Spirit Powered Vigilante, Izuku!

Rooftops, places to talk

Suicide wasn't far too common of an issue in Aizawa's eyes; simple, easy steps that could be taken by everyone to prevent such tragedies were ignored in favor of blissful ignorance. Aizawa Shouta was anything but ignorant.

It was probably because it was so common that he was able to keep his cool as he approached the boy on the ledge in front of him; of course, that cool exterior betrayed the deep hum of anxiety that gripped his heart. "Kid, can you please move away from that ledge?"

Fluffy, curly green hair interlaced with threads of black swirled around the child's (oh god, why was it a child?) head like a maelstrom, creating a thick veil of forest green tufts that were more than long enough to hide their skin color from view.

They were wearing a school uniform he recognized as Aldera's, though it was a mystery how he did considering it was made up of more dirt and mud than thread at that point. Next to them sat a maneki neko doll, its white porcelain body reflecting the light from the street below in a vibrant yellow glow. The kid's head tipped forward slightly, and only Aizawa's several years of experience allowed him to hear the quiet sight that echoed from their lips.

"You don't have to do this." God, he was always terrible at these things; it never got any easier, either, and no amount of experience could make you more prepared for when you met with a jumper.

"Not do what?" The kid asked innocently, almost boredly; their hands, which had presumably been resting on their lap originally, shifted onto the ledge. Shouta's heart leaped into his throat as the boy stood up without a care in the world as if he were used to walking above 7 story drops. Their hands raised back to their chest, hidden from Shouta due to the intense glare formed from the doll's reflective surface. "If you think I was jumping, you're wrong." They, no, he, turned to Shouta with a bored expression; in his left hand lay a half-wrapped burrito that had been held in their mouth just moments prior.

He was just over 155 centimeters tall, with pale skin that emphasized the distinct freckles dotting his cheeks. Striking green eyes bore into Shouta's black ones, their passionate fire resonating with his significantly dimmed one. Shouta smiled inwardly, 'Nobody with fire like that would be a jumper.' Outwardly, however, he released a sigh. "You shouldn't be up here this late kid, let me walk you down to your apartment."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'd like to finish my food up here, sir." The boy bowed deeply before turning away from the hero. Several moments passed in silence before he spoke again. "Don't you have a patrol to finish? You're a hero, right?"

"Even if I wasn't, it's not right for me to leave a young boy to his own devices on a rooftop at..." He pulled his phone from the pocket of his pants, ignoring the numerous emoji-riddled texts from his girlfriend. "3:27 am." He finished.

"I already said I wasn't going to jump." The boy replied calmly, hiding barely a wisp of frustration in his voice. "I'm sure there are more important things for you to do right now than keep me company, Eraser Head." Aizawa felt his eyes widen behind his goggles, he hadn't mentioned his name yet; underground pros like himself prided themselves on their lack of media presence and lack of popularity, it had almost become a contest among their community to see how 'background' they could get.

"I'm surprised you know who I am," Aizawa replied skeptically.

"Any hero watcher worth their salt has heard of you; you're practically the face of underground heroics, whether you like it or not." The kid replied disrespectfully; whether he realized the disrespect or not was a different story, but Aizawa certainly wasn't going to acknowledge it.

"Hero watcher?" Of course, he knew of them, but maybe getting some insight from one could provide him some hints on how to better hide his identity.

"People who watch heroes; I like to keep an eye on all of the heroes here in Musutafu. Each and every one of them provides civil service that I think they need to be recognized for, whether that means posting pictures of their feats as I do with daylight heroes or silently rooting for them as I do with underground ones, I like to watch over them from this rooftop as a silent audience." The boy explained. "And as a silent audience, I'd like for you to pretend I'm not here and continue your job."