Drive My Car - Eraserjoke

seven

Emi started gaining back her consciousness at 10. But she was under anesthesia, meaning she woke up as a drunk baby if not old lady-above all, she was exhausted. Aizawa entered the room after making some almost-burnt pancake. Who can blame him? There's nothing like his usual-also known as cup noodles-in Emi's cabinet and cooking wasn't his forte. 

"Eraser," Emi uttered through her half-lidded eyes, smiling faintly. "I made you breakfast, it's not the best but you need to eat,"  he replied, rubbing the back of his neck as the underground hero grinned sheepishly. Emi sat up, reaching for the plate, and place it on her lap before giving it a bite. "It's good," she said reassuringly, looking up to Aizawa who's nervously standing before her. Aizawa faintly nodded before sitting on a couch at the corner of the room. 

Her hair was a mess and her eyes puffy. It's the best sleep she had for a while-although count more like a scheduled faint than sleep. But above all, she looks like crap. It's embarrassing how Aizawa is right there watching her. It's not like it's the first time him seeing her like this, but Emi can't help but fluster under his care. 

Aizawa reached for a random book from a table before silently reading it with his legs crossed. It was a poetry book by Charles Bukowski and he was surprised to find it quite interesting-not that he's into poetries nor did he have any time to read books unless it's for the job. Emi stood as she finished eating but Aizawa took the plate from her hand saying, "I'll take that." Emi pouted, "I don't need you treating me like a child." The underground hero turned a smirk, "More like I need you to get better so that I won't need to work so hard fighting villain alone during patrols," replied Aizawa, walking out, the plate with him. 

"Whatever," Emi muttered, rolling her eyes as she sat back to her bed, grabbing a book from the nightstand-the book she read the other day. The worn-out figure reappears, stepping into Emi's room with a can of opened beer in his hand as he took a sip. "Early in the morning?" Emi uttered, her eyes still locked to the page she's reading. "I was looking for a fruit punch but since you don't have them this will do," he replied, sitting back to the couch as before, "Also, I wouldn't call 11 early but I get your point," he smirked crossing his legs, as he lied to the backrest, reaching for the same poetry book. Emi squinted at him for a moment before letting his victory pass. 

"You're not so loud when no one's around," he uttered out of the blue, eyes deadlocked to the poetry called 'Genius of the crowd'. "Like you'd know," Emi replied, eyes deadlocked to her own book. "Harsh," Aizawa uttered, grinning before placing the book back to the table, not bothering to label the page. He folded his hands together as his eyes gazed at her existence. 

"Don't you have other places to be?" she asked, putting her book away. It's unlike Aizawa to be spending so much time bothering someone's peaceful life. "If you ask if I have other places I'd rather be, I'd say no," Aizawa replied, rubbing his chin with a finger as he looks up the ceiling in a thinking pose teasingly. A year of dating Emi in the past has turned the table upside down now that he mastered teasing her. Breaking up didn't change one bit of his skills. "Player," Emi muttered with her eyes squinted. 

"I see you don't plan to tell me anything about what happened to you or what caused it in the first place," He sighed, "but you're not dying aren't you?" 

Emi's eyes widen, was that why she was receiving so much attention from such laid back man? "What?!" she yelled, "No way! I planned on living 'till my late 80s, maybe 90s to see the grandchild of my grandchild, that'd be funny." 

"Well, that's not possible," Aizawa replied, "even if you give birth right now you'd probably have to wait for another 25 years for your child to marry someone and by then you'd be 53. Let's say another 25 years for your grandchild to marry someone, then you'd be 78. For your grandchild to have a child you'll have to survive 103 years which means you'll probably die before seeing the child of your grandchild, much less their grand-" Emi's chuckle cut him off, "Come on, Eraser, don't be such a downer. Anyway, I'll just live as long as you will." 

Aizawa felt his cheeks turn warm, so he looked away. "Whatever," the underground hero muttered. 

...

A knock on the door. A pattern Emi recognized. It's the pattern Emi and Sakaru keep to themselves as a sign for each other's arrival. And this very pattern means it's school-related.

"I'll check it out-" Aizawa uttered as he stood up but Emi cut him off, rushing out, "No, thank you." It won't be a good idea to have Aizawa sticking ears to Ketsubutsu's business, much less Kurokage related. And Emi herself got no idea what it might be, she only hopes that it's nothing troublesome.

And she was right. Sakaru was standing right in front of her as she pulled the door open. "Hello there," she greeted. It has been two days since they last went to the licensing exam and Sakaru has been helping Emi's class with training so much for her to just see him as some colleague. "Hello, Emi'san," he replied as awkward as ever, "before you ask, it's good news." Emi sighed in relief before turning a sheepish grin-Sakaru's always good at reading her.

"Kurokage-san asked me to give you this," Sakaru pulled out a thumb-sized glass bottle of purple liquid, "it's the antidote." Emi raised an eyebrow confused as she hesitantly reached for it, giving it a closer look. "Antidote?" she muttered questioning. Why would Kurokage give her an antidote? She never knew he can make one. "Turns out he only knew that the injured student was Fujiro-his son, I guess he felt guilty," Sakaru continued, "But who knows? Neither of us can really understand how that brain of his works." 

"Fujiro is Kurokage-san's-?" Sakaru single nodded. 

"I see," Emi grinned, "well, thank you!" Emi brought the mini-sized bottle closer to her lips before chugging the purple liquid right away. Above all, she can really live better without all the damn marks throbbing her skin inside out, and it won't be nice worrying her students by not attending school tomorrow. 

Well, but then she passed out.