Sons of Eraserhead | Dadzawa [BOOK 1]

Chapter 14 - A Crack in the Mask

WARNINGS: blood/injury

Hitoshi had it all planned out.

When he got home he was going straight to bed. It had been a rough day, he believed he deserved it.

His teacher had given him detention for zoning out during class. It was hardly his fault the General Studies course was boring as hell. He felt frustration build up whenever he heard his brothers talking about their chaotic days in the Hero Course. All the interesting stuff happened around them, from people getting their asses kicked to Midoriya breaking his bones every other day (he still means to have a serious conversation with him regarding this).

He kicked a stone along the path out of sheer boredom since he was walking alone. Midoriya and Hanta had been excused from class early, and Neito was hanging out with friends. He didn't mind being alone all that much - it was a rarity living in the Aizawa household, after all - and it was nice to have some peace from time to time. 

The streets had quietened down by now since the school rush was over. The odd student wandered the streets and the occasional person on their way home from work, but other than that Hitoshi was alone. It wasn't late, his phone reading four-thirty, but it was still eerily quiet. He kept the phone in his grasp instead of his pocket, on guard for reasons he didn't know.

Something didn't feel right.

There was something different in the air. Something potentially dangerous.

Someone.

A bright light flashed in the corner of his eye, and suddenly he found himself being pressed against the ground.

He squirmed and struggled under their hold: two hands pinned his arms down and their body weight crushing his back and legs. He hoped that they'd say something, anything. To gloat, to shout, to threaten him. Anything. He just needed a voice. 

A piece of paper was suddenly slammed down in front of his face. He stilled the moment he read it, the words inducing panic.

Gotcha, Aizawa boy.

*******

The stench of sweat and urine stung his nose as he came back around. There was a faint buzzing in his ear as he peeled his eyes open. A screen was curtly shoved in his face, the glare of the light burning his eyes. The tablet didn't move as his vision slowly adjusted, it being held steady for him to read. 

Welcome, Hitoshi Shinso-Aizawa. 

He could feel the presence of others in the room, surrounding him, encasing him in their intrigue and studious gazes. They weren't talking. They knew of his Quirk, how it worked and what it did. They knew him. They targeted him.

"Who are you?" His throat was dry. How long had he been out? The tablet was quickly retracted and another sentence was tapped out. 

Yours truly.

"Blue Crossed." He said. The tablet didn't move, confirming his theory. "What do you want?"

More tapping. 

You.

He glared at the response. "Yeah, no shit. Why me?"

Your name.

"To hell with the riddles. Explain." He lifted his gaze from the illuminated blue text. Their face was obscured by the classic Blue Crossed mask seen in the broadcasts. The two crosses, that had suddenly lit up, stood out against the shadows of the room. He could feel cool bindings tying him to the chair by the ankles and wrists. They clearly weren't very original when holding people hostage. Newbies. A new message was suddenly presented to him by means of 'explanation'.