Every Saturday morning patrol, HIzashi spotted a figure wandering the streets, the same streets, looking into stores and bumping into too many people for it to be clumsiness. A few times he had seen the small figure leave a shop with heavy pockets and flittering eyes. He didn’t arrest them, even though he had more than enough reason to, his gut told him to wait it out, observe for a bit longer.

This time as he saw the small, skinny figure leave a grocery store, he followed behind them. The figure — who, upon closer inspection seemed to be no older than 18 if that — did not notice his presence. Hizashi wasn’t the quietest, and he was in costume, so it was a tad confusing.

After a few minutes, and many random turns through alleyways, Hizashi finally spoke up. It was clear this kid either had no idea where they were going, or needed to go somewhere very specific, either option was concerning.

“Little listener?” Hizashi spoke up, wincing as they yelped and spun around in surprise. It was even worse up close, they were way too skinny, and grimey. Fuck, the kid was homeless. “Don’t worry! Your favourite hero is here to make your day amazingly better!” He struck a pose.

… Tough crowd. The kid just looked confused, more scared.

“And by that I mean paying for all the stuff you just stole and treating you to a yummy lunch, ya dig?” Hizashi exclaimed, letting his beaming smile soften into something more genuine in a hope to reassure the little listener.