The Aizawa Effect - (Aizawa X OC)

The Interlude

A/N: Hi everyone!! I'm so excited to be back and to begin producing content again! Things have been busy as ever at work, so forgive my tardiness! I appreciate everyone as always <3

"Good morning Miss Caesar, you know this routine, but I'll run through the details again. You are here because you are an agent of the U.S. government that went overseas for a mission or contract. These questions will help to reacclimate you and make sure you have a chance to process any incidents that may have affected you after completing international work." Agent Arnold Smith's eyes scanned the checklist in front of him and then glanced back at me.

"I was only gone for a month," I said plainly as I leaned back in a cold, metal chair that sat in front of a cheap plastic desk in one of our agency's interrogation rooms.

He sighed and nodded. "Yes, but you know this procedure is done by all U.S. government agents and contractors after returning to the States."

"Of course, Agent Smith. Please continue," I encouraged lightly. I've had to do this assessment at least five times in my hero career already, so this should be second nature for me.

"Thank you, Rae. This should be quick. Now, you were on a fast-paced, low-risk contract to Japan. This was considered a private agreement. During your time, did you encounter any villains?" Agent Smith began.

My mind flashed to many instances, but besides bumping into an angry man on my way back from the store and the light patrol observation I did with Shota, I didn't.

"I did observe some patrol procedures for learning purposes, but besides that, no."

Agent Smith wrote down my answer on the paper. "And did you find yourself in any high-stress situations?"

I stifled a laugh and kept my face firm as I thought back to the first time I sparred with Shota and later, our rematch. His taunts and aggressive retorts echoed in my head as I fought him for his respect and recognition.

After a second or two, my body almost visibly reacted as I began seeing a replay of him ending things with me that night as I begged him to reconsider. The stress, the anger, and the sadness that took over my body after hearing those words almost made me lose control.

"No." My monotonous tone was sufficient to convey indifference and hide the truth.

"Did you make connections with anyone in Japan?" Agent Smith looked up at me as he waited for an answer.

"With some of the faculty and staff as one would expect," I admitted in hopes that he didn't need more details.

Agent Smith flipped the page and read ahead before pulling out the case brief. "And your recruiter, Shota Aizawa. You worked closely with him and his class as per the contract you and WJR Hero Agency signed with UA. How would you describe your connection?"

I wondered what version of events Agent Smith wanted to hear. Maybe he was interested in the story of how I fell in love with Shota, or maybe the one where the same man shattered my heart into a million pieces.

I could recount every single moment we lay in bed together and talked about our fears and dreams when we weren't trying to stifle our cries and moans for each other. If that wasn't enough, I could recall the different meals he cooked for me and the fact that he always made sure I ate, even on patrol nights.

"Shota Aizawa was my recruiter and colleague. We had a decent bond since I was assigned to teach his class." My answer was as accurate as I could be without putting the poor agent through the mental gymnastics that giving details would cause.

The Agent hummed and continued, "Have you seen him since you returned?"

My eyes opened a little wider, and I froze. That was a loaded question, and my answer was more complicated than I could ever explain.

Some nights were bad, and I saw him in my dreams. Other times, it felt like he was right there, begging me to reach for him then seeming disappointed when I couldn't. His voice lingered in my ears constantly, and I was always looking around to find him.

"Have you seen him?" Agent Smith asked again, a glint of curiosity in his eye at my sudden reaction to the question.

"N-No."

"So that's a no?" The agent's pen tapped the desk in a sporadic rhythm that showed he was waiting for me to reply directly.

"No, I haven't seen him or spoken to him since I left Japan two weeks ago."

Agent Smith stared at me a bit longer; our eye contact made me uneasy. "Okay, now the final question is open-ended. How are you feeling?"

Sometimes, I felt like my life wasn't my own. On those days, I took a step back and did grounding exercises, or I let retail therapy readjust my psyche. When that didn't work, I tried to rest my brain in hopes that it remembered the difference between fact and fiction. When those efforts failed, I stayed awake replaying what I could have done better.

Maybe if I told him sooner? What if I never went? Maybe if I stood my ground? What if I never came back?

My mind constantly pushed and pulled me like a yo-yo, but recently, my thoughts have been stuck roaming my imagination. This damned quirk has been a blessing and a curse. I was constantly strategizing, planning, or, as the silhouette says, learning from my mistakes.

It's been a little more than two weeks since I've been back from Japan. There are many days where I use my quirk for up to 16 hours straight to fulfill all the roles I've accepted. Some days, it felt like I was never really experiencing life without the stupid quirk active. It was like being stuck in a never-ending trance where the world was moving incredibly slow but my thoughts were racing.

Despite my quirk showing me a meandering society, the city was as busy as ever as Spring began to bring summer heat.

I should be excited. This was my favorite time of year besides the allergies and having to constantly sweep the yellow pollen off my porch before it stains. Instead, I spent most of it inside. From work, I get home and stay there until it's time to go to work again. Being able to sit with my thoughts could have been good for reflection, but it's been miserable.

On the flight back home, Jay and I sat in first class. Given the situation, he was extra attentive to me and tried so hard to get me to eat, but my stomach was in knots and doing summersaults. He tried showing me magazines or even talking to me about my time in Japan, but I could barely respond beyond a hum or a nod here and there. I applaud his patience because I was beginning to lose mine.

The real drama started when I got through my front door. "A surprise party to welcome me back home," they said. Yeah, right; this was more like an interrogation.

Mom had so many questions about what happened and why I didn't seem happy to be home, and Mr. Gonzales kept talking about things eventually working out or something. I could barely remember the details, because I kept focusing on that damn silhouette laughing at me from afar.

On the other hand, Mia barely said a word to me, but maybe it was for the best. She probably decided that I wasn't ready to talk or maybe she was tired of my pity party.

Either way, I needed to get through this moment of weakness. I will get through this. I just need to renegotiate this contract and get back to him.

"I'm fine, doing well, and determined to push forward," I say with a smile to conclude my evaluation.

Agent Smith stapled his papers together and shook my hand, "See? A routine procedure that was done in no time. Don't get yourself in any trouble, now!"

I waved at him and put my head down. If he knew what I was planning to do to get answers on how to reconnect with Shota, they would have never cleared me for work. I felt a little bad for withholding the truth, but frankly, I was determined to do what I could to be with him again.