The Jedis Weakness Is Their Compassion Cool, And Yours Is Fortresses Under Water. This Is The Second

“the jedi’s weakness is their compassion” cool, and yours is fortresses under water. This is the second time it happened

Ode to Us

Chapter 01 - Target Acquired

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Rating: 18+ (assume all my works are)

Warnings: Fluff (tooth achingly sweet) Angst, enemies to friends, unrequited love, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Summary: There comes a moment in everyone’s life where they truly understand the difference between good and bad.

For Shouta Aizawa, there were two. The unlucky bastard.

The first one was the moment you died.

The second one was the moment you came back to him.

word count: 2141

Ode to Us Masterlist ~ Shouta Aizawa Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

There comes a moment in everyone’s life where they truly understand the difference between good and bad.

For Shouta Aizawa, there were two. The unlucky bastard.

The first one was the moment you died.

Nerima-Ku, Tokyo, Japan

Four years before your death

Aizawa was a respectable young man. Hardworking, ambitious…stubborn. He was also, arguably, the most difficult man you’ve ever had the displeasure of working with. 

“No,” you commanded the room full of policemen, voice surprisingly authoritative as the dozen men stare at you with varying expressions. “Absolutely not.”

“–He’s a good hero.” Eizo Tanuma started while he gave you a silent plea with his eyes. ‘Don’t fight this one. Please.’ You saw it, but you had a certain forte for ignoring his heeds. “Newer too, more difficult to recognize. Better for the circumstances.”

“I don’t even know this guy and you want me to go undercover with him!” your attention turned to Eizo, the only man on the police force you could stand. So, imagine your surprise when he called in a favor and sprung this on you. “Do you understand how inane that is?’

“His name is–” 

“I know his name. That doesn’t mean he automatically has my undying trust,” you were quick to interrupt the lackey, too absorbed in your spite to even attempt to remember the poor fool’s name. There wasn’t a single care if the police professionals looked at you as if you were a bratty child, this situation warranted at least a little pushback. Surely, they understood. If they didn’t… well it wasn’t up to you to explain it. “You send me on this mission with this Eraser guy, I can’t promise that the intel will be secured. Let alone ensure his safety. I mean–”

“He doesn’t need protection,” A new voice sounded, tired. Gruff and curt. The man accompanying it was none other than the nullifying hero himself. 

Up close, he seemed more shabby than in his file picture. A spark of sympathy lit in your chest as you remember how exhausted you felt when you started your career as a hero. But it was quickly snuffed to an ember by the soles of the man’s boot as he walked further into the conference room. His distasteful words smothered the ember into ash. 

“And if she can’t guarantee the security of the intel, I will.” You had refrained from slapping that smug, boastful, quiet expression off his face. The effort took herculean strength as he all but saunters into the empty chair next to me, barely sparing me a judging glance before settling his eyes forward with an indifferent gleam.

Your eyes met Eizo’s, the anger so hot that the man was surprised he didn’t evaporate into mist. All he offered was a small shrug and a subtle wave of his hand, apologetic. You remained silent throughout the rest of the meeting, silently seething at the underground brownnoser beside you. 

The very second the briefing conference concluded, you hunted down a certain breezy detective, prepared to exchange some particularly bitter words.

“Tanuma!” you spot him heading to the east end of the department building, where all the paperwork gets filed. You were quick to follow as you knew the man had no reason to head to such a place unless to hide from you. Good fucking luck.

You took about three steps before your hero name was called out. You didn't need to turn around to decipher the deep, gravelly voice of Eraserhead. Reluctantly, you faced him with the best nonchalant cover you could muster up without proper warning.

“Eraserhead, I apologize that you overheard my…insensitive words.” It came out cool from your mouth, so stark in comparison to the anger you could feel boiled just below your skin.That was mean. Petty and deliberate, and you felt bad for a split second. Then his eye twitched…and then it felt good. He’s irritated, excellent. “It was in poor taste for me to discern my regards of the terms to this case in front of the board.”

Silent. He was silent and you hated it. You wanted to know what was going through his head, wanted to dissect the brain of the fresh-faced underground hero who couldn’t be bothered to show up to a briefing on time. It was infuriating how well he kept his face neutral, stoic, and detached. 

There was a tiny, minuscule part of your mind that was impressed with how aloof he seemed to be like nothing in the world could break him down. It was then you decided he must think he’s the shit. It was the moment right after that when you promised to knock him down a peg.

He spoke, breaking the seemingly one-sided tension,

 “While I understand your concerns about being assigned a relatively new Pro Hero as your partner for this mission, you overreacted.” He didn’t move once as the words left his lips, the only signal that he was sentient was the twitch of his finger. “I would prefer if you would try to keep your irrationality to a minimum when we’re on the field. It will only hinder my progress.”

‘Hinder his progress? Irrationality? Overreact?’ Your previous promise turned into a vow as this pompous asshole decided to insult you three different times in 20 seconds. 

Six pegs, you’ll knock him down six. Two for every insult.

You say nothing in return, adding his name to your smite list ranked at number two. The first and only other name? Eizo Tanuma.

With the reminder, you simply left to find said man. You could practically feel the confusion radiating off of Eraserhead as you turned to find name No.1, ready to chew him a new one with all the wrath of Kronos himself.

—-----------

Being disliked wasn’t unusual for the dark-haired man, his casual aloof nature making him seem unwelcoming. Perfect, just how he liked it. And when you, a loud-mouthed mediocre pro who only had a year more experience under your belt than he did, had so graciously declared him not worthy of your trust, he thought it made sense. But then you claimed he needed to be protected and negated his ability as a Pro in the same swoop.

‘Let alone ensure his safety,’ 

You had said, and the comment made his anger rear his head. Ever the composed man, Shouta had given a smart retort and simultaneously took a cheap shot to discredit your concerns. 

Then he chose to express his standards for the upcoming mission to you directly and you left without saying another word. Bewilderment peaked around the corner of his mind. His words would’ve made most others steam with anger, to which he would impassively tell them to calm down, that they were making a scene.

Yet you just…walked away. 

He couldn’t tell if your perplexing actions made him smug or had awoken the flame-encased monster in his chest that he so warmly called anger. If it was the latter, Shouta was not a fan.

Later that night, he had stayed up hours beyond his routinely set bedtime, researching everything about you that he could, which wasn’t a lot. Your record was protected with what he assumed to be connections you had with the Police Department, especially given you worked mostly undercovered; a tidbit of information he had gathered in his endless research.

Shouta only found your name, pro hero alias, and statistics– a particular one stood out among all the rest.

The number of successful missions you had completed in the three years of being a professional hero. 

31. 17 of them were undercover, the rest were patrol busts and raids. 17, you had completed 17 undercover missions in three years without a hitch, averaging about five every year. 

How many undercover cases did Shouta have in the two years of his official professional debut? 

Five. The iron-willed man bristled at the thought, respect begrudgingly poking his brain with a stick before he quickly swatted it away with a wild hand. 

Two inescapable thoughts branded his mind with the same fire from the monster that lurked deep in his chest,

How in the hell did you have so many victories under your belt?

How can he become more like you?

—-----------

You had ripped Eizo a new one, your entire being burst at the seams with irritation, your closest ally had pulled you into such a moronic plan, and forced someone who had little to no experience with navigating the unsteady waters of undercover work upon your shoulders. 

‘It would be better if I do it on my own!’ You had all but growled at the man. 

‘I'm not a babysitter, I’m a professional!’ You shouted in the filing room of the Police department. 

The worst part? He agreed with you.

Since then you haven’t spoken to the man. It's been a week since the original briefing, and two other meetings on the case have been held. Each time, Eizo had tried, and failed, to approach you to which you had conveniently been called to cover someone’s patrol shift. He knew you were lying. Of course he did but whatever the reason, he never brought it up and let you slip away.

You were upset. Anyone logical person would be, you thought. It’s not every day that you are told you have to complete a mission with a nuisance strapped to your back. 

Speaking of said nuisance…

“–...” Eraserhead had called out your Hero name in the hallway after the third, and final briefing for the mission. You were forced to remind yourself to be polite as you waited for him to fall in step with you. A bad attitude will get us nowhere.

It seemed the Erasure hero thought the same thing as he caught up to you with ease and started to walk beside you. “I want to apologize. My words were…ill-mannered.”

The words almost stunned you to a halt, the words seemingly uncharacteristic for the brooding man. It was an appreciated sentiment, albeit three meetings too late, but appreciated nonetheless. 

And so, to extend an olive branch to the man who you’d be trusting to watch your back on the week-long mission, you decided to introduce yourself. Formally, that is.

“–...” Your family name rang out in the air between you two as you continued to your destination inside the police department. The man was confused, you thought. Although it was hard to tell with his stupidly well-crafted aloof exterior. The only indication was the slight narrowing of his eyes. “My name. If we’re going to work together, there needs to be some layer of trust.”

Even if it is paper thin, you mentally added.

Silence is what you were met with for a beat longer. This guy sure likes to take his time.

“Aizawa.” He nodded in your direction, a show of an ounce of respect. It seemed as though he agreed with you, which you took pleasure in. Of course, you were right. You’ve done more times than you have fingers to count on. You had experienced firsthand what a lack of faith between mission partners led to… 

You rewarded him with a new number of pegs– four. And then he spoke again.

“Are we walking to the donut table…?” His voice was laden thick with judgment. 

Five pegs. 

“Yes. Is that an issue?” You nodded hello to the police officer who had a plateful of donuts in his hand that loomed around the table, a warm smile welcomed you.

“They’re unhealthy.”

“They’re tasty.” You retorted, picking up a plain glazed donut with a napkin. All Aizawa did was stare at your motions, bored and unimpressed. Another police officer came up to the table, you gave him a napkin paired with a kind smile before you walked away, Aizawa in tow.

“They’ll make you fat.” Back to six.

“At least I'll be fat and happy,” you bit into the donut just to further drive your point then chewed quickly, the doughy goodness found its way into your happy stomach you before spoke once more, the man now walked in step with you. “I’ll die peacefully knowing that this donut is just as sweet as every other one in existence.”

He rolled his eyes, remaining silent as they exited the building. People shoved and scurried past others, the streets of the city filled despite the late hour. How Tokyo never gets tired, you’ll never know. 

You turned to the man beside you as you zipped up your jacket to stop Jack Frost from nipping at your nose. “You’re prepared for tomorrow. Meet at Matsuya down the street at 20:00. We’ll grab something to eat before we head out to Nagano.”

“I need your phone number,” For a moment, you bristled at the man’s command and then quickly reminded yourself that he would be your official partner starting at 8 PM tomorrow. He does need your number.

You held out your hand, he gave you his phone and you returned it with one new contact.

“Sleep well, Eraser. It’ll be a long week.” 

And oh boy, was it.

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

darth vader voice: if i had a credit for every time some ginger jedi fuck broke into my inquisitorious and flooded the place, i'd have two credits. which is nothing compared to the power of the force but it's weird that it happened twice

the stormtrooper he was talking to: hgrhrrkk (is being force choked to death)

rip anakin skywalker you would have hated dune

if anakin had had a pink lightsaber hilt with little charms hanging off of it he would have been okay