

Aizawa nodded in agreement, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "Sounds good. And maybe a couple of those fruit tarts. Variety is the spice of life, after all."

With their selection in hand, they left the bakery, the paper bags crinkling softly as they strolled toward the museum. The morning sun cast a gentle glow, painting the city in warm hues.

As they settled back into the car, Aizawa and Mic shared a playful banter, each savoring the remnants of their sweet indulgence.

Aizawa, steering with his customary calm, glanced at Mic. "You know, we should do this more often.”

Mic nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Agreed. Maybe we should make it a tradition of sorts."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Really"

Mic chuckled, the warmth of shared laughter filling the car. "Why not? It would be so much fun!"

Aizawa shook his head, a genuine smile playing on his face. "You and your ideas. Maybe we'll stick to this just being an occasional thing."

After navigating the bustling city, Aizawa and Mic finally arrived at the museum, anticipation for a cultural exploration lingering in the air. However, their enthusiasm soon met a roadblock in the form of a seemingly endless search for parking.

The vastness of the museum parking lot, filled to capacity, presented a daunting challenge. Aizawa, renowned for his patience in the face of chaos, found himself growing increasingly irritated as the minutes ticked away without a hint of an available spot.

"This is ridiculous," Aizawa muttered under his breath, his normally calm demeanor tinged with frustration. He steered the car through rows of vehicles, scanning for any glimmer of an empty space.

Mic, ever the optimist, tried to lighten the mood. "Well, they say patience is a virtue, right?"

Aizawa shot him a look that conveyed a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. "Tell that to the people who took up three spots with one car."

As the search persisted, the vastness of the parking lot felt like a labyrinth, each turn leading to disappointment. Mic, sensing Aizawa's rising irritation, wisely chose to remain silent, occasionally offering a sympathetic glance.

After what felt like an eternity, Aizawa finally found a spot in a distant corner of the lot. He parked the car with a frustrated exhale, the annoyance etched on his features.

"Well, that probably took longer than the museum visit itself," Aizawa grumbled, the irritation evident in his voice.

Mic, attempting to diffuse the tension, quipped, "On the bright side, at least we’ll get some extra steps in today."

Aizawa shot him a deadpan look, the irritation momentarily giving way to a flicker of amusement. With a shared sigh, they exited the car, ready to put the parking ordeal behind them and immerse themselves in the cultural treasures that awaited within the museum walls.

The museum, seemingly distant despite their arrival, beckoned from the other end of the sprawling parking lot. Aizawa and Mic embarked on the long walk, navigating through the labyrinth of vehicles, their destination shimmering like a mirage in the distance.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow on the pavement. The air buzzed with the sounds of distant conversations and the occasional honk of a car. As they strolled, Aizawa's irritation from the parking ordeal lingered, evident in the firm set of his jaw and the determined pace of his steps.

Mic, ever attuned to his husband's moods, attempted to break the silence. "Well, at least we're getting some exercise, right? Burning off the calories from the pastries."

Aizawa shot him a sidelong glance, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I didn't sign up for a marathon."

Mic chuckled, the light banter offering a momentary respite from the earlier frustration. They continued their trek, weaving through the maze of parked cars, the anticipation of the museum visit gradually overshadowing the inconveniences of the parking lot odyssey.

As the museum's grand entrance drew nearer, the distance they had covered felt like a small victory. Aizawa's irritation began to dissipate, as they eventually reached the steps of museums entrance.

“Finally.” Aizawa muttered to himself, sighing heavily as they walked in.

Once at the counter, they paid for their admission, the excitement of the museum visit rekindling their spirits. Aizawa and Mic, now free from the vast expanse of the parking lot, set their sights on the wonders that lay within.

Their first destination was the section housing dinosaur bones, a timeless fascination for many. The museum's corridors echoed with the hushed murmurs of visitors, the air charged with an undercurrent of awe and wonder.

As they entered the exhibit, the colossal bones of ancient giants loomed overhead. Aizawa and Mic wandered among the exhibits, marveling at the intricate displays and the sheer magnitude of the prehistoric creatures frozen in time.

Aizawa, found himself absorbed in the intricate details of the fossils. Mic, with an infectious enthusiasm, pointed out interesting facts and speculated on the lives these creatures might have led.

Afterlooking at the dinosaur bones, Aizawa and Mic continued their exploration of the museum's vast offerings. As they strolled through the hallowed halls, an exhibit featuring ancient civilizations caught their attention.

Entering the section dedicated to the artifacts of bygone eras, they found themselves surrounded by relics from ancient cultures. Intricately carved statues, pottery adorned with ornate patterns, and fragments of crumbling scrolls painted a vivid picture of the richness of human history.

Aizawa, his analytical gaze sweeping over the artifacts, appreciated the craftsmanship and the stories that each piece held. Mic, ever the storyteller, wove narratives around the artifacts, adding a touch of whimsy to the historical journey.

Among the treasures, a particularly well-preserved set of jewelry from an ancient civilization beckoned. Aizawa and Mic marveled at the delicate craftsmanship and speculated about the lives of those who once adorned themselves with such finery.

The museum, a time capsule of human achievement and creativity, unfolded its wonders with each exhibit. Aizawa and Mic, absorbed in the historical tapestry laid out before them, relished the opportunity to learn and share in the collective narrative of the human experience. The museum, with its artifacts and stories, became a sanctuary of exploration, offering a timeless escape from the rigors of the everyday world.

As Aizawa and Mic concluded their exploration of the museum, the realization set in that the time had come to embark on the journey back to their car. The prospect of retracing their steps through the expansive parking lot didn't exactly elicit excitement, especially from Aizawa.

With a subtle sigh, Aizawa glanced at Mic. "Remind me why we parked so far away?"

“Because we couldn’t find a parking spot?” Mic answered.

“Right.” Aizawa said sighing.

Mic, sensing Aizawa's reluctance, offered a playful grin. "Well, it's all part of the adventure, isn't it? Besides, we can enjoy the scenic route back to the car."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, unamused. "Scenic route? In a parking lot?"

Mic chuckled, recognizing Aizawa's aversion to unnecessary complications. Nevertheless, they started the trek back, the museum's echoes gradually fading as they walked through the front door.

As they emerged into the open air, the vastness of the parking lot stretched before them. They couldn’t even see their car. Aizawa, a man of efficiency, quickened his pace, determined to reach their destination without unnecessary delays, because honestly, he was tired of walking.

The promise of a peaceful park visit was abruptly marred by the dismal state of traffic that awaited Aizawa and Mic. The once-excited atmosphere in the car gave way to a palpable frustration as they found themselves ensnared in a seemingly endless sea of vehicles.

Aizawa, normally stoic, couldn't contain his irritation. The relentless honking of car horns and the slow crawl of traffic grated on his nerves. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and with a muttered curse, he honked the car horn in a futile attempt to coax the traffic into movement.

"Come on!" Aizawa grumbled, the frustration evident in his voice. "Move, for kami's sake."

Mic, ever the voice of reason, placed a calming hand on Aizawa's shoulder. "Sho, honking won't make it go any faster. We'll get there when we get there."

Aizawa shot him a glare, his annoyance lingering. "I just wanted a relaxing day, not go on a fucking marathon through traffic."

Mic, undeterred, offered a soothing smile. "We'll get through this, and once we reach the park, all this traffic frustration will be a distant memory. Just take a deep breath."

As the car inched forward in the congested lanes, Aizawa begrudgingly followed Mic's advice, taking a deep breath and attempting to quell the irritation that lingered. The promise of the park, though momentarily delayed. Luckily the the lines of cars began to move and Aizawa sighed in relief.

The relief was palpable as Aizawa and Mic finally arrived at the park, escaping the clutches of the relentless traffic. Thankfully there were plenty of parking spots. The car smoothly found its way to a parking spot, and with a collective sigh, they stepped out into the open air.

Aizawa took a moment to savor the fresh air. The park, with its open spaces and the gentle rustle of leaves, offered a stark contrast to the urban jungle they had navigated earlier. Aizawa closed his eyes briefly, letting the tranquility of the park wash over him.

Mic, catching onto Aizawa's moment of respite, grinned. "Feels good to be out of that traffic nightmare, huh?"

Aizawa, still relishing the freedom from congestion, nodded in agreement. "Much better. Let's make the most of our time here."

The trail beckoned them with the sight of a well worn sun dappled path. They were very eager for a change of pace and the promise of scenic tranquility, embarked on their trail adventure.

As they strolled along the path, the verdant surroundings enveloped them. Tall trees stretched towards the sky, dappling the trail with pockets of sunlight. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, creating a soothing melody that accompanied their footsteps.

Mic couldn't resist pointing out the various creatures that inhabited the park. "Look, Sho, over there! A rabbit," he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he gestured to a fluffy creature nibbling on the grass at the trail's edge.

Aizawa, allowed a small smile to grace his features as he observed the rabbit. "Cute isn’t it?"

Mic continued his impromptu tour guide role. "And look there, up in the branches, a squirrel!"

Aizawa followed Mic's gaze, spotting the nimble squirrel leaping between branches. Watching as it hopped from branch to branch.

Looking away from the squirl they continued their leisurely walk along the trail, the serene atmosphere was momentarily shattered by the unmistakable buzz of a bee. The sudden intrusion caught Mic off guard, and in an instant, he let out a yelp of surprise.

Instinctively, Mic sought refuge behind Aizawa, clutching onto his arm with a grip that suggested a mix of fear and panic. Aizawa, feeling the sudden shift in Mic's demeanor, turned to him with a bemused expression.

"Relax, it's just a bee," Aizawa reassured, attempting to calm his startled husband.

Mic, however, was having none of it. His eyes widened with genuine fright, and he continued to use Aizawa as a human shield against the perceived threat of the tiny insect.

"Just a bee?" Mic exclaimed, his voice carrying a note of alarm. "Sho, you know I don't do well with bees!"

Aizawa couldn't help but chuckle at Mic's over-the-top reaction. "It's more scared of you than you are of it. Trust me, it won't bother us."

Mic, still firmly entrenched behind Aizawa, shook his head vehemently. "I don't care! Bees are terrifying. I bet it’s nest is near by! Can we please just go somewhere else?"

Aizawa, finding amusement in Mic's exaggerated fear, grabed his husbands hand. "Alright, alright. We can take a detour."

With a final wary glance at the seemingly harmless bee, Mic reluctantly peeked out from behind Aizawa, ready to resume their trail adventure while maintaining a safe distance from any potential bee encounters.

The detour ended up leading them to a picturesque clearing bathed in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. The open space, surrounded by nature's greenery, seemed like the perfect spot to pause and enjoy a moment of repose.

Mic, always attuned to the leisurely side of life, suggested, "How about we take a break here? It's such a nice spot, and I could use a little rest."

Aizawa, appreciating the tranquility of the clearing, nodded in agreement. "Sounds good to me. Let's take a breather."

They found a comfortable spot amidst the natural beauty, the soft grass beneath them inviting a moment of relaxation. Aizawa stretched out, appreciating the feeling of nature beneath him, while Mic settled down with a contented sigh.

The clearing became their impromptu oasis, offering a serene escape from the trails and the occasional bee encounters. The rustle of leaves, the distant hum of wildlife, and the warmth of the sunlight created a peaceful ambiance that enveloped them.

As they rested in the clearing, Aizawa and Mic allowed the worries of the day to fade away. The gentle sounds of nature served as a soothing backdrop to their shared silence, a moment of connection amidst the beauty of the outdoors.

In the stillness of the clearing, time seemed to slow, and the simple pleasure of being surrounded by nature became the focal point of their shared day. The park, with its trails and hidden clearings, had become a sanctuary for Aizawa and Mic, a space where the outside world could be momentarily set aside in favor of the tranquility offered by the natural world.

Now settled within the quiet embrace of the sunlit clearing, they found solace in the simplicity of existence. The cares of the world melted away, replaced by a profound sense of calm. The tranquility of the natural surroundings wrapped around them like a gentle embrace, creating a haven free from the chaos of daily life.

As they lounged on the grass, the soft rustle of leaves overhead and the distant murmur of a babbling brook contributed to the serene atmosphere. The bustling city, with its demands and deadlines, felt like a distant memory. In this moment, it was just Aizawa, Mic, and the quiet beauty of the park.

No deadlines, no urgent calls, just the sound of nature's symphony and the warmth of the sun filtering through the leaves. The stressors that often accompanied their roles as heroes and individuals navigating a bustling world were momentarily set aside.

In this pocket of tranquility, Aizawa and Mic shared a silent acknowledgment of the simple joy of being present. Life, with its complexities and uncertainties, seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the serenity of the moment.

The gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the calming sounds of nature provided the perfect backdrop for Aizawa and Mic as they lounged in the sunlit clearing. Mic, feeling the tranquility of the moment, suggested, "What if we take a nap here? It's so peaceful, and I could use a little snooze."

Aizawa, ever the practical one, hesitated. "I don’t know. What if someone comes by? Or what if we oversleep?"

Mic, undeterred, offered a reassuring smile. "We're pretty secluded here, not near the trail. And we can set an alarm to make sure we don't sleep too long. Come on, it'll be a quick power nap."

After a moment of consideration, Aizawa relented. "Fine, but only a short nap. I don't want to turn this into an all-day affair."

With that, they set alarms on their phones and nestled against the sturdy trunk of a large tree. Aizawa closed his eyes, allowing the gentle warmth of the sunlight filtering through the leaves to lull him into a state of relaxation. Mic, ever the comfort-seeker, cozied up beside him.

As the soft sounds of nature enveloped them, the alarms were set, ensuring that their tranquil nap wouldn't extend into an unintended slumber. The worries that had briefly crossed Aizawa's mind began to dissipate in the serenity of the clearing.

The two heroes, wrapped in the simple joys of nature, drifted into a brief but restful nap. The sunlight continued to dance through the leaves, casting a dappled pattern on the ground, as Aizawa and Mic found respite in the embrace of a well-deserved break.

—

The abrupt interruption of their alarms pulled Aizawa and Mic from the gentle embrace of their nap. With a synchronized groan, they reached for their phones to silence the blaring sounds. Aizawa though it was best to check his messages to see if anything important happened. Mic stood up and stretched a little when he seem to spot something.

"Hey, Sho, were these flowers here when we fell asleep?" Mic asked, gesturing towards a small cluster of blooms near the center of the clearing.

Aizawa, initially absorbed in his phone, looked up to inspect the flowers. His brow furrowed in confusion; he couldn't recall seeing a bunch of flowers when they had settled down for their nap. The small arrangement included a striking blue rose, a cluster of protea, and a sprig of monkshood.

Aizawa and Mic approached the odd assembly of flowers, exchanging curious glances. "This is weird," Aizawa remarked, crouching down for a closer look. "These flowers don't grow together naturally. And roses certainly don't just pop up by themselves, and are’nt naturally blue."

Mic, equally perplexed, nodded. "Yeah, and monkshood is pretty uncommon too. It's like someone planted them here while we were sleeping. Though they look as if they were hear the whole time. The dirt has grass over it."

Aizawa, scanned the area for any signs of intrusion but found none. He couldn't shake the feeling that the presence of these carefully arranged flowers carried a significance they couldn't quite grasp.

"Maybe it's some kind of message," Aizawa suggested, his eyes narrowing as he continued to study the flowers. "But what does it mean?"

“I’m not sure,” Mic respond, looking arond for any signs that someone was nearby.

"I don't like this," Aizawa admitted, his gaze flickering across the tranquil clearing. "I can't shake the feeling that someone's watching us."

Mic, always attuned to his husband's instincts, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's not stick around to find out who. We can come back another time when it feels less... eerie."

Aizawa stood, his senses still on high alert, and Mic followed suit. As they made their way out of the clearing, the dappling sunlight casting patterns on the trail, Aizawa couldn't shake the notion that the eyes of an unseen observer lingered on them. The tranquility they had enjoyed moments ago now felt tinged with an unspoken unease, prompting them to retreat from the enigmatic clearing and the watchful gaze that seemed to linger just beyond their perception.

The uneasy feeling of being watched intensified as Aizawa and Mic retraced their steps toward the car. The forest, once alive with the gentle sounds of nature, now embraced an eerie stillness. The usual rustling of leaves, the distant calls of birds—everything seemed to have fallen silent.

Aizawa's senses remained heightened, each step echoing in the quietude of the surroundings. Mic, too, shared in the disquiet, shooting glances around as if expecting an unseen presence to materialize.

The forest, which had initially provided a peaceful escape, now seemed to close in around them. The stillness became palpable, an oppressive silence that magnified the sensation of being observed.

Aizawa, usually composed, couldn't shake the growing unease. "This is not normal," he muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement.

Mic, equally unsettled, kept close to Aizawa as they hastened their pace. The quiet intensity of the forest seemed to press in on them, heightening the sense that something unseen lurked in the shadows.

With each step, the feeling of being watched persisted, turning what was meant to be a leisurely day in the park into an unsettling encounter with an elusive observer. The forest, once a haven of natural beauty, now bore an ominous stillness that echoed the unspoken presence of an unknown watcher.

The sudden snap of a twig brought Aizawa and Mic to a halt. Instinctively, they turned toward the sound, and they were met with the sight of a deer, its form distorted and unnatural. There was something wrong with the deer so deeply wrong.

The creature stood eerily still, its elongated legs and emaciated frame immediately setting it apart from the usual grace of a deer. Hollow eyes seemed to fixate on Aizawa and Mic, devoid of the vitality one would expect from a living being. The abnormality of the scene sent a chill down their spines.

Aizawa's hand instinctively moved towards the capture weapon at his neck, and Mic, equally disturbed, took a step back. The unnatural appearance of the deer set their nerves on edge, a stark departure from the serene image of wildlife they had expected. They slowly backed away from it.

Once they felt they had created enough space, Aizawa and Mic quickened their pace, walking briskly through the forest. The unsettling encounter with the deer added another layer to the pervasive sense of being watched.

Mic, still visibly shaken by the unnatural appearance of the deer, couldn't help but voice his unease. "Did you see how wrong that deer looked? It's like something out of a nightmare," he remarked, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any more signs of the unsettling abnormality they had just witnessed.

Aizawa, too, shared in the disquiet, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, there was definitely something off about it. We need to get out of here."

After a bit more walking Mic turned to Aizawa. "Hey, Sho, maybe we should skip the arcade and grocery shopping for today. I'm not really feeling up for it after... that."

"Yeah, maybe skipping the arcade and grocery shopping is a good idea. Let's just head home," Aizawa responded, his usual stoicism tinged with a trace of lingering unease.

With that, they continued on, every step just as or even more cautious as the last. Something or someone was watching them. Luckily the parking lot wasn’t too far from where they were.

Eventually, they made it to the parking lot. However, the return to the parking lot brought a new wave of unease. The emptiness of what was typically a bustling space only intensified the lingering sense of abnormality. Aizawa and Mic, moving with a sense of urgency, quickly reached their car.

The parking lot, unusually vacant with an eerie stillness hanging in the air, contrasted starkly with its usual activity. Typically filled with an array of cars, the emptiness now seemed to amplify the strangeness of the day.

Without dwelling on the peculiarities, Aizawa and Mic hurriedly got into their car and drove away. The familiar hum of the engine and the movement of the road offered a sense of escape from the disconcerting atmosphere that had clung to them in the forest and now seemed to permeate the once-familiar surroundings of the parking lot.

As they drove away, leaving the peculiarities of the day behind, Aizawa's grip on the steering wheel remained firm, and Mic cast glances to the sides of the road as if half-expecting the watcher or the distorted deer to run out in front of them. The air inside the car, though, began to regain a semblance of normalcy as they distanced themselves from the inexplicable events that had unfolded in the serene confines of the forest.

Chapter Text

Hey, so I am rewriting this as I just don't like a lot of it anymore. I may take some time for me to update though as my life is rather busy.

Chapter Text

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey been a minute. I said this was being re-made. And it is. I just posted the first chapter to it. I skipped out of Warper having the nickname Warper. Her actual name 'Entity' will be known. Also it is much more gory so be warned. Traumatic experiences will happen. Stuff such as SA will be mentioned. Along with self harm and suicide will be mentioned. This is fare more gruesome than before. Here is the link https://ao3-rd-3.onrender.com/works/57873088/chapters/147309697.