Disclaimer: I do not own Boku No Hero Academia.

Hello everyone! So it's been a while since I've written a story like this, but it wouldn't leave me alone. I need to give a shout-out to my very good friend, FungusWitch, who got me into BHNA and without her, this story would not exist. I had the concept for a character like this for a very long time and BHNA was the perfect medium to use her. I know some people are leery about OC-fics, particularly romances, but I promise you that Youmu is more than what she seems at first. Wait and see. :D

As a note, by the way, this takes place roughly a year later than the Field Trip Arc, meaning that Class 1-A are in their second year of hero training.

Enjoy!

Youmu Tanaka tugged a brush through her mid-length hair, carefully untangling the light blonde waves. Next was the tube of mascara, which she applied gently and with great care, blinking a couple of times to make sure she'd applied it evenly. It felt good to finally be out of that gaudy orange jumpsuit, especially since it clashed horribly with her colouring. The white dress she was wearing for her release was a little plain, but it was better than nothing.

A loud hammering on the door nearly made her poke herself in the eye with her mascara wand. Youmu flicked her gaze towards the door.

"Oi, Tanaka!" barked the voice of her prison guard. "Hurry up in there, I ain't got all day!"

Youmu rolled her eyes. In another hour or so, she'd never have to hear that annoying woman bellowing ever again. The perpetually-scowling, narrow-eyed prison guard had been the bane of her life for the past nine months, making sure to let her know who held the power in every way she could. Of course, Youmu knew that as a prisoner, complaining about the guards being cruel was laughable, so she merely shook her head.

"All right, I'm coming."

Giving herself one last critical look in the mirror, one side of her lip climbing higher than the other as she smiled at her reflection, Youmu deemed herself acceptable. For now, at least. Smoothing her dress over her hips, she approached the door and reluctantly opened it.

"About time," Karin Yamamoto grunted, looking at Youmu with naked dislike on her face. "Let's go."

Youmu responded with a placid smile and didn't answer. Karin grunted and lead Youmu down the corridor, her footsteps loud in the quiet. Youmu found herself holding her breath as they approached the Warden's office, her heart galloping like a horse at a racetrack. All she had to do was play nice for a little bit longer, sign some forms and then she was finally out of here. She reminded herself over and over as she walked, the repetition and clear instructions to herself giving her something to focus her energy on.

The Warden's office smelled like pot-pourri and cheap cleaning products, and a fan was buzzing somewhere. Youmu sat down in the wooden chair in front of the Warden's desk, feeling a bit like a naughty child being sent to the principal's office. Karin leant against the door, folding her arms over her chest.

"Ah, Tanaka-san, here you are!" the Warden said as he came in through the door behind his desk, puffing a bit as if he'd just run a marathon. He sat down at his desk, mopping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. "Good, we can start on the necessary paperwork..."

Youmu gave the Warden a polite little smile, though could feel Yamamoto glaring daggers into her back, like her own personal heater. Youmu ignored her as the Warden rifled through his desk drawer for the documents, adding almost absently;

"...and your guardian should be here shortly."

Youmu blinked, her eyes darting to meet the Warden's.

"Guardian?"

Aizawa Shouta was tired.

Granted, that was nothing new. He lived his adult life in a perpetual fog of exhaustion - hell, his teenager years too, being an alumnus of UA academy, where they worked you to the bone and then some.

But this had nothing to do with his teaching job, for once. This was something quite different. Under differing circumstances, he might have turned this job down - he had quite enough on his plate already with twenty students to worry about, plus underground Pro duties on top of that. Babysitting a former criminal wasn't something one could undertake lightly, even if said woman had passed all evaluations and was now out for "good behaviour."

But, if he were being truly honest, Aizawa didn't have it in him to reject the request. For a start, the logic behind it made sense, since he was one of the few people who could easily neutralise Tanaka's Quirk and would not fall for any other little tricks she might employ. Aizawa was a man who respected logic above nearly everything else. Secondly, the pay was good. Very good. Aizawa was not a poor man, since he worked two jobs, but he still wasn't so wealthy that he could sneer at a paycheck of that size - he had cats to feed. And, for the third and final reason, one he'd be loathe to say aloud, but a deep rooted sense of duty compelled him to accept. Despite his grouchy demeanor and no-nonsense approach to life, he was terrible at walking away from something like this. The situation was… delicate.

Aizawa glanced down at the case notes in his hand. Tanaka Youmu, otherwise known as Homewrecker. Her Quirk, Lovestruck, granted her the power to make anyone she looked at fall madly in love with her. Those with mind-related Quirks were resistant to it, but of course, Erasure made Aizawa the perfect candidate to keep an eye on her and make sure she got to her appointments when she was supposed to. Plus, since she was known as the (former) minion of a dangerous villain, if the public got wind of her true identity, the consequences could be quite serious. Her boss had never been caught or punished for his crimes, instead leaving the people he'd manipulated into taking the fall and the blame from the public. It made sense that he was chosen to be her interim guardian, as much as it irritated him.

So, it was with a grimly determined air that Aizawa got out of the car, the Hosu Women's Correctional Facility looming over him. He didn't look much like the Pro hero Eraserhead today, dressed in a shabby black suit and sans his signature yellow goggles and his scarf. Today was a formality, so his wardrobe had to reflect that, much to his chagrin. He'd even had to comb his hair back.

Entering the building, he approached the front desk where a woman was busily typing away at a computer.

"Eraserhead," he said tiredly to the receptionist. "Here for the Tanaka meeting."

"Here you go," said the receptionist, reaching under the desk and passing him a clip-on ID. "Just turn left at the end of the corridor, go through the gate, and it'll be the third door on your right."

Aizawa grunted his thanks and followed the directions; glad he wasn't going to have to go that deep into the prison. He didn't exactly want to be recognised by any of the inmates, especially not if he'd had a hand in putting them here in the first place. He nodded at the guard as he passed. Two sides of the same profession, really.

The interview room door was closed, of course. He sighed, knocked.

A moment later, a slab-faced female prison guard opened it. She gave him a once-over, and didn't move out of the doorway. Aizawa gazed back with an impassive face and she grunted, as if he were inconveniencing her.

"Name?"

"Eraserhead," Aizawa drawled.

"Yamamoto, please let him in," called a querulous male voice from behind her.

Yamamoto reluctantly stepped aside, watching him as Aizawa entered the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. At the same time, Youmu leant back in her seat, glancing over her shoulder to get a look at the new arrival. Her eyebrows lifted as she realised who it was.

Oh. Him.

My, my, they have gotten desperate, she thought, eyeing the dark-haired man as he walked into the room with the air of a man who is going to his execution.

Even with the suit and that scruffy hair combed back, Youmu knew who he was - she'd seen him on TV, usually to shoo away stubborn reporters, or in grainy images caught by security cameras just before he brought justice down on some rogue trying to make a break for it. Eraserhead. A man who could delete your Quirk just by looking at you...hmph.

He was going to be a nuisance.

"Ah, Eraserhead-san, you're just in time," the Warden said, cheerily, as if Aizawa had arrived for a tea party, practically swelling up with importance. Youmu privately thought if he swelled any more he might burst. "The paperwork is almost through; I just need your signature on the last page. Purely for legal reasons, you know."

"Excuse me," Youmu said, tilting her head and staring at the Warden, "Isn't it the police's jurisdiction to rehabilitate formerly-convicted citizens? That's what you've been telling me for months, Hitashi-san."

Aizawa examined Youmu, his expression unreadable, but this was…not what he'd been expecting. He'd done his homework on her, of course, seen the mugshot of her in a prison jumpsuit, no makeup and her hair scraped back. The woman sitting there was all fluffy blonde waves, peering at him from beneath her side-parted bangs. She looked like a little porcelain doll, especially sitting inbetween the burly prison guard and the Warden. Still, Aizawa wasn't a fool. Judging someone by their appearance was utterly irrational and an extremely common mistake. He rarely made mistakes.

His eyes met hers, pink irises and…were those heart-shaped pupils? Tch.

"Pro Heroes work in collaboration with the police on some matters," he said. "Without sugar-coating it, there aren't many police officers who could deal with your Quirk."

Youmu raised an eyebrow at that.

"Is that so?" she said, sweetly, before turning back to the Warden as he cleared his throat for entirely too long - Youmu counted the seconds.

"Well, er, be that as it may, Eraserhead-san has agreed to act as an interim guardian for the time being. You also must see a psychiatrist twice a week, without fail, unless you're ill or otherwise physically unable to attend. After an allotted time period, we'll discuss if you're deemed suitably rehabilitated to live life normally, Tanaka-san."

Youmu nodded politely, though she wasn't really listening. He'd been through this with her many times before; he was just trying to show off in front of Eraserhead. There was a rumour amongst the prisoners that the reason he had this job in the first place was that he got a rush having power over women deemed dangerous by society. Youmu believed that one whole-heartedly, but she wasn't one for letting her true feelings on the matter show.

"Then this is goodbye, Hitashi-san." she said.

"Indeed. Farewell, my dear," he replied, and bared his teeth in a smug simper, before sweeping up his half of the paperwork and leaving through the door he'd come through, his job done.

That left her to follow Aizawa out, which Youmu was all too happy to do. However, just as she exited the room, Yamamoto's beefy hand clamped around her arm, squeezing tight enough to bruise. Youmu slowly turned her head.

"I don't care what Hitashi, or the cops, or the Pros say. You're a monster," Yamada snarled, her face inches from Youmu's, so that she could smell the guard's lunch on her breath. "And people like you are never gonna be fixed. If you ask me, all of you should be fuckin' executed. Each and every one."

Youmu stared at her for a moment, before cracking a cold smirk.

"Oh, Karin-chan," she cooed, her face oozing sickly-sweet sympathy. "I think I can call you that, after all this time we've spent together, can't I? Is this about your husband, he left you and you think it's all my fault? Are you still sore about that? Me, the horrible creature who split apart your marriage. Is that what you tell yourself at night? Well, before we say goodbye…"

She leant in closer.

"Do you want to hear a dirty little secret, Karin-chan? I never used my Quirk on your husband. Do you know why?"

She looked the woman up and down, before she went in for the kill, whispering in the larger woman's ear.

"Because I didn't need to. "

Yamamoto's face went slack, her small eyes widening almost comically. She let go of Youmu's arm, her hand falling limply to her side.

Aizawa had only just stepped outside the door of the interview room before he heard the scuffle behind him. He turned, only to see the prison guard manhandling his new charge. He reached instinctively for a scarf that wasn't there, then inwardly cursed. This was beyond all protocol. He'd have to intercede-

She was speaking.

Aizawa straightened, eyes on the back of Youmu's head as she laid into the prison guard with words delivered in a sugary tone, each one razor-sharp and stabbed in with precision. He raised an eyebrow as she calmly stepped over the threshold to follow him out.

"Getting in one last dig before you go?" Aizawa asked, dryly.

"Of course not," Youmu replied, airily. "I was simply clearing up a misconception Yamamoto-san had about me."

"Mm."

He didn't offer further comment – there was obviously history between the two of them, but it hardly mattered anymore, since they would no longer be anywhere near each other. Plus he didn't really care about petty squabbles. He knew the stories about her, of course. Homewrecker. The villain (or ex-villain now, as it should be) who had made legions of people love her, getting them to do whatever she pleased. In light of her supposed-rehabilitation, he made a point to refer to her as 'Tanaka', even in his thoughts. He couldn't allow his mind to be either too trusting or too prejudiced.

They walked in silence, along the corridor, through the doors and finally, after signing out, into the daylight. The sunlight was so bright that Youmu was temporarily blinded, squinting and holding up a hand to shade her face. Aizawa glanced down at her and even looking at her reaction made his own eyes itch. He fished around in his pockets, then handed her a little bottle.

"Here," he said.

A brief look of puzzled surprise crossed Youmu's face as Aizawa suddenly held out a little bottle of eyedrops. What, did he carry a bunch of them around in his pockets? What an odd man.

"...Thank you?" she said, taking one warily, but there was no reason to be uncivil if they had to spend however long they did around one another.

She hoped he hadn't put something in it - wouldn't that be hilarious, if she accidentally put Tabasco sauce in there? Still, she supposed she ought to make an effort to be at least on civil terms, at least until she figured out how long she was stuck with a babysitter.

Aizawa glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Distrust flickered across her face as she cautiously accepted the eyedrops bottle, like she suspected he was pulling a fast one on her. Was that another reason she'd had issues with the prison guard back there? A woman called 'Homewrecker' wouldn't have had an easy time of it in prison.

Not that he felt much sympathy for her. She'd been a criminal. Prison had been her punishment. Although, security guards were supposed to guard and nothing else. They weren't the ones to mete out the punishment and he got the impression that guard was the type who took matters into her own hands. He'd have a quiet word with his own contacts in the prison, since the Warden was a waste of space in a too-tight suit.

While Youmu tilted her head back and put eyedrops in, a slightly battered white car rolled up. Since she'd previously been running around with a villainous group, she supposed the government had to fork out to find her somewhere 'suitable' to begin her integration back into civilized society.

Aizawa climbed into the back of the car, clicked in his seatbelt, and gave the driver the address. He pulled out a thick envelope from his jacket. It'd been given to him by the Warden just before he left. He pulled out a set of keys and handed them to her – he had a set of his own already.

'You've been moved to a one-bedroom apartment in another part of town,' he explained in a dull monotone. 'Given your reputation, they felt it best you weren't traceable by your previous address. Your things were moved by a hire company but you'll have to unpack them yourself.'

He scratched at the scar under his eye, sighing, as Youmu leaned back against the seat, dangling the keys from her finger with a thoughtful look on her face. Though he would have liked to go home and take a nap, first he had to make sure Youmu was settled into her new accommodation before he could properly rest.

This was going to be a long day.