dumbshow | the critically acclaimed open post

[It's been a long week.

They're all long weeks, really. Each day is packed to the gills with exhausting exercises and grueling tests, and they're important, of course, but that doesn't make them any less exhausting. Aizawa feels like a zombie as he turns the corner; it's all he can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other as he makes his way down the hall. He's got to get some energy drink or another in him and soon, or else he's just going to fall asleep instead of doing the miles and miles of homework he's got left.

And then he turns the corner, and hey! Turns out energy drinks aren't the only way to wake up. A short sharp shock to the system does just as well.

He knows that man.

That boy, he should say. He's only a few years older, after all, and yet there's such a vast distance between them it might as well be a lifetime. That man, that man, a third year when Aizawa and his parents were touring the place and deciding if they wanted to apply.

He'd talked to them, actually. He'd jogged over from off the course, all flushed and sweaty, grinning from ear to ear as he'd exuberantly extolled the virtues of UA.

He hadn't really been able to pay much attention to the speech. He'd mostly just stared, his ears bright red and his eyes narrowed as he glared up at him. God knows how long that speech had lasted; he'd mostly returned to earth when the boy had finally raced away.

And now here he is again.

Toshinori Yagi.

Perhaps he ought to pretend not to know him. He isn't Hizashi, after all (or Present Mic, as he's now demanding Aizawa call him, because he's so in love with the name that he won't shut up about it). He barely knows everyone in his class, never mind a boy four years older, and even then, it's only because he has to spar against them. But him . . .

He knows him very well, and it's for a really stupid reason.]

What are you doing here?

[He blurts out the words before he can think better of them. It's a genuine question, but it comes out far more accusing than it has any right to. Alumni are allowed back on campus, though very few rarely make the trip. But Toshinori Yagi isn't just any alumni, and it feels like a very personal assault that he's suddenly decided to show up.]

[It's a school, and students and staff alike stay late all the time, and yet he still startles to hear a voice addressing him in such an accusatory way, out of nowhere. He turns, and there's a student there, and he nearly laughs loudly and dives for the nearest open window instead of trying to explain himself, but that's probably a bad idea. There's nothing particularly remarkable about this two-second interaction, but—

The boy seems to recognize him? Is he reading that correctly? His mind races to place that tired face somewhere in his memory (he does, after all, see a lot more people on a daily basis than he used to), and maybe it's coming slowly, but first—]

Ha ha! Ah-- observing!

[What. He does not explain at all, instead turning to walk toward the boy, just to put distance between himself and the display case full of pictures, you know, to alleviate all that suspicion. All of it. At once.

...The boy's shorter up close, but then, so isn't everyone.

There's a pause; then, because he can't help it and it is bugging him, although he says it with a smile,]

Something about your face stands out! [precisely what Aizawa wants to hear] Have we met?

No.

[He blurts out that lie and doesn't really know why. Maybe it's because if he'd said yes, Toshinori would have asked him when, and he'd have to remind him that the last time they saw each other he'd been a short little fourteen year old with a voice that hadn't cracked and a crush so obvious it could be seen by someone in space.

It's still obvious. And just as he had last time, he glares with suspicion up at the frankly enormous boy, because it's easier to pretend he's angry than do something so humiliating as flirt.]

Observing what?

[He could flirt, really, and Toshinori would probably flirt back at him automatically - you know, in a crowd-pleaser kind of way, like he does on TV - but that opportunity is apparently denied. He's almost taken aback by Aizawa's attitude, now that he's not really used to being told "no" anymore-- ah.

So refreshing? Hm.]

The school! Oh-- I have permission. [Is that his problem?? Toshinori tugs his shirt helpfully, to show that he is, in fact, equipped with a VISITOR sticker. He doesn't need a sticker, he'd be allowed in anyway, but he always insists.]

So, no need to make that face!

That wasn't the answer to the question I asked.

[Quiet and, though a little flat, not actually accusatory. It's a logical observation, a sharp flat line cutting through the noisy bustle that is Toshinori.]

What were you observing? The students?

[But he sounds rather skeptical. If Toshinori is looking for a sidekick, he isn't going to find one staring at old photos. And he's awfully young to need a sidekick . . . really, he ought to be a sidekick. He's definitely not a pro-hero yet, right? He would have made the news. He's enthusiastic and flashy and charming, a real golden boy; the press would just eat him up.

. . . come to think of it . . . what is his hero name, anyway?]

[Is this boy just going to stare at him until some answer Toshinori doesn't have for him falls out? He knows his hero identity is on lock; no one knows who he doesn't want to know, so just staring at him isn't going to do much for the kid— but boy, is he trying.]

Haha— no, I wasn't. I was looking for an old friend!

[Toshinori Yagi is a mediocre liar.]

Who?

[He's being rude, he knows, but he also doesn't care. There's something off about all this, and he can't pinpoint what yet. But also, so he isn't totally rude:]

I can help you find them.

[Boy... this is rude. Toshinori blinks, a little surprised, but then smiles broadly -- because of course he does.]

Spoken like a true hero! [HA HA HA-- he's stalling, he needs a name!! Uh-] --Endeavor! He just became a sidekick recently...

["My friend Endeavor," a statement no one has ever said and meant it. It's fine, this is foolproof.]

[THAT SOUNDS FAKE AS SHIT but . . .]

If you need him, he's not at the school right now.

[But he takes a few steps forward, going to peer at the cabinet Toshinori was a few moments ago. Because clearly, that's the next step to solving this mystery.]

[Please, don't call him out... He's done dozens of interviews and somehow talking to this mouthy student is very stressful comparatively?!]

Well— [He takes a few long strides forward, meeting Aizawa at the pass and slinging an arm around his shoulders. Let's go, tiny, it's time to not look at this display case.] Help me find somewhere to wait!

[Come with him! Down the hall!]

[He goes stiff as a board beneath that friendly arm, a look of very real distress crossing his expression. No, not just because he hates overly familiar gestures but because he does not need Toshinori Yagi touching him.]

Hang on--

[He digs his heels in, intending to stop in front of that display case. Imagine his surprise when he just keeps going, pulled along by this enormous man and his strength.]

Hang on--

[It takes only a moment to duck down, taking a few steps back.]

Ah— what?

[Toshinori only stops when he's suddenly holding onto nothing but air, looking over his shoulder at his new tiny boy. Why, little guy? Why?]

Something wrong?

Why are you trying to get me away from here?

[Because that's what's happening: he's being ushered away from this photocase. He doesn't know why such a thing is so incriminating, but now he's determined to find out.

So he turns, glancing it over. There's nothing much in there, just a bunch of old class photos and action shots. Chiyo Shuzenji grinning in her first uniform, beaming in her office; Gran Torino grinning arrogantly as his first villain was led away by the police . . . and Toshinori, sweating and delighted, posing in a familiar sort of way.

It takes him a minute. He knows that pose, though, and that triumphant grin is awfully familiar. The costume is all wrong, but imagine if it wasn't, if it was blue and white and red--

--and then his head snaps over, his eyes wide, as he really takes a good, proper look at Toshinori. Or-- no. Not at Toshinori.

At All Might.]

Oh.

No, wait—

[Pause!! Pause this investigation! Toshinori holds out a hand but what is he going to do, slap it over the kid's eyes and haul him away? It's already too late, and maybe this is a little dramatic, but he was so very close to getting rid of that picture--!

So it's all he can do to let his hand fall to his side and then lift it again to rub at his temples, while this boy figures him out completely. The whole secret identity thing is a lot easier around people who aren't so... so clever and determined to figure him out for whatever reason.

How much bribery will it take to do damage control here, he wonders, as the boy turns to give him that look, the one that says plainly that he knows. He sighs and holds his hands out at his sides, not very energetically for a change but most certainly All Might-esque.]

I'm here! [ha ha.... ha]

[He has a crush on All Might. That shouldn't be the thought that sticks in his head right now, bouncing around like a firework, but it is. He has a crush on the wonder boy who never stops with the relentless positivity, who laughs and acts as though this is all a fun game.

All Might!

Toshinori, or All Might, and Aizawa can't decide what he wants to call him, is still standing there, and belatedly he makes an irritated noise.]

Don't do that.

[A lot more people are going to figure it out if he makes it obvious.]

[He has a crush on All Might!! Not that said All Might is privy to this exciting knowledge, but there it is-- there he is, the wonder boy, standing here in the hallway long after everyone else has gone home. He holds up his hands in front of him instead, placating.]

Alright, alright! You figured me out.

[So he had to do that stupid thing. Well. Since they're already here, he comes back to the display case and taps the glass idly, considering. It's locked...]

I'm trying to get that picture.

[A smart idea. Most people aren't nearly as observant and logical as him, but surely even ordinary people could put two and two together if they saw that photo.

Still.]

Just stealing it isn't going to work. You're going to get in trouble.

[Hmm.]

Why not ask for it? Pretend you want to frame it at home or something.

Well, everyone's gone home already.

[A beat. Wait.] I wasn't planning on stealing anything! I would never!

[He's goddamn All Might, little sassy boy!! He won't fall into a life of crime, starting with the petty theft of an old picture!!!]

[SETTLE DOWN, his expression says, unimpressed and with one eyebrow raised.]

So what was your plan?

[No!!! Boy!!]

I— was working on that at my own pace! And then you turned up. [Which isn't some kind of backwards accusation, just, he was in the process before he was interrupted and then had his secret identity smashed.]

By the way, we should... talk.

[About smashing his secret identity!!]

So you had no idea what you were going to do.

[JUST SAYING, that's about the long and short of it. But that last question . . . he hates his stupid, pathetic, emotional mind for immediately jumping to the wrong conclusion.

We should talk, Toshinori says, and for a split-second, nothing more, he thinks all the ways he'd want that to go. We should talk, because I've secretly liked you since I saw you too, now do you want to go make out in some abandoned classroom?

Stupid. Stupid and illogical, and he dismisses it the instant it forms. he wants to talk about his identity, but there's really nothing to talk about. He's not going to blab.]

. . . sure.

Haha! I don't dislike that honesty, but you don't have to drive it home.

[He knows, he knows. Now, as for having a talk with him, it's so lucky Toshinori came back to the display case, making him close enough to put his arm around Aizawa's shoulders again. Not that he's particularly suspicious of the boy-- but he's already darted away once, and this time it's actually important. He isn't trying to be menacing, but his hold around Aizawa is, hm, tighter this time. More firm.

Not quite "make out in an abandoned classroom" firm, but "taking this sassy boy to an abandoned classroom" firm, sure. Now let's go.]

Now then, there really is something familiar about you! Are you sure we haven't met before? What's your hero name?

. . . Eraserhead.

[The name still sounds foreign. Not bad, necessarily, but like it belongs to some other person. He'd used it in his internship, and it had taken him a solid day to realize that people were trying to get his attention when they called for Eraserhead to do this and that.

That isn't how they know each other, but far be it for Aizawa to admit that. Let him think they met on the field somewhere.

The classroom Toshinori leads them to is just that: a classroom, unused and empty. There's chalkmarks still on the board, and a stack of things on the teacher's desk. They've got a fair bit of time to themselves, given classes have already ended, but nor are they totally secure.

Not that it matters.]

I'm not going to tell anyone.

Of course, [Toshinori says, and he says like he does believe him, but he also knows that taking the kid at his word when he's a total stranger would be completely naive of him. So! They're going to have to not be strangers.

He shifts a stack of papers out of the way on the desk and leans back against it, looking over at Aizawa. Eraserhead... Eraserhead... He's heard the name before; probably on the hero circuit, when internships were the big thing and none of the other pros could stop bragging about their interns to him, specifically, because he pointedly did not have any-- but there's something else.

Ah-- he snaps his fingers.] You know Present Mic, don't you? I did that interview for that little show of his, and everyone told me it was a waste of time to do anything at a local student radio station... [He's waving his hands like these details are the ones that will jog Aizawa's memory, despite the fact that he most definitely was not on the radio with All Might. Oh well.] When I asked him about his name, he said he picked yours, too. Unless there's another Eraserhead out there.

[Tell him about your only friend, The Loud Boy.]

No, that's me.

[Of course he remembers that interview. Hizashi had been screaming about it for weeks-- less because it was All Might (although that, too, had been a factor; he's just as dazzled by the newest, brightest star as anyone) and more because someone so big had actually agreed to come on his show. It had been an incredible boost in both ratings and credibility, and Hizashi had already gotten several more offers than he would have otherwise.

Aizawa wonders if Toshinori realizes what effect he'd had. He wonders if he even thinks about stuff like that, or if he just wanders around in a blinding daze, rescuing others, unaware of what he leaves in his trail, both good and bad.]

He's good at that kind of thing. That . . . playing to the public and all. Not that it matters-- I don't exactly want to be in the spotlight.

[Unlike you goes unspoken.]

But you do. And you don't want people to know who you were before-- why?

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