Chapter Text
Shouta would never forget the day that the best part of him had died.
It was just a normal day. A normal day in the life of a pro hero. Well, as normal as a day in his life could be.
He was headed to the store for snacks. It was Eri’s birthday. She just wanted a night in with her family. A night with treats and Disney movies. And Shouta was determined to give it to her.
Hizashi was cutting work early to get home for the event, while Hitoshi helped prepare. The movie was on standby, the blanket fort set up, and all that needed to be fixed was the lack of snacks. It wasn’t a special day for his daughter without her signature favorite treat- candy apples.
Briskly striding into the convenience store just a few blocks down, Shouta found himself buying a little more than planned. It was supposed to be quick-in and out- there was only one item on the list. But the freshly lined shelf of juice pouches were too good to resist.
Eri liked juice pouches too. Sometimes. And these specific pouches were new flavors, and only the best for Eri, he lied to himself. Little white lies that helped time pass by. What a sap.
As Shouta approached the register and paid for the items, the cashier shook his head at the little TV that sat on a shelf above them. “Poor hero.”
“Another disaster?” Shouta asked as his snacks were bagged. The cashier nodded, a stern look of pity on his face directed towards the hero that was injured on-screen. Shouta didn’t bother to look. Today was about his daughter.
He was on his way back home when a crowd had surrounded the electronics store nearby, where the front window had TVs set up and playing the news.
About to ignore the commotion, Shouta began to walk past the mob until he heard murmurs that had his blood run cold.
“The Voice Hero? What a shame.”
Shouta started to push through the crowd to get to the nearest screen, but soon enough, giant displays all around the city explode with a great tragedy. “The Voice Hero- Present Mic, Dead.”
Shouta dropped whatever was in his hands and stood there in disbelief. No matter where he looked, all he saw was his husband’s face and the words “DEAD” surrounding it.
His cell phone rang, and he didn’t bother listening to Toshinori’s voice as he clicked the little green answer button. Everything was just a blur- the voices, the screens, the words- he couldn’t see any of it as his world came to a screeching halt before crashing around him.
“Aizawa? Aizawa, are you there?”
Shouta hung up. He quickly ran to the scene, or tried, taking what seemed like forever to get there. Toshinori stood just between him and the police tape, trying to keep Shouta from barging his way in.
“Aizawa! I was starting to worry-”
“Where’s my husband?” Shouta spat. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. He just wanted his husband. Toshinori’s look of distress said nothing if not everything.
“Where’s Mic, Toshi?” He tried pushing past the tall man, only to be met in a restraining hold to keep him from doing so. It took everything in him not to cry, but how could he not at that moment? His tears came from a place of newfound sadness and rage.
He pounded on Toshinori’s chest as he tried to push and kick his way out of the old hero’s embrace like a 5-year-old. “Where’s Hizashi, Toshi? Tell me where my husband is!”
But Toshinori wouldn’t give out. He held Shouta tighter, and the gruff man soon gave up. They both knew what it was. What they were there to see. Toshinori just wanted to delay it a little longer for the sake of his friend.
A moment flew by before Shouta broke the solemn silence. “I’m fine,” he lied.
Toshinori hesitantly let him go. “I’ll take you to see him now.” He turned to the scene, exchanging a few words with a nearby officer that let them pass the tape.
There were bits of rubble all around them, varying in sizes. Boy, if that didn’t look familiar…
“Shouta, before you see him, I have to let you know that you can’t touch him.” Toshinori said.
“What? What are you talking about- Why can’t I see my husband?” Shouta’s emotions were getting the best of him. He was mad now, and he looked as if he were seeing red. Though he couldn’t be blamed. “I don’t care about crime scene protocol, I want to see my husba-”
“It’s not that, Aizawa-kun,” Toshinori held his hands up to motion Shouta back. Shouta did so, not trying to waste time by being aggressively hugged again.
“Yamada lived a life of fame. I know that put restraints on your marriage, so for those exact reasons, we must focus on preserving his legacy.”
Shouta glanced past Toshinori, stealing a glimpse of Yamada’s body, covered in injuries, blood, and rubble. If he wasn’t already dead inside, he was now. He nodded, before leaving. As much as he thought he did, Shouta didn’t want to see his husband like this.
Not again.