Chapter Text
“Hey Shota! Wake the hell up!” Deborah screamed at her older brother, having been sent to check in on him. “I made breakfast and it’s getting damn cold!”
“Mmm, five more minutes.” Shota murmured, briefly turning in his bed. That was, until Deborah flung her smoothie into her brother’s face.
“You’re cleaning that up yourself. I have an appointment with Bruno.” She said, leaving before her brother could tell her off. Needless to say, Shota did not like his sister dating a much older man (she was almost 19, while Bruno was 30) with a criminal record, but he couldn’t really tell her what to do. She was 18, and he had no job.
If she wanted to live her life with a wannabe crook, who was he to judge? She would come back crying in no time
But for now, Shota had to focus on getting dressed, cleaning his bed, and going to…Do something. Honestly, he would probably just see what his friends were up to. Which for the last couple years, was always some form of work.
Because unlike Shota, they did have jobs.
Shota had known Shino for the longest. They met at Nana Shimura’s kindergarten class, where they were the quietest kids, preferring to play cat cafe while the other kids, like Hizashi, ate boogers.
So it made sense that after graduating high school, Shino went to study business and started her own cat cafe..with a tiger. Because when Shino heard an animal smuggler had been arrested in town with a tiger cub, she had to raise him as her own baby. But despite having an apex predator, the Mandalay Café was Shota’s favorite place to visit.
“Do you wake up every day and think ‘I’m in heaven’?” Shota asked his friend, all the time scratching a pixie bob and ragdoll on their tummies. “I wish I thought of this.”
“Normally I would ask you to work here. But let’s be honest, you wouldn’t get any work done.” Shino sighed fondly as Yawara the tiger nuzzled against her side. “You would just play with the kitties.”
“You know me well, Shino.”
“That I do, Sho…So how’s the job search going?”
Shino had asked this before. Hell, all their friends had asked him that before. Because while not all of them had the most shiny jobs, Shota was the only one still jobless at 25. “It’s not going so great.” Shota sighed. “How did you know you wanted to open a cat cafe?”
“I like cats and serving people coffee and sweets.” She explained, like it was logical (which to him it really was). “What do you like to do? Maybe find work in that.”
“Don’t you think I already tried that?…But they weren’t hiring at the juice pouch factory, and I didn’t pass the entrance exam to become a veterinarian three years ago.” Shota explained, though he didn’t explain why he just didn’t reapply to the veterinarian thing.
“Yo! Sho-Bro!” After Shino, Shota went to visit his best friend, who had a job at the local radio station as a DJ. “Are you here for the coffee boy job?”
“No, Zashi. I’m not here to make you coffee.”
“Come on, we can be colleagues.” The DJ fake whined, right before he went on the air. “Good morning, people! I’m your host, Hizashi Yamada with a special guest.” Very briefly, Shota was worried about his friend forcing him onto the air. But then, a ten year old girl with a guitar and a pair of massive headphones entered. “My ultra talented niece, Kyoka Jiro!” Little Kyoka grumbled something under her breath, but still went into the booth. “The little musician sung so great last Christmas, I offered her to show her stuff on the air. So good luck, Gumdrop!”
“…Please stop calling me Gumdrop.” Kyoka grumbled as she wanted to start. Only for her to run into the biggest hurdle introverted kids ran into.
Stage fright.
Singing for family was easy, but doing it for strangers was something else. Fortunately, Shota also was an introvert surrounded by extroverts. So he knew what to do..or at least, he thought he did. In reality, he gave a thumbs up so awkwardly, Kyoka thought ‘I can’t be worse than that homeless guy’, and sang her song beautifully.
Hizashi was very proud of her, as was Shota.
After Hizashi’s studio, Shota took the bus across town to some of the rougher neighborhoods. The windows were boarded up, and the lingering smell of someone cooking something burnt and possibly illegal. Nemuri lived on the fourth floor of a building whose elevator hadn't worked since she had Satoshi.
“Nemuri! I got the money you said I owed you.” Shota sighed as he climbed up seven flights of stairs and knocked on the door. Nemuri opened it, wearing an old hoodie, a pair of yoga pants with a hole in the knee, and bags under her eyes that looked permanent. Her lipstick was half-worn off and there was a visible bruise on her collarbone. “…Should I call the police?”
“It was a client, Sho. I’m fine.” Nemuri sighed. “Now what did you mean by owing me money?”
“You sent me a text about me owing you 3000 yen.”
“…Come in before Satoshi hits you with a Nerf dart for ‘loitering.’” Nemuri said with a little smirk.
The tiny apartment smelled like instant noodles and hair dye. The space was cramped, cluttered with thrifted furniture and mismatched blankets, but it was clean, lived-in and loved. “Hey Toshi, did you send a message to uncle Sho for money?” She asked her nine year old son, who was currently explaining chemistry on a whiteboard in front of a camera while wearing a too big labcoat.
“I’m busy right now.” The boy said very quickly before going back to explaining his lessons.
“So..he conned me?” Shota said, blinking in disbelief.
“It seems like that, Sho-Sho.” The sex worker laughed. “Nowadays, Satoshi is becoming quite the business man.”
“Why?..Also don’t sound so proud of him scamming me.”
“*sigh* He’s collecting money so I can quit my job.” Nemuri muttered, rubbing her temple.
Satoshi didn’t look up as he addressed his unseen audience. “Today we’re testing the pH levels of household items.”
Nemuri walked past him, lit a cigarette by the stove, and leaned against the counter. She exhaled slowly, like it was the only real breath she’d had all day. “He’s been like this for months.” She said, voice softer now. “Filming chemistry tutorials, all so I don’t have to…sleep around that night.” The mom explained. “I told him I’m not ashamed of what I do, that I keep a roof over our heads, food on the table. That this” she gestured to her body. “is work, like any other job. But he keeps trying to save me anyway.” She laughed, dry and bitter. “He’s nine, Shota. He should be watching cartoons and arguing about Pokémon types, not learning how to edit video so he can pay for my rent. You think not having a job makes you feel useless? Try having one that makes your son think you need rescuing from your own life.”
There was a long silence, broken only by the muffled sound of Satoshi explaining something neither Shota nor Nemuri explained. Finally, Shota said, “Have you ever thought of… doing something else?”
“Why? Do you want my job. You might become a fine prostitute.”
“…*Sigh* If you need any help, you know where to find me.”
“I know, Sho. But maybe focus on yourself for a while.”
As much as it hurt, Shota knew she was right.
Later that evening, Shota found himself in the back of The Crawl Space, a half-basement club with a creaky floor and a stage the size of a coffee table. It always smelled like old beer and burnt toast. There were seven people in the audience, three of them looked like they had nowhere else to go.
Emi stood under a single flickering spotlight, wearing an orange bandana, her oversized hoodie and scuffed sneakers, while holding a mic like it had personally offended her.
“So I downloaded one of those fitness apps,” she said, pacing slowly. “You know, the ones that tell you how many calories you burn during sex?”
A pause. A guy in the second row perked up.
“Yeah, so I burned two calories last night. And the app had the nerve to ask if I ‘want to log it as exercise.’ Like, excuse me? That was an emotional rollercoaster. I should be awarded combat pay.”
A few chuckles. Not great, but better than silence. Emi rode the wave with her usual dry charm.
“I also tried meditation recently. You’re supposed to clear your mind. But the moment I closed my eyes, my brain went, ‘Hey, remember that time in 7th grade when you peed during dodgeball?’”
The audience laughed a little harder at that one. Shota laughed, too, louder than the others.
He wasn't faking it. To him, Emi was the funniest, prettiest person in the universe.
After her set, the couple met in the alley behind the club.
“I got a giggle from Fred tonight.” Emi said, nudging Shota with her elbow. “That counts as a win.”
“You were great.”
“I was okay.”
“Okay is better than most.”
Hearing this ‘pep talk’, Emi leaned against her boyfriend. “You always say the right thing….You hungry?” She then asked.
“You shouldn't. You already paid last time.”
“I’m your girlfriend, not your loan shark. Besides, I heard you got scammed by Kayama jr.” She giggles. “Come on, I got us both discount ramen coupons.”
“Still,” Shota sighed. “You’re the one working. I’m just…”-“Stuck?” Emi cut in gently, causing her boyfriend to nod. “Well Sho, stuck doesn’t mean worthless. I love you, even if I’m the breadwinner right now.”
Emi said it with a smile, comforting him despite all the stress she had to be under right now.
Shota NEEDS to get a job, and fast.
Oboro Shirakumo had always been the kind of friend who showed up without warning but with food.
“Shooooota!” Oboro sang into his phone at exactly 7:45, just as Shota was considering going back to bed. “I need a favor. My school’s short a speaker for career week. Come inspire some hormonal gremlins!”
“You want me, the unemployed sad-sack, to inspire children?”
“Exactly! They need to know where not to end up.”
“…I hate you.”
“Love you too. Meet me at UA High. Wear deodorant.”
Oboro was waiting outside the school in a wrinkled button-down and sneakers with holes in them. He looked more like a youth pastor than a teacher, but the students loved him. They called him ‘Cloud Sensei’ because of his puffy hair and easy attitude.
“You clean up nice,.” Oboro laughed, punching Shota lightly in the arm. “Like a man who only slightly hates himself today.”
“You’re gonna regret giving me a mic.”
“That’s the spirit.” Oboro laughed as they entered the school. They then went towards the gym, where rows of bored students sat on folding chairs.
Shota talked for five minutes. And boy, he didn’t sugarcoat anything. He talked about failing to become a vet. About sending out applications and never hearing back. About how sometimes, even if you try your best, nothing happens.
No student would want to hear that..but weirdly, they listened.
Afterward, Oboro clapped him on the back like he’d just delivered a TED Talk. “See? Told you you’re good at this.”
“I’m good at talking,” Shota muttered. “Not exactly a career path.”
“Maybe not yet. But you’ve got something, Sho. Kids can tell when someone’s real. You should come back sometime.”
Shota Aizawa teaching, who would believe that. Even his friends call him a prick sometimes.
They left after the last bell, with Oboro insisting they stop by a takoyaki stand tucked down an alley he knew.
But halfway down, they saw him. A man leaned against the wall near a shuttered storefront, brown hair, golden eyes, and a surgical mask and gloves. He was a bit younger than Shota and Oboro.
“Get out.” The man growled as Shota tensed immediately.
But Oboro, of course, didn’t. “Hey man, we just want to get some food.” The teacher said with a smile.
“Then you should’ve taken a different alley.”
“Let’s just go.” Shota grabbed his friend’s sleeve.
But it was already too late. The man raised a pistol from his coat. Not as a threat. Not as a warning.
Just a shot.
Oboro jerked backward, a red bloom spreading from his right eye. He collapsed instantly, dead before he hit the ground.
Shota froze. Time stopped. His ears rang and he couldn’t breathe.
The man looked at him, unbothered. “Wrong place.”
And then he turned and disappeared down the alley’s far end.
That day changed Shota.
The police were unhelpful, with only a slightly older officer called Kan being somewhat helpful, giving Shota a name of the killer.
Kai Chisaki.
Anyhow, it changed Shota. He went to a teaching college and graduated in four years, taking over Oboro’s old job as High school teacher. He got his life together, bought Emi a house, and then proposed.
But at night, Shota actually avenged his friend’s death. He trained his ass off, even made himself a special weaponized capture scarf. All to become his city’s savior while the cops mostly did nothing.
And he would call himself Eraserhead.…Look, Hizashi came up with it.
Five years later.
It was one at night when Eraserhead got a hint from Kan, his reluctant information at the police station. Apparently the Shie Haisaikai was moving drugs into town near the harbor.
Meaning that Shota had another chance at getting to Chisaki.
“Careful, guys. Can’t break the merchandise.” Toya Setsuno told his two friends, Yu Hojo and Soramitsu Tabe.
“Why are you talking like a gangster? Like calling it merchandise.” Tabe asked skeptically as he took a bit out of his sandwich.
“Aren’t we gangsters?” Toya asked with a smirk, causing the third man of their three to roll his glass eyes. “How do you even see what I’m doing?”
“I know you, Toya.” The blind man named Yu said with a smirk as well, right before Tabe got wrapped up by a white cloth and swung against a wall.
“Toya Setsuno, 21. Yu Hojo, 28. Soramitsu Tabe, 24, you three are under arrest.” Eraserhead growled as he jumped down from a lamppost. “Now where is Chisaki?” He asked as immediately, Toya and Yu pulled out their guns.
“If it isn’t Eraserhead. Don’t you rather sleep right now?” Yu growled, to which Toya added ‘with the fishes’ before firing at Eraserhead. Unfortunately for them, Eraserhead wrapped his scarf around the guns and ripped them out of the duo’s hands. At this point, Yu switched to crystal knuckle dusters while Toya pulled out a katana. And if that wasn’t enough, Tabe and his steel fake teeth returned.
“Guess the boss will be happy if we do in the Eraserhead.” Toya mused as Yu went in for a punch. Eraserhead wanted to wrap his scarf around him, but then Tabe attacked from the back and ripped it with his teeth, distracting Eraserhead long enough for Yu to land the hit. Lastly, while Eraserhead was slightly dazed, Toya managed to make a cut on the vigilante’s arm.
But then, Eraserhead smirked, much to the trio’s confusion. But to the long black haired man, it all made sense. Because now that all three are close, they couldn’t dodge his scarf attack, nor did it matter that the scarf was a bit shorter now thanks to Tabe. So before any of the trio could comment on the smirk, Eraserhead already wrapped his scarf around Toya, swung him around against the other two, and then threw all three into the water. And just in time for the police to arrive, meaning Eraserhead had to leave again.
He'll get Chisaki one day, even if he had to a hundred years old.
After returning home, Shota quickly patched himself up (fortunately the cut wasn’t deep) before Miss Aizawa realized he was injured, or even gone.
Fortunately, Emi was still asleep in their bed, notes with jokes scattered at her side. Though when Shota climbed back into bed, his wife seemingly rolled into his arms automatically.
Moments like this are why Eraserhead was needed. So moments like this could happen without worry.