This book is about to end. I love you all so much. UwU
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"You risked your career to save us, Naomasa, for that-"

"Be quiet. I don't want to hear anything from you, Aizawa." He waved his hand, the other carrying the suitcase full of files and paperwork. They were just outside a diner, since Aizawa had insisted on talking to him.

"What I did was.. Wrong. Do not worry, I'm sure that my office would be afraid to lose their one and only chance of catching criminals." The buzz of the city made them both feel alive, rejuvenated- for one.

Aizawa looked at him for a moment or two, with a shot of Jack Daniel's in the other, misty and closed. "It goes against-" "-the system, yes," Tsukauchi admitted, watching the bartender bustle around, tending to clients and tipping bottle after bottle of liquor into mouth-wide glasses.

A woman was splayed on the counter, and the patrons simply put a jacket over he wasted body, patting her back as the bartender sympathetically placed a cold glass of water beside her matted brown tangles.

He wiped around her, before returning to chat with a man who had a silly mustache. "I did it for.. Well, I don't know who I did it for," Tsukauchi rumbled, a light humorous tone at the end of his sentence when he voice dipped an octave lower. He messed with his black hair, nails scraping his scalp lightly as he shrugged.

"It was by instinct, I guess." He stood up, not bothering to look at his watch as he patted Aizawa's back, who looked at him strangely. "Funny," His tone was dry. "Didn't think detectives felt anything."

"Well I guess your guess was wrong. We'll catch up later."

"Yeah, sure," not ever, Aizawa meant to retort. "I will not say my gratitude again, if that's what you're waiting for, Tsukauchi." The man took it lightly, raising his palms up as a joking defensive gesture. "Well, Aizawa. Stay out of trouble. And please tell Izuku to stay safe for me."

Shouta tousled his messy hair, a long exasperated sigh as his nose filled with the smell of alcohol. "Be safe, Tsukauchi." Aizawa looked at his groggy reflection through the rippling surface of Jack Daniel's, the mellow music making him feel exhausted.

The soft tinkle of the bell chime on the doorframe meant that the detective has left.
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"SURPRISE!"

"Fuc-"

Aizawa ducked, just in time too, when Mic lunges for what seemed like a tight embrace,  smacking against the doorframe was Nemuri chuckled lightly behind him.

"M-Mic-san!" Izuku, Who was in his arms squeaked, looking at the crumpled form on the ground, the blond cupping his forehead in mock pain. Izuku's eyes looked up at Aizawa, who shrugged unapologetically- the two of them turning to Nemuri.

She was smiling. Happily, manicured hands clasped in a polite gesture on her stomach, clad in dangerous high heels and a clean business woman suit. A cake sat right beside her, contrasting the official atmosphere- it was crudely made, white frosting a bit more generous at the right side, the whole thing looking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, with droopy cream on it and a shaky "Congratulations!!" written in tacky blue syrup.

Aizawa looked at her, deadpan, but Izuku looked absolutely elated, little body twisting to try and corkscrew our of Aizawa's arms. He hesitantly allowed that, only for Izuku to slam into Nemuri, who skidded a few inches to try and not tumble on her high heels. "Oh! Aren't you the cutest!" Her smile widened into a hearty grin, hands ruffling his hair fondly.

"This whole place smells like Pillsbury Dough Boy's ass, Nemuri. How much vanilla extract did you even use?"

".. F-Five cups..?"

"Goddammit."

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"So I've decided to leave." Hisashi said, voice final but light, dipping low in a pool of sadness.

".. Hisashi-" "No, no." The man shook his head, a forlorn smile on his face as he casted a look at the sleeping form of Izuku- bits of icing lining his lips, asleep and curled into blankets.

It was quiet, now that Aizawa's friends were gone- now that the party is over- and when they left, they left a depressing crater behind them illuminated by a lavender glow filtering through ghostly curtains drawn to block out light- yet some on the moon's rays seemed to find a home on Izuku's nest of messy hairs.

He was delicate under the subtle glow, childlike, without the innocence stripped from him- and most of all, peaceful with a kind face. His round, freckles cheek was pressed on a flowery pillow, tiny hands clamped on the covers as if to say "don't go".

".. It's yours and Izuku's life," The man spoke, his voice quiet and sad and fond at the same time, green eyes peeking at Aizawa, the look of resignation made the latter's heart drop. "Not mine. I do not belong. Izuku is your son now," and it felt strange, leaving his lips like that. He used to treasure Izuku, so much that it hurt after his mother had died. But.. "He is yours, Aizawa. I have failed to be a good parent, and I am paying the price."

"I thought I was protecting him by leaving him like that- to protect him from a world that is all fire and screaming and crying- but in the process I've neglected him so much. I'm a Demon, and I am not fit to parent him."

Aizawa's shoulders dropped. Hisashi smiled, so sad that Aizawa felt his stomach churn- and under the moonlight like this, he could see Hisashi's aging, subtle wrinkles and gaunt wizened cheeks. He was.. Sorrowful and hurting. But he was final.

"Please take care of my child, Aizawa." He bowed, before taking Aizawa's hands and squeezing. "I trust you to guide him in the right direction."

"Hisashi-"

"Please, don't. I'll be leaving now. Izuku.." Hisashi let go of him. "Izuku deserves more than me."

And he vanished, leaving a quiet Aizawa, staring at the spot where the man once sat, and understood.

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