Work Text:
Birds are twittering outside in the early morning and rays of sun cast through the tall windows. The small apartment is filled with light that forms a halo around Hizashi’s hair. Shouta stares for a long moment, hand ghosting across the space between them. He reaches across the couch, touches his friend’s hand, picks it up gently. Pulls himself closer, until there’s barely space between them on the couch. Hizashi swallows.
“What the hell did you do,” Shouta deadpans, staring down at the bandages wrapped around Hizashi’s left forearm.
“It’s really not what you think-”
“You told me you were doing your show last night. Did you patrol instead? You have to tell me these things. Were you with the agency? What-”
“Woah, woah, woah! Don’t worry, bro!” Hizashi laughs and pulls his arm away. “I wasn’t fighting! I was… achieving a lifelong goal.”
Shouta raises an eyebrow. “Which was?” Here, Hizashi’s laughter melts into nervous chuckling. Shouta’s eyes narrow. “Which was?”
Hizashi sucks his teeth. “Well, you know I’m always wanting the right look, yeah? The vibes and all? Well, now I think it’s really-”
“Hizashi-”
“It’s quite near being achieved. I really think, Shou, now that we’re nineteen, practically adults, we should embrace this freedom-”
“Hizashi-”
He pauses, fluttering his eyes innocently. “Yes, Shou?”
“Did you get a tattoo.”
“Yes, Shou.”
Shouta pinches the bridge of his nose. He inhales deeply. Exhales. Looks up at his friend.
“Why now?” He asks, voice tired.
“Like I said, I’ve always wanted-”
“Yes, but why now? It’s seven in the morning.” Shouta glares. Hizashi smiles, giving a little guilty shrug.
“Why not?”
“There are so many reasons why not. The first being that tattoos in general are pointless.”
“If you say-”
“They’re irrational.”
“There it is.” Hizashi sighs. “Rational or not, I like it,” he says, quieter now.
Shouta thinks for a moment. “...What is it?”
Hizashi perks up. His smile grows sharp at the edges as he wags a finger in Shouta’s face. “Nuh, uh, uh! Not yet. I want to show you, and it’s gotta heal first.”
Shouta rolls his eyes. “Alright, whatever,” he mumbles, then grabs Hizashi’s arm again. “Now, where did you get this done?” He inspects the arm. “Was the place clean? How did they bandage it- I swear if you had some random person do it-”
Hizashi laughs. “Don’t worry, yo!”
Two weeks later, Shouta curses as he bangs his knee on a side table when a loud squeal echoes through the apartment. Hizashi comes tearing out of the bathroom and to the window, holding his arm up in the light. The coffee still held next to Shouta’s mouth floats when he activates his quirk to turn Hizashi’s off.
“Shouta! Look!” Hizashi bounces on his heels, staring down at his forearm and making no effort to move closer. The coffee plops back into the mug as Shouta lowers it to the table. He trudges to where Hizashi is vibrating.
“I thought you said I had to wait.”
“You did! But it’s basically finished healing now. This is how it’ll look.” He looks up finally and rolls his eyes when he sees floating hair. “Turn that off.”
“Will I lose my hearing if I do?” Hizashi just swats him. Shouta turns off erasure.
“Alright, alright. Let’s see it.”
When Hizashi holds out his arm in front of him, Shouta doesn’t know what to expect. It certainly wasn’t this, though. A soft blue cloud curls over the length of his inner forearm, the colors muted and gentle. Swirling lines float through it, inhabiting the sky of his skin wholly. There’s a slanted line cutting the shading in half. The left is bright, how a cloud may look when the midday sun is shining on it. The right is darker, coated in the deep blues of night and embracing the shadow.
It takes no time at all for Shouta to understand what it is. Maybe he can understand why Hizashi wanted it. He feels a soft smile spread across his face.
When he looks up some time later, Hizashi is beaming.
Over the next few years, Shouta sometimes comes home to see his friend with a mysterious bandage. Hizashi always calls when there’s a work accident, so Shouta always knows when to worry and when to roll his eyes.
At age twenty, his friend comes home with radio waves at the base of his throat.
At age twenty-two, his partner comes home with a headphone jack circling his ankle.
At age twenty-four, his husband comes home with half a sunflower painted behind his ear.
Now, Aizawa Shouta is sitting in his living room, far too exhausted for a twenty-five year old superhero. Hizashi is bouncing again, the leather of his costume squeaking horrendously and his obnoxiously tall hair falling further down with each hop. He’s clutching a piece of paper and attacking Shouta with the energy he’s radiating.
“No.” Shouta deadpans. Hizashi’s eyes turn pleading. “Go change, talk after.” He lays back on the couch and closes his eyes, not bothering to look as he hears Hizashi huff before dragging himself to their bedroom.
Ten minutes later, and his nap is over. Blonde hair now briefly rinsed and free from its gel prison and leather exchanged for sweats, Hizashi resumes his rampage. He’s gesturing wildly as he speaks, barely keeping his quirk contained.
“Okay okay, just hear me out, bro-”
“Please don’t call me that, we’re married-”
“Yo, just listen. So, my designs are hella cool, yeah? I know you think so.” He tilts his head at Shouta, who gives a begrudging shrug. “Exactly. Now, I know you don’t dig tattoos a bunch, they’re not your jam or whatever.”
“They’re unnecessary.”
“Mmhm, well, I still think you should consider this. It’s small, so it’d be quick, barely an inconvenience.”
“I can’t believe you’re actually trying to convince me to do this…”
“You’re not being very open-minded right now, Shou,” Hizashi says, hands on his cocked hips and pouting. Shouta sighs.
“Sorry.”
“Just, like, c’mon, Shou! It’d be so legit. The absolute cat’s pajamas.” Hizashi raises his eyebrows a few times, smirking.
“Are you trying to sway me with cat related slang?”
Hizashi sighs. He sits down on the couch next to Shouta, who’s eyes soften along with his partner’s tone.
“Shou, honestly, I…” He rubs a hand along his forearm, tucking an ankle behind the other. He smiles to himself, as he looks down at his wrist. “We’ve known each other for, what? ten years?” Shouta nods, forehead creasing. “Yeah… and as long as I’ve known you, you’ve wanted nothing more than to be a hero. We both have. Saving the world… you’re really meant for it.”
Shouta looks down, hair falling in front of his face.
“You saved me,” Hizashi whispers. Shouta inhales shakily. “And, I want us to keep doing this. Together. As long as we can.” He takes a deep breath. “But, we both know that eventually…”
“‘Zashi…”
“And this…” Hizashi picks up the piece of paper lying next to him. He hands the sketch to Shouta. “Would make me feel better about it. Like… we’ll always be together, or something.” He mumbles a little at the end, blushing. Shouta’s staring at the drawing.
It’s a cat. A little kitten, small and greyscale walking across the page. Its tail is swaying behind it, its head turned as though it’s looking around a corner. There’s tiny goggles with glass lenses hanging from its neck. His hands tighten on the paper.
When he looks up again, Hizashi is biting his lip. His hair is tucked behind his ear, and he’s twirling the ends of it. His glasses slip down his nose and he’s looking up over them now and the sun is coming through the window behind Hizashi just right to make him glow. Shouta feels his eyes burn and blames the dry-eye.
Tattoos are irrational. They hurt, take time to heal, give away your identity, are only for aesthetics. But… but. But Hizashi likes them. Hizashi likes identifiers, things that make him unique, make him him. And now, he wants to share one. Share something that will stay forever and tell those that see it that it’s them. Together. Regardless.
And it would make Hizashi happy.
For Shouta, that is always rational.
A week later, they find themselves in a tattoo parlor in Tokyo. The whole thing is over with in a little over an hour. Shouta stares at his new art, It’s small, nestled into his left inner elbow. Easily covered by long sleeves, yet easily seen when he wants to. There’s little accents, making it out to be an orange longhair. Hizashi’s is the same, but it’s on his right arm, and the cat has black fur.
They go to a small cafe after, sitting in a booth by a window and comparing the tattoos. When they put their arms together, it looks like the cats are booping noses. Hizashi is practically giggling, his smile lighting up Shouta’s entire being. He feels himself return it.
Maybe this was a good idea.
Shouta leans against the door once it closes behind him and sighs into the quiet of the house. He relishes the peace, knowing it won’t last. Not a minute later, he’s proven right when a squeal echoes down the hall and little feet patter all the way up to him. Eri barrels into his side and hugs him tight. He smiles easily, patting her head.
“Dad! Guess what Papa told us about!”
Shouta cringes slightly in his mind. He’d done a lot of embarrassing things in high school, most of which Hizashi witnessed. He sighs and moves to sit on the couch.
“What’d he tell you?”
“You have a picture too! Just like him!”
Shouta’s eyebrows draw together. “A picture?”
“Uh-huh! On your arm!” She’s got her hands clutched near her chest, clearing holding back her excitement. Shouta chuckles.
“Oh, that. I haven’t shown you before?”
She shakes her head vigorously. She’s a little more hesitant when she asks, “Can I see?”
Well, he can’t exactly say no to her. He nods. Right when he tugs his sleeve up, the other two walk in. Now he grimaces.
“Holy shit, is that a tattoo?” Hitoshi walks over, leaning over the couch behind Shouta and staring at it. Eri has climbed on the seat next to him and is looking wide-eyed at the kitten, her hand hovering just above it.
“Yes. Also, language.” Hitoshi rolls his eyes. Shouta looks down to Eri. “You can touch it.”
She smiles brighter, softly petting at the tattoo. She squeals a little, mumbling about how cute it is. From where he sits on the arm of the couch, Hizashi is practically melting at the sight in front of him.
“Why’d you get it?” Hitoshi asks.
Hizashi and Shouta exchange a look, before explaining everything.
Eventually they’re all on the cushions, the kids between them as they show the matching art.
“You know,” Hizashi says, “when you two are old enough, we should all get a matching tattoo!”
Eri nods with a giggle at the suggestion and Hitoshi just shrugs, but his lips quirk up at the edges. Shouta sighs, accepting his fate as he rolls his sleeve back down. He swings his arm over the back of the couch and leans in, looking at this family.
“How about an apple?” Eri says. She looks at Hitoshi before adding, “a purple apple!” They all laugh, handing out ideas that Hitoshi escalates into ridiculous rather quickly. Shouta smiles fondly.
He is, however, not getting another tattoo.