A World Full Of Marionettes

by Monkeygirl77

Summary:

Nedzu didn’t take interest in many humans, very few have the honor of being one of those he has, and this boy, this Midoriya Izuku, fourteen years old, confined to a prison cell for the last nine years, quirk: Marionette, was one he took interest in.

Chapter 1

Izuku’s quirk came in when he was five, after a year of living quirkless, some might say it was trauma induced, he was laying on the ground, curled up on himself, Kacchan and his friends looming over him, explosions popping in his hands, and he just wanted it to stop, he didn’t want to hurt anymore, he didn’t want to feel the pain of the explosions searing into his skin, and he threw his hand out in a desperate attempt to push him back.

Kacchan started yelling, he looked up, and stared at his friend, not friend, companion, acquaintance, yea that sounds right, the explosive blonde stood in place, stock still, unmoving, demanding to know what he was doing.

Izuku couldn’t answer, he didn’t know what he was doing, he threw his other hand out when the other two bullies started to run forward, staying them in their tracks, the three boys started screaming, demanding him to let them go, and he slowly lowered his hands, mouth falling open when they slowly got down on their knees, yanking his hands back, curling his fingers together, whatever hold he had on them disappeared, they stared at him, he stared at them.

They called him a villain and ran away.

Someone, a passerby, had recorded the entire event, the footage had been turned over to the police, Izuku was getting ready for bed when their apartment was stormed, his mom yelling at the officers, dressed in heavy tactical gear, demanding to know what they were doing, he screamed as he was yanked around, manhandled out of his room, forcibly shoved down to his knees, an arm curled around his throat, someone yelling in his ear to stop resisting.

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t resisting.

Quirk suppression cuffs were locked around his wrists.

The five year old screamed for his mom, begging her to help him, he wasn’t a villain, he could explain, he doesn’t know what happened, an officer showed his mom the footage, she stared at him in horror.

As though he was some sort of vile creature.

She turned her back as they dragged him out of their apartment, he screamed himself hoarse, calling her name, begging for help, he was shoved in the back of a police car, interrogated by a detective and officer who’d already decided on their narrative, his clothes had been exchanged for a prisoners jumpsuit, and he was thrown into a cell, the door locked, where he was forgotten about for nine years.

All for something he had no control over.

…

Nedzu is not one who takes interest in humans, in fact, he detests them rather greatly, they could go extinct, and he wouldn’t care in the slightest, save for the children, children were innocent of the crimes adults could and would commit, hate and abuse was taught, not inherited, children, given the right environment to grow, could be molded into amazing people.

He took interest in a nine year old case, a boy, five years old, registered as quirkless at the age of four suddenly controlling the movements of others. It was crude footage, gathered from an ancient camera, but it was clear enough to see the boy forcing the three others to their knees. Zooming in, clarifying the image a bit, he could see the same shock and horror on the green haired child’s features that was on the other three, the child knew not what he was doing, for all he was aware of, he was quirkless.

A police report has him documented as a villain, at the ripe young age of five, he was already documented as an S-Rank villain, for controlling the bodies of three boys with him. He’d been locked in a cell for nine years, never seeing the light of day, never stepping foot outside the restricting cement walls, the embodiment of someone who’d been locked up and the key thrown away.

Nedzu didn’t take interest in many humans, very few have the honor of being one of those he has, and this boy, this Midoriya Izuku, fourteen years old, confined to a prison cell for the last nine years, quirk: Marionette, was one he took interest in.

…

Izuku’s not sure what’s going on, he’d been laying on his bed, uncomfortable, but he’d long since grown used to it, when the door to his cell was torn open and he was being yelled at. He hadn’t done anything, not that he can remember, and he scrambled up to his feet, head bowed, don’t make eye contact, never make eye contact, eye contact only brings you pain.

“Be careful with this one.” The gruff voice of prison guard five seventeen calls out. “He’s dangerous, mentally unstable, likes to turn everyone into his puppets.”

“Nah, he seems like a good little nestling.” He tilts his head slightly, was that Hawks, what was he doin—Oh my god, they’re moving him to Tartarus!

He’s not going, he refuses to go, he’s not going peacefully, and he makes that known as he screams, lunging at the guard. The teen doesn’t get close, as he’s swept up off his feet by a flurry of red feathers, and he kicks and punches midair.

“See what I told ya, mentally unstable.”

“I would be too if I stared at the same four walls for the last nine years.”

Izuku knows that voice, he knows who it belongs to, but he doesn’t pay it no mind, as the other man finally steps up in front of him, from his angle, his eyes meet shining gold, Hawks smiles up at him, and he whimpers, he made eye contact, he’s not supposed to make eye contact. “It’s okay, little guy,” the hero’s voice is soft and he looks up again, cautiously, meeting the same shining gold as he had minutes before. “We’re getting you out of here.”

He can’t help but find his voice. “R—Really?” He winces at the roughness, strained from disuse, and flinches when the guard bellows about speaking, Hawks shoves the grisly man back and looks back up at him. “I—I g—g—going?”

“You sure are, little one.” Something in the hero’s tone is softer, gentler, and he smiles up at him softly. “Can I set you on your feet?”

The teen nods slightly, and he watches himself be lowered, his feet touching the hard, hard floor. Clothes are held out to him, real live actual clothes, not the standard jumpsuit, sweat pants and a t-shirt, real actual clothes. He takes them carefully, as though they’ll crumble to dust if he’s not gentle enough and looks up when fingers brush long curls behind his left ear.

Hawks smiles down at him. “Get changed, we’ll be right outside, then you’re gettin’ outta here.”

He nods, slowly pulling the clothes up to hug to his chest. “O—Okay.”

Izuku stares down at his feet, hugging the clothes to his chest, and stands there as the door to his cell is closed, but the lock doesn’t click into place.

Slowly, he undresses himself, and pulls on each article of clothing one at a time, he pulls the shoes on his feet and stares down at the laces, he…he doesn’t know how to tie his shoes. Carefully walking to the door, he taps on it, and calls out softly. “A—All d—d—done.”

The fourteen year old steps back a step when the door opens and Hawks leans around the corner. “All dressed?”

“U—Uhuh.” He points down at his shoes. “D—Don’t k—k—know how.”

The hero looks down at his shoes and smiles at him. “That’s okay, I can tie them for you.” Squatting, the winged hero ties his shoes for him, and holds out a hand when he stands again. “Come on, little one, let’s get outta here.”

…

The way the teenager pauses outside the doors to the looming prison and looks up at the sun with awed wonder is saddening to the two heroes, they exchange glances, and Hawks smiles, squeezing the kid’s hand until he looks over at him. “Wanna fly?”

Izuku turns a bit more. “F—Fly?”

“Well, yea,” the hero stretches his wings slightly. “This wings aren’t just for looks; you know.”

The greenette giggles softly and nods. “Uhuh. F—Fly.”

“Awesome! I love flying! You’re gonna love it too!” Izuku giggles again when the winged man steps forward to come to stand behind him, looking up slightly when the hero reaches out around him, sliding a visor over his eyes. “You’ll want this.” He nods, touching the visor softly, and smiles, looking down when arms curl around his middle. “Make sure to keep your mouth closed, don’t wanna eat any nasty gross bugs.” Izuku nods, biting his lip to make sure he keeps his mouth closed, and curls his fingers in the sleeve of the hero’s coat. “Okay, here we go, hold on tight.”

He screams when they launch up into the air, and the hero’s laugh rumbles behind him as they slow, catching a wind stream, and glide over the city.

…

“I had him complete a placement exam.” Nedzu flips through the packet, it’s very sparse, very few answers. “To see where he sits cognitively.” They all spare the kid coloring on a piece of paper at a table on the other side of the lounge a glance. “Cognitively, he’s in kindergarten.”

“So,” Keigo crosses his arms loosely. “He’s a five year old trapped in a fourteen year old’s body?”

“Precisely.” The stoat rests his paws on the test packet. “His education stopped at five years old.”  He turns his head and the two other heroes turn with him, smiling at the teenager standing there nervously, his paper clutched tightly in his hands. “Hello, young Izuku.”

“Hi.” The developmentally delayed child tightens his grip on his paper. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, nestling.” Keigo rubs the mentally aged five year old’s cheek lightly. “What can we do for you?”

Izuku bites his lip and holds his paper out nervously. “I drawed you a picture.”

“You drawed me a picture?” The hero smiles when the underdeveloped teenager nods slightly. “Let me see.”

He takes the paper carefully when the greenette holds it out to him and turns it around, it’s a crude drawing, something one would expect from a four or five year old, and he grins. “I love it, little one!”

“Me and you.” Izuku smiles slightly at the praise. “We flyin’. Like flyin’. It fun.”

“I like flying too.” The winged hero folds the paper up carefully and tucks it in his pocket. “I’m gonna keep this with me, it’s so pretty, I love it.”

“Mean it?” Izuku curls his fingers in the front of his shirt. “Not lyin’?”

“Nope,” Keigo shakes his head. “Not lyin’. You’re a really good artist. Can you draw something else for me?”

The mentally aged five year old grins and nods his head. “Uhuh, what you want!”

“Hmm.” He taps his lips with a finger playfully. “Can you draw me a bird, a really big bird, really pretty?”

“Uhuh!” The teenager bobs his head quickly. “I draw that!”

They watch the curly haired boy scurry back to his table and plop back down in his chair, reaching for the box of crayons on the table, and turn back to one another.

Nedzu rests his paws together. “Alas, one of the conditions in his release was a hero there to supervise him full time, the ankle monitor was not enough.”

“I’ll stay with him.” The winged hero raises his hand slightly. “He seems to like me, we’ve already met, it wouldn’t be beneficial to introduce him to someone new. I’ll stay with him.”

Chapter 2

Keigo leads Izuku to their dorm, the little guy was allowed to stay outside of his prison cell, but he wasn’t allowed to leave the school grounds, and even then, he had to always be chaperoned by a hero. He had volunteered to be the one to stay with the baby bird, the little fledgling literally had nothing to his name, the clothes he wore weren’t even his.

They could do some online shopping and have their purchaes delivered.

“Okay, little bird.” The hero squeezes the mentally five year old’s hand. “This is our new home.” He opens the door lightly. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Izuku peeks in curiously, his grip on his hand tightening nervously, and his eyes widen because it's so big.

Keigo smiles (a tad sadly) at the wonder on the teen’s face and guides him inside. “This looks like the living room.” There’s a couch and a television on the wall in front of it. “There’s the kitchen, we’ll have to get some food and snacks.” Izuku follows him into the dorm, and he closes the door behind them, and he guides them further inside. “Here’s the bathroom.” Keigo turns on the light, it’s not his bathroom at home, but it’s still nice. “You’re gonna need to get all cleaned up. I packed some soap when I was called in and you can use it when you take your bath.” Izuku looks up at him and he smiles down at him. “Let’s go check out our bedroom, I think there’s only one bed, so we may have to share.” He winks down at the boy and the kid giggles softly. “I’m a massive cuddle bug, so I hope you’re ready for it.” The boy giggles more when he eyes him playfully. “You need lots of cuddles, you poor little thing.”

He opens the door to their bedroom and they both look around, all and all it’s a nice size (Keigo already knows how the dorm looks as he’s been staying here for the last couple of days, but the teen doesn't, so he made it into an adventure, he knew how to work with kids) with a large bed, a dresser, another television, and a desk in front of a window.

The hero turns to look down at his charge when the kid’s belly rumbles. “Hungry, little guy?”

“Mhmm.” Izuku nods meekly. “Hungry.”

“Okay,” he turns them back for the kitchen. “Let’s get something to eat, I have a few leftovers we can share until we can get some actual food.”

…

Izuku is nervous about meeting Ectoplasm and having to stay alone with him, Keigo promised he was coming back, but it didn’t stop him from crying and holding onto him, wailing about how he was lying and he was leaving and he wasn’t coming back and he was gonna be alone and he didn’t want to be alone anymore, the winged hero left him with his coat, saying that he’d have to come back if he wanted his coat, and that placated the ‘five’ year old enough for him to slip out of the room while he worked on his math skills with the math teacher.

The dark-haired man isn’t scary, like he thought he’d be, he was nice, and he gave him stickers for every answer he got right, and Izuku finds that he likes stickers, and wants to keep getting answers right so he got more stickers for his sticker collection he started.

“Okay, Izuku,” the pro hero points at the third question. “You have three balloons and add on for more balloons, how many balloons does that make?”

“Uh...” He uses his fingers and raises them one at a time as he counts. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.” The greenette recounts his fingers and looks up at his teacher. “Seven!”

“Very good.” Ectoplasm holds out a dolphin sticker and the ‘five’ year old takes it happily. “You’ve got a lot of stickers there, can you count them and tell me how many are there?”

“Uhuh.” Izuku touches each sticker. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, one--”

“What comes after ten, you know this, we had that many bears, remember?”

The boy tilts his head as he delves back in all the numbers he learned today. “Lev--Eleven.”

The hero nods and offers him another sticker. “Good job, Izuku, you’re doing great.”

…

“Okay, ready for your surprise?” Izuku nods excitedly, the hero’s hands covering his eyes, the hero’s wings wrapped around him just in case he could see through the hero’s fingers. “Okay, three, two, one.”

Excitement wells up inside him when the hands pull away from his eyes and the wings pull back, and he looks around in awe, wonder, and elation. “Wow.”

Keigo smiles as he steps out from behind the teenager, slipping his hand around the teen’s smaller one, Izuku liked holding hands, he liked any form of physical contact, and after staying locked in a cell all on his own for the last nine years, the winged man understands. “This is why I left you with Ectoplasm.” He guides the ‘five’ year old forward. “This is your toy box.” Izuku looks down at the lid of the toy box for a moment before looking up at him for permission, and he nods with a smile, taking pride in the way the kid smiles back and reaches out to open his toy box. “I got you all sorts of toys.”

The greenette looks at all the toys sitting on top in awe, cars, trucks, action figures, robots, airplanes, everything he can imagine is in there.

“This is our bookshelf.” He closes the lid to the toy box, he can’t wait to explore it, and follows the hero as he guides him over to the bookshelf. “I got us all sorts of storybooks and chapter books to read.” He lets the hero guide him over to the bathroom, and he tilts his head, because he doesn’t understand why they’d be going there, and leans over when the hero lifts a basket off the side of the tub. “These are your bath toys.”

The greenette lifts a fishing rod out of the basket. “Bath..toys?”

“Bath toys.” Keigo makes a silly face that makes him giggle. “Toys that you play with in the bath tub. I also got some stuff to make you bubble baths.”

Izuku slowly smiles. “Thank you, Keigo!”

“Anything for you, baby bird.” He ruffles the boy’s curls. “It’s comin up on that time too, wanna take a bubble bath?”

The greenette looks up at him with wide astonished eyes. “I get to take a….bubble…..bath?”

He smiles. “For sure, every little cutie bird needs to take a bubble bath every once and a while.” The hero tugs on the curly haired boy’s hand. “Come on, let’s go get some pajamas and you can take a bubble bath.”

The ‘five’ year old smiles and nods. “Okay, Keigo!”

Keigo uses his feathers to ‘keep an eye’ on the boy while he takes his bath, though mentally he was five years old, physically he was fourteen, he wasn’t sure if that was wrong to see….certain areas….given his physical age, so he monitors him with his feathers and sticks close to the bathroom just in case. “Kei?”

“Yea, nestling?” He pokes his head through the doorway. “What’s up?”

Izuku smiles at him amidst the bubbles. “All done.”

He returns to the kid’s smile. “All done?”

“Uhuh.” The greenette nods. “All done.”

“Okie dokie.” The hero pushes the door open and steps inside. “Let’s get you out then.”

“I can do it.” Izuku slowly pushes himself up. “I can do it.”

“Be careful.” He holds his hands out. “Don’t slip.” He grabs the boy’s hands to help guide him out of the tub. “Okay, let’s get all dressed in our pajamas, it’s coming up on bedtime.” Keigo rubs the ‘five’ year old’s curls dry after he’s all dressed. “That means it’s about high time we cuddle on down in bed and I’ll read us a story.” The hero smiles as he hands the towel up to dry as he watches the boy pet the fluff on his pajama shirt. Did he get him pajamas designed after his costume, yes, yes he did. “Like’em?”

“I love them!” The greenette nods profusely and lifts his attention away from his shirt and to him. “Thanks Kei!”

“Don’t mention it, little one.” Keigo ruffles the cognitively delayed teen’s head. “You deserve to have things you like.”

It’s saddening the way the smile drops instantly from the kid’s face. “Even though I bad?”

“You’re not bad, baby bird.” The hero reaches out to rub the teen’s cheek. “You’re good, you’re very good, you’ve always been very good, don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” He holds his hand out. “Come on mister, time to get in bed, get all cuddled up, and read a story.” Izuku nods, holding tightly to the hero’s hand as the man guides him out of the bathroom, turning off the light in their wake, and into their bedroom, lit only from the light of a lamp and a nightlight, the blankets all pulled down, well and ready for them to crawl up under. “Okay, climb in here.”

The greenette nods, letting go of the hero’s hand to climb in bed, and he sighs softly in pleasure, this bed is so much more comfortable then the bed in his cell, the mattress was fluffier, the pillow was too, Keigo pulls the blankets up around him and tucks them in, and the blankets were so much softer then his old blanket. Sleep comes on willingly in this bed, tucked in these blankets, he feels the sleepiness coming on already, unlike in his cell, where he stared up at the ceiling for hours, not knowing whether or not if it was night or day.

Keigo slides into bed next to him and raises an arm. “Get in here, little one, cuddle in close.” Hesitantly, unsure on whether this was a trick or not, Izuku scoots closer, ducking under the hero’s arm, curling into his side, cuddling in close, and the tension melts when the man curls his arm around him and pulls him closer, curling a wing around him too. “Okay, all snug and comfy?”

“Uhuh.” Izuku yawns lightly. “Comfy.”

“Good, good, very good.” The hero leans over for a book on his bedside table. “I picked us out a story to read.”