Chapter Text
Thick, dripping oxygen flows through Eraserhead's lungs as his thick boots silently slam across rooftops. His clothes are ill-equipped for this kind of movement; undercover meetings tend to cause annoyance between the fabric. His sweater is rustled by the wild wind, worn joggers fighting for their rightful place on his skin. Darting through the streets to arrive on time, syncing movement into the shadows and melting into the scenery as if he’s another leaf traveling through the sullen streets.
He launches down onto the pavement and fixes his scarf, although the humidity has him considering removing it- but experience tells him otherwise. His breaths come out steadily, flowing behind him as he moves silently. The low pitter-patter of feet sways drunkenly through the alleyways around him as he reaches a more occupied area; the early morning bustle mainly consists of drunken idiots and overworked businessmen huffing and puffing their way to the train. Aizawa supposes he could fit into the second category, although early mornings never occupied his fancy, preferring to run off coffee until he could sleep for an extended time. He’s cleared out of his thoughts by muscle memory, eyes scanning the bar ahead. The sign dangling above the bar is almost indecipherable; stray lights on the rectangular lump flicker. Once upon a time, it may have looked fresh and respectable, but nothing in this district looked new since the birth of all might. He hesitantly draws closer to the door, squinting eyes flicker through the dim stained-glass window and pick up vague shapes inside. He sidesteps a passed-out sack of a man, boots crunching on shattered glass and scattering it further across the disheveled street, and he lifts a hand to knock.
4 rhythmic knocks, and the door swings open.
Aizawa's eyes scan the room as he walks in; his footsteps echo through the empty room. When he turns around, the man who had let him in stands lamely, unmoving, with a kind twinkle in his eyes. He bows his head at the short, plump man with an unruly ginger beard and a comforting, warm smile. The warmth of the man's smile is welcoming compared to the uncomfortable, sweltering heat of early summer air in Japan, causing Aizawa to wipe the sweat off the back of his neck and keep moving deeper into the desolate bar.
A littering of doors that slowly become heavier and harder to get into eventually lead him into the goal of the ridiculous early morning summoning. They’ve had a breakthrough.
It’s been a year since the group had originally met up with whisperings of shie hassaikai movement in underground trading rings, but from dead end to dead end brought forwards a littering of dead bodies that nighteye couldn’t fund anymore, and the assignment was placed on hold only 5 months after opening.
Yet here he is at 2 am- in the punishing heat of his only night off in July -to hear of a supposedly new break, apparently urgent. He finally draws close to the last door, armed guards on either side of it, but they lower their weapons when met with Aizawa's hero license, and he’s allowed through into the conference room.
The rooms are littered with low murmurs of no importance, and Aizawa's dark eyes scan everyone inside as he makes his way across the room to the last empty chair. The table In front of them is clean and wooden, like a poor attempt to make the room feel less like a furniture display and more like a meeting room where people should feel welcomed in. Around him is a littering of pro heroes; the dew from being underground is an unwelcome feeling that he’s grown to miss but not look forward to. Aizawa looks at those he doesn’t recognize, all untrustworthy, but Nighteye normally has good alliances. So, he puts aside his suspicions and readies himself for the meeting despite being late. Except he’s not the last person to arrive... because as soon as he sits down, the peaceful low mood deserving an early morning meeting is disrupted by a loud, BANG! A relatively new hero, young and popular. Neither qualities are advised for an undercover meeting, but nonetheless, Pro hero hawks has made his entrance obvious. Smiling, no... smirking as he speaks to Nighteye, both later than normal. Aizawa narrows his eyes in irritation as Hawks draws closer. The hero doesn’t usually irk him as such, but it's so, so early. In fact, too early to deal with Hawks' bullshit, but despite that, the young man opens his annoying mouth anyway.
“Heyyyy ‘Zawa, whatsup man? Excited for our mission?”
The blond man drawls with a youthful lilt, and Aizawa's eyebrow quirks in confusion. Nighteye’s rustling of papers breaks through the murmuring in the room, and the man quickly organizes the notes and takes out his USB for the mission out of his sleek bag. Aizawa glares up at hawks before answering the bird.
“Our mission?”
His gruff voice inquires, and his eyes investigate. Attempting to figure out what Hawks knows that he doesn’t yet. The veins in Hawk's throat shift as his head tips back to laugh, much louder than needed, but before he can answer, the lights turn off and the projector blares on. The low buzzing- evidence of a budget cut recently. Nighteye’s voice cracks through the room like an order.
“Listen in. Apologies for the delay on information, but we’re here to work now and with new information and additions.” Nighteye straightens his tie and pushes his glasses up before continuing. The reflection of the laptop screen distorts Aizawa's view of his eyes. He takes a deep breath and continues.
“Like always, but even more today, the information in this room cannot leave. Knowing this information now, if anyone would like to or needs to leave, then please do. There's no quitting beyond this point.” The room sits in silence, and the air is still around them. A few newer underground heroes leave, not ready to carry the heavy burden of experience – but God knows how they got through hero school. Aizawa thinks it's fair; some people aren’t made to be big heroes, and there’ll always be high demand for good people. His eyes draw back to Nighteye again, and he nods to continue.
“Thank you, now... we’ve been told through an informant that the trading ring we’ve been searching for is incredibly difficult to get through. That is why Hawks is here today; he has a connection that can get us through the barriers and into the ‘market’.”
Aizawa feels Hawks predatory eyes close in on him, ready to attack, and he can tell that the responsibility is falling onto him once again. Maybe when this is all over, he’ll go on holiday, Yamada's been begging Afterall.
“Aizawa?”
The black-haired man snaps back out of his daydreaming, bowing his head slightly.
“You want me to go right?” Aizawa questions, years of working with Nighteye, and everyone would get to understand the man's silent conversations. It makes Aizawa question if that was the real reason All-Might split from his genius sidekick. The rough pads of his fingers massage his temples, and he rests his elbows on the shiny wooden table. The heroes around him are silent; it's unnerving.
Nighteye nods, glasses slipping down, and he uses one finger to push them back up.
“Yes. The higher-ups have discussed and decided you would be the best option. Apparently, it's not only been the red-light district acting up lately. Drug aggressions have been increasing in the den too.” He looks at Aizawa knowingly; they’ve both felt the danger bubbling at night lately like hot oil ready to burn you if you step too close. Who knows if this mission is what will finally make it spill over? Nighteye clicks a button on the new remote; a photo flashes up from the projector onto the wall.
The photo depicts a collage of them, the opening of a large sewer behind a random shop, half shadowed by the dumpsters of backstreets and overflowing trash of a discarded city. He can basically smell the sickly sweet scent of rotting treasures, unwanted objects that have turned for the worse. Nighteyes' voice overshadows the photo.
“This is the entrance to the den. Hawk’s connection will guide the two of you through the sewers and get you into the sheep's market. Once you’re inside, we can’t guide you through because we aren’t sure what’s down there. But investigate. This will save lives, find out anything and everything that they’re selling illegally.” He takes a break to sigh, but Hawks interrupts.
“Sorry, man, I'm just gonna add my two pieces... Aizawa, avoid engaging, alright? Undercover jobs aren’t completed by one infiltration, as you know. If this goes well you can expect more quality time with your favourite hero!” he winks after that, offering up a sly smile as a symbol of peace and then rushes to finish up his offering. “of course you can say no, you just may endanger the lives of millions of innocent occupants of Japan while you’re at it” he says lowly, his claws drawing around Aizawa like a trap. For fucks sake, he has no choice now, but it’s not like he was going to say no anyway.
“I'll do it, I'm the most experienced underground hero here with undercover work.” Aizawa sighs like it's muscle memory, but it is true. Sending a rookie on an infiltration mission would be a huge mistake... which would be classified as hawks, but the way the kids' eyes observe and the way he carries himself come across as a cover for something much more intriguing underneath, but hey, that's way above Aizawa's pay grade to care about. Nighteye clears his throat and continues.
“Thank you. You’ll be heading out tonight. I know it’s last-minute, but we’ve been waiting months for a chance. If we don't act now, we might have to wait another year on this cold case.”
It’s true, and a good point, and Aizawa knows that, but damn, there goes his peaceful night, no marking because well- he has no homeroom class this year, so it was meant to be a night in with Yamada and the cats, but then he got the irritating call that brought even more irritating yet important news.
Hawks and Aizawa's eyes meet from across the room, one smug and one tired, but both sharing a knowing look and a nod of agreement. It’s time to go.
Their preparation is last-minute but nonetheless effective; mics are slid on, and high-tech small cameras are inserted into folds of clothing hidden from the eye.
“Hey eraser, before we go- have some faith in me tonight, yeah?”
Hawk’s weird statement has a weird aura to it, making Aizawa question himself, but trust is key, and too much trust is ignorance.
“Okay, don’t mess up, kid,” he says gruffly. His teacher side has to come out at least once this year, I suppose.
“Hey-”, he slings an arm around Aizawa's shoulders before continuing their banter, “I’m 22 man.” His face is a ridiculous pout, unusual for an ‘adult’.
“Yeah, exactly. A kid,” Aizawa chuckles, a rare small smile on his face from the pleasant conversation. Smothering the doubt for the mission they’re about to face, an unsettling grumble weighs down his stomach at the thought of it... something’s going to happen, but will it be good? Or bad? However, his self-doubt is interrupted by Nighteye’s voice in their earpieces. Signaling the start of the long night, and many more to come...
“Mission start. 3:12 am. Do well and stay safe.” Nighteye's grainy voice mumbles through the earpiece.
"What the hell have I gotten myself into?"