"ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏ ʜᴇʀᴏ, ꜱʜᴏ. ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ, ᴀ ʜᴇʀᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋɪʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ." Aizawa Shota may perhaps be the most stoic and reserved hero to ever grace Japan's ever-growing industry of flashy smiles and overwhelming presences. Spending his days kept to himself, he has managed to go through his years diligently ducking past every attempt at companionship thrown at him with great success. In work such as his, he believes it's better kept this way. He always believed that. But a nagging tug at the back of his head tells him there is more to his own strange behaviour that even he doesn't understand. Like something he has long-since forgotten, only living on through these odd idiosyncratic motions. And then, when his sight becomes damaged by a clumsy slip-up with a passing villain, circumstance shoves him into the hands of a man that has all the answers he could ever want, about his forgotten past and about himself. But some things, perhaps, should be better left forgotten. | a bnha fanfiction about love, but it's definitely not the healthy kind
13 parts