Chapter Text
Working for the police with a mind reading quirk sounded impressive on paper.
In reality, it mostly meant headaches, migraines, and hearing thoughts you never asked to hear. Thoughts that crawled under your skin, never letting you forget how little control you had over your own powers.
Detective Shinsou leaned back in the stiff metal chair, the cold of the seat seeping through her jacket, her back pressing against the rigid frame. Across from her, the suspect shifted again, metal cuffs clinking softly against the table. His gaze darted nervously around the grey walls, avoiding hers as if making eye contact might burn him.
She hated this room. The table was bolted to the floor, the chairs were uncomfortable, and the silence… the silence was the worst. Silence made thoughts louder, and louder thoughts were headaches waiting to happen.
Her quirk had been active the moment she entered, spilling the man’s inner monologue into her mind like overlapping radio stations.
I shouldn’t have taken the late shift.
My wife’s gonna kill me.
What if I get fired for this?
She pinched the bridge of her nose, letting a small, exasperated groan escape. None of that sounded like someone hiding involvement in a criminal scheme.
She leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on the cold metal table. “So,” she said, voice casual, “let’s try this again.”
The man swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “I told you already. I don’t know anything.”
I don’t know anything.
Why am I even here?
I was just unloading boxes.
She pinched her temple again. That… actually sounded genuine. Still, she pushed a little further.
“Third Street warehouse,” she said, letting the words hang in the air, casual, teasing.
The man blinked. “What about it?”
No panic. No spike of fear. Just blank confusion.
She narrowed her eyes. “You were there last night.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I work there.”
Am I getting arrested for doing my job?
She let out a long, low sigh and leaned back again. Great. Another dead end. The faint buzz of the lights seemed louder now, pressing at the back of her skull.
“Did you see anyone suspicious?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
The man shook his head quickly. “No! I mean… just the usual workers. Trucks came in, we unloaded, and that was it.”
His thoughts were nothing but nervous rambling.
Please let me go.
My wife’s going to kill me.
She exhaled, a mixture of frustration and disbelief. The dull, throbbing headache behind her eyes protested. Twenty minutes of him mentally panicking about losing his job and disappointing his wife, Fantastic.
From the other side of the two-way mirror, officers leaned casually against the walls, whispering quietly among themselves.
Tsukauchi tilted his head slightly. “Well?”
Next to him, Aizawa leaned back, arms loosely folded, eyes tracking her posture with that uncanny ability of his. Quiet, perceptive, and cold.
“Dead end,” he muttered quietly.
Tsukauchi smirked. “You’re quick.”
Inside the room, she let her gaze linger on the suspect for a moment longer, observing the subtle tension in his shoulders, the twitching of his fingers. She gave a low, sarcastic hum.
“Alright,” she muttered.
The man’s shoulders lifted slightly in relief. “…Alright?”
“Yeah,” she said flatly. “You’re useless.”
He blinked. “What?”
She stretched her arms, feeling the stiffness in her back. “You’re not lying,” she said bluntly. “Which is great for you. Less great for me.”
knocking twice on the door. An officer opened it immediately.
Stepping into the hallway, she exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the faint smell of stale coffee wafting from the break room.
“Seriously?”
Tsukauchi emerged from the observation room, already recognizing the expression plastered across her face.
“Dead end?”
“Completely,” she muttered. “Guy’s clean.”
She rubbed her temple again, wincing slightly. “All I got was twenty minutes of him mentally panicking and disappointing his wife.”
Tsukauchi chuckled. “Could be worse.”
“Could’ve been shorter,” she shot back.
Her headache throbbed again. Long interrogations were the worst part of the job, right after listening to everyone’s thoughts without asking.
“I need coffee,” she said flatly, pivoting toward the break room, already imagining the bitter black liquid grounding her before she lost her patience entirely.
She didn’t wait for a response. Tsukauchi followed casually, the faint click of his shoes echoing off the linoleum.
The break room was quiet and nearly empty at this hour. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the faint smell of burnt coffee lingered. She grabbed a chipped mug from the cabinet, the faint scrape of ceramic against her fingernail sharp in the silent space. She filled it from the coffee machine, black, two sugars, letting the warmth seep into her hands before taking a long, deliberate sip.
The bitter taste hit her tongue, she exhaled slowly, savouring the moment.
Tsukauchi leaned against the counter. “So, nothing useful at all?”
“Nothing criminal,” she replied. “Unless worrying about your wife is suddenly illegal.”
He smiled faintly. “You’re sure he wasn’t involved?”
She nodded. “If he was, he didn’t know it. His thoughts were all surface level: work, bills, his wife yelling at him for missing dinner.”
She paused, letting her eyes drift to the ceiling as if it might somehow offer insight. “Whoever we’re looking for didn’t involve the regular workers.”
Tsukauchi nodded slowly. “That’s what we were thinking too.”
She turned sharply. “We?”
Tsukauchi tilted his head toward the doorway. “Someone wanted to hear your opinion.”
Her gaze followed his gesture, and her eyes landed on a man she recognized immediately: messy black hair, permanent dark circles under tired eyes, and a grey capture scarf draped loosely around his shoulders.
Underground pro hero, Eraserhead.
Her eyebrows lifted. “…You look more tired in person.” She took another sip of coffee, her tone dry.
Tsukauchi coughed, trying not to laugh.
Aizawa didn’t react immediately. He studied her, expression unreadable, before shrugging slightly. “Accurate.”
Eyeing him over the rim of her mug. “You were watching the interrogation?”
“Yeah.” His gaze flicked briefly to the hallway.
“You read his mind.”
“Unfortunately. Nothing useful,” she said, her voice carrying just the right amount of sarcasm. “Unless you’re investigating warehouse employee marital anxiety.”
Aizawa hummed quietly. “So he was telling the truth.”
“Unfortunately.” She set the mug down and crossed her arms. “Which means the lead Tsukauchi dragged me in for tonight just died.”
Her eyes flicked between them. “Which brings me to the real question.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why is an underground hero sitting in on police interrogations?”
For a long moment, neither man spoke.
Tsukauchi sighed. “Because this case might be bigger than we thought.”
“How big?” she asked, rolling her eyes in frustration.
Aizawa’s dark gaze met hers. “Trigger.”
The word hung in the air. Her expression hardened. Trigger wasn’t just another street drug, it amplified quirks beyond their limits, often mutating the user and driving them unstable.
“Where?” she asked.
“Naruhata,” Tsukauchi said. “There’s been a spike in incidents over the last few months. Small-time criminals suddenly turning into what the media’s calling ‘instant villains.’”
She leaned back against the counter, letting the bitter coffee ground her thoughts. Her home was in Naruhata; she knew exactly what that meant.
“Blackened tongues?” she asked.
Tsukauchi nodded. “One of the side effects.”
She exhaled slowly. “Great.”
Aizawa’s eyes remained fixed on her, unreadable.
“Which means the warehouse could’ve been a drop point,” she continued. “But the workers didn’t know what they were moving.”
“Exactly,” Tsukauchi said.
Taking the last sip of coffee, she sets the mug down with a soft clink. “…And you brought him in,” she said, nodding toward Aizawa, “because if Trigger is involved, the people using it won’t stay small time for long.”
Aizawa didn’t respond immediately. Then he said simply, “Being an underground hero helps me blend in.”
She exhaled slowly, letting her sarcasm drip through the silence. “Fantastic.”
Tsukauchi smiled faintly. “Welcome to the investigation.”