Of all the reactions Shouta has experienced to his Quirk, outright laughter is not one of them.
“Oh, Eraser, you should see your fucking face right now!” If not for the feral flashing of teeth as they laugh, the way they are so clearly at home in the shadows, he thinks the one with the mop of golden hair would remind him of someone. Someone else blond and blue-eyed and smiling.
He shakes his head. He’s been spending too much time with people cooing over how much one of the latest batch of UA hopefuls resembles All Might and it’s starting to get to him. That’s all. Not every golden smile is the Number One Hero’s and he’s back-checked Toogata’s father, who is very much an accountant and not All Might.
He activates his Quirk once more just to make sure, and this time, even the anxious little green one snickers.
“That’s not going to do anything, Eraser-san,” Green offers, more politely than their cackling comrade.
“No, no, keep going. This is the most fun I’ve had since I kicked Fourth Kind’s teeth in.” Shouta had heard about that incident. He’s inclined to agree with Snipe’s dry assessment that the Hero had, in fact, had it coming.
He’s not about to tell these two troublemakers that.
“You can’t both be Quirkless.” Cat-Might’s tail flicks in amusement. “I can see your Quirk.“
“Well, nice as it was to have you drop by, Eraserhead,” Green chirps, brightly, as Shouta’s eyes burn. “We’d best be off.”
“Wait-“ Before he can even finish his protest, his eyes slip shut against his will and the shadows of the alleyway close in around them and the two vigilantes disappear. “…that’s two Quirks. So how-?”
“Well, we call ourselves Eraserhead,” Izuku offers, and the lady blinks at him. “But Eraserhead calls us ‘you little hellions stop stealing my identity’, so… you know, it’s kind of up for debate.”
“You’re not Eraserhead.” Naomasa had known someone was impersonating Eraserhead. Had processed too many villains on Shouta’s nights off, found too many tip-offs in areas he wasn’t patrolling to be fooled by this little ruse, but he hadn’t expected to start his Tuesday evening shift confronting a pair of children in an alleyway.
Said children are now facing him, one, with a mop of dusty blond hair, brandishing a knife and – is that a syringe?? – while the other holds the villain in front of themself like a shield, some kind of makeshift bo staff still strapped to their back. Their features are obscured from where they are haloed by the street lights behind them, but he can make out dark hair and a mask.
“Would you believe you’re not the first person to tell me that?” And that muffled voice is far too young. “Quite rude if you ask me.”
“Kid, I’ve worked with Eraserhead for a decade now. I’m pretty sure I know he’s not, what, 8?” The kids glare.
“We’re not 8.” That rings true, which is reassuring.
“Ok, but neither of you are anywhere near old enough to be licensed heroes.” The blonde one cackles, amused and almost mocking, like they know something he doesn’t. “Where’re your parents?” An obstinate shrug.
“Listen, Mr True Man, sir.” At that, dark eyes widen, but they forge on. “We’re not looking for trouble, so I’m just going to leave you the serial child rapist and go.” With that, they shove the zip-tied criminal forwards and bolt, sprinting for the street before Naomasa even has a chance to react.
Cat just watches, dangling their legs from the fire escape, as Izuku weighs the pros and cons of claiming Eraserhead’s identity to his best-friend-maybe-husband’s face.
“I’m Eraserhead!” The would-be victim blinks, tilts his head.
“I don’t think you are, lil listener.“ The approaching sirens run jitters through Izuku’s blood, bouncing on the balls of their feet, before they leap up to grab the fire escape.
“Stay safe out there, Mr Present Mic sir!” And Cat offers him a salute before they both disappear, leaving Hizashi to tilt his head and frown.
“Zashi?” Hizashi turns at the voice, puzzled frown still in place. “What the hell–“
“Well, I was just about to deal with him,” he gestures to the villain, unconscious at his feet, “When these two little listeners dropped by. Couldn’t be more than kids, but they took him out in a heartbeat.”
“You get a name?”
“That’s… that’s the thing.” Shouta raises an eyebrow. “One of them told me they were Eraserhead.” Shouta groans, running one hand down his face, but Hizashi has known him long enough to recognise relief beneath the exasperation. To recognise hope.
“Sansa.” The officer glances over from where he’s carting off the villain. “Your fucking kids’re back again.”
“Oh, are they?” The ginger tomcat’s eyes light up, ears pricking. “Hey kittens!” Cat’s ears prick up, a handful of rooftops away.
“Cat dad!” In an instant, the alley is flooded with children, descending from all different directions and suddenly looking a lot friendlier than when two of them had dropped out of the sky to terrorise Hizashi’s would-be attacker. “I didn’t realise you’d be on tonight!”
“And I didn’t realise you lot would drop off the face of the earth for three months after I last spoke to you, but here we are,” Sansa scolds, ruffling one’s golden curls. “How are you all?”
“We didn’t drop off the face of the earth, we took a vacation!” the green one refutes, taking his turn at being petted.
“Is “vacation” what they’re calling it, nowadays?” the purple one drawls, sounding for all the world like Shouta at that age. “Thought those were meant to involve rest and relaxation.”
“Are you saying you didn’t find it relaxing to beat the absolute shit out of those Quirkist bastards trafficking kids?” the little blonde in pink chirps, kicking her legs where she’s seated on a fire escape.
“Ah, true,” Purple cedes, and Hizashi can just about feel the maniacal grin.
“You gonna introduce us to the pros, then, Tamakawa, or are we waiting for Chaos to do it for us?” The tallest of the group, dressed head to toe in dark blues, the only one who could be even close to an adult, questions, toying idly with the flames bristling in his palms.
“I thought you might like to do the honours, Green.” Sansa nudges the green one, who positively lights up. “Since you all already know who they are.”
“You’re Present Mic! Limelighter, radio host, & teacher at UA,” the kid rattles off, immediately. “Cat, Koko, and I love your radio show on insomnia nights and early patrols! Frost isn’t allowed to listen because his dad’s a piece of shit, but he likes it when he gets to! Crypt mostly just likes you because you’re close with Eraserhead.”
“Hey!” Purple protests. “Don’t expose me!”
“And you!” Green rounds on Shouta without pause. “Are Eraserhead. You’re so cool, the way you use your Quirk to level the playing field but then fight–“
“So if you’re aware I’m Eraserhead,” Shouta interrupts, before the kid can continue on a full spiel. “And we’ll get into the disturbing implications of a bunch of teenagers recognising me and Mic out of costume later–“
“Don’t worry, Eraser, they’re not exactly normal teenagers,” Sansa assures, still scratching behind Gold’s ears.
“–you must therefore also be aware that none of you are Eraserhead,” Shouta finishes, as if the cat officer hadn’t spoken. There’s silence, for a moment, as the absurdity of the situation sinks in, and then all five kids burst out laughing.
“I’m surprised it’s taken a year, to be honest,” Navy drawls, letting the flames in his palm extinguish. “Yes, Eraser, we’re all aware we’re not you.”
“Why’re you giving people my name?” Shouta questions, then, brow furrowing.
“Throws the pigs off,” the pale blue one points out, speaking up for the first time in a bland monotone.
“If they don’t have a name to track, it makes us extra hard to pin down, especially if no one is sure whether it was us or you,” Purple shrugs, lazily, crossing their legs and looking up from their position on the floor. “Besides, saves us the effort of picking code names.” Shouta sighs, heavily.
“We already picked code names,” Green counters, reasonably. Eraser rolls his eyes so hard Hizashi almost wonders that they come back.
“…I wish I could critique the reasoning. But you can’t just keep stealing my name,” he scolds, tiredly. Blonde and Navy snicker.
“Aww, c’mon Eraser, where’s the fun in that?” Shouta looks between them like he’s trying to decide whether to kill them or himself.
“Vigilantism isn’t meant to be fun,” he settles on, finally.
“Eraser,” Sansa warns, quietly, but Shouta is already angry. Already seeing visions of blue hair and blood and death and–
“This isn’t a party trick, or a cool story to win kudos with your friends. You’re putting people in danger – yourselves and others–“
“We were already in danger!” The one with too many mutations to track – red and black and golden fluff and, up til now, entirely unthreatening, as they folded under Sansa’s ministrations – burrs up, feathers fluffed and both tail and shadows lashing as they push to the front of the group. It’s only over a decade of heroics that allows Shouta to notice the way their step falters when their Quirk emerges, something unreadable passing through sharp blue eyes. “Don’t come here and start talking like you know shit about us, Eraser. We’re not here for a fucking laugh, but we have a right to try and find joy when the world is willing to cede us so little of it.”
“Woah, hey, little listener, he didn’t mean anything by it–“ Hizashi tries, raising placating hands, but Gold just hisses, retreats to higher ground – the fire escape, where Blonde wraps them into a hug, scratches at the little crevice between the base of their horn and the feline ear.
“What Cat means,” Green offers, twisting anxious hands, “Is that we know what we’re risking, Mr Eraserhead, sir. None of us… none of us wanted this. We all dreamed, once, of being heroes, but… well, let’s just say this is the closest any of us can get.”
“You’re all still young,” Hizashi frowns, while Shouta is still studying them all, dark eyes flicking from the two on the fire escape, back to the group on the ground. “Why not go to Hero school?” Dark laughter scatters through the group.
“That would actually a viable option for Crypt, here, if it weren't for the school discrimination,” Navy offers, prodding the purple one. “As for the rest of us, four of us are in hiding and only half of us have functioning Quirks. Oh, and most of us are homeless.”
“So, we’ve got almost a dozen children running around in colour-coded disguises,” Shouta assesses, eyeing the board Hizashi has assembled in their study. “With up to five accomplices, including at least one capable of making professional grade support gear. One of whom may or may not be the vigilante Viridian, who disappeared almost 15 years ago?”
After months of working both with and against pro-Heroes, Ingenium is the first who actually introduces himself.
“Hey wait! You’re the hell kids!” Despite themselves, the kids do pause. There’s no question Ingenium could catch up to them if he needed to – his Quirk gives him a distinct advantage on that front – but he just stays standing on the street below, looking up at them.
“Most people prefer the term “illegal vigilantes”,” Shouto suggests, dryly.
“Oh, come on. Except for Tall, Dark, and Scary over there, none of you can be much older than my baby brother,” Ingenium shrugs, “Besides, half the heroes at my agency started as illegal vigilantes.”
“Yeah, we heard Team Idaten runs a reformation program,” Izuku pipes up, sitting to dangle his legs over the edge of the roof. “It’s a cool theory, the way you’re incorporating Quirk analysis into team formation.”
“Tensei, are you harassing my kids?” Sansa questions, as he and Tsukauchi step out of the cop car.
“I was just making sure they know Idaten’s an option for them,” Tensei defends, throwing up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’m not after your kittens.”
Sansa had known someone was impersonating Eraserhead. He and Naomasa had shared multiple coffees and late nights studying the discrepancies in dispatch reports to callouts ostensibly from Eraserhead for him to not be aware. But he hadn’t expected to start his Tuesday evening shift confronting a pair of children in an alleyway.
“Kitty!” One of them pipes up, brightly, from behind a mop of golden-blonde hair, barely disguising feline ears and horns and a thrashing tail. Even the halo of wild curls does nothing to hide those huge, scarlet wings.
“Cop, Cat,” the other one – taller, older, warier – hisses, stomping on their foot. The first one – Cat – shrugs, swinging the crowbar-that’s-not-quite-right up to rest over their shoulders.
“We were just looking after this serial child rapist for Eraserhead.” It’s a bald-faced lie and everyone involved knows it. He doesn’t need Naomasa’s Quirk for that.
“Eraserhead isn’t on patrol in Musutafu tonight.” The golden one shrugs, again, but makes no effort to correct themself.
“Look, man, do you want the paedophile or not?” the shadowy one demands, rolling his eyes.
