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It’s been a long, cold patrol when Shouta feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. It’s the emergency call pattern, so even if he wanted to, he can’t ignore it. Goddammit.
With a roll of his eyes, Shouta taps the side of his goggles and picks up the call.
Later, when he’s tucked into bed with his husband, Shouta will think back to how close he came to ignoring the call. Later, that thought will drive him out of bed and into the bathroom to throw up. Later, Hizashi will have to soothe him, run slender fingers through his tangled hair, and remind him that everything turned out alright.
For now though, Shouta is just tired.
“Eraserhead,” Shouta says as soon as he answers. “ID Echo Uniform Alpha.”
“Eraserhead ID confirmed,” the woman on the other end of the line says. “Caller ID Mike Papa Delta.”
“Confirmed,” Shouta says, and sighs. “Where do you need me, Fujita?”
The dispatch officer is grim. “We have a potential jumper down the block from the Aldera Junior,” Fujita reports. “He should be on one of the roofs in Block 34.”
“Fuck,” Shouta snaps, even as he starts moving, his capture weapon rapidly pulling him across rooftops.
“That sums it up,” Fujita says tiredly. She’s normally unflappable, but…
“You said it’s close to the middle school,” Shouta says, “how old is the jumper?”
“He’s just a damn kid,” Fujita mutters. “I think he’s fourteen at most. He called himself in and I managed to keep him talking for a few hours, but he hung up out of nowhere. From the sounds of it, I believe he’s on the roof of the abandoned office on 34.”
“The firetrap?” Shouta hisses, and then, “the one without a rooftop access?”
“That’s the one,” Fujita confirms. “It was scheduled to be demolished a month ago, but that clearly hasn’t happen. The owner is probably trying an injunction again.”
Shouta scowls as he leaps to another rooftop. He knows exactly which building Fujita is talking about; it’s been the subject of numerous news articles, ever since a disgruntled employee revealed the horrific safety standard breaches that they’d been forced to work with.
“I’m not the closest,” Shouta notes suddenly. “Backdraft should be closer right now.”
A derisive snort comes over the line. “There’s a low-level villain in the area. He’s working the cameras with the newbies.”
Shouta resists the urge to growl, and makes a sharp turn to leap onto a neighbouring roof. Typical limelighter. A kid is in danger, and he’s off playing the hero instead of being one. “Do I need to keep an eye out for the villain?”
“Nah,” Fujita replies. “There’s a perimeter set up to contain the guy, but the agencies aren’t’ cooperating with the MHR unit. You’re the last resort.”
Oh, Shouta is going to dismember someone. Fucking limelight heroes, and their fucking limelight agencies. Not letting a fully trained Mental Health Response unit through a perimeter just so some dumb rookies can show off while a teen is fighting themself for their life? Oh, heads are going to roll, Shouta will make sure of it. He’s not one of Nedzu’s closest confidants just to have no clout. But that’s a problem to seethe over later. Right now, Shouta has to get to a desperately hurting kid.
“How long has he been up there? I’m still a few minutes out,” Shouta says to Fujita.
“I’m not sure,” Fujita admits, sounding regretful. “School finishes at 4pm, but he only called us just before 9.” Shouta winces. It’s just after 11pm now. “So at least two, but up to seven hours.”
Shouta’s heart sinks into his stomach, and he knows that if someone were to see his face right now, it would be unnaturally pale even for him. That is far too long for any child to be on a roof, staring at the edge, staring at the end of their life.
Finally, Shouta can see a small, tiny silhouette against the nightlight of Musutafu prefecture. “I’ve got a visual,” Shouta informs Fujita, sickly relieved that he won’t have to descend to the streets. “I’ll end the call when I hit the roof.”
In these situations, Shouta can’t afford any distractions. As much as he trusts Fujita herself, the dispatch room is rarely silent. He can’t risk anything going wrong right now.
“Understood,” Fujita says. “You’ve got this. Get the kid home safe, yeah?”
With that, Shouta lands on the roof, and taps his goggles to end the call. After a brief pause, he clicks the button that rests behind his left ear, and he feels the tiny vibration pattern that indicates that audio recording has commenced.
Up close, Shouta can see the teen that had called for help. He’s small, hardly looking bigger than a ten year old, but his uniform identifies him as a student at the junior high just down the road. Alarm bells start ringing for Shouta immediately. The child is far too small.
The child is also staring at Shouta with wary eyes that are a soft moss green, nearly as vibrant as his hair.
“Hey kid,” Shouta greets, thankful the kid noticed his arrival. He hardly wants to spook the kid into falling off the edge he’s sitting dangerously close to.
Said kid then frantically scrambles to his feet only to sink into a bow. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time, Eraserhead! I panicked because I got stuck up here, but then I saw that there’s a villain attack and I realised that was the priority, so really, please don’t worry about me! I can wait until that’s dealt with!”
What the hell?
Shouta raises an eyebrow incredulously. There are so many things to unpack from that, and while Shouta wants to throw away the whole suitcase, he is, regrettably, a hero, and this child is now his responsibility.
There are two main things that stick out, however.
Firstly, how the hell does he know who Shouta is?
Secondly, why the hell does he think his life has less value than others?
For now though, Shouta shoves those questions aside. “So you weren’t going to jump?” he clarifies with the child, and the teen flushes as he straightens out of his bow.
“No, I wasn’t going to, I promise!” the teen insists, and Shouta would believe him except for the fact that he trusts Fujita implicitly. If she said she’d been talking the teen down, she’d done just that. Which means that this child is one hell of a liar.
Shouta doesn’t call him out on that just yet, however. “How’d you get up here, anyway?”
“Oh, I—” and then the teen cuts himself off sharply. Those alarm bells now have little red flags waving alongside them.
“Look,” Shouta sighs, “if you used your quirk or whatever, I don’t care. I just want to get you down off of this roof and safe.”
Oh? That was a definite flinch at the mention of a quirk. Interesting.
“I didn’t use a quirk I promise! I know public quirk usage is illegal unless you have a special licence like heroes or first responders or for some jobs eventhoughsometimesitsreallydumbbecausewhatifsomeonewasattackedtheyrenotallowedtodefendthemselfitmakesnosense—” the kid slaps his hands over his mouth and somehow flushes even more brightly.
Well, it’s not like Shouta disagrees with anything the kid had said. “You’re not wrong, those laws are outdated. However, we still have to follow them,” he says dryly. “So if you didn’t use your quirk, how did you end up here? This building is kind of known for not having a roof access.”
The kid fidgets, looking guilty that Shouta had caught his careful wording. “I can’t talk about it!”
… Emergency strobe lights are flashing in tandem with the red flags waving and the alarm bells ringing.
“That’s suspicious,” Shouta says bluntly, because it is. There’s a kid stuck on a roof claiming not to be a jumper despite hanging up on the dispatch he called for help, and is now being evasive about exactly how he ended up in this situation. Things aren’t adding up, so it’s time to bring out the big guns.
Shouta crosses his arms, raises an eyebrow, and waits.
One minute passes.
The kid begins to sweat.
Two minutes.
The kid fidgets again, looking anxiously around for an escape route he won’t find.
Three minutes, and bingo. The kid crumples like wet tissue. “It was an accident?”
“I need more than it was an accident,” Shouta groans. Teenagers, honestly. Why is he a teacher again? Oh yeah, so idiots like Backdraft don’t graduate out of UA and get themselves or others needlessly killed. Whatever, not the point right now.
The kid wrings his hands nervously, so tightly it looks painful. And then he bursts into tears. “I nearly jumped,” he wails and fuck. Yeah, this kid is one hell of a liar, because while he’d nearly fooled Shouta before, this, this is clearly the truth. If it weren’t for the circumstances being so shitty, Shouta would be impressed that the kid had nearly gotten away with lying straight to his face.
Right, time to prioritise.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Shouta says as gently as he can, thankful for the lessons Hizashi had given him on comforting civilians so many years ago now. He takes a small step forwards with hands outstretched to the sobbing teen. “Would you like to come over to where I am?”
The kid, trembling, shakes his head. That’s fine, Shouta can work with that. He crouches down, and makes sure all signs of sternness have left his face and posture. “That’s fine; you can stay where you are. Would it be alright if I come closer to you?”
The kid shakes his head again, and now Shouta sighs internally. He’s prepared to use his capture weapon if the kid tries to throw himself over the edge, but he’d really rather not restrain a child like he would a villain.
A quiet moment passes in stalemate, and then the kid suddenly looks at Shouta. He’s relieved to see the tears are no longer flooding down his face, though they still trickle down between his freckles. He stretches out his own small hand towards Shouta. “You change your mind?”
A small nod. Okay, progress is being made. Shouta slowly, ever so carefully, shuffles forwards until he’s close enough to the kid to be able to grab him if he tries to go over the edge. He gently takes the proffered hand in his own, and wonders slightly at how small it is compared to his own.
The kid giggles suddenly, and Shouta belatedly realises he’s been caught. He offers the kid a sly smile. “My husband has huge hands,” Shouta confides, “so I’m not used to this.” And damn if that doesn’t work like a charm to stop the tears, and get the kid’s eyes to light up in excitement.
“P-Present Mic, right?” the kid asks, and Shouta’s heart drops into his stomach again. His marriage is definitely not public knowledge. He doesn’t let his sudden wariness show on his face though; there’s no reason to overreact and spook the teen in front of him. The kid doesn’t seem malicious at all, and Shouta’s goggles haven’t vibrated out the pattern that means surveillance devices have been detected.
“That’s right,” Shouta confirms cautiously, because he’s not about to lie to this traumatised child. Especially not when he looks so innocently excited by this titbit of information. It’s the right thing to do, clearly, as the child lights up even more.
“I thought so!” the kid blurts out. “I was rewatching all of the old UA sports festivals recently, and I saw you holding hands in your second and third year ones! And obviously friends can totally do that, but there’s also that interview Midnight did like ten years ago I think? And she was talking about how she’d recently been to a wedding of some really close friends! And that could’ve been anyone really, but it’s well known that you three and Ingenium were all really good friends in high school! Of course, it could’ve been Ingenium’s wedding but three years ago he mentioned to Hero Weekly that he’d attended the anniversary of his high school friends’ wedding. And so that left you and Present Mic! Obviously there were other things too, but those were the main reasons!”
What the fuck?
This kid must be a genius, to put together that conclusion from those widely varying sources. At least it doesn’t mean that Shouta and Hizashi’s relationship has been leaked, which is a relief.
Shouta informs the kid of this, but is interrupted by a furiously shaking head. “You don’t think you’re smart?”
“I’m not!” the kid protests. “I can’t be smart. Everyone always says I’m just a stupid, useless deku!”
Once again, what the fuck?
Emergency sirens join the strobe lights, red flags and alarm bells already going off in Shouta’s mind.
However this kid ended up on this roof, the environment around him has certainly contributed. The kid isn’t finished with his outburst, and what he says next makes Shouta seethe down to the root of his very being. “If I wasn’t so stupid, my teachers wouldn’t have to tell me off for cheating! They keep telling me I can’t be smart, so I try really hard not to be but nothing I do is ever good enough!”
…Shouta is definitely going to commit an assault. But there’s also a hint in there that Shouta isn’t going to let slide, a bone that he can gnaw until he gets to the bloody marrow of this kid’s issues. “Someone like you?”
The kid trembles, his hand shaking in Shouta’s own as he tries to pull away. But Shouta holds firm, until the kid gives in and leaves his hand in place. Everyone else may have abandoned this child, but he refuses to be one of them. He’s tensed minutely, not enough to be obvious, but enough that his capture weapon is attuned to his every instinct. If the kid jumps, he won’t fall.
Finally, the kid lifts his head and looks Shouta in the eyes. And then he does what is quite possible the bravest thing Shouta has seen in the last ten years. “I’m quirkless,” the kid confesses, and trembles quietly.
“Huh,” Shouta says eloquently. He’ll never know what possesses him to say what he does next, but he’ll be eternally grateful for it. “I’m pretty much quirkless if it comes to you, then.”
The kid visibly bluescreens, and starts shaking slightly. Did he misjudge the kid’s sense of humour – Nope, the kid isn’t just giggling but full on laughing, and damn if the sight doesn’t warm his cold heart just a fraction.
“No one has ever joked with me about it before,” the kid admits softly once he calmed himself. Shouta squeezes his hand gently. He can feel ridges of scar tissue on the kid’s hand, the hand that is far too small for his age.
“I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been treated poorly because of something you can’t control,” Shouta says carefully. Normally he isn’t so specific, but he has to make sure the kid knows he isn’t saying, ‘sorry you don’t have a quirk’ because that is the exact attitude that leads to kids on roofs like this. Or worse, to small corpses twisted and broken on the alley below.
“I want you to know that you being quirkless doesn’t change how glad I am that I found you tonight.”
Finally, the kid whose hand has been so limp in Shouta’s, finally grasps tight. There’s desperation in his grip, but the hero doesn’t mind as his fingers are crushed together.
“I think I’m ready to move away from the edge now,” the kid whispers. Shouta simply nods, and carefully hides his relief at the suggestions. With a stifled groan at the ache in his knees, Shouta half-rises from his crouch and gently tugs the boy up. He makes sure not to let go of the small hand in his.
“Is by the air-conditioner alright?” Shouta receives a nod in response and guides the kid over, making sure to snag the bright yellow backpack and obnoxiously red shoes as they go. The kid, who’d previously been flipping so quickly between manic excitement and quiet submissiveness, is placid now. Shouta sits him down by the air conditioner, before crouching again and slipping the kid’s shoes on. He’s watched carefully the whole time, but any wariness from before has all but vanished.
It's a relief to Shouta to see those small shoulders uncurl ever so slightly, to see arms loose beside him rather than braced protectively in front. He hands his kid the yellow bag, and the kid clutches at it briefly before frowning and shoving it away. It’s an odd reaction, Shouta notes, and files it away for later.
“Are you okay to talk now?” Shouta prompts, and the kid nods shyly. The last of his energy seems to have drained from him as they left the edge of the roof. Now, in his place there’s a vulnerable child who only earlier that evening had been so desperate to die. The kid’s jaw works as he tries to make himself speak, but ends up looking frustrated when no words come. “Take your time, kid,” Shouta murmurs, and he gets a heavy breath through the kid’s nose in response. He’s still squatting in front of the kid, so he offers his hand again, an offer that once again has the kid desperately clinging to him. It’s as though Shouta will disappear from in front of him otherwise.
“A – a kid at school told me to jump off a roof and pray for a quirk in my next life,” the child says, and it’s only years of Underground experience that keeps the growl lodged firmly in Shouta’s throat, instead of escaping like it wants to. “Which was – it was fine. I’m used to that sort of thing except,” the kid’s breath hitches, “he was my best friend before – before he got his quirk and I didn’t.”
Shouta offers nothing more than a soft, breathed, “Kid,” because to be so desensitised to suicide baiting at his young age…
The child takes a few, well-practiced deep breaths to calm himself. “I was walking home and then this guy, a villain, I think? He was made from slime or sludge or something but he came out of the sewer behind me, and he – he told me he needed a hero, someone to hide in and then he crawled down my throat and – and it was awful and I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t do anything!” Shouta squeezes the child’s hand, and rubs his thumb in small circles on his palm. The small motion brings the kid back out of his panic, and he self-soothes again with deep breaths.
“I thought I was going to die. And then All Might saved me.”
Shouta resists the urge to frown. If All Might saved this child, then how the hell did he end up on this roof?
“I think I was passed out, because I woke to him slapping my cheeks, and then he signed my notebook which was great! But then he said he had to go and turn the villain in.”
“He just left you there?” Shouta clarifies, admittedly struggling to keep his voice level and free from anger.
“Um,” the child says, and he starts idly poking at Shouta’s callouses which is a welcome change from the bone-crushing grip. “He… tried to. I panicked and sort of clung onto his leg as he tried to jump away?”
Shouta blinks once, and then shakes his head in bemusement. Panicked civilians are rarely rational, and it seems this kid is no exception. But that doesn’t change the really bad feeling starting to grow in the pit of his stomach.
“So then we landed up here, and he was kind of mad at me, which I get because people are mad at me a lot, but then…” the kid trails off, and Shouta frowns slightly. All he can do is squeeze the child’s hand again, a silent promise that he’s still there, still listening.
Shouta doubts many people have ever bothered to listen to this child before.
“Iaskedhimifsomeonequirklesslikemecouldbeaheroandhesaidno.”
Please don’t let that be what he thought he heard. “I didn’t quite catch that,” Shouta says softly, dread creeping up his throat even as he forces himself to tamp down on his rising anger.
“I asked him if someone quirkless like me could be a hero and he said no. And then he left and told me to knock on the door and someone would let me off the roof, but there wasn’t a door so I couldn’t get down, and there’s not even a fire escape and—” The kid is frantic now, barely getting in any air, and Shouta wants to tell him to slow down, but he can also sense that this is important. That this child needs to say this, to expel all the awful feelings that have been building up in him since he started staring at that tempting edge. “So I decided to jump; I figured it was destiny, being told to take a swan dive and then getting stuck on a roof. Why else would that have happened on the same day?”
Shouta swallows heavily. This child, he’s been through so much. But it’s clear he’s not done yet, just needs to take a break. So Shouta keeps up the soothing motion of his thumb, and hides a smile in his capture weapon when the child cleverly mutters to himself about which callouses must be from writing, and which are from the scarf around his neck.
But eventually, the kid speaks again. “I got really scared,” he admits, and his voice is so small. As if he’s ashamed to have been scared of dying. “I called the police, and this really nice lady tried to help me, and we talked about how Amplifier is supposedly cheating on Ms Joke with Uwabami, which is ridiculous, and definitely manufactured by Uwabami for more media coverage – wait, not the point – and anyway, the dispatch lady was really nice! But then she told me that help couldn’t get through to me because there was a villain attack, and it must’ve been my fault because she said it was a slime villain, which must’ve gotten away from All Might because of me, so I hung up. And then… I just sort of stared at the edge, and then you got here.”
Yeah, that slime villain getting away from All Might is in no way this kid’s fault. That would be the fault of All Might himself.
“…How was the villain being restrained during this?” Shouta can’t help but ask.
“He was in a plastic bottle,” the kid tells him, sounding wrecked. “I must’ve knocked it loose when I held onto All Might’s leg.”
“Yeah, no. A plastic bottle wouldn’t have held that villain for long no matter what,” Shouta says decisively. “And even if it did, it should’ve been in All Might’s hands for extra security. That’s not on you.”
“Oh.”
Shouta stifles a sigh. It’s clear the kid doesn’t believe him, but that’s to be expected. He mentally pinches the bridge of his nose, and firmly reminds himself that murdering the Symbol of Peace is not a good example to set. Instead, he makes a mental note to set Nedzu on him when he next goes in to UA.
Shouta realises that he’s been silent for too long when the kid starts to try and pull his hand away anxiously. “Sorry, just. What the fuck?” Shouta asks plaintively, and the kid is startled into giggling. “You’ve had one hell of a day.”
The kid shrugs, ducking his head to hide his smile. It’s cute, actually, maybe the cutest thing Shouta has seen since the new kitten in the cat café last week.
“Are you comfortable telling me your name?”
“Izuku Midoriya,” the kid – Midoriya mumbles shyly.
Shouta snorts incredulously. “Seriously?”
The kid groans. “I know,” he whines. Shouta has to grin at Midoriya’s long-suffering tone.
But then, unfortunately, Shouta has to pull the mood down, as much as doesn’t want to. Now that the kid is safely away from the edge of the roof, and Shouta has the information, there are serious things he needs to address now.
“Alright, Midoriya,” Shouta starts, and Midoriya tilts his head curiously. “We have some options now. Option one: I take you home, and talk to your parent or guardian about what happened tonight.” He notes Midoriya’s wince and continues. “Or option two: if you’re not safe at home, or just don’t feel comfortable going home tonight, we can go to the police station and file a report. Not a criminal one, just a civilian incident report. Whatever you choose, I’ll be there with you.”
Midoriya is quiet for a long moment after Shouta lays out the two options. That’s fine, he has the time, and this seems to be a difficult decision for the kid. That said, it looks like Midoriya wants to ask something, but isn’t quite sure how.
“Something bothering you?”
The kid fidgets, and he’s still holding onto Shouta’s hand like it’s a lifeline. There’s a tiny, definitely not adorable frown of concentration on his face.
“What do you mean by if I’m not safe or comfortable at home?” The question is barely a whisper, a soft and quiet plea.
Shouta closes his eyes briefly. He had hoped, prayed almost, that this kid had a stable home with a loving family. A kid with a loving family that supported him wouldn’t be asking that. Which says it all, really. He hums softly. “That depends. Who do you live with?”
“I’m in foster care,” Midoriya says quietly. He isn’t meeting Shouta’s eyes. It’s… unfortunately not a surprising answer, given the abandonment rates for kids with weak or villainous quirks. He can only imagine that they’re worse for kids without a quirk in the first place.
“What’s it like?”
“It’s… alright, I guess.”
“It’s alright?”
“Ms Hotaru, my foster mother, isn’t home much. She leaves me food and pocket money sometimes, though.”
Shouta frowns. “When did you last see her?”
“Eight days ago,” Midoriya mutters. “I know she’s busy with work, but… she’s always claiming to be on shift, but she can’t be because there’s workplace labour laws which means just doesn’t want to be around me.”
“That’s her loss,” Shouta says bluntly. He’s not lying, despite having only been talking to this kid for a short while. He’s sweet and so damn clever, and talking to him is easy and refreshing, the eager delight that peeks through so endearing. Midoriya makes a doubtful noise.
Something else occurs to Shouta then. “Are you comfortable being called Midoriya or would you prefer your given name?”
“Izuku please,” the kid responds, and Shouta hums gently in acknowledgement.
“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’re not safe at home,” Shouta says as gently as he can. “Safety includes mental and emotional safety as well. If your foster mother regularly leaves you alone for long intervals, that’s not safe. You’re a child, and need someone to look after you. And considering your mental state right now, it would be incredibly irresponsible of me to leave you there alone,” Shouta adds.
Izuku nods quietly. “Police station?” he asks cautiously, and Shouta inclines his head.
“Yes.”
He’s about to stand when his goggles start to pulse furiously with the pattern that indicates an incoming call from Hizashi. Shouta winces; he hadn’t had time to let the man know he would be late home from patrol. Normally, he’d never pick up a call, merely send off a reassuring text, but…Izuku already knows that he’s married. And Shouta has no doubt that hearing them interact would help build trust with this kid, by letting him in on something personal to Shouta. Besides, it’d be illogical to further distress Hizashi for no good reason.
So, Shouta makes eye contact with the kid, who’s staring blatantly at his goggles, fingers twitching as though he wants to be writing something down; it’s clear he’s delighted to be seeing Eraserhead’s support gear in action, and close-up. “I have a call I need to take,” he says flatly, and Izuku nods rapidly.
“Is it Present Mic?”
Shouta nods, and taps his goggles to answer the call. “Eraserhead,” he says levelly, to warn Hizashi that he isn’t alone, but also that he’s not in a hostile environment. It’s just one of a series of greetings they’d worked out years ago to subtly alert the other if they needed assistance.
That said, the voice that responds is anything but level and reassured. “Are you alright?”
Shouta winces minutely at the distress barely concealed in Hizashi’s question. And from the volume. “I’m fine; something important came up, so I’ll be home late. I need to stop by the police station,” Shouta says directly. Hizashi lets out a sigh of relief, and behind it Shouta can hear a familiar beeping noise. “Are you stress baking?”
“Shut up, sunshine,” Hizashi grumbles, but at least his volume is far more reasonable. His voice softens. “I’m glad you’re alright; I was worried when you didn’t come home.” Shouta tucks his face into his capture weapon to hide a soft smile. Izuku looks slightly amused anyway, so he suspects his efforts to not be caught were in vain. Observant little shit.
An idea occurs to Shouta then, and he raises an eyebrow at Izuku in a silent challenge. The kid perks up. “Actually, you should come down to the station too,” Shouta says. “There’s someone with me who’d love to meet you after they’ve given their statement.”
Mission accomplished: Izuku looks like he’s vibrating fast enough to phase through walls.
“Ooh, you have a listener with you?” Hizashi coos excitedly. “I’ll be at the station in twenty! Love you!” And then the bastard hangs up. At least Shouta is spared the embarrassment of having to say his affection back in front of the still-vibrating Izuku. Shouta sighs, and bends down to pull Izuku up off the floor.
“Time to go,” Shouta says.
Izuku frowns, looking nervously at the edge of the roof. “How?”
Shouta grins, admittedly a little maniacally. “Ever been on a roller coaster?”
The kid’s eyes light up as he grabs his backpack. He’s clearly thrilled by the prospect of swinging around with Eraserhead, and it’s humbling and endearing that he’s so excited over Shouta. Shouta, who doesn’t have a flashy quirk, and who stays out of the spotlight as much as possible. It gives him a strange warmth in his stomach, and he hasn’t yet decided how he wants to feel about it.
He shoves that down to dwell on later; for now, he has to get himself and Izuku off of a very tall building. He wishes desperately that there’s a way for them to get down without Shouta literally having to throw them both off and trust in his capture weapon, but it’s clear that the universe has it out for Izuku tonight.
Shouta eyes the kid thoughtfully. A piggyback carry is an option, especially if he loops a few strands of his capture weapon around Izuku. But preferably, the kid would be latched onto his front like a koala. That would be safest, and would allow Shouta to keep an arm around the kid as they literally jump off the roof. But, it’s up to Izuku, and what he feels comfortable with. It’s entirely possible that he has no desire to latch onto the front of a man he’s only just met.
The kid makes it easy on him however, sliding on his backpack and turning to face Shouta without prompting. “It’s safer if I hold onto you from this way, right?”
Shouta nods. “If you’d be more comfortable with a piggyback, that’s fine too,” he offers, but Izuku shakes his head.
“This is fine,” the kid replies, and Shouta hums in agreement. He eyes Izuku, and then crouches slightly to make it easier for the kid to loop his arms around his neck. He has to give him a boost as he straightens so Izuku can lock his legs around Shouta’s hips. It’s easier than it should be, given Izuku is a teenager, but he’s distressingly small. He’s tiny for his age, more the size of a ten year old than someone about to enter high school. Shouta shoves that concerning observation to the back of his mind, and focuses on getting a few loops of his capture weapon around the kid. He has to shift one arm from under Izuku’s thighs to his waist, and guides his capture weapon with the other hand, but he gets it done.
Shouta has to admit, it’s reassuring to feel Izuku’s warm breaths against his neck as the kid hides his face away. Considering how close he came to finding a small body at the base of the building instead, Shouta savours the reminder that Izuku is alive.
“All set?”
“Yes, Eraserhead,” Izuku replies, and Shouta huffs.
“Hold on tight,” is the only warning he gives before stepping off the edge of the building. There’s no point drawing this out, considering Izuku’s already fragile mental state.
With practiced ease, it’s only a minute later that Shouta and the kid are safely on the ground, and he’s winding the majority of his capture weapon back around his neck.
Surprisingly, Izuku makes absolutely no attempt to let go of Shouta, so he keeps a firm hold on him, shifting his hand he’d been using for his capture weapon back under the kid’s legs. Izuku is breathing fast, but it sounds just short of panicked; given the circumstances, Shouta thinks he’s coping as well as can be expected.
Judging from the near-desperate grip on his neck, the tentative brush of fingers against his skin, Shouta also suspects touch-starvation. Coupled the way Izuku had clung so desperately to his hands…
“I’m going to walk us to the station now,” he informs his passenger, and he feels a tiny nod in reply. He can’t even begrudge Izuku his sudden silence; it’s clearly been a long day.
Ten minutes later, Shouta’s back is absolutely killing him, but he and Izuku are both safely inside the Musutafu Station, tucked away in a small, private room. The on-site paramedic had given Izuku a quick examination, and deemed him healthy enough to give a statement. If there’s any sign of congestion in his airways, however, he’s sternly instructed to go to the hospital ASAP to avoid any risk of dry drowning. At least Izuku got a lollipop out of the ordeal, though he’d looked at the paramedic with clear suspicion the whole time.
Given the sensitivity of the information in the statement Izuku will have to give, and its potential ramifications, Shouta has specifically requested that Tsukauchi be the one to take it. With his quirk, there’ll be no questioning the truth of Izuku’s statements.
Even though he’s no longer plastered against Shouta’s chest, the teenager is still clinging tightly onto his hand as they settle on a worn-looking couch that’s seen better days. He’s also half-buried himself in Shouta’s side, hiding his face from the fluorescent lights.
Shouta is very determinedly not finding it cute.
A soft knock on the door draws him out of consideration of the kid clinging to him. “Come in,” Shouta calls quietly, and Izuku presses himself even closer.
Tsukauchi slips into the room immediately, only opening the door the bare minimum required to pass through. He gives Izuku an appraising look, clearly noting the dried tears on his face and the muck coating his school uniform. Shouta has to admit that in the well-lit station, the kid is a mess. It hadn’t been so obvious up on the roof, but now it’s clear that Izuku desperately needs a bath.
“Eraserhead,” Tsukauchi greets, clearly a little amused that Shouta, normally so stoic and stand-offish is letting a kid latch onto him. His tone is light, but Shouta doesn’t miss the creases of concern around his eyes.
“Detective Tsukauchi,” Shouta returns coolly. “I’ve got Izuku Midoriya here to give a statement relating to the slime villain incident from earlier, and a call made to dispatch that followed.”
The man looks tired, so Shouta suspects Fujita has already given him a brief rundown as well. “Alright.” He sits down on the small coffee table near the couch Shouta and Izuku have claimed. “Are you ready to start, Midoriya?”
“Yessir,” Midoriya says, his voice muffled by Shouta’s jumpsuit. He nudges the kid gently with his elbow.
“You’ll have to come out of there to give your statement.” Shouta gets a muffled whine in response, and sighs as he pats Izuku consolingly on the head. “Tsukauchi is safe,” he says firmly. “I promise.”
It does the trick, and Izuku pulls back from Shouta’s side just enough to be able to look warily at Tsukauchi. The man waits patiently, eyes soft with understanding. In their careers, they see a lot of traumatised kids.
“I’m ready,” Izuku says, quiet but determined.
Tsukauchi gives Izuku a small smile. “That’s great,” he says genuinely, and pulls out a voice recorder. He places it on the table beside him, clicking it on. “Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi taking the statement of Izuku Midoriya in the presence of pro hero Eraserhead, who is here in the place of his guardian.” He gives Izuku another smile. “This is just an audio recording for future reference,” Tsukauchi explains. “It’s considered admissible evidence due to the nature of my quirk, Lie Detector.”
“Oh,” Izuku says softly. “I understand. But—” the kid hesitates. “Does your quirk work for written lies? Or is it just verbal ones? What about sign language? Half-truths? Lies by omission?”
Tsukauchi laughs softly, and holds out a hand to halt Izuku’s barrage of questions. “My quirk can detect any lies with intent, whether that be written or spoken, or by other means of communication.” He grins then. “Most people don’t bother to ask, however.”
“Lies with intent,” Izuku says thoughtfully, and his eyes are lighting up, much to Shouta’s amusement. “So lies by omission, but only if someone is deliberately avoiding the truth?” Tsukauchi nods. “And it’d be the same with half-truths… That’s so interesting, Detective!”
Shouta can’t help the small huff of amusement that escapes him, ruffling Izuku’s hair gently. “You still need to give your statement,” he reminds the teen, who deflates even as he leans into Shouta’s touch.
“Right,” Izuku mutters. “I… don’t know how to do that. Do I just talk about what happened?”
“That’s correct,” Tsukauchi says. “If I feel the need, I may also ask some questions for clarification.”
Izuku nods then, and starts his tale.
Even though it’s Shouta’s second time hearing it, it’s just as awful as the first. The sweet kid tucked under his arm doesn’t deserve any of the shit he’s been through.
Tsukauchi hides it well, but Shouta can see the man becoming grimmer as the statement continues. He interrupts only a few times, to get the name of the school Izuku attends, and the name of the classmate that suicide-baited him. Shouta makes his own mental note of Aldera Junior High and Katsuki Bakugou.
When it reaches the part of the story where Izuku talks to All Might on a roof, Tsukauchi winces and Shouta stiffens immediately. That was the particular grimace that comes with a lie. He knows Izuku has also picked up on the tell, because he goes still and silent, almost trying to worm his way under Shouta’s skin with how close he’s pressing. He tries not to be impressed by how well Izuku lies; if not for Tsukauchi’s quirk, Shouta wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss.
“Midoriya,” Tsukauchi says gently. “You know my quirk. You’re not telling me something.”
Izuku swallows hard. “He – he told me I couldn’t tell anyone,” the kid says plaintively, sounding scared. He gives them a pleading look. “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry!”
Tsukauchi pauses then, and tilts his head in consideration. Shouta watches a series of interesting expressions cross the other man’s face. “Midoriya,” Tsukachi says slowly. “Was this a matter of national security?”
Shouta stiffens even more. Had All Might screwed up so badly so as to switch forms in front of a civilian kid? Gods, he only knows because the man will be joining the faculty next year; he’s fascinated to know that Tsukauchi knows, and wonders if the rumours about an illicit fling had perhaps more truth to them than Shouta had initially thought.
“Okay,” Tsukauchi says quietly when Izuku nods hesitantly, confirming that he’s aware of All Might’s other form. “I’ll let that go, because that’s not relevant to the rest of the statement.”
Izuku looks incredibly relieved. “Thank you,” he says, “I’m so sorry, I really am! It looked painful when I lied!”
Tsukauchi just snorts. “It’s fine, Midoriya. Shall we continue?”
And so it continues, with Izuku recounting his day like it wasn’t a fucking shitshow, and Tsukauchi only breaks in with a few more questions. Finally, he gets to Shouta’s arrival, and gives a brief but terrifyingly accurate retelling of their conversation. He’d hesitated when it came to their discussion of Present Mic, but Shouta simply gives him a reassuring nod to go on. Tsukauchi is already aware of their relationship, and the recording will be appropriately censored before anyone else hears it.
When the kid finishes talking, he looks wrecked. Shouta gently puts his hand on the kid’s face, and frowns as he sees how poorly the kid is tracking his movements. Izuku blinks tiredly up at him, leaning into his palm as Tsukauchi turns off the recording device and puts his head in his hands. Shouta empathises.
“Okay,” Tsukauchi murmurs to himself. He picks his head up, so Shouta gently moves Izuku’s face so he can see the detective. “You did a good job giving that statement. It must’ve been very difficult to relive all of that.” He sighs. “Now, when Eraser first brought you in, he also said that you don’t want to go home. May I ask why?”
“My foster mother, she’s never home. I haven’t seen her in over a week,” Izuku whispers. “But I don’t have anyone else who’ll take me.”
Tsukauchi raises an eyebrow and Izuku shrinks back into Shouta’s side. “I mean, Aunt Mitsuki would take me, but she’s Kacchan’s mum. I – I don’t want to go with her.” The kid speaks like it’s inconceivable that he wouldn’t want to live with his bully. Shouta tightens his arm around Izuku, who tucks his face back into his side.
“That’s understandable,” Shouta tells the kid, making sure his tone leaves no room for doubt. “We won’t make you.” He gives Tsukauchi a glare when the man has the audacity to look amused at his protectiveness. Shouta literally talked the kid off a roof, he can feel a little attached.
Huh. Actually, Shouta realises, he may be more than just a little attached. He keeps seeing flashes of a bright, frightfully intelligent kid, who finds joy in the smallest of things. Shouta hadn’t been particularly broody ever in his life but now…
Hizashi really needs to hurry up and get to the station.
Tsukauchi interrupts Shouta’s musing. “Eraser is correct, you don’t have to go back to your foster mother, or your Aunt. It just means that we’ll arrange somewhere else for you to stay for the night.” He sighs and gets to his feet. “I’ll go check with reception, and see if there’s any social workers in the area.”
Shouta nods distractedly. “If you see my worse half, send him in.” That gets an honest laugh out of the other man, and a small giggle from Izuku.
Mere moments after Tsukauchi leaves, a familiar head pokes into the room, and Hizashi smiles gently when he sees Shouta. He switches his attention almost immediately to Izuku, however, who has pried his face out of his jumpsuit and is nearly vibrating through the floor again.
Adorable.
Yeah, calling Hizashi in was definitely a good idea.
After a few moments of making sure Izuku is happily talking Hizashi’s ear off, Shouta peels the kid off of his side with a reassuring pat and slips out of the room after Tsukauchi. It had taken several promises that he’d be back, and relinquishing his goggles to Izuku’s clever, probing fingers, but Shouta doesn’t really mind. It’s clear the kid is fascinated by the support item, fingers twitching eagerly to dig through his goggles to find all their secrets.
Down at reception, Tsukauchi is frowning heavily at the man working, who looks exhausted and overworked. “No one will take his case?” Tsukauchi is asking incredulously, and something poisonous twists in Shouta’s stomach.
The receptionist shrugs helplessly. “He’s quirkless,” the man says bluntly. “So none of them want to drop by, and definitely not at this time of night. Fucking assholes,” the man tacks on in a mutter at the end, and Shouta has to agree.
Tsukauchi groans and turns to Shouta with a ‘kill me now’ expression. Then, a dangerous gleam appears in his eyes, and Shouta sighs internally.
“You have an emergency foster licence, right?” Tsukauchi asks, as if he doesn’t know that he does already. As if he hasn’t previously foisted off a child with a fascinating little brainwashing quirk onto him a few years back until the kid’s mother recovered from her illness to be able to take care of him again.
Ah well, it’s not like this wasn’t exactly why Shouta had followed Tsukauchi down here anyway, instead of staying with Izuku. “I do,” Shouta confirms. “I’ll take him.”
“You’re not going to ask your worse half first?” Tsukauchi prods and Shouta rolls his eyes.
As if Hizashi would say no. The hard part, Shouta thinks wryly, will be stopping his husband from immediately petitioning for adoption. Not that Shouta’s averse to the idea eventually, but it’s up to Izuku in the end. And while Izuku had been getting along fairly well with Shouta already, and he’d left him eagerly discussing quirk analysis with Hizashi, there’s no telling how things will work out long-term.
“He won’t mind,” Shouta says dryly. “Now, is this going to technically count as kidnapping because there’s no social worker, or…”
Tsukauchi shrugs. “Possibly,” he admits. “But no one here will file charges, and no one else is likely to care because of his quirk status.”
Well, that’s fucked up. Whatever, Shouta has a child to kidnap, apparently.
Izuku stares blankly up at Shouta after he extends the offer for the teen to stay with him and Hizashi. It is, admittedly, a far less enthusiastic reaction than he’d been expecting.
But then Izuku twitches, and with wide eyes, breathes out, “really?”
Shouta’s heart almost breaks at the desperate fear and hope tangled together in the simple question. He crouches down so Izuku doesn’t have to look up at him, and Hizashi sits quietly at the kid’s side with a pleased gleam in his eyes. He almost certainly got attached the moment he walked in the room and saw him clinging to Shouta, he thinks ruefully. “Yes, Izuku,” Shouta confirms. “Really.”
Being tackled by a scrawny teenager isn’t exactly what Shouta was expecting either, but he rolls with it anyway.
After all, Izuku is his new child, dubious legality be damned.