Chapter Text
A single breath. That’s all it takes.
His ears latch on to the shift in the air, sensing how her lungs expand and contract in anticipation. His jo staff swings through the air as her muscles tense, striking its target before her foot can land on the filth-covered concrete. Pain explodes on the back of her neck but before her mind can register the hit, her head is already on the floor. Izuku crouches in front of the woman who intended to slice him in half with her tail, taking a moment to admire the sharpness of her fur, before picking up the discarded backpack. After checking its contents and finding nothing of interest, Izuku places the bag filled to the brim with rolls of Yen on top of the dealer’s body.
Well, almost to the brim.
Placing the notes into his left trouser pocket, Izuku dials 110 with his right hand, detailing the street name and alleyway to the operator on the other end of the phone. With the zip ties in place on the woman’s wrists and police on their way, the vigilante spring jumps from a nearby dumpster onto the fire escape hooked on to the opposite wall, pushing himself over the ledge and darting across the rooftop as soon as his feet hit the gravel. As Izuku’s boots pound against the rooftops of Musutafu, his ears prick at every slight disturbance they can register, always attentive in search of crime.
The city’s vigilante tenses his calf muscles as he shifts direction from north to south-west after catching the shrill scream of a young boy. Izuku’s jo is slotted into its brace on his back as he settles in for a long night.
~*~
6 years ago
Izuku was always an energetic child. Even at 8 years old he still pestered his mother with his fanboy antics, describing everything he knew about the freshly graduated hero, Manual, the Shiketsu alumni turned sidekick. Pestered isn’t the word Inko would use, however. Despite her lack of interest in the supermoves of a 19 year-old with a water quirk, Midoriya Inko always made an effort to indulge her son’s ramblings and listen with attentiveness.
Especially today.
Today, the two green-haired Midoriya’s were celebrating a 95% on the youngest’s latest test. The ‘maths prodigy’, as his mother had deigned to call him, had requested the glorious prize of strawberry ice-cream, if only after a few minutes of cajoling from Inko for him to accept a reward for “some little test that Kacchan did even better on”. The streets of Musutafu were busy as they always were on a Friday at 4pm but this was nothing new to them. It was even a little quieter than usual, Inko noticed, as they made their way to Ito’s Parlour on the corner of the street a couple blocks over from their apartment.
Izuku was still rambling by her side when she saw it. Or rather felt it. An eight-foot tall man with a rhinoceros mutation of some kind suddenly came hurtling down the road from the block ahead of them. The only warning beforehand being the pounding of the footfalls sending vibrations through her shoes. Inko quickly grasped her child’s small wrist and pulled him under the shelter of a nearby clinic's doorway, watching as the villain switched to all fours in order to knock aside the traffic in his path before turning her attention to Izuku.
“Wow…” Izuku muttered under his breath, and Inko risked looking away from him to catch what her son’s eyes had latched onto in wonder.
#2 Pro Hero Endeavour shot down the street after the rhino villain, using his bright flames to propel himself forwards. Izuku took a step forward to get a closer look at the action but Inko pulled him back to her side swiftly. Her son may have been enamoured by any and every Hero he came across but Inko knew better. She had seen how quickly villain fights can turn from exciting to terrifying as the criminals start to become desperate. And by the looks of the fight in front of her, it was about to.
The clinic behind them was closed and it was too late to run from the doorway onto the street so Inko took advantage of the awning and entryway to crouch in the corner and shield her son from the heat she was beginning to feel on the right side of her face. She firmly held onto her child despite his protests to witness the destruction that was starting to build up from Endeavour’s aggressive fighting style. The heat, now on her left, was increasing and Inko knew that they couldn’t stay where they were but it was impossible to leave what little shelter they had now. All she could do was hope that it would end soon so that Izuku would be able to get his strawberry ice-cream in time before he spoiled his dinner.
That one stray thought was all it took, however, for her focus to slip and let Izuku break free from her hold.
“Izuku!” Inko shouted desperately, unheard as the roaring of the flames grew louder by the second. Her legs were moving before she could think, only the burning desire in her heart to save her son pushing her towards him. Izuku had started to jog on little legs, intent on witnessing as much as he could before the fight reached the news and the reporters exaggerated on the heroics whilst ignoring the other side of the battle. He had always loved to watch them for himself. Fortunately, Inko had yet to be overtaken in height by her son and caught up to him quickly.
It was too late though. They had abandoned their shelter right as the battle was at its climax. The villain had resorted to fleeing from the flame hero, fleeing in their direction to be exact. Never one to miss an opportunity when his enemy’s back is turned, Endeavour angled the biggest fireball from this fight yet (which, in contrast, was far from his largest to date) towards the broad man’s back. The careless lack of restraint, however, led to the flames reaching not only its target, but the people and buildings surrounding it as well.
This included two unassuming green-haired civilians.
In a state of panic, Inko’s mind fixed onto the one thought that never left her psyche since the moment he was born: “protect Izuku”. Her lithe body moved to curl around her child, succeeding in shielding him from the scorching inferno behind her. The blast tossed them forwards back into their original place of shelter causing the glass from the door to shatter on impact. Scrapes covered both of their faces and limbs from the shards that now lay on the clinic’s floor. Regardless of the state of her own body, Inko reacted instantly to Izuku’s moans coming from beneath her.
“It burns! Mama, it burns!” Izuku cried.
Inko’s mind immediately went to the flames. Was she not fast enough? Had her son become victim to the same torture she was feeling all over the widespread of her back? But as her gaze travelled downwards, she realised that wasn’t the case.
Midoriya Inko was successful in her attempt to save her child from Endeavour’s attack, but she did not keep him safe from all harm.
“I’m sorry. I- I’m so sorry, Izuku…”
~
Itchy.
The first thing Izuku felt when he woke up was the itchiness surrounding his eyes, slowly mixing in with the small bites of pain running down his arms and legs. Izuku started to notice the dryness of his throat next but he paid it no mind as his mind was too focused on the pain blossoming behind his irises, the urge to scratch becoming so strong it was excruciating.
It took all of his effort to raise his right hand towards his face, the ache in his bones nothing compared to the burning coming from his eyes. It was becoming unbearable, the need to itch increasing tenfold by the second. As his fingers were met with the feeling of rough gauze covering the top half of his face, Izuku felt like screaming, unable to scratch the most overpowering itch.
He figured he must have done so as the sound of hurried footsteps quickly made themself apparent outside the door to his right. Except, they weren’t outside his door; they were about 50 yards down the hallway and rapidly approaching by the second. Suddenly, Izuku was screaming for a new reason as his brain finally registered the sounds that were now surrounding him. The high-pitched beeping from the heart monitor to his left. The irritating squeaking from the wheels of a gurney on the floor below him. The rhythmic pumping of his blood rushing through his veins, getting louder and louder by the second. Despite the coarse material covering his eyes, Izuku knew the second a nurse walked through the door, feeling her panic that caused the tempo of her heartbeat to increase.
Everything was so loud, including his own hoarse voice as the noise became too insufferable to bear. There was movement coming from beside him but Izuku couldn’t focus. He couldn’t determine if the man wailing in pain was actually in the room behind him or right beside his ear. Steadily, a sense of calm began to wash over his small body and the noises started to become dimmer and dimmer. The last thought Izuku had before he lost consciousness again was pure relief.
~
Rousing once again from his medically-induced slumber, the first thing Izuku noticed was the itchiness behind his eyes returning once more, yet subdued this time. Knowing he could do nothing about it, Izuku lay waiting for the nurse’s footfalls to grow closer and closer after being alerted to his conscious state.
“Good morning!” came the cheery voice to his right. Much too cheery for how Izuku was currently feeling.
A moan came from his mouth as his hand reached up towards his eyes, once again finding the coarse material of the bandage keeping him from seeing. The nurse obviously noticed his distress as she swiftly began removing the white dressing, finally allowing Izuku to-
Izuku froze. Instead of the expected blinding artificial light he could hear humming above him, all Izuku could see was inky nothingness. He wouldn’t describe it as darkness. Darkness at least had substance, a knowledge that whilst you couldn’t see the matter in front of you, it was still there. This was a sensation Izuku hadn’t experienced before. Bile rose up in his throat as he understood the implications. Whilst spitting out the only liquid he could gather from his sparse stomach into the plastic bin being held out beside him, one thought repeated in Izuku’s mind over and over and over again.
I can’t see, I can’t seeIcan’twhycan’tIseemyeyesaretheresowhyCAN’TISEEICAN’T-
His breath rapidly quickened as his hands came up to scratch the itch that had become more and more prevalent as his thoughts rambled on, not caring about the burning in his joints that this action caused. The woman grasped onto his wrists, not tightly but just enough to prevent him from doing any further damage. Izuku let his hands fall and grab onto the rough gown covering his torso as his lungs expanded and contracted speedily, not taking in nearly enough air on each breath.
It took 15 minutes for the nurse to eventually slow down his breathing enough for Izuku to think clearly, his hands now firmly placed on the woman’s chest, copying her movements with his own. Only now did Izuku notice the saltiness on his lips and the streaks covering his cheeks. He tried to speak but only a series of rough but small coughs came out. The little child panicked for a second as the solid mass his hands were so desperately clinging onto was abruptly taken away before being replaced with a round plastic surface. Izuku carefully brought the cup up to his mouth, water dribbling down his chin as his mind was still disoriented. The next time he spoke was significantly more successful.
“I can’t- why can’t I-” the nurse cut him off with a shush, laying her hand on top of his.
“Try to take it slow, kid. You inhaled a lot of smoke so your throat will be sore for a while. Drink some more water it should help,” her voice was soothing enough that he took her advice and brought the cup back up to his lips. Before he could question her mention of smoke, Izuku heard footsteps outside his door again. This time they sounded heavier and with more purpose. The turned handle creaked slightly as the newcomer stepped into the room that the green-haired boy was residing in.
“It’s good to see you awake, son,” a deep yet feminine voice echoed around the small room, “I’m glad to see you relaxed now.”
Relaxed? Izuku definitely didn’t feel very relaxed. Although given what happened the last time he was awake, he could see how his current shakiness pales in comparison. Before he could ask what was going on, the doctor (he assumed she was a doctor) spoke up again.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now the… predicament your eyes are in. I- I’m afraid to tell you that the condition is unlikely to be temporary.”
Despite being second only to Kacchan in his year, Izuku was having trouble understanding some of the words the doctor was saying. He voiced this as best he could which ended up coming out as a vaguely questioning mumble. He assumed the doctor understood him when she started speaking again.
“Ah, well to put it simply… you were caught up in a villain fight, and some ethyle- some bad chemicals were spilled and… I’m sorry, son, but it looks like you’ll never be able to see again.”
Izuku may have been hearing - he was hearing everything, he couldn't stop - but his mind stopped listening after the words ‘villain fight’ left the doctor’s mouth. In a split second all of his memories came rushing back to the forefront of his brain. Before that point, Izuku’s consciousness had been a dense fuzz, never able to focus on a single coherent thought or memory, just feelings swimming around, taking turns on which one takes the reigns. But now it was like everything had come into focus, sharpened to needle point, stabbing the most important thought into the part of his brain right behind his eyes, itching to get out.
“My Mama, my- my mum. She- where- where’s my Mama? I- I want my Mama. Where’s my Mama? Please, I just want- I want my Mama,” Izuku’s desperate cries sounded so loud to his own ears, a light ringing humming down from his ears to his little fingers. He didn’t care about his eyes, or the pain running through his bones. The ache in Izuku’s joints seemed so insignificant at this moment. He just needed to know. He needed her.
“Midoriya I- I’m so sorry,” the nurse reached out her hands and placed them on top of his forearms, whether for comfort or in preparation, Izuku didn’t know. He quickly realised the hastened rhythm of both of the women’s heartbeats, as if they were nervous. Why would they be nervous? Is his mum not here? Is she hurt? Is she-
His thoughts were cut off by the tense yet level tone of the doctor’s voice, “Midoriya, there’s no easy way to say this… The blast that you were hit with should have killed you. Your mother was able to protect you, though, by shielding your body with her own. She saved your life. I’m sorry, son but… your mother didn’t make it. We tried to save her but the burns were too severe. I’m so sorry, son.”
There are moments in life when everything around you seems to freeze. Izuku would go on to experience these moments several times later in life, in fateful instances where the course of his life would be decided. But Izuku was only 8. This had only happened once before and he had been determined to never let it happen again despite his lack of control. Because this was the worst feeling. The feeling that a single minute, a single word, can have such a large impact on his life was terrifying to Izuku. But in spite of his best efforts, it had happened again. Except this time it was so much worse…
Quirkless.
The word rang loud in Izuku’s head, the sound of his Super Ultra All Might Figurine falling to the floor ringing even louder in the silent room. It took 5 seconds for Inko to start speaking, asking questions and clarifying with the doctor. But for Izuku, those 5 seconds felt like 5 years. For Izuku, his figurine hadn’t even hit the floor yet. Because for Izuku, everything was at a standstill; time, his body, his Mama, the doctor. Everything but his mind. Beneath those green curls that had not yet become so unmanageable, neurones were firing at a speed not even Ingenium could register. Every thought, there for a split second, gone the next.
All of his classmates have quirks.
Kacchan has a quirk.
Every Hero has a quirk.
A Hero needs a quirk.
He couldn’t be a Hero.
He couldn’t be like All Might.
Each and every one of these passed behind his eyes but on thought, one memory, made itself known at the forefront. Was stubborn enough to not leave. Couldn’t leave. The last thing Izuku’s father had said to them both before Izuku and his mum left the house -
“Bring that boy back with a quirk or not at all.”
Everything came back into focus in a rush as the figurine finally hit the floor after what felt like an eternity. But it was too late. Izuku couldn’t really focus on his mothers voice or the doctor's empty condolences or the way his mother picked him up and rushed him out the door or the solemn ride home. All the small green-haired boy could focus on was that one memory. On what that memory meant. His fathers words leaving an imprint on his brain, never deigning to vacate for even a second.
Izuku’s consciousness was eventually pulled back into focus at the slam of the front door. Izuku knew for certain that his father was on the other side regardless of his previous conscious state. He knew that he would never return to their side. He knew.
Izuku knew now as well. He knew his mother would never return either. That she would never come back to his side. Never hold his hand on the way to school. Never affectionately ruffle his hair after he completed his homework or finished his homework. Never run her hand over his forehead when he couldn’t sleep after waking from a nightmare. Never hum along to the radio whilst making katsudon in the kitchen. Izuku knew.
She was gone.
Only when the first droplet hit his forearm, did Izuku realise he was crying. He was crying big fat tears, the kind of tears that are only capable of being created by children. Truly devastated children. Children who had had their world ripped from them in an instance.
The nurse quickly wrapped her arms around the small child’s torso but Izuku couldn’t do anything but sit there. Frozen.
Later, Izuku would realise that that was the moment when he made his choice. His choice to never freeze ever again. No, he never wanted to feel like that again. So he decided not to. To never let himself be put in a position of such vulnerability where nothing could register. Where he couldn’t do anything to escape from the cage of his own mind, stuck reliving the same thought over and over and over again. The loop of a single thought torturing him from insode his own conciousness. Because two scars on his brain was enough. Izuku would never be rid of the marks that those looped memories left on his subconscious.
“Bring that boy back with a quirk or not at all.”
“I’m sorry, son but… your mother didn’t make it.”
People say that scars can fade over time. But that only applies to physical ones. Mental scars can never truly leave. They can dim and wither over time, maybe even ending up being but a slight whisper coming from the old sock drawer from your childhood bedroom stashed away at the very back of your subconscious. But never leaving.
So Izuku vowed to only let himself get physical scars from that point forward. He was going to make sure of it.
~*~
Present day
Blood pulsing through his veins. The flap of a pigeon’s wings two blocks over. The scratch of a cat's claws on a dumpster a few alleys away.
Wait, cat?
Izuku's trajectory swiftly changed to the direction he heard the little scratches and high-pitched meow emanating from his left. Sure, he was supposed to be on patrol and keeping his ears out for any potential danger, but it had been two and a half weeks since he had seen the furball that sometimes occupied one of the less frequented alleyways on 27th street and well… they’re just so soft! It’s rare that Izuku will come across a texture that doesn’t irritate his senses so much that he has to physically wipe off his hands, which usually ends up irritating them even more so he typically resorts to washing his hands after that but then he’ll need to dry his hands and… you get the picture. So any opportunity Izuku can get to dig his fingers into the half matted, half heavenly soft fur of a stray cat, he will gladly take it.
The hardened vigilante’s self-indulgent antics would have to wait, however, as his head and then feet swivel in the direction of a cut-off scream just east of his feline friend. Why couldn’t criminals be more considerate? I mean, don’t they know that (not technically) illegal crime fighters have needs to? And yes, it is a need, not a want. Even if he does really want it.
A low sigh escapes from Izuku’s lips and he nimbly jumps down from the rooftop he was previously running on onto the grimy gravel about half a foot behind the man with one hand over his victim’s mouth, striking the area between his neck and shoulder on the way down. It hadn’t escaped Izuku’s notice that the other hand was glowing slightly and aimed threateningly at the woman’s neck which was pulsating quickly at the speed of her heartbeat.
“You know, if you’re trying to be discreet, maybe the glow-in-the-dark beacon to your location and weapon isn’t the way to go,” Izuku’s light banter is cut short surprisingly by the victim who had taken the opportunity when the attacker was distracted by the pain in his trapezius to deliver a swift kick to his… lower region. Izuku might have winced if he wasn’t preoccupied with the ball of heat increasingly growing closer to his face. With a simple duck and sweep of his legs, the vigilante had the criminal flat on his back whilst the woman made the smart decision to get the hell out of dodge.
“Come oooooon, you gotta have a little resilience in that body of yours,” Izuku taunted as his opponent hesitated to pick himself up, “here, I’ll even give myself a handicap.” His gloved left hand raised to cover his eyes, over the top of his mask that was already in place.
The villain seemed to either believe he had a fighting chance or was fed up of being teased by someone whose head only reached just above his shoulder as he only a little clumsily got to his feet and aimed yet another glowing hand at the vigilante, this time towards his solar plexus. Izuku might have been impressed by his aim if he didn’t notice the guy’s footing leaving him wide open to a kick to the inner thigh. With his left hand still over his eyes, Izuku’s heavy black boot made contact with the open space where the taller man’s thigh met his abdomen, sending him sprawling on the concrete before his fist could meet its target. Gripping the jo still in his right hand more firmly, Izuku strolled casually over to the villain who was in the process of pushing himself upwards. He finally dropped his hand from in front of his eyes after efficiently thwacking the man’s temple, knocking him out cold.
“You guys always make this so easy,” Izuku pouted, “I mean, is it too much to ask for at least a little training before you decide to commit petty crime? Like you do know you don’t have to be high profile to know how to fight properly, right?”
Izuku’s ramblings to his unconscious friend fell on deaf ears as he pulled some zip-ties from one of his many pockets, securing them on his wrists after rolling the criminal onto his front to keep his arms behind his back. Those ears wouldn’t stay deaf for long, however. In the middle of his very descriptive anonymous tip to the Musutafu police (consisting of a simple ‘location and attempted crime’), the masked vigilante cocked his head, sensing a shift in the air on the rooftop behind him.
Huh, I was wondering when he would finally show up.
Izuku knew there were very few Pros who had that type of stealth and breath control, and even fewer stationed in Musutafu. Discreetly slipping his mobile back into pocket, the vigilante turned to face the hero as he dropped into the alley, roughly two metres from him.
“Eraserhead.”
If the underground Pro was in any way affected by Izuku knowing his alias despite his attempts at secrecy, it didn’t show. Instead, Eraserhead sent out a wave of scarf towards the vigilante’s lean frame, successfully trapping his arms to his side. Unfortunately - or fortunately depending on whose side you’re on - he had also managed to trap the jo alongside the arm it was attached to, giving Izuku the leverage to manoeuvre his way out of the restraints with a twist of his weapon and a quick duck. It was moments like this in which Izuku appreciated his decision to go with a jo over a bo staff - it was much easier to manipulate at a length of 4ft rather than 6ft.
The last the Pro Hero saw of the vigilante was the tip of a boot before it disappeared over the ledge of the fire escape to his right. Making the split-second decision to leave the restrained criminal to the police, Eraserhead propelled himself onto the rooftop, using his capture weapon as a grappling hook of sorts. As his boots landed on the gravel, his eyes travelled upwards to witness the silhouette of a figure leaping over the gap in buildings in an attempt to escape. He immediately made chase in hopes of catching up to his target. the attempt was futile though as less than 5 minutes later the silhouette vanished over a ledge and when Eraserhead followed suit, he found himself alone in an alleyway in Central Musutafu. Not a single vigilante in sight.
Heaving a sigh, the seasoned Pro made an aborted movement to reach for his phone. Despite his desire to relay his encounter with Musutafu’s most wanted vigilante as soon as possible, Shouta figured he should probably make his way back to the villain he left abandoned in the dingy alley. He had made the decision to pursue the more imminent threat at the time but now he would need to bring the guy in and give a report before he could continue his patrol. Shouta sighed once more whilst on his way back to the alley as he thought about the extra paperwork he would have to fill out after his little run in.
~
Tsukauchi Naomasa more often than not worked late into the night. He was unofficially required to so that he could verify the statements of criminals who were illogical enough to try and lie about their activities after being caught red-handed. Because of this, he was no stranger to fatigue. But tonight felt different. After being a detective for as long as he had, you learn to develop a sixth sense where you get a feeling in your gut that tells you, it’s going to be a long night.
Naomasa hated being proven right. It was so rare that he could be surprised due to the nature of his quirk making it virtually impossible to deceive him. But still. Just once, he wanted his gut to be wrong. He wanted that sixth sense telling him that he’s gonna have to put aside hours tomorrow to get a nap in, to end up just being indigestion. But Naomasa is rarely surprised. And he had a light lunch today.
At 3:27am, the doors to the 12th precinct of the Musutafu Police Department were pushed open with likely more force than necessary. Naomasa’s headache had arrived, he just knew it. The detective watched his coworker and friend hand off a barely conscious perp to one of the officers working nearby before making his way over to the coffee machine where Naomasa was standing. Only after taking a couple minutes to make himself a crappy cup of caffeine and taking a long slow sip, not even bothering to let it cool first, Shouta turned towards the human lie detector and looked him dead in the eyes.
“Your office,” Shouta turned on his heel and moved towards where the detective's desk was situated.
Naomasa closed the door behind himself before he made his way around to his chair and looked up at the black-clad man sat in front of him, seeming a touch frustrated. Never a good sign. When Shouta didn’t say anything immediately, Naomasa just picked up a pen and pad and gestured with his left hand for the Pro to speak.
“I met him.”
Naomasa’s pen hovered just above the paper as he processed Shoutas words, “You mean-”
“Yeah,” Shouta cut him off, “I do.”
“And?” Naomasa prompted.
“He knew who I was. He said my Hero name before freeing himself from my capture weapon and vanishing into thin air.”
“Wait he was able to get out of your scarf? Like with a knife or something? Because I thought it took a specially manufactured type of blade to get through that,” Naomasa questioned.
“No, he used some kind of jo to twist his way out. It was my mistake; I didn’t remove his weapon fast enough. I was startled when he knew who I was despite never having encountered each other before,” Shouta’s eyes drifted down to the paper cup in his hands.
Naomasa swore. His friend may have blamed it on his sloppiness but Naomasa knew it took a certain type of skill to be able to manoeuvre out of Eraserhead’s scarf, weapon or not. This case was known to be a tricky one, the vigilante never having really been seen by the heroes sent after him. But if Eraserhead was having trouble despite his experience with vigilantes, Naomasa was getting less hopeful for the outcome by the minute.
A couple minutes passed before Shouta spoke up again, “When you brought me onto this case, you never mentioned a name. You said he’s been doing this for a year?” Naomasa nodded, “So what are you guys calling him?”
The detective dragged his hand over his face, still contemplating how much he had been underestimating the vigilante thus far before looking Shouta in the eyes.
“Akuma.”
Notes:
Thanks for reading!
I'm going to try and keep updates frequent but I've got college work so sorry if it's inconsistent! :/
Feel free to leave a comment because I have no idea if my writing is actually any good and feedback is appreciated <3
Chapter 2: A Walking Headache
Summary:
Somehow Izuku manages to meet someone who's as much of a pain in the ass as he is.
He almost wants to congratulate them on such an achievement.
Notes:
Thanks so much for the reception on my last chapter!! I was really happy to see people enjoying my writing and since this is my first chapter it really meant a lot to me :)))
I'm going to try an keep a weekly update schedule so hopefully I'll post the next chapter next Sunday but I'm sorry if it comes out a bit late
Anyways, enjoy the new chapter!
Chapter Text
Izuku’s brand new plastic cane tapped against the concrete rhythmically until he hit an obstacle.
“There’s a step here,” warned the social worker, who was guiding Izuku by the arm. That was the first time he’d said something since the hospital, Izuku noted.
After Izuku had been deemed healthy enough to leave his bed, one of the hospital workers must have notified the Child Protection System because he was handed off from a nurse to a man who said he was his social worker at reception. The 8 year old had yet to say anything more than a short greeting to him and the man obviously shared the same distaste for small talk if his lack of attempts at conversation were anything to go by. Izuku was at least thankful for that.
Izuku hadn’t quite yet mastered doorways, as his red shoes tripped slightly on the threshold. He recovered quickly, not wanting to make himself seem even more weak to the people standing in front of him. That was weird, as well. The fact that Izuku knew that there were three people in the room. One of them was his social worker, still attached to him at the arm. The other two he assumed were the caretakers that the man had mentioned. Their heartbeats were even. Steady. Nothing in them to indicate any anticipation or ill intent.
But then again, Izuku has yet to learn how to determine one’s emotions through heartbeat alone.
That was what was most prevalent since he had awoken. The heartbeats. The thumping emanating from the muscles working to pump blood around people’s bodies. There was no order to it though. Just a constant stream of beats in his head. Some quiet, some loud. Some fast, some slow. Some steady, some erratic. He couldn’t make sense of any of it, only just being able to discern the number that he could hear at any given moment. That was what he usually tried to focus on; counting the heartbeats. It kept his mind occupied, never letting it wander to… unpleasant memories.
Izuku noticed a slight change in one of the heartbeats, light footsteps slowly making their way towards him.
A sickly sweet voice followed, “Hello Midoriya. Welcome to the Home.”
~*~
A sigh made its way from Izuku’s mouth as he heaved himself up from his cotton beanbag and towards the plastic bin in the corner. You know, you’d think after 4 years of training and honing his senses, Izuku would be able to successfully throw a pineapple candy wrapper into a container not 4 metres away. Apparently not Izuku lamented as he bent down and discarded his litter in a totally boring way with no trick shots.
Despite his lack of funding and current (technically illegal but who’s gonna notice?) living situations, the teenager was just that. A teenager. So of course he spent what little he made with Akari on his favourite sweets. She specifically told him not to spend it all on sweets but can you blame him? The slightly acidic hard candies irritate his taste buds in just the right way. And okay, maybe it’s not morally right to spend his hard-earned money on treats and then steal borrow money from drug dealers on necessities like the water bill and rubbing alcohol. But technically that money’s also hard-earned. And now it’s going to a good cause!
A cause named Midoriya Izuku.
Thinking of Akari, the ‘good cause’ hurried to get ready as he realised he was late for work. Again. Ah well, if she wasn’t used to it by now, his boss would have fired Izuku’s blind ass along with the rest of him a long while ago. After taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth, Izuku grabbed his cane and glasses, locking the door to the consistently dark gym on his way out.
It was really luck that allowed him to get a job at the library, and yes, he sees the irony. Well, he doesn’t see it necessarily. Izuku noticed the guy walking past him not-so-subtly turning his head towards the lone blind teenager snickering to himself. But really, it was all luck.
When Izuku first started studying on his own (as was necessary for his… particular situation) he went searching for any libraries in Musutafu that held books written in braille. As you can imagine, this was quite the struggle. Since the beginning of the age of quirks, the disabled population had decreased drastically due to the boost in medical technology as was the amount of quirks specifically evolved to combat birth defects.
For example, Izuku had a classmate when he was younger who would brag about how his quirk saved his life everyday. Whilst his mother was pregnant with him, the doctors had been able to determine that he would be born with sickle cell disease. When he was five years old and showed no signs of a quirk developing, he was taken to the doctor and informed his quirk was Passive Cellular Manipulation. Every second of the day, his body was working to change the shape of his red blood cells to prevent clotting and to keep the blood flowing properly.
Which is, admittedly, pretty fucking cool and Izuku could ramble on for ages about the evolution of mankind becoming so advanced that the body is able to develop a skill to battle a disease in a body that isn’t even born yet. But it also sucks, because it means that the few who don’t have natural combatants or who became disabled after their quirk developed are in a much smaller minority. And everyone knows how well society reacts to the minority, especially those who are deemed “less evolved”...
Exceptionally shitty.
So of course Izuku got saddled with a double whammy. Blind and quirkless. Whoop-di-doo.
So finding a library that carried not only braille books, but enough braille books for Izuku to study from, was pretty fucking difficult. But like he said, Izuku was lucky. Akari had been getting a coffee at the time. This was back when Izuku hadn’t quite gotten the hang of differentiating between separate noises around him so he didn’t notice the heartbeat moving towards him until it was right beside his left ear.
“Excuse me, sweetheart—” a hand landed on Izuku’s shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly, “I couldn’t help but notice the book you were reading!”
Izuku’s small fingers curled back into loose fists, his whole body shifting to try and make him look even smaller. The woman must have noticed because she spoke up at the action.
“Oh I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that you looked like you were still learning and I know how difficult it can be to learn basically a whole new language on your own.” The hand on his shoulder was hesitantly removed, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but… well, I run a library down on 32nd and I try to make sure at least a third of the books that I stock are in braille. You see my sister was born blind and and she always had a hard time and… Oh and now I’m rambling.”
A small sigh left the woman’s mouth and Izuku heard her body shift, anxiously.
“What I’m trying to say is that, if you’d be interested, I could show you some good reading material… and a place to read them, sweetheart.”
Izuku finally understood what the woman was trying to say. There aren’t many spots in Musutafu where a blind kid could find sanctuary. The coffee shop that they were both currently sitting in right now was one of the very few spaces that Izuku had found in two years where he could sit and not be bothered by the workers. So not only a safe place to work on his studies, but a library with an abundance of books in braille?
Izuku’s hand tentatively made its way to where he assumed the woman was standing, “My name’s Midoriya Izuku.”
A soft plump hand grasped onto his own, energetically, “Suzuki Akari, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.” Izuku could practically hear the blinding smile on the wom- on Suzuki’s face.
Too busy reminiscing in his own head, the green-haired teen didn’t notice he had reached Mori Urban Library until he was walking through the door instinctively. Akari rounded on him immediately. In hindsight, Izuku really should have spent more time preparing for his boss’ sickly sweet wrath instead of thinking of fond memories. Oh well, at least he can die partially happy.
“And what time do you call this young man?”
Despite her smaller stature, Akari still found a way to create a looming presence over him and they both knew it.
“I don’t know, I don’t own a watch,” he sassed back.
Izuku was expecting the swat on his arm but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Go on, the history section needs sorting,” despite her stern tone, he could tell she was stifling a laugh. Akari always tries to be strict with the teen but it never works; she likes him too much for it to be of any use.
“Oh! And there are some orange flavoured sweets on the front desk for when you’re done!” Izuku heard her half-shout to him as he made his way across the room.
Izuku was reaching out with his left arm towards the trolley in front of the bookcase full of braille books on the dawn of quirks when he felt a twinge in his shoulder - a reminder to take the stitches out before he went back on patrol tonight. He’d been meaning to get some new gear, really. But it’s kinda difficult for a blind 14 year-old to ask around for where he could acquire some clothing with enough armour to deflect rogue knife attacks but flexible enough to parkour in. So he was stuck with his black thermal for the time being.
Izuku’s head twitched at the sound of the door opening on the other side of the library, his dark green curls shaking with the turn. Izuku hated his curls. Well, he hated the feel of his curls actually. Specifically their coarse texture rubbing against his ears. No matter what type of conditioner he used or how soft he tried to make it, his hair always felt like sandpaper on his ears. So as soon as he had left the Home, Izuku shaved it. Not all of it. He’d look horrendous with a buzzcut. Instead, he elected to shave just the area around his ears so he could keep the curls that his mother used to run her fingers through, lovingly. Unfortunately, this meant that Izuku had ended up with a mullet. From what Akari always said about it, he didn’t look half bad but Izuku always had his doubts, his mind sometimes drifting towards the idea of him looking like an old-school punk.
The quiet of the library was disrupted suddenly as the person that had walked through the door went rushing up to Akari who stood at the front desk. Akari had always had a slightly faster heartbeat compared to the average person’s due to her natural liveliness but it was nothing in comparison to their current guest. If Izuku had to guess, he’d say they either ran all the way here (which was likely if their laboured breaths suggested) or they were even more energetic than Akari which is a feat in and of itself. Either way, Izuku already felt the beginning of a headache.
“Hi! Where are your books on motors and flight control?” The stranger didn’t even let Akari return their greeting before asking their question. Yep. Headache.
“Hey there dear! Our engineering and general physics books are in rows G and H but I would ask that you keep your voice down so as to not disturb the other patrons,” Akari responded sweetly. If anyone else were to see the smile on her face they might have assumed she was being insincere but Izuku knew his boss and friend wasn’t anything less than genuine when speaking with clientele. Something about the person she was speaking to must have made Akari like them if she was willing to put up with her high energy in her quiet sanctuary.
“Sure, thanks!” And just like that, the excitable teen girl (going by the voice) quickly made her way over to the science section.
Izuku was interested now. Akari never lets rowdy patrons get away with their antics for long so her light reprimands seemed curious to him.
“I know what you’re going to say,” The short librarian directed her words towards Izuku as he made his way over to the desk, “but there was a look in her eyes. A spark of ambition. You rarely see that in kids these days.”
“I rarely see anything these days,” Izuku couldn’t help but reply.
“Oh hush,” Akari giggled.
Izuku was alerted to the subject of their conversation rapidly making her way over to one of the free study tables by the thumping of her footfalls. Izuku was intrigued, but not enough to endure the headache that would surely grow if he interacted with the walking talking car battery so he discreetly made his way back to the history section.
Luckily, Izuku was able to make it through his shift with no more interruptions as the only other teen in the library at 1:30pm on a Thursday checked out her book and left half an hour after she had appeared. Waving a brief goodbye to Akari and swiping an orange candy from the bowl on his way out the door, Izuku started on his journey home at 5:30pm.
Not 45 minutes later was Izuku bounding across rooftops with his jo staff strapped to his back, ears uncovered and listening intently for any suspicious sounds. An explosion had him running towards the Private Companies District. It was a designated section of Musutafu that was occupied by privately owned companies for people (mainly Heroes) who needed something done or made specially. It wasn’t a large explosion but trouble in the PCD could mean a lot of trouble for any Heroes in the area.
The vigilante Akuma landed in the back alley behind the garage from which he heard the explosion. There was no sign of damage but Izuku could hear a lot of different noises coming from inside. And a heartbeat. A very fast one.
Oh no.
Izuku’s suspicions were confirmed when he heard her voice seemingly comforting a “baby”. The blind vigilante sighed in preparation for the headache he was going to have by the end of the night and silently made his way in through the back window. He had to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally hurt herself or any of the surrounding buildings with the machinery he could hear whirring on the other side of the wall. Izuku could taste the metallic tang of steel from outside indicating an abundance of equipment, most likely dangerous.
Yeah, this girl was definitely gonna get herself hurt if the careless way she handled hardware was any indication. She hadn’t even noticed that a dangerous vigilante had broken in for Oni’s sake! Don’t ask him who Oni is, it was just something Araki said.
He must have misjudged her perceptiveness however as she cooly spoke a few seconds after his feet hit the solid ground.
“You know we have a door? And it works too!” she turned around speedily, staring him down, “and if you wanted to break in you really should have made sure I wasn’t holding a welding gun.”
Izuku quickly raised his hands in a show of truce, “Woah, hey hey hey, I’m not breaking in! Well, I am but not for anything nefarious I swear!”
She moved her head, looking his outfit up and down and quite obviously gave a ‘look’.
“Okay I can see how this might look bad but in my defence I don’t usually see how it looks.” Izuku chuckled to himself in his head. His blind jokes have to take a more subtle route whilst in the mask but he still likes to slip little ones in where he can. “I was just checking to see no one’s brains were on the wall after that explosion!”
That got her to lower her threatening blowtorch a smidge.
“Then why are you dressed like a kids halloween villain costume and sneaking in through the window instead of knocking on the front door like a normal person, huh?”
Okay, ouch. His outfit isn’t that bad.
Is it?
“Well now that I see that no brains have been splattered then I’ll be on my way, how about that?” Izuku slowly started to make his way back to the window in hopes of escape. But ah, how life hasn’t tortured him enough.
“Wait a minute…” the girl seemed to study him more closely before making her way across the garage, “Isn’t there a vigilante who covers his eyes and operates in Musutafu?”
Izuku froze at that. The only Hero who had gotten a good look at his get up so far had been Eraserhead and he wasn’t the type to advertise that kind of info to the public. Sure, there had been news reports of his activities after a year of criminals getting their asses handed to them but nothing on his appearance. There’s no way she should have known about his mask and yet…
She must have picked up on his confusion as she was quick to explain herself, “My dad. He uh- you saved him. A while ago. Some thugs had tried to steal the invention he was delivering and he said you came out of thin air and knocked them out like it was nothing. He said if you hadn't been there then he would’ve died. Or at least shit his pants, heh,” she huffed a small laugh, “I- thank you. For that,” by this point the nozzle of the blowtorch was facing the ground. Izuku could run at any point. She was unlikely to try and stop him.
But something stopped him.
Izuku paid more attention to the machinery scattered on the tables around the room. Most of it was scrap or obviously unfinished work but some of it seemed really interesting, the gears sounding complicated as they moved in patterns within the mechanics of the equipment.
Izuku elected to ignore her words, neither confirming nor denying her (albeit correct) suspicions instead making a split-second decision to maybe gain something from this interaction.
“Hey! I’m really sorry for breaking in and all that crap but,” Izuku really had no right to be asking this, “I don’t suppose you have any materials that I could borrow? Well, not borrow cause I’m not sure I’d be able to bring it back. I- I’d offer to pay you but well, I don’t usually carry money with me in these trousers,” he joked, smiling in her direction.
“Sure! What d’ya need?” She sensed his scepticism and so carried on speaking, “You saved my dad’s life, dude. The least I could do is upgrade your gear! I mean, you definitely need it,” she scoffed.
“Hey!” Izuku squawked, indignation clear in his voice, but the girl was already moving to a different table.
“Oh please, you’re basically wearing pyjamas with pockets! I mean really, do you have any sort of protection?” The way she spoke seemed almost offended by his outfit choices.
She wasn’t even looking at him at this point, her back turned towards him instead so she could hunch over a pile of what smelled like an amalgamation of all different types of metal and rubber.
“I have this?” Izuku pulled his jo from his back brace and presented it towards the now goggle-wearing teen, seemingly wanting to defend himself.
She began to inspect it before grabbing it from his outstretched hand and throwing it towards one of the many scrap piles. Before he could protest, she replaced it with something of similar length but more weight and a different material. Steel, from what he could tell.
“Wood works well for controlled combat but it’s liable to break when struck with a strong enough force. This should last much longer. And it hits harder so that’s a plus.”
She wasn’t wrong. Izuku had been noticing more and more dents as of late and this was his 4th jo this year! Twirling the new staff in his hands, Izuku also noted the difference in weight and its effect on his speed. It took more to get it going but the momentum it carried was significantly greater than before.
“Uh- thanks! That- this is great! But I really was wondering if you had some fabric or something that could withstand a knife? I mean if you don’t that’s totally cool and you can tell me to fuck right off but if you-”
“Oh hush I was just looking for that, don’t get your panties in a twist!” She waved a hand over her shoulder at him and went back to rummaging around in the seemingly endless expanse of materials. “How abouts you give me your measurements and come back in a week? I’ll have something by then.”
Her tone was one that gave no room for objection so Izuku tentatively agreed and held his arms out as instructed when she marched over with a roll of measuring tape. After so many measurements he had lost count, Izuku was finally free to make his escape, new jo in hand. The energetic teen stopped him halfway through the window, however.
"Mei!” As he stopped to listen, she continued. “My name. Hatsume Mei but you can just call me Mei,” her cheeks pulled up in a smile. “You got a name or at least something I can call ya? Cause ‘masked vigilante in his pyjamas is kinda’ a mouthful.”
“Well I’ve heard from radio chatter that the police have taken to calling me Akuma?”
That seemed to satisfy her as Mei nodded her head once in satisfaction. “Okay, Akuma. See ya in a week!”
“See ya, Mei. And thanks again. Really.” Izuku smiled as he let his legs swing out into the back alley, the rest of his body following.
“And don’t be late!” he heard Mei shout to him on his way out, despite never giving a specific time.
The vigilante chuckled as he pulled himself a nearby fire escape and went about his patrol as usual. Yep, definitely a headache.
~
It had been 2 weeks.
2 weeks and no sign of Akuma. Shouta really should have expected this considering the fact that every other Hero and Officer had only caught glimpses before he disappeared. It was getting frustrating though. He had increased the frequency of his patrols and started venturing out to different areas but still nothing. It’s not like he wasn’t active, the station still received many calls with a simple location and crime but not once could Shouta catch sight of the vigilante.
Which is why Shouta was startled to a stop when he looked down on what he had assumed was a gang fight. He instead found a number of bodies scattered across the ground with a short-stack vigilante currently beating the shit out of two presumably criminal individuals. Not wasting another second, Eraserhead jumped into the fray, quickly apprehending one of the still conscious villains then rounding on his true target as the second villain’s body hit the ground.
“Oh, hey Eraserhead!” Akuma sang cheerfully, “I was hoping you’d show up - pretty sure if I left these guys to the cops at least one of them would wake up before they got here. But now that you’re here you can watch them! Thanks a bunch, I really need to carry on with this patrol!” and with that the black-clad vigilante parkoured off one wall to a ledge opposite and made his way up to the roof. Shouta attempted another capture but his scarf fell just short of the heavy-duty boot. He contemplated sacrificing the unattended criminals in favour of chasing after the other but Shouta knew that Akuma was right.
Bending down to secure the hands behind the nearest unconscious villain’s back, Shouta started to wonder just how much of a pain in the backside this vigilante was going to be.
~
Not two nights later did Eraserhead have another encounter with his most recent source of annoyance.
This time, however, it seems the vigilante hadn’t been expecting him beforehand, as he was already in the middle of an interaction when Shouta turned up. In spite of that, Akuma was still able to clock onto his presence earlier than should have been possible with Eraserhead’s training.
“Oh, fancy seeing you here!” Akuma directed over his shoulder at the underground pro, “I’ll be with you in a sec - I just need to grab something from little miss sticky fingers over here,” he continued, jabbing his thumb over to the, quite frankly terrified, woman who seemed to have an iron grip on the briefcase in her hands.
Shouta wasted no time in simultaneously sending two strands of scarf over to the briefcase and jo staff in the respective hands of their owners. He was able to get a good grip on the silver handle but a quick twist of the hand meant that Akuma was able to avoid losing his weapon. Taking a closer look at the jo, Shouta thought that something looked different as it caught the shine from the streetlight slightly. Then again, it’s not like he got a good look previously.
Now that the assumed criminal had seemingly been shocked out of her stupor, she took the chance to try and escape. Try is the key word there as not a second later her body was doubled over from the fist that lodged into her gut. Said fist was attached to a now smirking Akuma who darted in the direction of an alleyway opposite from where Shouta was standing. Another wave of scarf went his way, however, and caught onto his upper arm before he could get any further.
Akuma then brought the rest of his arm up and wrapped his hand around the scarf, yanking it towards him and going to strike Shouta with the jo in his other hand. Prepared for this type of attack as others had tried to use his capture weapon against him many a time before, Eraserhead ducked the incoming swing and discreetly swiped a support-made knife from his utility belt with the hand not currently holding anything. Shouta distracted his opponent with a sweep towards the legs as he brought the knife up to cut through his scarf. It was always an unfortunate situation when he had to resort to this move but he had material to spare and the vigilante had a vice grip on just over 2 feet of fabric.
Now free from his constraints, Akuma took the chance to attempt another escape.
“Thanks for the scarf, Eraserhead~” he sang, “although I’m not sure you gave me enough to keep warm in winter,” the teasing in his tone making it obvious the disappointment was fake.
Shouta shot off after him into the mouth of the alley but once again found himself alone, stood in a grimy backstreet in central Musutafu.
This is getting a bit more than annoying Shouta thought to himself as he made his way back to the now unconscious woman, briefcase still in hand.
~
Naomasa jumped as something heavy landed on his desk. He was suddenly very thankful that he had finished his coffee earlier because it bounced onto his lap then the floor from the impact.
“A gift from our little friend.” Naomasa looked up at the sound of Shouta’s tired voice then looked back down at the briefcase currently occupying the majority of his desk.
“A gift?” Naomasa sounded sceptical.
“Well, I may have grabbed it from the woman who received a fist to the gut from Akuma but same difference.” Shouta shrugged and slumped down in the chair opposite Naomasa.
With a sigh, the detective went to open the case but was met with a simple yet strong lock. A jangle came from above him and Naomasa looked up to see his friend dangling a chain with a single key on it infront of his face.
“I suppose that was a ‘gift’ as well?”
“No this, I swiped from the woman’s pocket as she was getting checked in by an officer out front.” Shouta’s blank face did nothing to hide the amusement in his voice.
The Pro was lucky that Naomasa considered him a close friend otherwise he could never get away with avoiding protocol as much as he did. Actually, thinking about it, that’s probably why he avoided it in the first place - he knew Naomasa would cover for him. He’s right but that doesn’t mean the detective has to like it.
Grabbing the key from the outstretched hand, Naomasa resigned himself to a life of extra paperwork and unlocked the case. The detective didn’t know what he had been expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.
Inside the silver casing was some foam padding surrounding a clear plastic bag which contained about 20 vials of a light blue liquid. As he took the bag from the case, Naomasa could see that the liquid had a sort of metallic sheen to it. The worrying part, however, was the fact that he had never even heard of a drug like this, let alone seen it.
“Ah shit, this could mean bad news.”
Naomasa agreed with Shouta’s sentiment wholeheartedly. They do NOT want another drug outbreak like they had with Trigger. Especially just after Eraserhead’s team had taken down one of their main distributors.
“Get me the woman you brought in. I wanna ask a few questions.”
~
Izuku landed not so silently on the gym’s rooftop, one hand still with a firm grasp on the grey scarf he had acquired earlier that night. Thinking about all the different ways he could make use of his new fancy toy, the teen made his way through the service door on the far end of the rooftop and descended into the office it led to. The office space here wasn’t used for much other than getting to and from the roof so it stayed neat with a layer of dust coating the tops of each piece of furniture.
The main training room was another story, however. It could barely be called a training room any more as it was filled with things that would seem very out of place to anyone else. It’s a good thing no one else visited Izuku’s little habitat then.
In the far right corner, away from the windows, sat a sturdy but well used mattress covered in satin bed sheets. What money Izuku had saved from not buying a bed frame, he had spent on the smoothest fabric he could find for when was sleeping. He could tolerate other fabrics, sure, but Izuku prioritised his comfort in bed over almost anything else.
On the far opposite side of the room in the corner by the windows, sat an array of sofas and armchairs surrounding a coffee table. On said table lay a brailler with piles of sheets surrounding it containing Izuku’s latest notes. It may have been a bit of a risk putting something like that so close to the window where anyone could see that the abandoned gym wasn’t quite so abandoned… but Izuku loved to feel the heat from the sunlight on his face on the rare occasion it shone bright when he worked. So it was a calculated hazard.
In the centre of the spacious room was an old but still solid boxing ring. The dents in the side still visible and the layer of dust caked on top still stale.
Izuku paused as he passed by the ring but carried on walking when unwanted memories started to surface. Knocking the punching bag on his way over, Izuku removed the jo from his back and the mask from his face. He placed all three items, including the capture scarf, on the weapons table against the wall next to his bed. He hurried through the motions of getting changed into actual pyjamas, thank you Mei, and settled in for a well-deserved rest, planning to address the implications of the events that happened earlier that night in the morning. His thoughts would be more coherent then.
Chapter 3: Friendship Without Words
Summary:
A glimpse into Izuku's past...
Also more character intros! yay!
Notes:
I am officially on Easter holidays now so hopefully there won't be any late updates! Depends on how much I prioritise my homework but really who cares about maths? Next chapter should be ready to release next Sunday
Happy reading!
Chapter Text
Izuku sat on the edge of the springy mattress by the window, face turned towards the moon. It’s become a sort of habit of his, imagining what the moon would look like each night. Whether it was full like a coin, glinting in the reflection of the sunlight. Or whether it was a sliver, shadowed behind their planet.
It has been two months since Izuku moved into the Home. Before those two months, Izuku thought he had known how cruel children could be. How vicious words of others could cut deep into his psyche. But Izuku was just quirkless before. At least then, he could see the attacks coming.
Izuku thought back on his main tormentor.
Ex-tormentor.
Ever since Izuku was diagnosed quirkless, Kacchan had been relentless, making sure that Izuku knew his place. That he was just a worthless, useless, stepping stone for the kids with greater quirks. The future Heroes. Years upon years of physical and verbal abuse from his peers had taught Izuku one thing - they never stop. Except this was proven wrong about two months ago.
Izuku had gone back to Aldera Middle School a week after being released from Musutafu Central Hospital and immediately he had noticed a difference. The main one being that Kacchan just… stopped. He stopped bullying Izuku, he stopped attacking him, he stopped talking to him. Kacchan wouldn’t even look in his direction. Of course, this strange behaviour did not extend to his other classmates as they continued and even increased their harassment towards him. Not Kacchan though. Izuku didn’t know what to make of his odd behaviour but he had other things to worry about once he got back after school.
The Home that he had been placed in was one that specialised in… unique cases. As in, they took in the kids that had something ‘wrong’ with them. Physically and mentally.
This was a poor decision on their part.
Because this meant that all of the kids who had ‘attitude problems’ were put in the same home as the kids with quirk issues or disabilities. Or in Izuku’s case, both.
You can imagine how well that went.
“So you’re the new kid, huh?” Izuku heard the footsteps approaching behind him as he unpacked his scarce belongings onto his bed.
“You know, I overheard Mrs Morita talking to the social worker that brought him in,” the older-sounding boy spoke to the two heartbeats next to him. “Apparently, not only is this kid blind, he’s quirkless too!” Laughter echoed around the room as well as Izuku’s ears. “I mean really? How useless can someone get? No quirk AND no sight? He might as well be a fucking corpse!”
At that, Izuku turned around. He knew he shouldn’t have. He’d been through this before and the one thing he learnt was to keep your head down and try not to anger them, to not get yourself in more trouble than necessary. Izuku wasn’t quite sure what prompted him to change his tactic this time but he lifted his chin so that he had the illusion of staring the boy down. His attempt wasn’t very successful due to the size difference and the other lad certainly thought so.
“Hah! Look at this little freak, thinking he’s so tough! I say we show him what tough really is? Maybe then he can stay in his place like the villain freak.”
Izuku didn’t have time to ponder his words before a fist made contact with his cheek, knocking the glasses off his face. This is so much worse Izuku thought as he got pummelled to the ground. One kick after the other pounded into his abdomen as the green-haired child desperately wished to see again. He hadn’t wanted his sight back more than at this moment as he never knew when it would stop.
The heartbeats grew louder and louder in his head, combining to create a chaotic symphony of thumping beats. He couldn’t even tell which one was his own anymore as he felt the consciousness begin to slip from him. Izuku had one thought on his mind before he eventually blacked out, Mama…
Izuku shuddered at the memory as he turned to fall back asleep in his bed. He always tried to fall asleep after everyone else did lest he let himself be vulnerable. But before he could drift blissfully out of the land of the waking, however, he noticed the boy in the bed opposite him choking on his breaths. Crying, Izuku realised.
Slowly, Izuku swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood from underneath the coarse sheets. Careful to make his footsteps loud enough so as to not startle him accidently, the blind boy walked over to the other’s bed. Lucky he’s so close, otherwise I’d have no idea which bed was his Izuku thought sardonically. The breaths he had been focusing on abruptly paused as the heartbeat across from him grew steadily faster.
“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Izuku whispered as he knelt next to the bed frame. This did nothing to slow the heartbeat of the other boy however and he instead shuffled slightly in his bedsheets. Izuku imagined it wasn’t to get closer. “My name’s Midoriya Izuku,” he spoke as he reached out his hand vaguely towards the heartbeat he could hear was still beating erratically.
After 2 long minutes, a small hand hesitantly connected with his own. Izuku shook it with false confidence then let his hand fall onto the bed in front of him.
“What’s your name?” Izuku asked, trying to be polite. Mama always said to be polite…
Before Izuku could send himself into a panic of his own, the other boy made a sort of mumble which pulled him from his own head.
“What was that?”
Another mumble.
“I- I don’t-” interrupting Izuku’s stammering was a hand on top of his own. Izuku let it be guided towards the boy’s face but instead of flesh as he had expected, Izuku’s fingers were met with cool metal. The blind boy let his hands roam over the contraption before gasping as realisation set in.
“They- Why would they- I’m so sorry.” Izuku was confused but sympathetic as he felt around for the small hand again and grasped it in both his own hands. “They don’t like me either,” Izuku frowned, “but maybe we can like each other?”
He felt the hand within his hold tense before relaxing and shifting to a proper hold. They stayed like for a while as the night progressed, just holding each other. No more words were spoken but they didn’t need to be.
Izuku had made his first friend in a long time.
~
It was a week later when Izuku learnt that his friend’s name was Hitoshi. He had just finished eating the scraps he was given for dinner and was making his way upstairs when he heard grunts coming from the shared dormitory. Three heartbeats thumped quickly but steadily whilst another was moving at a much irregular pace.
“When are you gonna learn that villain’s have no place looking at us let alone rolling their eyes? Apologise!” Izuku knew that voice. He could endure Kanoa’s torment towards himself but Izuku wouldn’t stand by whilst others were subject to his abuse.
A small whimper came from somewhere in the room as Izuku stepped in. Kanoa must not have noticed him as he continued to spit harmful words.
“Oh that’s right, you can’t! Poor little Hi-to-shi~” The name came out in a drawl from the bully’s mouth as Izuku crept forward. “Pretty shitty villain if you don’t even have a voice, huh?” It was then that Izuku realised whose heart was hammering the fastest. Whose whimpers were slowly increasing in volume.
His little feet were moving before he had a chance to think, the pounding on the wooden flooring alerting the bullies to his presence but it didn’t matter as Izuku brought his cane down on Kanoa’s legs. The tormentor cried out as his knees hit the floor whilst his lackeys shifted towards him. Izuku was prepared for the attacks that were now aimed at himself but that didn’t lessen their blow. Soon he found himself on the ground once again with his arms shielding his face.
“Aw how cute, the villain freak is friends with the quirkless freak! And even better, they’re like those fucking monkeys! Can’t speak, can’t see… you just need a deaf freak to complete the set!” Kanoa and his lackeys laughed at his crude joke whilst Izuku tried to crawl to where he could hear his friend shuffling on the ground. Kanoa kicked him back however, intent on keeping him on the ground.
“Who said you could move?” he punctuated with another kick, “You little brats don’t know when to quit, huh?” Another kick. “When will you learn that your place is at the bottom, with the rats and the goddamn dirt?” Another kick.
Kanoa knelt down to spit in Izuku’s face. “You will never be anything more than a pitiful lowlife. Do us all a favour and rid the world of your pathetic existence.” With that, the bully and his lackeys stepped over their victims and wandered back downstairs.
A few minutes passed where the only sound in the room was the haggard breaths coming from each of the two boys and the steadily slowing heartbeats sounding in Izuku’s skull. Eventually, Izuku started to move in the general direction of his friend until he found his leg. Moving his way up to his face, the green-haired boy was the first to speak.
“Hey, are you okay?” He felt the hand that had reached his own tap twice, a way of communicating that the boys had decided. Two taps for yes, one tap for no. It made conversations limited and often one-sided but they made do. After all, a friendship without words was still a friendship.
And that was really all they needed at the time
~
Izuku had just woken up when he heard them. Noticing the absence of the warmth that usually shone on his face when he woke up by the window, Izuku figured it was so early in the morning that the sun hadn’t risen that high yet. It was uncommon in the 2 years that Izuku had been at the Home for him to wake up this early without it being in a cold sweat so naturally he was confused. It had become a pattern over time - wake up, get dressed, brush his teeth, spend the day in the garden, try and get as many food scraps for him and Hitoshi as he could, go to bed, repeat. Sometimes the pattern was disrupted by the occasional nightmare but Izuku figured that that was what kept him sane. The same routine everyday helped the years pass by in seemingly no time at all.
Izuku was pulled from his thoughts by a whisper from across the dorm.
“Dude, I don’t know…” came a high-pitched yet nervous tone of voice.
“Come on, don't be a pussy. It’ll be fun!”
“Yeah, we’ll be back before anyone notices,” a third voice whispered.
“But don’t you think it’s creepy? I mean why would a gym be abandoned in the first place?” the first voice spoke up again.
“Exactly! It’s like a real haunted house just across the street from us!” Izuku thought that was the second voice.
“It’s not even halloween…” came a mumble that Izuku was pretty sure only he could hear because the others paid no mind to the comment as they began to shuffle around.
Izuku didn’t hear any more voices after that and he noted the number of heartbeats in the dorm decreased by three. It wasn’t until he was woken up by the erratic pounding of heartbeats entering the room did Izuku even notice he had fallen asleep again. He guessed it was closer to morning now as the familiar warmth shone through the window.
“Dude I fucking told you!” Izuku recognised that voice as the previously anxious girl from earlier. He was always thankful that the Home was coed as it meant that there was more variety in voices and was therefore easier to tell people apart. It wasn’t often that the other kids introduced themselves to him. And by ‘not often’ he meant never.
But right now, Izuku could easily differentiate the three who had woken him earlier as their heartbeats matched the girls in their volatile pace. He began to wonder what could have caused their panic but his thoughts were interrupted by one of her friends.
“How was I supposed to know there would be some scary ass chick fucking defending the place?”
“I’m pretty sure it was a dude,” her other friend piped up timidly.
“Whatever! The point is that they were terrifying and I’m listening to Minato from now on,” the previously confident friend proclaimed. Minato must have blushed quite a bit as Izuku sensed the heat from her area rise slightly. Either that or she had decided to light a small fire in the dorm. Izuku was still getting used to the whole heightened senses thing.
“Well I say we never go back there and risk running into the creepy deserted gym’s creepy guard dog. No haunted house is worth that face.” All three of them made sounds as if they were shuddering and shuffled to presumably get changed.
30 minutes later after everyone save Hitoshi had left, Izuku swung his legs over the side of his bed frame, releasing them from the scratchy bedding and finally started getting ready for the day. The thought of the gym never left his mind for a second.
~
For the next month, Izuku pondered about the mysterious building across the street from the Home. He began listening in on the other kids’ conversations rather than blocking them out as he had been trying to do in the past. It was always difficult to focus on a single voice at any one time as the audio input was constantly overloading in Izuku’s head. The smallest squeak of a shoe on hardwood flooring could echo around his skull in an infuriating manner so Izuku tried to take care of how much sound he let in at once. It was frustratingly hard at first and the boy had more than one panic attack that Hitoshi had to calm him down from but he got the hang of it eventually by learning to focus on one specific source of noise.
As his skills improved, Izuku was learning more about the gym (as well as many other… unpleasant topics of conversations. Some of which had Izuku contemplating bleaching out his ears in an attempt to try and unhear them) and the rumours surrounding it. He had heard of the mysterious person that guarded the place supposedly in a terrifying manner. He had heard of the darkness that never left the interior and loomed over the building as a whole. He had heard of the other kids turning tail after one venture into the peculiar establishment, never daring to step within 10 feet of the perimeter.
He had to visit.
Hitoshi was not as enthusiastic as his green-haired friend, Izuku gathered from the incessant tapping on his arm when he brought it up. Some louder-than-normal hums were even heard which surprised Izuku as hitoshi was often reluctant to make too much noise. The taps died down however when Izuku explained his reasoning.
“Look, even Kanoa thinks it’s scary! Do you know what that means?”
One tap.
“It means that the others won’t go near it. It means that they won’t follow us there…”
Izuku heard a quick intake of breath and Hitoshi froze. He seemed to be weighing up his options and Izuku sat there with him for almost 10 minutes before he felt movement.
Two taps.
~
Three days later found two 10 year-old boys discreetly packing their few belongings into the bags they arrived with two years ago under the cover of night. Earlier that day, Hitoshi had swiped a lighter from the janitor, using the one upside of having a smaller frame to his advantage. They had a plan.
As Izuku made his way over to where he knew the window to be, he heard his friend dragging a chair across to the corner of the room as quietly as he could. Which worried Izuku as it sounded deafening to his ears. Still, he grasped his cane in his tiny fists and waited. They would only have a small window of opportunity for this to work.
Hitoshi carefully climbed onto the rickety chair and turned his head towards the ceiling. A lot of thoughts were rushing through his mind at that moment but there was one that stuck at the forefront, just behind purple irises - please be worth it.
Izuku heard the unmistakable flick of the flint wheel in the silent dorm and the silence that followed lasted both an eternity and no time at all before chaos ensued.
The ringing of the fire alarm blared in Izuku’s ears whilst the sprinklers poured down on him. It took the boy a few moments to compose himself whilst his senses were overstimulated but he quickly righted himself as he was reminded by the job he had to do. Bringing his little arms up as high as they could go, Izuku brought down his cane with as much force as he could muster on the window, smashing it outwards onto the grass. He swiftly grabbed the two bags by his feet and chucked them through the hole in the wall that was now letting through a draft. Hardly noticeable compared to the commotion happening inside but apparent to Izuku nonetheless.
Hitoshi seemed to hesitate beside his friend before being pushed forward. He wanted to argue that Izuku should go first but they really didn’t have enough time so he began to climb through the window with care as he was very aware of the broken shards that nicked him on his way out.
Izuku could hear the footfalls approaching outside the dorm rapidly so he quickly threw his cane out first before attempting to clamber through himself. Hitoshi had already made it down the vines on the exterior wall as Izuku heard the leaves crunch under his feet. Mindful of the limited time that he had, Izuku maybe didn’t take as much care as he should have as his palm caught on the edge of the frame, slashing it open. The boy hissed at the pain but kept moving, determined to make it out.
10 seconds later, he feet were on the ground and then they were running. Hitoshi had forced Izuku’s bag into his arms before dragging him by the arm around the side of the brick building, the shouts from inside ringing loud in Izuku’s head but he blocked it out, trying to focus on the road ahead of them. He couldn’t hear any traffic so he kept pushing forward, aiming to where he could hear the least noise, the lack of an electrical hum and general warmth pointing him in the direction of the building with no lights on. Hitoshi, however, must have spotted something Izuku hadn’t as his grip fell and his footsteps faltered. Izuku’s eyes widened in alarm behind his glasses.
“Hitoshi come on! We have to keep moving!” Izuku cried, desperate not to leave his friend behind. But when the fast-paced, heavy footfalls made their way to Izuku’s ears, slowly decreasing in distance, he panicked. Izuku moved on instinct and ran towards his original destination, hoping and praying that Hitoshi would follow.
It was only when Izuku fell through the open window did he notice that he hadn’t heard a second set of footsteps behind his own. He leaned back through the opening to call out to his friend but tensed when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. A breath ghosted on his ear as someone, or something, crouched down next to his head.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
At that, Izuku promptly passed out.
~
Matsui Ohta had gotten used to the occasional curious brat trespassing on their property. That didn’t mean they had to like it though. To try and dissuade them from attempting anymore break-ins, Ohta had taken to… giving them a slight warning. In the form of a bamboo bo staff swinging an inch from their face and striking the hardwood floor.
It worked.
So yeah, Ohta had become accustomed to intermittent visitors and letting them know when they had overstayed their welcome.
But this… Ohta didn’t know how to handle this.
They had stayed late that night to organise the gym’s finances, working their way through the water and electricity bills on their laptop. Ohta was just about to head home when a screeching siren resounded in their head. They quickly took their earphones out to properly focus on the disturbance before realising it was coming from the orphanage across the street.
Damn brats they thought.
That was when they noticed the two sets of breathing that were rapidly increasing as their blood began to pump faster and faster. Ohta caught the distinct hiss of pain that left the smaller child’s mouth and the thump of feet hitting the grass. It seemed as if a couple of little punks had decided to attempt a break out. Successfully, they might add as they heard the pitter patter of shoes on concrete going unnoticed by the caretakers.
Ohta’s already dampened mood took a turn for the worse however when they realised the direction in which those shoes were headed.
Straight for them.
With a sigh, Ohta grabbed the second sturdiest bo from the wall to their right and made their way over to the shadow by the front window to await the inevitable invasion. Their focus shifted though as Ohta noted a new set of footfalls, these a lot heavier.
Eraserhead…
Ohta harboured no hatred toward the Pro (unlike some others…) but there was no love lost. The underground Hero may have been more tolerable than most due to his work in areas usually neglected by law enforcement but he was still a registered Pro Hero. He profited from the corrupt system that their society depended on and for that, Ohta could not fully respect him.
But he had his moments. Like now for example.
As the smaller child continued on and made haste to Ohta’s private sanctuary, the other faltered and seemed to stare in awe at the approaching man. Eraserhead proceeded to crouch in front of the boy and start asking him questions but Ohta didn’t catch the following conversation as their attention shifted to the injured child climbing through the window in front of them.
Ohta had just meant to scare the kid a little, honest. They certainly did NOT mean to terrify him so much that he knocked himself out.
Well fuck.
Ohta planned to hand the kid back out to Eraser and moved to pick him up before they froze. The kid was wearing glasses. There was a cane on the floor next to him. They could sense bruises littering his torso.
…Shit
Ohta sighed as they continued the aborted movement to move the child. This time to the spare mattress they kept in the corner in case of late nights.
Ohta really hadn’t anticipated an impromptu child acquisition when they woke up this morning.
~*~
Grunts echoed around the deserted training room accompanied by the faint beat of music blaring from headphones. Almost deserted.
Katsuki never liked to use his parents money and status to his advantage but he had to admit, having the Dynamo Fitness Gym all to himself after hours wasn’t too bad. Katsuki had always preferred to work out alone and he was willing to put up with his Mum waving her business card in the manager’s face if it meant he could blast his electro-pop tunes without bothering any other patrons.
Over the years, Katsuki had trained not only his body, but his quirk extensively. The repeated explosions had begun to take a toll on his body; aches in his wrist, elbow and shoulder joints, the occasional burn on his thighs, the skin on his palms becoming more calloused. But most notably was the damage to his ears.
Being in such close proximity to explosions for repeated periods of time had caused deterioration to Katsuki’s ear drums. The other pains he could deal with as they were only temporary. But after a trip to the doctor’s, it seemed his hearing would only get worse as time progressed, slowly regressing until he would eventually become completely deaf.
But Katsuki didn’t care. He was gonna continue to use his quirk and become the best fucking Hero, with or without his hearing goddamnit! Present Mic does it easy so Katsuki would just do it better!
Until then, however, Katsuki would put his volume up to 100 and enjoy the fast-paced beat of his CG5 playlist and train unrestrainedly until he could fight without even needing his stupid ears. Hell, he’d train so hard he wouldn’t need any of his senses!
At that thought, Katsuki froze before resuming his pull-ups. He didn’t need distractions. That damn nerd wasn’t gonna stop him from achieving his goal. UA’s entrance exam was in less than 10 months and the explosive teen was determined to pass with flying colours and no shits given to missing blind nerds.
“Damn Deku…”
~
Running across a rooftop, on the other side of Musutafu, a masked vigilante paused in his parkouring to sneeze. It was times like these that Izuku was thankful that his mask only just covered the tip of his nose and not the bottom.
Scrunching his nose with disgust, Akuma tried to dispel the thought from his mind as he continued his route to the PCD, mentally preparing for the Walking Headache™ and her accompanying chaotic machinery.
Noticing the lack of an engaged lock on the front door, Izuku recognised the hint and made the decision to walk into the garage ‘like a normal person’ this time. Although, he can’t say he didn’t entertain the thought of coming in through the window just to annoy Mei, but that thought didn’t last long as he remembered the myriad of dangerous tech inside. Better to be safe than sorry.
Upon entering, he noticed the piles around the room had changed in size, some significantly smaller whilst others had been added to. He heard the whirring of a jigsaw cutting through sheet metal on the other side of the room as well as the girl wielding it. Instead of risking accidentally spooking her with his presence, Izuku decided to walk over to the wall to his right and yanked the cord from its socket.
Mei tilted her head in confusion before turning around and smiling, her lips pulling upwards as she recognised the man before her.
“Akuma! Perfect, I just finished off my final modifications last night! And you’re damn lucky that I ran over, otherwise I’d have your head for showing up late!” Mei started the rummage through a crate on the desk next to her as she rambled on with her scolding rant.
“Okay, but in my defence, I come bearing gifts!”
At that, Mei swivelled round so fast Izuku was worried she might have pulled a muscle but a quick review of her body rejected that thought. Izuku didn’t need sight to feel the scrutinising gaze aimed at him as Mei examined his figure.
“Oh?” she asked.
Izuku reached into his right trouser pocket and extracted the grey capture scarf, presenting it to the engineer in front of him. Immediately she snatched it from his grasp and regarded the material with what seemed like analytic eyes based on the crease in her brow. This went on for about 2 minutes before Mei broke the silence.
“Where did you get this?” Mei’s demanding and quite frankly deafening tone had Izuku wincing slightly before responding.
“Uh… would you believe me if I told you it was a gift? From a licensed Pro?” Izuku might trust Mei but he didn’t really want to go outright admitting to any crimes he may or may not have committed.
Mei seemed to ignore his slightly cryptic answer as she solely latched onto the last part.
“Are you serious? You got me some of Eraserhead’s capture scarf? The highly coveted and super secret material that only a few people know the composition of? THAT capture scarf?”
“Uhhh… yes?”
You would have thought a kettle had boiled in the garage at that moment as Mei’s squeal echoed around the room at a frequency that even Izuku was having trouble hearing. Okay that was a lie, he had no joy in experiencing the highest pitch of one Hatsume Mei, but the sentiment was still there.
“So… is this good enough payment for the new suit?”
“Is it good enough?” Mei all but screeched, “Akuma, you’re already getting a lifetime of free service from me for saving my Dad but this…” She trailed off. “This is enough to make you my best friend for life!”
Izuku froze at Mei’s words as she stared at him with unbridled glee. His previous experience with best friends had not turned out pleasant but something in his gut stopped him from refusing immediately. This was the first time some else had asked him to be their best friend. Beforehand he had always been the one to initiate friendship, either through pestering Kacchan so much he finally relented (albeit not as reluctantly as he would say) or through being the only option for Hitoshi in terms of attachment. So to say he was stunned was an understatement.
Izuku didn’t know it then but his future self would be eternally grateful for the next words that exited his mouth.
“Okay,” Izuku smiled, “best friends.”
Mei readily took his outstretched hand and shook it vehemently.
“Great! Now, best friend, would you like to see your new and improved pyjamas?”
Mei carefully placed the scrap of capture scarf on the desk behind her before presenting the metal case she had grabbed from the crate earlier, not catching Izuku’s dejected mumble of “They’re not pyjamas…”
The vigilante gingerly reached out and unlatched the fastening on the front, lifting the lid away from him. He felt the material folded up in front of him, his smile growing in size, eyes squinting from the action.
“Mei… this is incredible!”
“Only the best for my bestie!”
Izuku lifted his head and directed his smile to the girl in front of him. His best friend.
~
The following night saw Akuma crouched on the corner of one of the taller buildings in Central Musutafu, head tilting as his ears picked up the different sounds emanating from the city below him.
On his head sat a mask looking virtually the same as usual but upon closer inspection, one could make out the different material encasing his skull. In place of a scarf haphazardly tied over his eyes, Akuma now had a helmet covering from the back of his head to the tip of his nose. The tough material sitting firm behind his ears, sheltered by the thick leather strap circling the vigilantes cranium, ends meeting to tie in a knot at the base of his skull.
Replacing the long sleeve thermal t-shirt sat an armoured skin tight top with a zip concealed by fabric running from the centre of the hem under the chin down to the bottom hem. Patches of protective material were placed on the chest, abdomen, back, shoulders, biceps and forearms. Also sitting on the back of the top was the well-used brace held on by straps around the shoulders and waist. Securely inserted into its proper place, lay the steel jo in preparation for its next attack.
Similarly styled to the top were cargo trousers clothing the vigilante’s toned legs, pockets littered along the waistband and down the side containing a variety of tools and gadgets for every need possible. The trousers were coloured black, same as the top, gloves and boots that Akuma adorned. The tips of the combat boots as well as the knuckles across the back of the gloves were reinforced with steel, enhancing their impact power.
Midoriya Izuku leapt off the right ledge of the rooftop where he was previously perched and took off in pursuit of the terror-struck scream that sounded out into the city’s night. With determination in his smile and fire in his veins, Akuma got to work.
Chapter 4: Unexpected Answers
Summary:
This whole chapter is basically just Dadzawa and his Son™ bonding <3
Also there's some plot building but I just feel Dadzawa is more important
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Shouta was not a man that was easily angered. Frustrated? Sure. Annoyed? Absolutely. But rarely angry.
Which is what was making Naomasa so nervous.
The Pro had just walked into the station with a couple of guys that looked a bit worse for wear than the thugs that were brought in usually did. The criminals had a scared yet fatigued look in their eyes as they walked in. But what really tipped the detective off was the look on his friend's face. It was a look that he had been on the receiving end of only once.
Sometimes he still broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.
Naomasa shuddered as Shouta made his way over to the detective and moved past him into the office doorway he had been standing in front of. Naomasa shut the door behind him gently lest he anger the man even more and tentatively sat in his desk chair. After a minute of tense waiting, Shouta broke the silence.
“One month.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve been chasing after Akuma for a whole month and I’ve learnt next to nothing about the guy.” Shouta sucked his teeth.
“Shouta you’ve identified more details about him than any other officer or Pro put together!”
“What? That he wears all black,” Shouta put one finger up, “a mask over his eyes,” another finger, “uses a metal staff,” another, “and owns a knife that can cut my scarf.” Shouta gave his friend a dead stare with his right hand raised holding four fingers up.
“That’s four more things than anyone else has been able to figure out!” Honestly, Naomasa wonders when any of his friends will ever learn to value their achievements. “And! You were able to give us a description of his height and body shape! So that’s six things!”
“Still,” Shouta sighed, “after a month, I should have caught this guy already. It’s just so infuriating how he keeps putting me in positions where I can’t chase after him! And he’s not the only reason I’ve got my scary face on.”
At least he’s self aware, Naomasa thinks, inclining his head for the other to continue.
“The guys I brought in were carrying this.” A clear bag was plopped onto the detective’s desk to the left of some yet-to-be-filed paperwork containing about 10 vials of light blue liquid with a metallic glint.
It was Naomasa’s turn to sigh.
“Shit.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Shouta agreed, “Distribution has been picking up lately, especially in the Southern District. It seems the power vacuum left after the French raid has been attracting some new competition…”
At the man’s tone, Naomasa looked up to see his friend’s guilty expression.
“Hey, you can’t be thinking that this is your fault, can you?” He gestured to the bag between them, “Your team taking down the French branch was the biggest bust this station has ever seen!”
“Okay one, you were also on that team and two, obviously it’s biting us in the ass now!” Shouta began tapping his index finger against his thigh, reciting the morse alphabet from memory, a nervous tic he had picked up in his youth. “...I got a name and use for you though.”
Naomasa perked up at this.
“The guys I brought in, assholes I might add, were calling it ‘Steel’. Apparently it’s similar to Trigger in that it enhances the user but instead of strengthening their quirk, it strengthens their skin, making it resistant to basically anything. Bullets, blades, fire, you name it. Couldn’t get a supplier name from them though. I tried but they kept their lips shut.” An annoyed look passed over his face.
Yeah, I could see that, Naomasa remembered the state in which the perps were in when they were dragged through the station doors. He thought it wise not to voice this, however, to the already pissed off man in front of him. Instead, his eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated the rest of the information.
“I’ll go talk to the ‘assholes’ and see what more I can find out.” A twitch of his lips showed Naomasa’s amusement at Shouta’s deadpan reaction to his air quotes around ‘assholes’. It’s the little things that help him through the night. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
“Alright,” Shouta exhaled as stood up, “keep me updated on the Steel situation and I’m sure I don’t need to say the same for Akuma?” The Pro gave the detective a look on his way out the door. Naomasa responded with a look of his own and dragged his gaze to the bag sat less than a foot from him as the door to his office clicked shut.
It’s gonna be another long night
~
Izuku sighed and dragged his hand down his face and he set his cane by the door of the gym. He had just got back from one of the most stressful shifts of his life at the library.
To start off, there had been this patron that had approached him looking for some new science fiction book that had been released recently but once he noticed the glasses and cane, he instead asked Izuku for another worker. Izuku had tried to assure him that he knew where it was as he had just updated the new releases display with the help of Akari but the guy just kept talking over him about how “He’s blind! He can’t do anything!”. Akari apparently has super hearing as well as super speed reading as she made her way across the library in 10 seconds flat and kicked the guy out, lecturing him about respecting employees and disabled discrimination.
That wouldn’t have been too bad considering he got to witness Akari’s lecture finally being aimed at someone other than himself but of course, when does life ever let Izuku have a peaceful minute. Not an hour later, who decides to walk in other than the walking headache herself? At first, Izuku panicked before realising that there was no way for the girl to connect the blind librarian to her masked best friend.
Yeah, Izuku was still trying to get used to calling someone his best friend. It’s not that he didn’t want to be! It’s just that it’s been a while since he’d even known someone the same age as him let alone been friends with them. Plus they’d only actually had two conversations so it wasn’t like it was exactly a conventional friendship. Not to mention the whole (technically not) illegal secret identity thing. He was honestly a bit concerned at how trusting Mei had been with a complete stranger. He was going to have to have a word with her about that at some point…
So Izuku had spent the rest of his shift on edge as Mei chose to stick around and seemed determined to give him an aneurysm with her naturally accelerated heartbeat following him in the background as he worked. She had given no indication of knowing him at all when she would come up to him to ask about a book but Izuku couldn’t really tell if she was lying with the already rapid pace of her pulse thumping in his ears.
Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to become best friends with the one person who could lie to him. And who owned a blowtorch.
Izuku wearily ascended the stairs to the main training room, not-so-silently lamenting about his poor life decisions. The gym was one of the few places he would let himself slip back into what he called his ‘Mumble State’. Anywhere else would either just draw too much attention to him or he’d accidentally start absentmindedly start rambling the most recent case he was looking into. Speaking of…
Izuku slumped into the sofa to the right of the window, intent on getting some research work in before his patrol later. Placing his blacked out glasses on the coffee table in front of him, the teen reached out to the old laptop and earphones to the right of them and started mentally sorting through the info he had gathered a few nights ago. Before Eraserhead had shown up, Akuma had been able to get one crucial piece of info out of the low-level dealers.
The Americans were getting cocky.
Izuku had been tracking the mafia branches based in Musutafu for a while now and something had happened not too long ago that caused a major shift in the network of international mobs. Everyone had paused operations for a month and seemed to hold their breath in anticipation. Izuku had been expecting something big to happen but dealings started up again as if nothing had happened. There was nothing in the media about any big arrests or gang fights so he assumed that whatever happened was an internal issue in one of the mafias or a covert operation that the police didn’t want the public to know about. Either way, the Americans had taken advantage of it and decided to move in on territory that wasn’t theirs.
So of course Izuku had to suffer because of it.
As he typed, the material of the zip-up hoodie Izuku had been wearing since the morning began to get on his nerves so he reluctantly paused in his work to pull it off. The hoodie had become sort of a comfort to Izuku since he’d bought it. It was the first thing he had bought with his own money after… since he’d been living on his own. So he’d grown an attachment to the garment. Akari had commented on it at first when Izuku kept showing up to work in the same jacket, asking if he needed help styling his outfits since he couldn’t use a mirror. That was the moment when Izuku realised Akari really cared for him; she was able to joke about his disability with him whilst also showing concern.
It should be noted, however, that the hoodie wasn’t the only reason Akari questioned his fashion taste. Due to his night time activities and his supposed lack of knowledge of his surroundings that blind people usually had, Izuku had developed a habit of almost always wearing cargo trousers in order to keep his things on him at all times. Apparently this wasn’t up to Akari’s standards and she pretty much demanded him to get some more variety in his clothing. A little hypocritically, Izuku might add, considering he listened to the swish of the breeze created by Akari’s dresses that she wore daily. He had questioned her variety of clothing in response, trying not to be obvious about the fact that he knew the answer. But of course, the librarian had a comeback for everything.
“If you must know, all of the dresses I own are unique and spectacular in their own way! I have some that flatter my apple figure, some that have sleeves, some that don’t, and all of them are in clear winter colours to match my darker skin tone! You would suit a cool summer palette but instead you consistently wear a warm spring! It’s honestly a disgrace to my eyes and we’re going shopping. Right now. Come on!”
That was how Izuku had gotten roped into a whole day of shopping before he could ask how the hell a person could look like an apple. He had received a swift thwack on the back of his head when he asked if it had to do with her height but it was worth it to hear the soft chuckle that followed. Akari had been nervous since they left the library and he was glad to calm her down. Luckily, he was able to convince her to buy mainly cargo trousers but only if she got full reign on his shirts.
She never asked why he insisted on wearing the same hoodie every day or why he preferred cargos so much. She was good at that - caring for him without pushing on personal topics. It was why Izuku liked working at the library so much. That, and the fact that he got full access to the largest braille collection in Musutafu.
Noticing the lack of sunlight shining on his face, Izuku checked the time on his laptop. When the automated voice in his ear recited the numbers 22:30, Izuku jumped from the sofa and scrambled to change into his new get-up. Research had taken him well past the usual start time of his patrol and he hadn’t even noticed! Hopefully he’d be able to work extra hard tonight to make up for it. Maybe he could even get some more knowledge of the movement of the American branch and their Steel distribution.
Ah shit Izuku paused halfway out the service door on the roof Mei’s gonna kill me if I don’t update her on the new suit soon
Akuma accepted his fate to be on the receiving end of another lecture as he tied the leather mask at his nape, jumping to the adjacent roof and taking off at a run. If he was lucky, the night would turn out to be fairly uneventful after the eventual escape from his best friend’s lair. Oni knows he doesn't need any more excitement in his life.
~
Shouta was starting to think he needed a new tactic. After his talk with Naomasa he had gone home and reviewed his encounters with Akuma over the past month. He must have still had his scary face on when he walked through the door as Hizashi had taken one look and immediately turned around and started making a teapot of green tea. Normally his go-to drink would be black coffee, but Shouta was thankful that his husband knew he needed a much more calming drink before bed.
He was even more thankful that this had been one of the few occasions where Hizashi had waited up for him instead of the kid. His son’s insomnia usually kept him from getting to sleep anytime before the underground Pro got home so Shouta was always happy when he got more sleep. But he was additionally happy that the kid didn’t have to witness his ‘Brooding Mode’ as Hizashi called it. He wasn’t even brooding! He was just thinking very intently.
After recounting his interactions with the vigilante, Shouta realised that most of the time the information he gathered from the other was spoken from his own mouth. Like how his staff was called a jo and was made of “a very sophisticated metal material thank you very much” or how it “wasn’t a scarf it’s a mask!”. He had seemed especially offended by that one. From his little brainstorming session, Shouta had settled on a new approach that he was going to use.
He was going to talk to him.
~
Akuma was not having the best night.
Throughout his whole patrol, Izuku had been on edge. Tense. His body unconsciously anticipating something. At first he thought it was the lecture from Mei (which had been shorter than he expected but still scathing - it was scary how much like Akari she was) but the feeling continued even after he left. Just as Izuku was contemplating the possibilities of what the rest of the night could hold, a familiar set of footfalls and controlled breathing sounded a couple roofs over. Izuku sighed and grabbed the jo from his back, turning to face the direction Eraserhead was coming from.
This guy just doesn’t quit, huh?
The second the gravel crunched 3 feet in front of him, Akuma subtly shifted his stance, ready to fight or run at a moment's notice.
“Aren’t you getting a bit tired of this? I mean, you’ve got one of the highest capture rates out of the underground Pros and we’ve been doing this song and dance for over a month! If I didn’t know any better I’d say you didn’t even want to catch me,” Izuku snarked at the other man with a smirk on his face.
“You’re right.”
Izuku paused. He hadn’t expected Eraserhead to agree with him! Be offended and try to attack him, sure. He even had an escape route planned in his head! (Although it is rare that he doesn’t have one but details). This was a surprise however.
“I- um- what?”
Smooth, Izuku. Smooth.
“I said you’re right.” His hands fell to his sides casually. “I am getting tired of this. I figured instead of trying to catch you… we could just talk.”
Izuku was stunned. Because, despite it being said through gritted teeth, not a word from Eraserhead’s mouth was a lie. Izuku shifted his head minutely, listening out for any sort of reinforcements or traps nearby but… there was nothing. He really did just want to talk.
“...Huh.”
The silence stretched on for a while. To others it would be indecipherable but Izuku could tell the Pro was getting nervous. The slightly elevated heart rate and almost non-existent twitch of fingers gave him away. He decided to take pity on the man and eventually spoke up.
“Okay.”
“Wait what?”
“I said okay,” Izuku punctuated with a shrug of the shoulders, “we can talk. Well, it kinda depends on the subject, though. I mean, I don’t think we’re at the stage where we’re spilling our deepest darkest secrets just yet. Maybe at our next sleepover though!”
What? Izuku said he was gonna talk, he didn’t say he was gonna be easy about it!
Eraserhead sighed. “Fine. Deepest darkest secrets are off the table. I’m sure I can manage.”
“I dunno man, sometimes they just pop up and I don’t know if I can trust you not to go venting your trauma on me!” It was said as a joke but they both knew what Akuma really meant - how can I trust you?
Eraserhead paused for a second before reaching into his utility belt and boots, dropping the hidden knives on the ground in front of himself. Far enough away to not be a threat but close enough to grab before Akuma could get to them. A sign of truce.
Of course, Izuku didn’t need the display to know that he wasn’t lying but it’s always nice to have a bit of insurance.
He waited a beat before speaking again. “So, what do you wanna talk about? I hear the weather’s been nice recently.”
Too bad I couldn’t see it.
“I want to talk about you.”
Izuku hissed in a breath. “Hmm, I dunno man, I’m not big on sharing. You know, the whole secret identity thing? Kinda defeats the whole purpose if I’m rambling about my life to a Pro, you know what I mean?”
“I don’t want to know who you are.” Lie “I just want to know what you stand for.” Truth… Huh.
“And what, pray tell, do I get in return for telling you my oh-so noble moral standing,” Izuku exaggerated with a twirl of his left hand.
“An answer of your own. You answer one of my questions and I’ll answer one of yours. We both get full veto power - any question you don’t want to answer you don’t have to. But then you don’t get to ask me a question afterwards. You can stop at any time. That sound good?” Izuku could hear his heart thumping marginally faster than before. He was really hoping this would work for some reason.
“Hmm… Alright, but I go first.”
Eraserhead nodded.
“Why aren’t you trying to catch me right now?” A solid first question. Izuku could tell he was speaking the truth but he didn’t know why.
“Because it’s been a month. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I haven’t come close to bringing you in. So I figured it would be easier to try and get to know the person I’m chasing after. Plus, I do want to know where you stand.”
Truth.
“Which brings me to my question - why are you doing this?”
“Veto.”
“Alright,” Eraserhead paused to think. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting a veto so soon but this was something Izuku needed at least a level 4 trust with someone in order to divulge. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Don’t you know? I’ve not exactly been subtle,” Izuku said with a cheeky smile on his face.
“I was only brought onto the case recently and I’m pretty sure the police haven’t been following you since the day of your debut so I figured I’d get it directly from the source.”
“Hmm.” Izuku was surprised; Eraserhead had only told one lie the whole time they’d been talking. “Coming up on two years soon. You’re right, the police didn’t start after me until about 7 months after I started. Which was actually pretty lucky considering how sloppy I was when I first started out.”
The Pro seemed surprised at this if the exaggerated blink was anything to go by. He obviously had more trust in the police than Izuku did but then again, that wasn’t hard.
Man, Izuku thought it’s lucky I’ve learnt how to read emotions so well otherwise I wouldn’t know anything about what he was thinking! I mean what, does this guy have any facial expressions other than neutral?
“My turn now!” Izuku chirped, careful to keep his thoughts from showing on his face. Well, part of his face. “You said the police only brought you onto my case recently. Why? I mean you’ve got the best track record with vigilantes so it’d be logical to send you after but they didn’t. I wanna know why.”
“I was busy.” Izuku’s emphasised body language expressed his dissatisfaction with the answer. “With a case.”
Izuku sighed. “Ugh, you’re no fun.”
“My turn. What do you know about Steel?”
“I know it’s a pain in my ass.” Izuku crossed his arms as he mumbled the sentence. “That fucking drug has been popping up everywhere lately. Most people are using it to harden… skin and… other muscles if you know what I mean. But every once in a while you’ll get some punk who thinks it makes them invincible and they’ll go rob a store or some shit. It’s the minority but it’s been happening more and more frequently lately.”
“Hmm.” Eraserhead’s fingers twitch by his right leg, nearing the pen and pad Izuku could feel in his pocket.
He understood the need to gather information, really he did, but he wasn’t going to let the Pro reach for something whilst they were talking. He had to keep the air of distrust settle between them in order to insure Eraserhead wouldn’t try anything to rash… or stupid.
“Okay, now that you know all about my hatred for the hard-on drug…” Izuku almost snorted at the scandalised micro-expression on the other man’s face. He didn’t, but it was close. “I’m gonna ask my last question,” Izuku continued.
“Okay, go ahead.”
“What was the case you were working on before you were brought onto my case? And before you veto it let me explain first,” Izuku spoke quickly, pointing at the Pro.
The mouth that had opened at his question snapped shut.
“You started after me at the same time that Steel started picking up. Which means that whatever you were investigating has something to do with it, and if both of us want to get this drug off the street, we’re gonna need to share some relevant information with each other.”
Izuku could practically hear the cogs turning in his brain before Eraserhead seemed to come to a conclusion and sighed.
“It took us a year. We were looking into the international branch of a French mafia operating within Musutafu. In April, we were able to plan a raid to bring them all in and carried it out successfully. That’s all you need to know.”
Well that explains why he hadn’t heard of many illegal weapons recently. The French were the part of the network that handled international weapons trafficking and distribution. Izuku had just thought they were scared to move after the month-long standstill. Now he knows that that standstill was just in preparation for the biggest supposed raid since the Spotlight Raid of ‘87. Named so because of the amount of media it gained due to the involvement of 4 top ten Heroes, including All Might. This was bad news though, because it meant that the American branch was moving in on French territory, most likely hoping to take over their operations.
This could lead to an all out war within the network.
“Okay, one more question for you.”
Izuku was brought out of his own head and back to the present by Eraserhead’s voice.
“Do you know who’s been supplying the new upsurge of Steel?”
“Yes.”
Eraserhead did not seem impressed by his own bluntness being turned against him. “Aren’t you the one who said we should be sharing relevant information?”
Okay. He had a point.
Izuku sighed through his nose and crossed his arms once again. “The international branch of an American mafia. Apparently they’ve decided to use the lack of competition to their advantage. I can’t imagine the other branches are too happy about it.”
Eraserhead seemed to come to the same conclusion Izuku had as his head shifted downwards in thought.
“Keep an eye out for movement within the network, Eraserhead. I’ll see you around.”
Akuma was off the side of the building and down the fire escape in a few seconds flat. He was determined to get some more actual vigilante-ing in before the night was over.
~
“...I’ll see you around.”
When Shouta looked up again, the vigilante was gone. Bending down to pick up the knives by his feet, (he didn’t take them? He had the chance…) his left hand reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Shouta tapped on the contact third from the top. The phone rang once, twice, before it was answered with a click.
“Hey detective, there’s something you should know…”
~
After his… interesting interaction with the underground Pro, Izuku found himself thinking about it more and more. Akari had to help him reshelf about 20 books in the following days since he kept thinking too hard whilst working and walking into bookcases. Normally this wouldn’t be such a strange occurrence for a blind 14 year-old but Akari knew him better than that. He had been working at the library for nearly 4 years now and knew the layout like the back of his hand. Probably better considering he didn’t know what his hands looked like.
I wonder if they have freckles? Akari always likes to compliment the freckles on my face but she’s never mentioned if I have them on my hands. I used to when I was younger but don’t they usually fade over time? What about the rest of me? Do I have freckles on my legs? My chest? Why have I never thought about this before?
Regardless, Akari could tell something was up.
“What in Oni’s name has got your eyebrows so scrunched up, huh? Think any harder and you might actually see!”
Izuku almost jumped out of his skin. He must really be out of it if Akari was able to sneak up on him. And in the almost silent library no less!
“Oh, uh, nothing Akari. Don’t worry about it.” Izuku tried to escape past her but the librarian grabbed a hold of his cane before he could. “You know, you shouldn’t steal a cane from a blind guy. Not only is it incredibly rude and dangerous, you also get seven years of bad luck.” Despite his previously pensive state, Izuku couldn’t keep a smile off his face.
“Well I’ve never heard that before and I’m not entirely superstitious so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Izuku could practically feel the warmth radiating from her smile. “Okay but just be warned, the bad luck comes in the form of my incredibly clever blind jokes!”
Suddenly there was a cane being thrust into his hand.
Their laughter echoed quietly in the corner of the science fiction section before Akari interrupted it with her now slightly less concerned tone.
“Okay but seriously, what’s up, hun? I haven’t seen you so out of it since you hit your head on that doorway!”
“Okay that was your fault and you know it. How am I supposed to fit through a door designed for only mouse-sized people like yourself?”
“Izuku.”
He gulped. It wasn’t often Akari used his first name. Usually it was ‘hun’ or ‘sweetie’ or even ‘bat boy’ if he was being a bit of a dick. But she had called him Izuku. Akari was in Serious Mode. This meant she was overly concerned or angry and he didn’t particularly like being on the end of either because it meant that him or someone else had fucked up and would be recieving an earful soon. It was better to just get it over with now.
Izuku sighed. “I just had a conversation with someone that went… well, not as I had expected.”
“Someone that I need to talk to?” Izuku sensed Akari’s back straightening, bringing her to full height.
“No, no! What I mean is that- well- he was nicer than I thought he’d be.”
That’s a horrible way to put it, Izuku.
“Oh! You finally made a friend other than the 61 year-old librarian! Well congratulations, I’m proud of you!”
“What- no, I-”
“Very proud!” Akari had already begun walking away from him.
“Akari, wait that’s not-”
“You should introduce us! Bring him to the library and all that!” She wasn’t even facing him now.
“Akariiiii,” Izuku all but whined to himself.
He already knew this was going to go south.
~
It had been two weeks since their first proper conversation. Most nights Shouta would find himself back on that rooftop, waiting for the vigilante to return. Akuma had seemed surprised to find him back there the first time but eventually they had developed a sort of routine. Every other night they would meet up and exchange questions with one another.
Often, Shouta would leave with less information than he gave but that was likely due to the nature of his questions. He focused on finding out more about the vigilante whilst the other fished for updates on the Steel case. Neither had gained any more knowledge that was as significant as the first night, though. Mainly just reports of dealers in the area or recent arrests. Shouta was on his way to the rooftop now but as he was climbing up the brick wall with his scarf, he noticed something.
Every time Shouta had made his way to the roof, Akuma was always stood there waiting for him. The Pro was never the first to arrive but this time he couldn’t hear the tell-tale crunch of gravel beneath the other’s feet. Usually the vigilante would turn to face him as he pulled himself over the ledge or even look down at him whilst he climbed up.
Instead, there was nothing.
He decided to hide just below the ledge and wait for some sort of sign from Akuma. It was only about six seconds before Shouta got his sign. The silence of the night was broken by a ragged and pained intake of breath.
Shouta all but threw himself on to the roof with his capture weapon, landing with practised ease. He was greeted with a sight that would repeatedly play in his head for the next week.
There, at the side of the rooftop, with one arm and leg hanging off the ledge, was Akuma. Unconscious and bleeding out from a deep and vicious gash in his side.
Notes:
I'm sorry <3
Chapter 5: Something New
Summary:
Eraserhead and Akuma share some heartfelt conversations on a rooftop.
Also, two idiots meet in unexpected circumstances.
Notes:
TW!! PLEASE READ THE TRIGGERS BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER
this chapter includes:
- implied/referenced rape
- implied/referenced child abuse
- quirk discrimination
- graphic depictions of violence
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Izuku woke up confused and disorientated. The surface that he was laying on didn’t feel like the springy mattress from the Home and the air smelt mustier than it usually did. It was then that his memories came flooding back to him and Izuku’s breathing began to pick up. His own heartbeat was thumping in his head, getting faster and faster. The sound of it getting louder and louder, which did nothing to calm his already quickened breaths.
Izuku flinched at the hand that landed on his shoulder, having not heard their heartbeat over his own. He started to panic even more, thinking it was one of the other kids before a firm yet surprisingly quiet voice spoke to him.
“Hey, I’m gonna need you to calm down, alright? Focus on my voice. Slow your breaths.”
It was difficult and it took a while, but eventually Izuku was able to bring his own panic down to a manageable level, using the hand on his shoulder to ground himself. His pulse was still beating in his ears but not quite as loudly as before. He almost began to panic again when the other person started speaking, having forgotten they were there.
“Okay, good. Keep your breaths even - you’re still a bit banged up.”
It was then that Izuku noticed the material on his left hand. He knew that feel - his palm had been bandaged up. Much better than any of his previous attempts, he might add. But then again, it’s kinda hard to bandage properly when you’re blind.
He must have been mumbling whilst he was observing the handiwork because the person in front of him scoffed.
“Maybe for you, kid, but I think I did alright.” Izuku noted the smug tone in which it was said before he registered what they had implied.
“W-What? I- You’re blind?” Izuku was stunned. He had never met anyone else who was disabled, let alone blind, the same as him. With medical technology and the abundance of healing quirks in Japan, the blind population was infinitesimal. So much so that Izuku was convinced he was the only blind person in Musutafu.
Apparently not.
“Yeah, and so are you,” the mysterious person observed, “A blind kid that broke into my gym, no less.”
At that, Izuku curled in on himself. “I- I’m sorry! It’s just- Well, me and my friend, we… We just wanted to… Umm… Run away?” Izuku sounded unsure even to his own ears. “But please!” he was quick to continue, “don’t call the police! Please. I- I’ll leave. Right now, in fact! I’ll get out of here and you’ll never have to see me again, I promise but please, please don’t call the police!” His breath had picked up by the end of his little spiel but he didn’t care. He couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t.
“Hey, what did I say about keeping your breaths even? C’mon kid just calm down, I’m not gonna call the police.” The person seemed… tired? They seemed reluctant to say it as well.
“What? Wait, really? Why?” Izuku was instantly relieved but also confused. Why wouldn’t they call the police? He broke in!
It seemed he was mumbling once again as the person responded to him.
“I’m not calling the police because I don’t know what good it will do. They won’t help you.” Suddenly Izuku’s shoulder felt both light and almost cold when the hand left it. He heard them shuffling around before his cane was placed in his hand. Izuku had honestly forgotten that he had lost it in the first place. “But you can’t stay here kid. I patched you up ‘cause you obviously couldn’t do it yourself whilst knocked out. Now you’re awake, I don’t care what you do so long as it’s not here.”
Izuku heard them start to leave, presumably in the direction of the exit for him to follow but he stayed sitting.
“Wait! I… I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Not my problem, kid. Should’ve thought of that before you ran away.”
“But-” Izuku cut himself off, scared of how they might respond, before he pushed past his fear and asked the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind for a while. “But how did you know I cut my hand?” Izuku heard their steps pause. “You said you patched me up. That you bandaged my hand. But you’re blind so- So how did you even know my hand was bleeding?”
The person took in a breath before exhaling it in a sigh.
“There are other ways to see, kid.” Their steps continued but Izuku stopped them again, this time getting up as he said it.
“Wha- how? I-” He breathed in deeply. “Please, tell me how. I want- I want to know how. Please… Teach me.” Izuku wasn’t breathing. There was a lump in his throat preventing him from inhaling as he waited seemingly forever for them to answer.
“No.”
~*~
What did Mei do this time?
That was the first thought that Izuku registered when he groggily woke up. There was a familiar sense of deja vu and a piercing pain in his right side, but they were overshadowed by the pounding in his skull. Usually, when he got a headache this bad, it was due to a certain hyper engineer, so Izuku was startled when he was conscious enough to recognise the breathing beside him as someone else.
He shot up into a sitting position and instantly regretted it, lying back down with a groan.
“Careful, kid. Take it easy,” Eraserhead spoke softly whilst gently pushing his shoulder back down, “That was a nasty hit you took.”
It was then that Izuku noticed the stitches in his side, covered by gauze. Bringing his left hand over, he counted 20 stitches but he could be wrong. His headache must be bad if he didn’t catch them until now.
“You patched me up?” Then Izuku’s brain caught up with the rest of Eraserhead’s statement. “And who’re you calling ‘kid’? For all you know I could be fifty or something!”
“Oh yeah. A fifty year old 5’5” vigilante with the squeakiest voice in all of Musutafu. I’ll be sure to put that on your file.”
Izuku did not find the Hero’s (admittedly true) assessment of him amusing and made sure to voice his opinion to the man.
“...Hmph.”
Very articulate, Izuku. Well done.
“And yes, I did,” Eraserhead answered his first question, “Funnily enough, when I find someone bleeding out on a rooftop, legal status or not, I make an effort to make sure they don’t bleed out.”
“No but-” Izuku unconsciously tried to sit up again and a stabbing pain shot through his torso but he didn’t fall back down. He was not going to talk to someone who was constantly looming over him. “I mean- You didn’t take me in. And you didn’t take my mask off. Wait.” Thought occurred to him. “You didn’t take my mask off, right? Cause to put it back on before I woke up would just be cruel. And no offence Eraser, but you don’t seem cruel.” His breath was starting to pick up pace at this point.
“No, I didn’t take your mask off, calm down.” Eraserhead sounded exasperated but also… concerned? No, Izuku’s hearing must be off from the hit.
“But- I don’t- Why?” He was having trouble understanding what the Pro gained from not finding out his identity. Surely he must have some goal… Maybe he was gonna use it as leverage? Like a ‘I didn’t take your mask off now you owe me’ type thing?
Before his mental rambling could go on any further, Eraserhead chose to answer his question.
“I didn’t take your mask off because…” He hesitated. “Because I want you to trust me. I want you to know you can count on me not to try and arrest you at the first opportunity. It’s like I said before: you’re just a kid. And while I would love for you to stop recklessly putting yourself in danger every single night,” he punctuated that bit with a look that Izuku didn’t need to see to make him feel guilty, “you don’t deserve to be treated like a violent criminal. What you do, whilst being dangerous and illegal, helps people. You save people. And that kind of behaviour shouldn’t be punished by me breaking what little trust you might have. It should be repaid in my own trust. I trust you, Akuma. And I hope you can trust me too.”
Several moments passed by where neither of them moved an inch. Eraserhead was patiently waiting for the vigilante to process his little speech and Izuku was frozen in shock at the Hero’s words.
Too many times was Izuku either pissed off at or eternally grateful for his mask. He was a bit miffed that Mei had cut it shorter than before so that it didn’t cover his nose anymore but he was constantly grateful for the strip of leather that concealed his identity as well as many of his emotions. However, Izuku could say for certain that he had never been as thankful as he was now. Because behind that strip of leather were the eyes of a boy who had been told by his favourite Hero… that he was deserving of his trust. That he wasn’t just some violent criminal. That he saved people. Those eyes were rapidly filling with tears and Izuku was quick to school his expression and push himself to his feet in hopes that Eraserhead wouldn’t catch the tears falling from his mask.
He did.
Izuku grunted as he stretched, feeling the pull of his new stitches against his skin. He winced slightly and brought his left hand back to his side.
“Those will need to be taken out in a week or so. And the gauze should be changed regularly.” Eraserhead nodded to the vigilante and spoke his words with a slight softness to them. “And you’re going to tell me exactly how you got that next time, alright?”
Izuku had started to walk to the ledge behind him where the fire escape awaited his descent but paused and turned his head back slightly to Eraserhead at his words. “Yeah, thanks.” His voice was quiet as he continued his exit but paused again when he reached the edge. He fully turned his body back to the Hero before speaking his next words with such sincerity that Eraserhead was stunned still at them.
“Thank you, Eraser. For everything.”
And with those parting words, Izuku made his way home.
~
Hizashi loved his husband. He had for years. Even before they were married, or maybe even before they were dating, he loved Shouta with all his heart. When you love someone that much, for that long, you get to know them better than anyone. Sometimes even better than themselves. Shouta was notorious for not showing his emotions on his face or in any way really. Most people can never tell what he’s thinking or feeling at any given moment.
Not Hizashi, though.
He can tell when Shouta needs to be left alone or when he needs to be distracted from his work. He can tell that when he acts annoyed at the cats that he actually finds them adorable. He can tell when he’s proud of his son and that he loves him so much but is never very good at expressing it with words, choosing to let his actions speak louder instead.
And it’s because he knows his husband so well that the second he sees Shouta walk through the door, he envelopes him in his arms, using his hand to cradle his head between his own shoulder and neck. Shouta instantly wraps his own arms around his husband, sinking into the embrace. No words need to be exchanged between the couple as they make their way towards bed.
The pair fall asleep wrapped up in each other's arms and warmth. They can talk in the morning but for now, Hizashi will take care of his husband.
~
He was sipping coffee absentmindedly at the breakfast bar when he heard his dads stirring. Hitoshi hadn’t meant to snoop. He had just gotten up to grab a drink when he saw them in the kitchen last night. This had happened a few times before and Hitoshi had learnt not to pry. Just to make his Old Man and Pa coffee and tea respectively when they woke up.
When the Hero duo had first adopted him, Hitoshi had been hesitant to even speak let alone directly to them. However, when he did eventually warm up to them, a problem quickly arose; it was impossible to distinguish who he was talking to when he yelled “Dad”. To combat this, Hizashi had suggested using other names for them and so of course Hitoshi had taken the opportunity to piss off Shouta. Because when Hitoshi got close to someone, he was a brat to them. It was his way of showing affection (and that he wasn’t afraid to talk directly to them - that he trusted them).
In the past, Hitoshi had offhandedly called Shouta an “old man” on a few occasions and each time, the man would grumble that he “wasn’t even that old and Hizashi is older anyways!”. For this exact reason, Hitoshi had made the decision to exclusively call him Old Man whilst giving a ‘normal’ dad name to Hizashi - Pa. It annoyed Shouta at first but Hitoshi could tell that he was secretly happy that the boy was comfortable enough to joke with him.
Hitoshi handed the coffee mug off to his Old Man before turning around and pouring out the green tea for Pa. It must have been a bad one yesterday because the man didn’t even say good morning like he usually did. Hitoshi didn’t mind, though. He knew how difficult it can be for Heroes sometimes.
Pa walked in after him and unlike his counterpart, he accepted his tea with a warm smile and a “thank you.” He then got started on breakfast as Hitoshi took his own drink and mirrored his Old Man’s position at the breakfast bar. It wouldn’t be long until Hitoshi would need to get ready for school but it was nice to just sit as a family in the mornings.
When Shouta eventually made his way to UA after reassurances and loving words from his husband, it was with the knowledge that at least one of the two teenagers in his life was safe. Later that day, he would learn that this was incorrect.
~
Katsuki had a lot on his mind. He always did during his early morning runs. The rush of air in his lungs and blast of music in his ears allowed him to fall into his own head and think about the multitude of questions that plagued his mind.
Am I training hard enough? Should I increase my time at the gym? Will it be enough to get into UA? What if it’s not? What do I do then? Will I be useless? Like Deku? What happened to Deku? Where did he go? Did he really think he was too good to stick around? Why did I ignore him for so long? What would Auntie Inko think? Why-
Katsuki realised he really should have been paying more attention when his train of unending questions came to an abrupt stop as he turned the next corner and violently collided with something. Or someone? Taking the headphones from his ears, Katsuki reoriented himself then looked down at the guy that had been knocked on his ass in front of him.
“Watch where you’re going, idiot!” Katsuki knew he was the one at fault but there was no way he was gonna admit that to some extra who was obviously just as distracted as he was. The guy must have been going for a run as well if his clothing was anything to go by. Katsuki trailed his eyes up from the sneakers to the running shorts that were hanging off the most toned thighs he had seen besides his own.
The blonde teen quickly averted his gaze to the mop of purple hair that seemed to defy gravity even more than Katsuki’s before his eyes moved to the left slightly and took notice of the clump of hair that was matted. A closer look confirmed Katsuki’s suspicions - the guy was bleeding.
Ah, shit. Great job, dumbass, you gave the fucker a head wound! Well… at least he’s not unconscious.
The purple fucker may not have been unconscious but Katsuki could see that he wasn’t exactly conscious either. His head was swaying like a drunken idiot and when he tried to stand up, he almost immediately fell back down on his ass.
Katsuki sighed heavily before accepting his fate for the rest of the morning and bent down to pull the guy up to his feet. Once standing, the fucker then fell onto the explosive teen’s shoulder, putting all of his weight on the other.
“Ah! You-” Katsuki sighed again before shifting the teen’s arm over his shoulders, practically carrying the idiot. “You’re goddamn lucky the hospital isn’t far from here. And that I’m strong as fuck cause you weigh a fuckton for a scrawny motherfucker.”
Probably stores it in those fucking thighs.
The walk to Musutafu General was tiresome but no more than Katsuki could handle. He hobbled them both to the receptionists desk, purple fucker still drunkenly swaying on his feet.
“How can I help you sir?” The sickly sweet voice of the woman behind the desk grated on his nerves. Her eyes flicked to the boy hanging off his shoulder before returning to his gaze.
“Yeah, I was on a run this morning and accidentally knocked into this guy. He must have hit his head when he fell ‘cause he’s bleeding and I think he’s got a concussion.” It took all of Katsuki’s effort to not be too loud or brash in the hospital.
“Okay, well fill out this form and have a seat in the waiting area. Someone will see you shortly.” The receptionist handed him a clipboard and pen then gestured to seating with a smile plastered on her face which did nothing to help Katsuki’s already sour mood.
Once manoeuvring the purple fucker into a seat, Katsuki took a look at the form and immediately encountered a problem. He knew nothing about the guy.
A thought occurred to him and Katsuki began searching the guy’s pockets for a phone or wallet. It took a bit of shuffling but eventually he found the idiot’s phone and promptly clicked on the emergency contact button, pressing the first number on the list. The phone rang once before a gruff voice picked up.
“Hitoshi?”
“Hey, you know this guy? Kinda lanky, purple hair?”
“...Who is this?”
Katsuki immediately noticed the change in tone. The deep voice sent involuntary shivers down his spine which he shook off before speaking again.
“My name’s Bakugou Katsuki. I knocked into this ‘Hitoshi’ whilst on my run this morning and he hit his head.” Katsuki thought it wise not to mention the blood or concussion. “We’re at Musutafu General at the moment.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s a bit out of it but still conscious.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll be there shortly.”
And with those parting words, the gruff voice hung up. Katsuki huffed and put the phone into his own pocket for the time being when the teen beside him dropped his head onto Katsuki’s shoulder. He looked over at the boy, intent on pushing him off before he paused. Katsuki hadn’t taken the time to properly look at the other until now. The boy had eye bags the same shade as his hair and were big enough to make Katsuki feel tired. His sharp cheekbones seemed to protrude from his face in a way that didn’t make him look gauntly but instead kind of intimidating. Katsuki’s eyes fell to the thin lips. Just as he began to wonder what they might feel like, the teen was pulled from his thoughts by a nurse who had approached the two of them.
Katsuki berated his own brain for thinking of something so stupid whilst relaying the information he knew about the guy to the nurse. Which was nothing besides his name. Regardless, the nurse took them over to a free bed then left to do something else.
By the time he overheard a homeless-looking man asking for a “Hitoshi” at reception, Katsuki had watched a doctor stitch up purple fucker, watched purple fucker finally pass out, and been told by the doctor to monitor his state whilst he slept. All the while, he had been in his own head, thinking about what his traitorous mind had been imagining earlier. So what if the guy was a bit attractive? Who gives a shit? Certainly not Katsuki that’s for damn sure.
The homeless-looking man approached the bed, eyeing Katsuki warily. “You must be Bakugou?” His voice was as gruff as it was on the phone.
The teen nodded as he spoke. “Yeah. You his dad or something?”
“I am. Thank you. For bringing him here and for calling me.”
“Tch, yeah whatever. Couldn’t exactly leave him there walking around like a drunken idiot.”
At that, the man’s eyes flicked over to the sleepy boy, his gaze seemingly dripping with concern despite the neutral look on his face and calm posture.
When the man didn’t speak, Katsuki stood from the chair he had been sitting in and made his way towards the curtain that separated the bed from the rest of the patients. “Hmm, well, I gotta get going. I’m already late for school. The doctor gave him a few stitches for where he hit his head but said he should be fine.”
The man took his spot in the seat and thanked him once more before Katsuki left. Making his way home to have a shower before school, Katsuki’s mind kept drifting to the purple fucker. He couldn’t pinpoint it but here was something about the boy that intrigued him. He hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with him again - he couldn’t afford distractions when the UA entrance exams were only seven months away.
~
Izuku didn’t know what to make of his last encounter with Eraserhead. On the one hand, the Hero knew he was a kid, or at least on the young side. On the other hand, he had found Akuma passed out and bleeding on a roof and instead of taking off his mask and bringing him in, he had patched him up. Eraser could have easily brought him to a hospital leaving him to wake up in handcuffs but he didn’t.
So now Izuku was standing on that same rooftop, nervous as shit. He had taken a week to let the wound heal before patrolling again but he couldn’t take the stitches out by himself. He wasn’t able to twist to reach them properly and when he tried, Izuku was rewarded with a sharp pang of pain for his efforts. Because of this, he had decided to bite the bullet and ask for help from Eraser. Which is why he was currently anxiously twirling his jo around, waiting for the Pro.
The telltale sound of Eraserhead’s controlled breaths halted Izuku’s nervous movements and he clipped his jo back into place on his back. The new brace Mei had built for him allowed him to retrieve and replace the staff with ease. It consisted of a claw-like mechanism that latched onto and released the jo when Izuku needed it.
Eraserhead’s feet landed on the gravel but neither of them spoke. The silence stretched on for what seemed like eternity before Izuku broke the tension in frankly the worst way possible.
“I really hope you’re not gonna put me in handcuffs right now because I’m not as flexible as you might think and I’m gonna need some help.”
The pair stood in shocked silence as Izuku realised what he had said and could hear the Pro’s breathing stop.
“Wha-”
“No wait! I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that, Kami! I just- I meant that I can’t reach the stitches to take them out and I’m also hoping that you don’t arrest me ‘cause what you said last time was really nice and if you try to bring me in now it would kinda put a damper on our relationship and I don’t-”
“Kid!” Eraser cut off Izuku’s rambling with a loud yet gentle voice. Izuku could tell by the twitch of his cheek that the man was fighting off a smile. “Come have a seat and I’ll take out those stitches okay? I promise I won’t put you in handcuffs.” Eraser had never been one to tease with him but the smirk on his lips betrayed his casual exterior.
Izuku huffed lightly and walked over to the air conditioning unit that was off to his right, leaning his back against it to use as support as he sat down. Eraser knelt next to him and grabbed some things from his utility belt as Izuku lifted his armoured shirt up with a bit of difficulty.
“So,” Eraser started, not looking up at Izuku, “you gonna tell me about how you got this?”
Izuku hissed as Eraserhead began working on his stitches. “Eh, some guys weren’t being too friendly.”
“Yeah I can see that,” Eraser huffed, “but why exactly were they ‘not friendly’ enough to do this, hmm?”
“Ah. Well I may have… stabbedoneoftheirfriendsintheeye?” Izuku’s face contorted into a grimace as he rushed his words.
Eraser froze. “...You what?”
“Okay, in my defence, the guy really didn’t deserve to see at all after what he did. He was lucky I left him with one still intact.”
~
Shouta had had many interactions with the vigilante, but he had never seen him like this. Akuma was almost always cracking jokes (some of which Shouta didn’t even understand) or teasing him in some way or another. Even when he watched the kid fighting criminals, he had a carefree air to him, taunting them whilst he deflected their blows. When he heard other Heroes or officers talking about his activity, it was often with a sense of wariness, as if the vigilante was actually a dangerous villain. It was the same way they would talk about Stain which always rubbed Shouta the wrong way after speaking with the kid.
He had never understood what they meant until now.
Akuma’s mood shifted so suddenly that Shouta was stunned still, the air around the pair seeming to grow colder. Despite his eyes being covered, Shouta could tell that the vigilante was sporting a murderous glare, one with the abillity to rival his own. It was now that he realised why the vigilante’s name was Akuma. The Devil.
Hesitantly, Shouta inclined his head slightly to urge Akuma to continue. In spite of the fact that he was seemingly glaring out into the night, he seemed to take notice of Shouta’s nod as started to speak again.
“I overheard him in his apartment on one of my patrols. At first I thought he was just drunk… but then I heard the kid.”
Shouta’s breath hitched.
“The guy turned out to have a quirk that allowed him to freeze someone in place if he was making eye contact with them.” Akuma paused to let Shouta understand the implications of what he was saying. “He- The things he was doing to her, Eraser. I think back on it now and I don’t know how I was able to stop myself from killing the bastard.”
Shouta was a Pro Hero. He worked for the HPSC despite his dislike for them. He enforced the law. But even he was resisting the urge to hunt the villain down right that second.
“But you wanna know what the worst part was? The guy said something to me as I was leaving. He said that-” Akuma took a deep breath as if preparing for his next words. “He said that his daughter was quirkless so this was all she was good for. That she was worthless for anything else other than being used. Before that, I was just going to leave him to the police and take the girl somewhere safe. But the way he spat those words, acting as if his daughter was just- Just something for him to take advantage of? That was when I stuck a knife in his socket. I could feel the blade sink into his eyeball, his screams grating in my ears. And you know what? I would do it again. I would do it in a heartbeat so that he could never do anything like that ever again.”
Shouta sat, first aid kit abandoned by his feet, not breathing. At some point during Akuma’s story he had activated his quirk subconsciously and he quickly blinked when he realised. The way that Akuma described what he did… It made Shouta feel sick to his stomach. But more than that, it made him hurt. It hurt to hear this boy in front of him, this kid, go through such an experience and for him to only feel rage and disgust. It pained Shouta to think about what he must have gone through beforehand to make him so apathetic towards such violence. So detached that he would admit to repeating it.
It took several minutes before Shouta was able to speak again.
“The girl?”
“She’s safe. I found out she used to live with her aunt’s cousin in the Maldives but her father was able to gain custody when he filed a court order. I background checked her before I called her up. From what the girl told me and from my own research she seemed like she really cared about her and would keep her safe.”
“Why not bring her to the police?” Even as the words left Shouta’s mouth he already knew the answer.
It was then that Akuma finally turned to look at him for the first time since they’d sat down. “She’s quirkless, Eraser. I couldn’t put her through any more trauma when she’s so young. She’d suffered enough.” He turned his head and looked back out across the city. “She’s going to suffer more, but I’ll be damned if I can’t save her from at least a fraction of it.”
Shouta knew how quirkless people were treated by society. He knew how prevalent quirk discrimination had become in Japan especially. Hell, he’d experienced it himself.
But something about Akuma’s words struck a chord in him. The kid talked with such conviction and emotion that he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to what he was saying. If there was a history behind his words. Instead of voicing this, however, he said the only other thought that was circling his mind.
“You did a good job, kid.”
Akuma’s head spun so fast that Shouta actually thought he heard something crack. “I- what?”
Up until that point, the vigilante had honestly seemed a bit terrifying to Shouta. The malice was dripping from his voice but there was also a tenseness to his shoulders. Ever since he had mentioned that the girl was quirkless, Shouta noticed that Akuma was anticipating something. It was subtle and greatly overshadowed by the iciness that emanated from the kid but he caught it. At his words, however, all of that malice and tenseness quickly shifted to surprise and confusion.
“I said you did a good job. You may have gone about it in an admittedly violent and illegal way but you saved that girl. You brought her to a place where she wouldn’t be hurt again. I know how much the society we live in beats down on those deemed ‘lesser’ and I know that she’s going to have to deal with that a lot later in life. But you were able to give her hope. You showed her that there are people who care about those who the world disregards. Yes, you rescued her from her physical torment but you also rescued her from her mental one. That little girl is going to grow up believing in the vigilante that saved her. The hero that saved her.”
Shouta had been finishing up with removing the stitches and applying gauze during his little speech but when he received no reply he looked up and saw a sight that shocked him.
Akuma was staring open mouthed at him, tears falling from the leather mask that covered his eyes.
He hastily wiped his face and turned away from Shouta, pulling his shirt back down as he did. Sensing that the kid wouldn’t appreciate him pushing him further, Shouta gathered his first aid kit back into his belt and stood up a couple feet from Akuma. The vigilante followed his actions shortly and turned back to face him, tear tracks gone from his cheeks.
“Thank you, Eraser,” he said softly. “You know for the- for the uh stitches. And for not putting me in handcuffs, heh,” he added, somewhat rushed and awkward, obviously trying to defuse the tension. Shouta took the opportunity to change the subject.
“Heh, yeah well it’d be kinda hard to patch you up whilst you were tied up,” he laughed, “It was hard enough to do it whilst you were unconscious. Which reminds me…” Shouta pulled some packaged onigiri from his belt and tossed it to Akuma. “I was worried you might pass out on me again so I brought that. Hopefully it will keep you from keeling over on any more roofs on your way home. Which is where you should be going since you can’t patrol with that wound still healing.”
He punctuated his words with a stern look but the kid didn’t notice due to him staring at the rice ball like it was pure gold. At least that’s what Shouta thought the kid’s face looked like. It was kinda hard to tell with the mask but the Pro was pretty confident in his abilities to read emotions.
“Kid?” he said, breaking Akuma out of his trance.
“Yeah, yeah. I uh- thanks! For the- the food, thanks.” His smile was a bit wobbly but genuine nonetheless. “You know someday we’re actually gonna have a conversation that doesn’t end in me crying, heh.”
The joke was half hearted but Shouta found himself smiling and huffing out a laugh still. “Yeah, maybe next time. I’ll see you around, Akuma.”
“See ya, Eraser.”
When Shouta got home that night, it would be Hitoshi that greeted him, perched on the sofa by the coffee table. And it would be Hitoshi that noticed the small smile sitting on his face as he thought back on the trust that the Hero and vigilante now shared.
Notes:
What's this? More of me ignoring the actual plot and building relationships instead?
...I'm sorry
I'm gonna try and make the next chapter more plot based and hopefully write some more about Steel. No promises though.
Chapter 6: When In Doubt, Blame The American
Summary:
A bit of backstory as well as a couple of impromptu interrogations
aka i attempt to write a fight scene with my competition-style karate knowledge alone
Notes:
TW for this chapter:
- light torture
- graphic depictions of violencethis chapter ended up being longer than i intended...
i wanted to actually write about the main plot rather than just relationships between characters so there's quite a bit of important information in this chapterhope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“No?”
“No. I won’t teach you.”
“B-but, I-”
Izuku stumbled to think of a reason for the person to agree but came up with nothing. Logically, he should count his blessings and leave before they came to their senses and called the police on him. He really shouldn’t be pushing his luck with the person whose gym he broke into. And yet…
“Please, I- I need this. I need to see again, please.” Even he could hear how desperate he was, but Izuku wasn’t going to let up. “I can’t stand this. Everything's so loud all the time. Ever since I lost my sight, I’ve just- I’ve been so overwhelmed by everything. It’s like all of my other senses have been dialled to eleven and I don’t know why I-”
“Wait,” they cut him off, “what do you mean?”
Izuku had gotten their attention somehow but he wasn’t going to waste the chance he was given to ponder the reason.
“I-I mean what I said. It’s like every sound is suddenly ten times louder. I can smell things from the other side of the building and the smallest scratch feels like sandpaper and I don’t know why! My own heartbeat sounds like drum in my skull and it’s torture. So please, if there’s a way- a tiny chance that I can see again, that I can stop this, please… teach me.”
Izuku had never told anyone about this until now. He had hinted a few times to Hitoshi, and he knew that the other boy was definitely suspicious of him, but they had never talked about it. It wasn’t like they could without Izuku bringing it up, anyway.
It was then that the green-haired 10 year-old realised that he had no idea what happened to his friend. Did he get caught? Did he run away somewhere else? Where was he now? Was he safe? Did Izuku make things worse by bringing him along?
He was shocked from his thoughts by the voice of the other person that had gotten much closer to him at some point.
“What’s your quirk, kid?”
Izuku’s whole body tensed. He was sure they weren’t going to teach him now. If he got up fast enough, he might be able to make it to the door before the person caught him. He knew the general direction they had walked in before so he should be able to figure it out. Izuku began preparing his body to move at a moment’s notice, clutching at his cane as he spoke his next words.
“I’m quirkless.”
“You sure about that, kid? ‘Cause most people can’t hear their own heart beating in their head.”
Izuku froze. This was the first time someone just… hadn’t believed him. I mean, why would someone pretend to be quirkless.
“Y-yeah I’m quirkless. I’ve got the toe joint and everything.” His guard was still up but Izuku was hesitating to run just yet.
“Hmm…” They seemed to pause to think about something, Izuku didn’t know what. “You said ‘ever since you lost your sight,’ so you weren’t born blind, correct?”
Izuku nodded minutely.
“How did it happen?”
Unwanted memories suddenly forced themselves to the front of his mind. He could hear his mother’s apologies replaying in his mind. He could feel the heat on face and the scrapes on his arms. He could smell the chemical scent of the clinic and could taste the toxins in the air. Not letting himself fall into yet another panic attack, Izuku forced himself to answer their question.
“Villain fight. I was- there were some chemicals. The doctors said it spilt into my eyes. I don’t remember the details.” He would have if he hadn’t been so unresponsive in the days after he awoke. The doctors had kept talking to him but Izuku was unable to listen to them, too overstimulated by everything else. Not just by the senses but by his own thoughts as well.
His memories were once again interrupted by the mumbling coming from the person in front of him. “Hmm, I guess it could… But it would have to be… Well does it really matter? He wouldn’t be able to control it. There likely wouldn’t be any point. Then again…”
“Excuse me?” Izuku had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping, but it wasn’t like he could help it. Still, he felt it rude not to acknowledge the mumbling.
“Kid.” Their voice was all of a sudden back to what Izuku assumed was normal speaking level. It was stern and he immediately paid full attention, back straightening in alertness. “Why did you break in? You must have heard the stories from the other kids. I scared them away for a reason. So why did you risk coming here just so you could run away?”
Their voice was so compelling that Izuku couldn’t help but answer honestly. “It was worth it to get away. Anything was better than there.”
Izuku must have said something right because the mystery person just sighed deeply and said, “I had a feeling you were gonna say that.”
Izuku heard some shuffling and suddenly he was pulled up to his feet by a grip on his bicep. He must have dropped his cane at some point as it was thrust back into his hand once again. He had no idea what was happening or what had prompted the person to say what they did next but all he knew was that it was the greatest news he had heard since that day.
“Alright, kid. I’ll teach you.”
~
Ohta was so going to regret this.
But they couldn’t help but see themself in him. So much. Everything the kid said about not being able to handle the noise and wanting more than anything to see again… they knew it all too well. And the bravery that he showed. The courage it took to leave that place was not small.
Ohta couldn’t just leave this kid to fend for himself, no matter how much the logical side of their brain urged them to. Damn their emotions. It wasn’t often that they took priority like this, but when their feelings took over, that was a sign for Ohta to actually do something.
Speaking of…
“Okay, first things first. My name is Matsui Ohta. You will call me Matsui-sensei or Sir, nothing else. Understood?”
“Y-yes Sir!” the kid responded, back ramrod straight. Well, at least he can follow orders. He’s already better than their last student.
“Good. Second, my pronouns are they/them. You use anything else and I’ll smack you so hard you can see, alright?” Hopefully they wouldn’t have to kick him to the curb so soon.
“Pronouns? Oh! I think I remember my mum saying something about…” The kid trailed off before shaking his head and continuing. “Um, that’s like girls and boys, right?”
Kami, Ohta had forgotten that kids usually don’t know this shit. Why were they putting up with this again?
“Sort of. I’m not a girl or a boy so if you were talking about me to someone else - by the way, I should add, you will never do - you would say “they did that” or “I talked to them”, got it?” That was a pretty simplistic explanation but the kid’s what, 7? Too young to be expected to know the social constructions of gender. Wait actually…
“How old are you, kid?”
They seemed to shake him from his own thoughts. “Hmm? Oh, yeah! I’m 10.”
10?! Kami, this kid needs some food. They would address that later, though.
“Alright, and your name and pronouns?”
“Midoriya Izuku, Sir! And I’m a boy so I guess my pronouns would be… he?”
Hmm, he seemed hesitant but it was clear the kid understood it well enough. Impressive, considering a lot of adults didn’t. Or at least refused to. They can’t count how many balls they’ve kicked belonging to assholes who pushed their luck.
“Okay, Midoriya. Third rule: everything I say, you do. If you can’t follow my instructions, I’ll kick your ass out.”
“Wait, you’ll kick me out?” For some reason this surprised the kid.
“Yeah, and that ain’t an empty threat, kid. I won’t stand for rebelli-”
“No no I mean,” he interrupted. “You’re letting me stay here?”
Ohta stilled at the vulnerability in his voice. Did he really think that they were gonna teach him whilst still letting him be homeless? The emotional side of their brain was going to completely take over at this rate. I mean, how is it even possible for a kid that size to make himself look even smaller than he already does? Ohta was starting to think that they signed up for more than they thought.
They must have taken too long to respond because the kid- Midoriya made his presence known again.
“M-Matsui-sensei?”
Not very well, but he did it. They were gonna have to work on that as well.
“Yes, Midoriya,” they sighed, “I’m letting you stay here. You can take the mattress but don’t think I’m gonna mother-hen you or whatever. I’ll keep the fridge stocked and the bills paid but you gotta take care of yourself. I’m your teacher, not your dad.”
Despite their blunt statement that they were gonna basically let a 10 year-old fend for himself, Midoriya’s cheeks pulled upwards into a smile that would have blinded Ohta if their quirk hadn’t already done that years ago. Seriously, what the fuck happened to the brat that bare neccessities seemed like a fucking gold mine to him? Oh and there go their fucking emotions again.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Midoriya seemed to remember who he was talking to if the hurriedly added “Matsui-sensei” was anything to go by.
“Hmph. I’ll show you the layout of the gym once and then we can start your training. After that you’ll have to work out the place for yourself. You got any questions, ask ‘em now ‘cause I won’t promise I’ll answer them in the middle of teaching.” Ohta had noticed an anticipatory tenseness across his shoulders for a while now and they could tell the kid wanted to ask something.
“What’s your quirk, Sir?” He seemed to vibrate in place when the words spilled from his mouth.
“My quirk is called Volume Mixer. I have full control over how much I can hear within a 5 mile radius. Without using my quirk, I also have naturally enhanced hearing, similar to you. For example, I can currently hear your heartbeat but if I want, I can use my quirk to bring my sensitivity down to a normal level or increase it to hear even more. You get it?” They tried to make the explanation simple enough for a 10 year-old to understand but Ohta wasn’t too worried. The kid seemed smart.
Midoriya started to vibrate even more at their description of their quirk, his pulse increasing in speed. “That’s so cool! You can hear things 5 miles away? That’s awesome! And- and you’re like me! Except-” Something in his posture shifted. His shoulders slumped slightly and his voice turned into a mumble. “Except you can turn it off…” he finished.
Ah, so that’s what it was.
“Yes, I can.” His shoulders sagged some more. “But that doesn’t mean I need to. Or that I do it constantly.” At this, his green curls shook as his head picked up in thinly veiled hope. “My quirk, like any other, is a part of me. It’s a physical ability. This means if I was using it 24/7, I’d likely pass out from exhaustion after a couple of hours or end up doing permanent damage.”
Or more accurately, even more permanent damage.
“Because of this,” Ohta continued, pushing the anger at their younger self to the back of their mind, “I learnt to deal with it. I learnt to use it to my advantage. Like I said, there are other ways to ‘see’.”
The smile on Midoriya’s face was so wide that Ohta was beginning to regret their decision to train him less and less.
“Alright, Q and A’s over. Let’s get started on that tour.”
~*~
The musk of the rusty railing was beginning to invade Izuku’s senses more than he would like. Regardless, he needed to stay put and wait for the other guy to show up before he could leave.
Izuku had finally been able to start patrolling again last night, which he was eternally grateful for. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the gym! But being cooped up for so long with only remote research and light training to keep him occupied was getting a bit boring. Especially since it’s practically impossible to do remote research into Musutafu’s most elusive mafias. The majority of his information came from forums that, just reading from, most likely gave his laptop ten different viruses. And even then, the people who wrote about the illegal activities in the city, usually weren’t always truthful. In fact, a good number of them made up lies just to try and flush out competition. Luckily, Izuku had gotten quite good at detecting falsehoods, with or without a heartbeat.
Safe to say, he was grateful to be able to get out and fish for information first-hand. Last night, Akuma finally hit the streets again, unfortunately for some. Specifically a dealer by the name of Rin who became surprisingly loose-lipped after some persuasion from Akuma and his jo. Rin had been very helpful and given the vigilante the time and location of a meet-up between some members of the American branch. They were low down on the food chain but higher than some random dealer nonetheless.
Which brings Izuku to now, sitting in an old metal structure at Shimizu docks, breathing in the rust as he waits for the guests of honour to show up. He was beginning to think that Rin was full of shit (an unwise decision on his part) when Izuku heard footsteps approaching from his left.
The man was wearing a wrinkleless suit, which smelt as if it was doused in cologne, as well as a traditional fedora as he approached one of the shipping containers lining the dock. Despite supposedly being one of the lower ranked members, his suit was professionally tailored and fit his body snugly. However, the way that he held himself betrayed his clothing, walking as if everyone in his presence should bow down to his feet. He was clearly an amateur trying to display power that he didn’t possess.
The man sauntered into the container and leaned casually on the metal interior. He oozed cockiness, but Izuku could hear his fingers fidgeting in his pockets, fiddling with the steel ring on his right middle finger, an indicator of his status. By the placement and quality of the steel band, Izuku could tell he was a soldato. As a soldato, this man was the lowest ranking of the made men, above only the associates and picciottos.
Even though they called themself an American mafia, many of the members were Italian, and their structure was much the same. Years ago, it used to be that one could only become a made man within the mafia if they were of Italian descent. But after the birth of quirks, the Italian mafia stationed in the USA became more lenient with their rules, initiating members with powerful quirks regardless of heritage. These members, while being loyal to the group and had official roles, were never a part of the family - that right was reserved for Italians alone, as were the highest ranks within the chain of command. Soon though, they became so integrated that others took to calling them the American mafia, mocking their disregard of ethnicity which they used to value so greatly.
Izuku had learnt this during his week off, having nothing to do other than research the history of the people currently plaguing Musutafu. He was thinking about relaying the information to Eraserhead when the second person showed up.
This woman held a distinctly different air to the American. She walked with purpose, not cockiness. Her chin, tucked down in anticipation of a fight instead of in the air, haughtily demanding undue respect. Rin had told Akuma of a meeting but not of who with. However, as soon as he heard the shift of her leather bomber jacket, Izuku instantly knew where her loyalty was placed.
The real question is: What business do the Americans have with the Russians?
It seemed he was about to find out as the woman stomped out the cigarette she had been smoking just outside of the shipping container’s opening. Cocky American Guy scoffed when he noticed her and began speaking in heavily accented Japanese.
“We call for Vory Zhizni to answer for wrongs and they send bratok? Pshh! Your crimes are to be talked by boss only.” He punctuated his brash and slightly confusing statement with a spit at the woman’s feet.
Izuku wondered how he was able to identify her rank by her appearance alone, as the Russians didn’t have distinguishing clothing for each position like the Americans. Perhaps some tattoos? Izuku would have to do some more research, though he dreaded the thought of another second behind his laptop. Maybe he wouldn’t need to if tattoos were the answer, considering he wouldn’t be able to use that knowledge himself.
“Our crimes?” The woman spoke in a much more fluent accent, obviously having had more experience speaking Japanese. “What crimes? A petty squabble such as this barely warrants a conversation, let alone the Pakhan! You Americans have always been hubristic.”
The vigilante could tell that the man was confused slightly, likely not knowing what “hubristic” meant in English, but he seemed to gather it was an insult if the heat rising to his cheeks in anger was to be understood. The American’s naivety shone through with the indignant squawk he let out as he brought his fists from his pockets, straightening up his posture.
“‘What crime?’ You kill our traders when walk on American area!” Wow, this guy's Japanese was worse than Izuku’s eyesight. “We call for fee!”
The leather-clad woman laughed in the soldato’s face, gaining disdain she previously did not possess. “American territory? The Giudice Crime Family thinks they have the right to this domain now that the French have gotten themselves pinched? These are free streets we stand on. If you want ownership, you take it up with the Directorate. Until then, we take who we want.”
It was no secret that each of the mafia branches in Musutafu played their own roles within the network. Izuku had investigated such roles extensively and it didn’t take long to determine the different duties.
The French had control over arms trafficking and distribution. Or, well, they used to. It seemed as if the others (especially the Americans) had tried to pick up where they left off, but with their own duties to attend to, it was lacking severely.
The Giudice Crime Family was one of the Italian-turned-American mafia’s smaller branches who specialised in illegal substances, mainly Steel as of recently. They weren’t the most powerful of the network but they certainly had the most money.
The Vory Zhizni was the most brutal of the bunch. A fitting name for their line of work - “Thieves Of Life.” The Thieves mainly focused on quick and efficient contract killings. Although, depending on the target, it wasn’t always quick. Every thug and convict in the underground of Musutafu knew that if you wanted someone dead, you paid a Thief.
Finally, you had the Shie Hassaikai. The Eight Precepts of Death were easily the most powerful as well as the oldest… but they weren’t exactly respected. After the rise of All Might and the Heroes, the Yakuza fell into the shadows, hiding behind their reputation. Since Izuku had started his work as Akuma, however, their activity has been increasing. There had been talk of the Eight Precepts working with the Thieves recently, but Izuku hadn’t found anything concrete.
He had found, though, that “the Directorate” was the council consisting of the leaders of each of the branches. Izuku wasn’t able to find out anything more than that as the lady who had given him this information had promptly stabbed him.
“S-shit!”
Squelching flesh accompanied the woman’s choked cry of pain, echoing in the deserted back alley behind a bar. Izuku could feel her thigh muscles contracting around his blade along with her windpipe struggling against his jo. With one hand holding down her neck, he pushed the knife deeper into her tissue and repeated his question.
“How about we try this again?” he smiled condescendingly, “What is the name of the man running the Steel supply, hmm?” Akuma’s head inched forward, intruding in on the shestyorka’s space even more so.
One of his legs was bent, his shin pushing down on the woman’s shins. His other leg was crouched next to her torso in order to give him leverage and access to both her left thigh and her neck. His face was so close to hers, that her ragged breaths mingled with his own.
“Tell me!” he screamed, his higher pitch having no effect on the fear he could smell overflowing from the woman beneath him.
“I- I can’t! They’d k-kill me!” she coughed out in response. Izuku lessened his hold on her throat just slightly, enough to speak.
“Who would?” Akuma’s voice was dangerously low now, a threat embedded in his tone much like the blade he held in her leg. A slight twist of his wrist had her crying out once more.
“FUCK, stop! The Directorate, okay? They’re a group of bosses from all the major syndicates in Musutafu. If I gave up any name, all three of them would- They’d tear me and everyone I know to shreds! Fucking hell, I’ve told you too much already just STOP!”
Izuku finally relented and removed the knife from her thigh but left his jo in place. The wound was carefully placed with advanced skill in order to maximise pain and minimise injury. His focus temporarily shifted to one of his many pockets to grab his medical supplies and begin dressing said wound when a sharp pain burst from just above Izuku’s left hip. The woman had taken advantage of his distraction and sunk a glass covered finger into his abdomen, a hair’s width from one of the armoured panels shielding his torso.
As he lay on the grimy floor of the alley, listening to the stuttered limp of retreating steps, Izuku wondered when he had become so apathetic towards violence yet stupid enough to let his guard down. And for what? To treat the injury he caused? Ohta would be ashamed.
That was the thought that had shook him out of his reverie to pull himself together and hobble back to the gym and stitch up his new small stab wound.
A twinge by his hip at the memory brought Izuku back to the present, sitting on the rusting metal, overlooking two low ranks just shy of the water. The leather-wearing women had mentioned “the Directorate” before so he was hoping that he could catch some more information on them. If not, he could still learn what beef there was between the Thieves and the Giudice Crime Family.
“Look, if the Giudice want to take over for Cellier then they’ll have to come up with a good reason why. If not, you-know-who is gonna fall back on his flimsy reputation and end up with double the territory. And neither of us want that.”
From her description, Izuku had a good feeling that the “you-know-who” the bratok spoke of was the new leader of the Eight Precepts.
The American man began fiddling with his ring again. “Then, he would have to bring it to Directorate. Until that time, we continuing business and you not get in way of us.” Despite the soldato’s arrogant tone, Izuku could hear his heart beating at the pace of an EDM tune and could smell the sweat rolling down his neck. Which was impressive, considering how much cologne he had caked on. Apparently the tarnished respectability of the Eight Precepts wasn’t enough to demote their anxiety-inducing power.
This obviously wasn’t the correct response because it was met with the safety being clicked off of an sub-machine gun and a faceful of barrel. “I think you’ll find it is you who should be staying out of our way. After all, we wouldn’t want any of your little associates to get caught in the crossfire of our business, would we?”
Izuku figured now was a good time to step in. Or more accurately, drop in.
His steel-toed boots made contact with the gun as he descended between the two, his smile growing sharper. The vigilante unlatched his jo and swung it to his right, disarming the soldato before he could put his finger on the trigger. With two weapons at his feet and many more on his person, Akuma turned to address the pair he had previously been eavesdropping on.
“Sorry for barging in so rudely! I didn’t see where I was walking and slipped!” He dodged a fist aiming for his head with a casual side-step, nudging the attacker off-balance. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“If you knowing what is right for you, you are leave us alone.” The smugness radiating from the man’s voice did nothing to conceal the sound of his clenching fists.
“He means scram, dickhead!” the fierce voice from behind Akuma shouted, having recovered from her stumble. She lunged for her SMG but the boy kicked it out of reach before she could grab it.
“Hmm, I dunno… I wanna see what all the fuss is about! Who knows? Maybe I could liven up the party! You guys like blindfolds?” he quipped, simultaneously sending a side thrust kick to the other man’s solar plexus that left him winded.
His jo quickly found its way to the back of the bratok’s knees, sending her careening to the floor when she attempted to attack him once again. With both his opponents momentarily down, Akuma took the chance to hastily zip-tie the two discarded guns together, rendering them useless.
He was about to chuck the now-junk pieces of metal further away, just to be safe, when an arm made its way around his throat, cutting off his air supply. The vigilante reached up and snaked one hand through the man’s hold whilst the other grasped onto his suit jacket and then yanked hard. Coupled with a bend at the waist to pull him off balance, Akuma flipped his attacker over his shoulder, the manoeuvre leaving him gasping in pain.
He couldn’t pause for long, though, as the blind boy was quickly met with a knife swiping at his torso from the right. As his staff deflected the blade, Akuma grabbed onto the Russian woman’s wrist and twisted it behind her back, catching the weapon as it dropped from her hand. A well-aimed kick sent pain shooting through his knee but not enough to stop him from pinning the woman to the floor and constricting her hands with another zip-tie.
The crunch of gravel and silky sound of expensive material rubbing together alerted Akuma to the man running up behind him. A subtle shift in his foot placement sent him sprawling to the ground, causing Akuma to smell the iron in the blood that dripped from his face upon impact.
It didn’t take long to grapple the fallen American into a similar position to that of his… Enemy? Associate? After their conversation beforehand, Izuku wasn’t too sure anymore.
Actually, now might be a good time to ask…
“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here today…” Akuma smirked at the two bound criminals he had leant up against one of the shipping containers. “Now I know we might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I can see us becoming friends!”
The American spat at his feet and Izuku wasn’t too sure if it was because of his shitty attempt at a blind joke or if he just didn’t understand what he was saying. That, or he was just grumpy because he had lost his fedora during the tussle and was now displaying the world’s worst case of hat hair. Seriously, Izuku’s eyes saw jackshit, but even he could tell that the cowlick coupled with messed up gelled hair was not a good look.
“Okay fine! You don’t wanna be friends!” Izuku pouted, “You don’t have to be mean about it, though.” His voice was starting to sound petulant, which Izuku figured wouldn’t get anywhere with these guys, so he decided to switch it up.
“Look, here’s the deal: Either you tell me what I wanna know and I call the police and have you arrested or I can tie all four of your feet together and toss you into the water like a pair of drowning pigs. Which will it be?” One advantage of being able to tell when people are lying is that you get pretty good at bluffing. Izuku just hoped it was good enough to fool a couple of gangsters who pretty much lied for a living.
He must have said something right because he noticed the bratok’s heart rate start to pick up. Izuku was pretty impressed, as her face betrayed nothing of her internal panic, remaining impassive and unmoving. Her companion (?) however was the textbook example of what not to do when trying to seem composed. His whole body shifted at Izuku’s words and sweat began to drip down his temple, his stubborn cologne hijacking the salty scent with its own acrid aroma.
Izuku waited for a couple seconds before continuing. “Alright, I guess I’ll start.” He fastened his jo in its brace and crouched down to meet them at eye level in a seemingly casual gesture. What they didn’t see was the sleight of hand that allowed him to slip his phone from his pocket and click record using muscle memory. Izuku often argued that being able to navigate a flip phone without voice-assistance was his greatest skill.
“First question - what’s the relationship here? Cause I’m getting like a ‘star-crossed lovers’ vibe from you two.” Akuma accentuated his teasing with a dramatic twirl of his hands.
The bratok scoffed and pulled her face into a grimace. “I am thinking your mask is distorting your sight. It is insulting to even be in this durak’s presence.” Izuku didn’t know Russian but the way she spat out that word made him think it wasn’t exactly friendly.
“Oh, really? Aww but you seem so close! You even organised a cute little rendezvous!”
“This was a business meeting not a rendezvous!”
Bingo.
“A business meeting? About what? About the territory dispute now that the French are gone? Why don’t you tell me some more about that.” Akuma smirked viciously as the bratok’s face briefly contorted in realisation.
Several minutes passed and Izuku was beginning to worry that he might need to make good on his threat after all. As he reached for his pocket, however, the anxious American finally spoke up.
“W-wait!”
Izuku paused.
The bratok stiffened.
“We have arguing. Russians are step over. We settle. One way or addition.”
Izuku mentally translated the man’s broken Japanese and figured he was saying that the Giudice want the Thieves to quit invading or they’ll force them out. Which is good because it means they’re not forcing them out just yet. Izuku might be able to stall this conflict long enough to figure something out.
Or at least let Eraser know.
Izuku was pulled from his musings by the cry of pain that the soldato gave out when the other kicked him.
“Kozel!” she spat.
“Hey hey, woah!” Akuma put his hands out placatingly. “Only I’m allowed to do that!”
He stood and turned away from the pair, keeping an ear out for any more funny business. Izuku pulled his phone from his pocket and stopped the recording before dialling 110.
“Hey do you guys wanna be referred to as crooks or hooligans?” Izuku caught the looks of offence on their faces as he sassed the words over his shoulder.
Man, some people just can’t take a joke.
~
When Izuku finally arrived at Mei’s workshop later that night, it was with a sense of dread pitted in his stomach. Because of his little predicament, for the past two weeks not only has he missed patrol, he also missed his weekly meet-ups with his best friend. She had insisted on them back when they officially reached best friend status saying that “What kind of best friends don’t talk to each other? Also, if you break my babies, I need to kill you in person.”
At the time, Izuku had been scarily impressed that a person could say something so menacing with such a sweet smile.
As he landed on the roof of the unassuming garage roof of Hatsume Mechanics, an explosion rang out from beneath him that he was certain shook the entire PCD. Sighing to himself, Izuku silently climbed down the side of the building and into his usual window. Despite how many times Mei demanded that he use the front door, he always found sneaking in more fun; sometimes he tried to see how long he could hide his presence from the girl.
His record was ninety seconds.
Today, he was met with a spanner in his face the second his feet hit solid ground again.
“Where the HELL have you been?”
Fuck.
“I- uh- well…” Izuku stammered to reply but was struggling to find words under the pressure of Mei’s stare.
How is it that I’m friends with the only two women who are able to stare down a blind guy??
“What? Too busy kicking ass to think about your best friend?” Beneath the anger in her tone, Izuku could hear the hurt lacing her words.
“NO!” he was quick to assure her, “No I was just- I kinda-”
“Kinda what?” The spanner inched closer.
“Got stabbed?” Izuku’s voice hitched impossibly higher as he shrugged slightly.
The arm holding the spanner dropped.
“You what?” The anger had drained from Mei’s voice, leaving only confusion and concern in its wake.
“Haha yeah…” He scratched the back of his head on reflex but dropped his hand when he realised he was still wearing his helmet. “I was out of commission for a bit, b-but I’m back now! I’m really sorry for skipping out on you, Mei.” Izuku hung his head in shame.
He had been expecting a lecture from the girl or maybe a smack for his behaviour. He hadn’t expected to be engulfed in a tight hug.
“You moron. What’s the point in giving you my babies if you’re not gonna use them?”
Heat flushed in Izuku’s cheeks at Mei’s choice of words, but he returned the hug after a shocked pause nonetheless.
“I was using them! It’s just that one of the guys who jumped me caught me in the side where the armour stops. It was my fault. I wasn’t as focused as I should have been. I’m sorry.”
Mei finally pulled herself off of him and turned to pierce him with a stern look. “Well pay more attention, idiot! I don’t wanna lose my best friend just because he’s too busy thinking about pineapple candy to miss the knife coming at him!”
“Hey, pineapple candy deserves a lot of thought!” Izuku called out to Mei’s now retreating back as she made her way back over to her work station, “It is sweet and sour without being overwhelming on the taste buds!”
“Yeah yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” she sarcastically replied as she rifled through the crate in the corner that she reserved for “Akuma’s babies.” Let it be noted that Izuku was still opposed to that name.
“Whatcha looking for?” he asked, hopping up onto one of the desks that littered the garage.
“Aha!” Mei exclaimed as she ignored his question, “Got it!” She pulled out a metal case, not dissimilar to the one that she had given him his new suit in. Izuku couldn’t tell what was in it, which concerned him a little. It seemed to just be a bundle of fabric, a material that he didn’t recognise.
“This,” she blurted as she turned around quickly, startling Izuku, “is the fruit of my labours! My pièce de résistance! My masterpiece…”
“Uh huh… What is it exactly?” The green-haired teen wouldn’t say he wasn’t a little concerned at the way Mei seemed to treat the case the same way Gollum treated the One Ring. He wouldn't be surprised if she started calling it “her precious.”
“Well why don’t you open it and find out?”
He was surprised that Mei was holding out her seemingly most prized possession for him to take. Carefully, he reached out and grabbed the case’s handle, looking up for confirmation as he did so.
Apparently he was taking too long because Mei snatched it back saying, “Oh, give it here!” She hastily opened the small trunk, shoving its contents into his hands. “Look!”
Poor choice of words, Izuku thought as he took off his gloves in order to get a proper ‘look’.
“Wait a minute…” Izuku handled the fabric more to see if he was feeling it correctly. “Is this-”
“Eraserhead’s scarf? Yeah!” Mei jumped up as she cut him off in her excitement. “I used the sample you gave me to reverse engineer the material’s make-up and from that, I was able to create some more!”
“Wow, Mei, this is…” he trailed off as he admired the scarf some more. It was the same fabric he had given her back in May, for sure, just longer and slightly wider. “This is amazing! You were able to figure out one of the highest kept secrets by the underground Pro Heroes AND recreate it? And in what? Only two months? Mei, you’re the best engineer in the whole PCD!”
It was Mei’s turn to be shocked as Izuku dropped the fabric onto the table beside him and jumped down to give his best friend another bone-crushing hug. He eventually pulled back when the girl began dramatically gasping for breath.
“Yeah, well,” she sniffed, wiping unshed tears from her eyes as she beamed at him, “it’s like I always say - only the best for my bestie!”
“Wait, you mean…” Izuku picked the capture scarf back up. “This is for me?”
“Of course it is, doofus!” She reached up and flicked his forehead. “You think I just did this for fun?”
Izuku didn’t need his eyes to give Mei a look.
“Okay, yeah, it was a lot of fun but still! I wouldn’t have been able to do it if you didn’t get me the material in the first place! Plus, I might have made some extra for my own experiments…” She turned her head as she blushed sheepishly. “But this baby is all yours! Think of it like an early birthday present. Or late? I don’t actually know when your birthday is.”
Mei continued to ramble on but Izuku was frozen in place, his mouth slack-jawed.
I can’t believe I forgot…
“Akuma? Helloooo! Anyone home?”
The vigilante was shaken from his thoughts by the air hitting him as Mei waved her hand in his face.
“S-sorry, I just- I forgot…”
“Forgot what, dummy? I know it may seem like it sometimes but I can’t actually read minds,” she sassed back.
“My birthday. I- Today’s my birthday,” He responded in a monotonous voice, still reeling from the realisation.
He had never told Akari his birthday, no matter how many times she persisted. He always told the woman that he didn’t want to bother her more than he usually did with something as silly as a birthday.
That wasn’t true, though.
The real reason was because the last birthday he celebrated was his eighth. Izuku and his mum had gone out for katsudon and watched an All Might movie at the cinema. They had stayed out past his bedtime and spent the evening on Dagobah beach, staring up at the stars until he fell asleep.
That was one of his favourite memories with his mum and he knew that no other birthday celebration could top it. So he figured… why try?
Mei did not seem to share the same sentiment, however, as she froze at his words before squealing at a pitch only he and dogs could hear.
“IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY???”
Wow, okay. No, it’s not like Izuku needed his eardrums. He’ll just have to learn to live on three senses alone. That’ll be fine.
“Ah, uh… yeah?” Izuku poked at his ear, trying to pop it so he could hear again.
Mei must have noticed his distress and lowered her voice slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she squawked indignantly.
“Didn’t I just say I forgot?” He grasped onto the fabric more tightly, grounding himself as he prepared to make a run for it. “I don’t like to celebrate my birthday so it just kinda slipped my mind, is all. Anyway I think I’m gonna-”
His escape and sentence was cut off by the hyperactive girl suddenly in front of his face. “You don’t celebrate your birthday? Why the fuck not?”
Apparently this was a personal offence to the teen as she demanded an answer.
“B-because of reasons! Now I gotta-”
He was cut off once again.
“‘Reasons’ isn’t good enough!” Mei emphasised her offence with air quotes and a mocking tone.
“Yeah well…” Shit. Izuku didn’t have an excuse. “OH! Would you look at the time!” He gestured wildly to the clock in the corner.
When Mei turned away, the kid vigilante used his parkour skills to vault over the table standing between him and the window. He tossed back a “Thanks, Mei! You’re the best!” over his shoulder as he dove through his escape route.
As he made his way back to the rooftops, Izuku heard his best friend shout, “We’re not done here, mister! You will have a birthday party even if it kills me!”
The boy huffed to himself as he started on home.
Yeah, right.
~
The next morning, Izuku found himself back at work in the library. He had given Akari some generic excuse of being sick in bed for why he couldn’t come to work for a week. Damn stab wound might have kept him from patrolling as Akuma, but he was able to go back to doing basic library work earlier than fighting off low-lifes who spent their nights harassing strangers.
He was organising the ‘M’ section of braille fantasy books when he heard the tell-tale pitter patter of the walking headache’s heartbeat. She came in here often, looking for books on mechanics or gears or whatever so Izuku didn’t pay her any mind.
That was, until the pitter patter started pittering over to where he was standing, ending up happily situated about two inches from himself.
“So,” she started, something about her voice set Izuku on edge, “when are we having your birthday party?”
…
WHAT?!
Notes:
again, i'm sorry... but cliffhangers are just so much fun to write :D
you will not BELIEVE how much research I did on mafia structures and customs in order to get this right at least within the MHA universe. here are some definitions for titles/words used within this chapter:
shestyorka - the lowest rank in Russian syndicates (usually do grunt work or run errands)
bratok - the second lowest rank in Russian syndicates (they are in charge of recruiting new shestyorkas and make up most of the strike force)
pakhan - the highest rank in Russian syndicates (similar to Kai Chisaki's role in the Eight Precepts)
soldato - very similar to a bratok but for Italian-American syndicates instead (they are the lowest rank of "made men" who are untouchable and others have to be given permission by the Boss in order to murder them)
durak - Russian insult for a stupid person
kozel - directly translates to "goat" but is used to call someone an asshole or motherfuckeri've just gone back to college and i have exams soon so sorry if i end up updating later than usual!
feel free to ask questions or yell at me in the comments :D
Chapter 7: Chaotic Idiots
Summary:
2 pairs of complete dumbasses commit dumbassery together.
Fluffy chapter this time :)
Notes:
Sorry this is like two days late! I've got my A Level exams in like a week so I've been busy revising but Imma try to get chapter 8 out on time this week but I can't make any promises :/
Special thanks to n00dles4loaf for beta reading this chapter!
Also I would like to point out that the whole reason this chapter was created was because my girlfriend was sad I was gonna skip over Izuku's birthday
Anyways, enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Katsuki was not having a good week.
On Monday, some jackasses at school were being so damn loud during lunch that even he was getting sick of them. Which is saying a lot, considering he doesn’t exactly have the most sensitive hearing. They got let off with a warning, which just made Katsuki even more pissed, and it was only the first day of the week.
On Tuesday, his mum forced him to go to his monthly therapy session. She had insisted on them not long after Deku disappeared. Apparently he was “dealing with grief” and “expressing irregular behaviour”, which was complete bullshit. He had stopped giving a shit about the nerd after Auntie Inko died, and he sure as hell didn’t care that he’s been missing for over 4 years, no matter what Dr. Hino said. That didn’t stop the hag from threatening Katsuki with his UA application if he didn’t go, though.
On Wednesday, Eyeball Fucker had spilt his goddamn milk on Katsuki’s uniform at lunch. Who the fuck even drinks milk? Because the dude was a pretentious fucker and apparently “too good” to drink water like a normal fucking human being, Katsuki was stuck with a disgusting ass shirt all day. It took 4 washes to finally get the stink out.
On Thursday, he had gone to Dynamo to use the allotted time his mum had gotten for him, only for him to turn up and for the fucking doors to be locked! Damn manager had forgotten to stay behind and let him in, meaning he had to skip his weight workout and go for a jog instead.
So yeah, Katsuki was having a shitty week.
He had put in his earphones before his run like he normally did, and was careful to put it at a lower volume. He had started doing that a few weeks ago, not wanting a repeat of what happened last time. It wasn’t like he didn’t fucking pay attention when he ran! He was just wary of other fuckers who ran like they were blind!
It was unfortunate timing for that thought to make its way to the forefront of the blonde’s brain, however. Whilst his mind wandered to a certain green-haired nerd, Katsuki was too distracted to notice the familiar teen running towards him. It wasn’t until the gravity-defying purple hair was 3 feet within his eyesight, did he register who exactly was also on a run at 9pm on a Thursday.
Caught off guard, Katsuki paused in his sprint, staring as the guy just fucking waltzed right past him!
Katsuki blinked.
What the FUCK?
He practically saved the guy’s life and he’s just fucking ignoring him! Okay, sure, he probably wouldn’t have died but he sure as hell owed Katsuki at least a fucking ‘thank you’! He wasn’t gonna stand for this.
“Oi!”
Taking his headphones out his ears, the taller teen turned around, his face betraying none of his emotions. “Are you talking to me?”
“No, dumbass. I’m talking to the other person running in the dead of night,” Katsuki deadpanned, gesturing to the empty street they were standing in. “Yes, idiot! I’m talking to you!”
“It’s 9pm.” The guy’s face soured at the blonde’s words, and his eyes narrowed almost condescendingly. “Hardly the dead of night.”
“You know what I mean!” Kami, this fucker was really pissing him off. “Why are you fucking ignoring me?”
His tired eyes seemed to narrow impossibly further. “Should I… know you?”
This bitch.
“Uh, yeah you fucking should!” What the fuck was this dude’s problem? “It’s pretty rude to not even acknowledge the guy who saved your life, shithead!”
Katsuki would have said the other teen seemed shocked, but he honestly couldn’t tell. Seriously, what was he, a fucking mannequin?
Certainly looked like he was manufactured in a lab…
His blonde spikes shook and Katsuki tried to physically dispel that stray thought.
“Oh, you’re the guy who ran into me.” His demeanour had changed, seemingly more relaxed now. Well, not relaxed, exactly. Just, no longer looking like he was being threatened by Katsuki’s existence.
“I didn’t fucking run into you! You ran into me!”
“Agree to disagree,” he replied with a straight face, “But I guess I should thank you. My Old Man said you’re the one who brought me to the hospital.”
Katsuki’s eyes instinctively flicked up to the left side of his purple hair. If he squinted, he could make out the small patch of hair that was shorter than the rest, previously shaved to give access to the wound in order to stitch it up. The stitches themselves, however, were nowhere to be seen.
“Tch. Yeah whatever,” Katsuki said, shoving his hands into his shorts pockets, “Just don’t go running around like a mad man in the middle of the street anymore.”
“Pretty sure you were doing the same thing, dude,” he smirked.
“Hey! I actually watch where I’m fucking going!” Something about the guy’s smug look was pissing him off. The way the right side of his lips pulled up slightly set Katsuki on edge so he quickly averted his gaze to his eyes instead. It didn’t lessen the feeling but instead shifted it, from a twisting sensation in his stomach, to a pounding underneath his ribcage. This just pissed Katsuki off even more so he quickly changed the subject in hopes of wiping that conceited look off the guy’s face. “You do realise that you owe me like life debt now, right?”
“A life debt?” He scoffed. “You hardly ‘saved my life’, you were just a decent human being and didn’t leave me on my ass in the street.”
“Which is more than most people would do,” Katsuki retorted.
The Purple Fucker seemed to consider this an ultimately agree with the other teen’s statement. “Alright, fine. I owe you. What do you want?”
Katsuki was a bit stunned at that. He didn’t think the dumbass would actually agree and so he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind, in response. It was something he had been thinking for a while, now, actually.
“Train with me.”
“What?” The taller teen blinked in confusion.
Katsuki sighed. It was too late to take it back now. “I’m training to get into UA but it’s hard to get any good fighting practice in with just a punching bag. So in exchange for me oh so graciously saving your life, you can act as my punching bag that dodges occasionally.”
An amused chuckle huffed from the boy’s lips. “You know what? That’s not a half bad idea. I was getting a bit tired of my Old Man and Pa repeatedly kicking my ass and calling it ‘training’.” At Katsuki’s quite obviously shocked and mildly concerned expression, the teen was quick to reassure him. “That was a joke. They’re really good mentors, but I get what you mean - it’s hard to get good fighting practice when you’re up against the same two people over and over again.”
The blonde elected to ignore the fact that this guy apparently had two dads who could regularly act as personal trainers (for now…), and instead focused on the fact that not only had he taken Katucki seriously, he actually accepted his offer. “Alright, but don’t expect me to go easy on your scrawny ass.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grinned slyly, ignoring the other’s insult, “So do you have a place in mind or are we just gonna brawl in the middle of the street?”
Katsuki was for once actually thankful for his parents’ success in fashion design. “Meet me at Dynamo Fitness Gym, tomorrow at 8:30.”
“Dude.” His grin turned into a half condescending, half incredulous stare. “I have school. What makes you think I’m free on a Friday morning?”
“8:30pm, dumbass!” The explosive teen was really starting to question spending any more time with this jackoff if he was just gonna act like this the whole time.
Once again, the fucker adjustied his face into a neutral expression. It pissed Katsuki off. “Dunno if you’ve noticed, but most gyms around here close at 7 or earlier.”
“Yeah, well, this one’s an exception.” Not exactly a lie but not the truth, either. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be cryptic but there was something about this boy that just made Katsuki want to provoke him. To see what he’d do.
It seemed to work, but, once again, the guy was practically a statue so it was hard to tell. The sudden suspicious squinting in his eyes betrayed his stony-faced facade, however.
“Fine. But can I at least know the name of the guy who ‘saved my life’?” He emphasised his mockery with sarcastic air quotes.
The blonde huffed. “Bakugou Katsuki.”
“Hm. I would say it’s nice to meet you but you’re currently forcing me to spar with you, and you don’t exactly have the best attitude,” he snarked back.
Oh, yeah. Katsuki is gonna have so much fun beating this asshole to pulp.
“Heh,” he breathed a chuckle, “Well what’s your name then? Or do I have to keep calling you ‘Purple Fucker’ in my head?”
The purple-haired teen hesitated before answering. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”
“Hmm…” Katsuki made a show of thinking really hard before seemingly coming to a conclusion. “Nah. Purple Fucker suits you better. Imma stick with that.” He smiled at Shinsou with a shit eating grin.
“Alright.” The boy’s slight grin set Katsuki on edge. “See you tomorrow, dandelion head.”
Katsuki didn’t have the chance to shout back an insult as the Purple Fucker turned around and carried on with his run, quickly gaining distance so that the blonde wasn’t able to respond without waking the whole street.
Shinsou Hitoshi, huh?
Katsuki spent the rest of the run home thinking about the boy, rarely straying to other thoughts
~
While Friday morning may have been relatively mundane for two taller teens (aside from the occasional thoughts regarding their late night encounter), two shorter teens were having quite an eventful morning in the ‘M’ section of Mori Urban Library.
Although Izuku wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘eventful’. ‘Baffling’ or ‘mortifying’ may have been better adjectives in his opinion. Because she knew. Mei knew. And Izuku was absolutely and totally fucked.
“So, when are we having your birthday party?” Mei grinned at him like a mad man but also like this was the most normal conversation they could have.
“I- Wha-what?” Izuku spluttered after about five seconds of just standing with his jaw on the floor, staring aimlessly in her general direction behind his glasses.
“Your birthday party! Don’t think I’ve forgotten, mister. You can’t get out of it that easily!” Once again, Mei was speaking as if there was absolutely nothing odd about the words she was saying.
“Uh, I-I think you have the wrong person.” He had no idea what was going on but there was the miniscule chance that Mei happened to have two friends with birthdays in July. And Izuku was grappling onto that chance like it was the oxygen he so desperately needed.
But of course, he was left breathless at the girl's next words.
“Don’t be silly! You think I don’t recognise my one and only best friend?”
Fuck.
Izuku sighed out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding as he accepted his inevitable fate. “...How did you figure it out?” He hung his head in resignation.
“I don’t know if you know this, but there really aren’t that many blind teenagers with curly green hair in Musutafu,” Mei stated, matter-of-factly.
Fuck! Izuku knew he should’ve been more careful when tucking his hair in.
“Plus, every time I came into the library, your whole body tensed up as soon as I stepped through the door.”
“Wait, wait. How did you know I was blind?”
“You purposefully wear a leather mask over your eyes, dummy. It really wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
Okay, yeah. That was kind of his own fault. But to be fair, he didn’t exactly act blind when in the mask. He didn’t think anyone would notice! Speaking of noticing…
“How were you able to tell I tensed when you walked into the library? Half of the time I’m on the other side of the room!”
“You know, for as much as we’re best friends, we really don’t know that much about each other.”
I mean… that’s true. But what does that have to do with-
“My quirk is called Zoom. I can zoom my vision in on anything within my line of sight. How do you think I’m so good at soldering?” The excitable girl cut off Izuku's train of thought, answering his question before he could ask it. “Now that I’ve given you the juicy details on my amazing and incredibly useful quirk, it’s only fair that as your duty as best friend, you return the favour and tell me how the fuck you’re able to fight criminal ass without so much as a glance!”
“Shhh!!” Izuku was quick to quiet the girl as her volume began to rise in the hushed library when talking out his not-quite legal escapades. “I’ll tell you but will you please keep your voice down?” he practically begged, “Look, come this way.” Izuku straightened his back, acting like nothing was wrong as he made his way to the office behind the front desk, making sure Akari wasn’t currently occupying said room. Shutting the door quietly behind his friend, Izuku set his cane against the wall and leaned back on his boss’ cluttered desk.
“Okay, now you can ask your questions. Try to keep your voice down a bit still, though. The walls aren’t that thick.” Despite his cool tone, Izuku was vibrating under his skin with anxiety. His heartbeat was erratic and loud in his ears, but he was careful to not let it show on his face.
Mei pounced at the chance to learn more. “How?”
“...huh?”
“HOW?” Mei repeated, wincing at her own volume after she shouted the word. “How are you able to… to-” She stuttered whilst gesturing wildly as if that represented what she was talking about. “Do what you do! You parkour your way into my workshop every week! You kick bad guys’ ass practically every night! You saved my dad’s life! So tell me, how are you able to do all that stuff without being able to see? Is it your quirk? Do you have like a spatial awareness quirk? No wait, that’s rude to assume. But what is your quirk? Is it the reason you're a badass vigilante? Are you-”
“Mei!” Izuku raised his voice slightly, cutting off Mei’s rambling. She didn’t look offended but he was quick to apologise. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t exactly answer all of those questions at once.”
And I’m not sure if I want to…
It wasn’t that Izuku didn’t want to tell Mei anything! He was just nervous of her reaction to his answer to one specific question. He wasn’t sure he could handle losing another best friend…
So instead, he answered an easier one.
“When I was younger, I got caught in the crossfire of a villain attack. It was how I lost my sight.” Izuku could tell that the girl in front of him was listening intently, almost bursting with unasked questions. But she kept quiet, taking in every word that he spoke. Izuku was grateful. “I lost my sight due to a mix of chemicals that seeped into my system after crashing into a clinic of some sort.”
“I’m sorry. I- I’m so sorry, Izuku…”
His green curls bounced on his forehead as Izuku shook away the memory creeping its way into his consciousness. “I later found out that one of the primary chemicals was ethylenediamine dinitrate. It’s used in-”
“Explosives,” Mei finished for him in a detached voice.
Izuku smiled slightly. “Yeah. It can be dissolved into an organic solution that’s used in a lot of creams and stuff.” He waved his hand vaguely, expressing his disinterest. “Anyway, since it hadn’t been prepared yet, it caused a lot more damage, as you can imagine. But it didn’t just blind me.”
Mei’s head perked up at this, curiosity evident by the crease lines between her eyebrows.
“The combination with several other chemicals, including some quirk made ones, caused a reaction in my brain that spread through the rest of my body as well. It ended up affecting my remaining senses, amplifying their sensitivity twenty times over. It took a while and… a lot of training.” Izuku stiffened slightly at the reminder before continuing. “But I learnt how to live with it and how to filter out the unimportant stuff. From there, I learnt how to use my new enhanced senses to my advantage, practising how to let them help me ‘see’ again.”
When Izuku finally finished his not very detailed account of five years of his life, he checked Mei’s face and body language to gauge her reaction, having purposefully ignored it before as he was babbling. He was surprised to find her not only slack-jawed, but with her eyes so far out her head that he was honestly afraid they might fall to the floor like a pair of ping pong balls.
“Twenty times!” Mei whisper-shouted in astonishment.
Izuku chuckled in fondness. “You don’t have to whisper, Mei. Like I said before, I can handle it.” Regardless of his words, Izuku was glad that his friend was considerate of his peculiar predicament.
“Still!” She whispered again but hurriedly switched her volume back to normal as she remembered the boy’s words. “Still! Zu, that’s… That's incredible!”
Izuku flushed at the nickname (she had only ever seen his real name on his employee name badge but she was jumping straight to nicknames?) as well as the praise, grateful that his glasses at least covered some portion of his face. It had been years since he had a nickname…
“Ah, it’s really not that big of a deal!” He scratched the back of his head absentmindedly. “There are tons of people who have quirks that are way cooler than just good senses.”
“Yeah, but they were born with the ability to control them! You weren’t but were still able to become so skilled that you basically have a second quirk!” Mei was so excited that she didn’t notice Izuku freezing in place, not even breathing as he dreaded the next question that he knew was coming. “By the way, what is the quirk you were born with?”
There it was. I really thought we could be friends for at least a little longer…
“Yeah, about that, I-” He faltered.
Come ON, Izuku. You can literally stab a man in cold blood but this is too scary for you?
“I’m quirkless.”
He said it. Oh fuck, he said it. Welp, no turning back now. It was nice having a best friend again. Whilst it lasted, at least.
He shifted his focus back to his frie- back to Mei. He stood in anticipation, knowing the words that would come out of her mouth.
“Quirkless? I didn’t know you were a freak!”
“I didn’t even know they still existed!”
“What kind of vigilante is quirkless?”
“I guess that’s why you’re not a hero, huh?”
“That’s…”
Here it comes…
“Fucking awesome!”
Wait, what?
“I said that’s fucking awesome!” Mei responded to his apparently verbalised thought. “You’re telling me that the most kickass vigilante in all of Shizuoka, probably in all of Japan, doesn’t even have a quirk helping him? This is unbelievable! You’re fighting against douchebags who are born with a natural advantage and fucking winning! How impressive is that?”
He didn’t know what to think. This has never happened before. Even the very few who had stuck by him, did so in spite of his quirklessness. His mother had always said that he shouldn’t give up on his dreams and Izuku was thankful for that, more than anyone could imagine. But she was also a tad overprotective at times, knowing that life would be hard for him. Akari had looked after him when he needed someone to take comfort in, even just in the form of a hug with no words spoken. But she never pried and always treated him like she would anyone else. All of these things are good things, don’t get him wrong, except they were all done despite his quirklessness.
Mei was the first to think he was cool because he was quirkless. That he was ‘awesome’ because he didn’t have a power like everyone else.
And Izuku, he couldn’t stop his reaction.
Salty droplets pooled on his lash line, gradually building up until there was no choice but for them to spill over onto his cheeks. What started out as a small trickle, quickly turned into a waterfall, gushing from behind his glasses. He had always tried not to cry, the sensation feeling odd on the scars surrounding his eyes and the pang of salt irritating his skin just slightly. Izuku wasn’t even sure when the last time he cried was. It had become such a habit to force the tears back that now that the floodgates were finally released, they didn’t stop. They didn’t stop even as they began to hang onto his jaw before gathering together on his chin. They didn’t stop even as they made their way into the corners of his mouth, saltiness stinging on his taste buds. The sound of his tears dripping onto the carpet beneath his feet was deafening to Izuku’s ears. He hadn’t even noticed Mei’s voice until she was grabbing onto his shoulders firmly.
“ZU!” Her presence brought Izuku out of his dazed state. “Are you okay? I- I’m sorry if I said something wrong. It’s just really cool and-”
“No! No, Mei, you didn’t,” he started, a smile creeping onto his face, “you didn’t say anything wrong, I promise.” He gave a wet chuckle at the mere thought that he would be in any way offended by what she had said. “It’s just, most people don’t think it’s that cool, y’know?”
Mei paused before enveloping Izuku into such a tight hug that he lost his balance and toppled to the floor, landing with the girl on top of him. Despite this, Mei didn’t let up a fraction, apparently determined to keep him in a bone-crushing embrace until he ran out of oxygen.
“Mei!” he laughed, “You’re crushing me, stop!” His protests were lacking in effectiveness due to the giggles that fell from his lips in between every word.
“No! I’m never gonna stop!” She had joined in with his laughter now and emphasised her point with a tighter squeeze.
“Ah! Wh- haha! Why?” Izuku was beginning to think his face was going to crack with how hard his cheeks were pulled into a smile.
“Because!” Mei finally pulled back to stare him down from above him. “Because everyone should think that it’s cool.” The mirth had left her voice, leaving an underlying seriousness that Izuku only just picked up on. He instantly understood the meaning behind her words.
His mouth softened into a more gentle smile. “Thanks, Mei.”
“Anything for my best friend,” she spoke with sincerity. “Speaking of!” Mei’s tone rapidly shifted to a more excitable one as she sat up, practically straddling Izuku.
Oh no. He knew that voice.
“Don’t go thinking that I’ve forgotten about your birthday party, mister!”
Izuku groaned and brought his hands to his face, pushing up his glasses as he covered his bloodshot eyes. He imagined they looked quite ghastly now, with the mix of milky corneas and red veiny sclera. “I told you, Mei! I don’t celebrate my birthday!”
“And I told you that you will have a party even if it kills me!” She leaned forward and placed her hands either side of his head, effectively trapping him in. He assumed it was meant to be intimidating, and he imagined it would be for anyone who had working eyes. Luckily for Izuku, he didn’t.
Wow, I guess there are some perks to being permanently in the dark.
Izuku chuckled slightly at his own joke before removing his hands and forcing his face into a neutral look, addressing Mei again. “Then perish.”
They stayed frozen staring at each other (or well, Mei staring at Izuku and Izuku staring aimlessly upwards) for about ten seconds before they both fell into another fit of laughter.
That was the state that Akari found them in when she walked through the office door to check on what was making all the ruckus - the hyperactive girl who regularly came in to check out engineering textbooks straddled on top of her, usually pretty quiet, blind employee and friend, laughing their asses off.
“I’m really hoping you two know each other,” she piped up over their guffaws, “otherwise we might have to discuss your library membership, young lady.” Her exaggerated stern tone let Izuku know she was just joking but he couldn’t help but pick up a slight undertone of concern.
In a split second, Mei bolted to stand in front of Akari, hand held out in greeting with a huge toothy grin on her face. “Hatsume Mei of Hatsume Industries, at your service! I’m Zu’s best friend!”
“Best friend, huh?” Akari raised her voice slightly to address Izuku on the other side of the room as he ran his hands along the wall until he reached his cane. “Is that so?”
“Aha.” He nervously scratched the back of his head as he lightly chuckled. “Yeah… Mei and I are best friends.” He stood anxiously fretting as he waited to see Akari’s reaction.
“And why, pray tell,” She stepped closer to him, invading his space, “have I not heard of this ‘best friend’ until now?”
Izuku fights criminals on the daily. He evades arrest and infiltrates meetings between members of crime syndicates. He can take down a man twice his size easily. But right now, Izuku was terrified. He was terrified of the 5’0”, 61 year old woman so much that he could feel the sweat dripping down his neck past the hood of his zip-up hoodie.
“Uh, well, you see-” Izuku was saved from his sad attempt at an excuse by Mei and her quick thinking.
“I kinda just started talking to him today and decided that we were best friends because he seemed cool! He didn’t really have the chance to tell you since we only became official best friends today!” Izuku could hug Mei so hard right now if he wasn’t currently engaged in a one-sided staring contest with his boss.
“Today, huh?” Another drop of sweat rolled down his nape. “Well then, I guess it couldn’t be helped!” Akari cheered happily, clapping her hands together. To which Izuku let out a sigh of relief.
“Great! Now you can help me plan his birthday party!”
Izuku took back his previous statement. He could kill Mei.
~
When Hitoshi arrived at the doors to Dynamo Gym that night, he wasn’t sure what to expect. His Pa almost murdered him when he mentioned that he was going to the gym, after dark, with someone he had only met once, and briefly at that. However, when he told him that it was the guy who brought him to the hospital that one time, he seemed more amicable. Eventually, he was allowed to go so long as he kept his location on at all times and checked in with them every once in a while.
So here he was, walking in the dark to go meet up with a sort-of stranger and spar with each other. Is it weird that this wasn’t the strangest situation he’s been in? Best not to think about it.
As he approached the gym, he spotted the blonde spikes that resembled a dandelion sticking out against the backdrop of the old cement building like a sore thumb. Hitoshi distractedly wondered if he used products to make it look like that, or if it was just a natural state of being. It would piss him off more if it was natural. He spent so long on his own hair that anyone that could achieve the look naturally was fucking annoying.
“Oi Purple Fucker!” He was pulled from his musings by the crass shout, breaking the silence of the night. “You’re late!”
He checked his phone. “By two minutes,” he deadpanned.
“Which is still late, dumbass!”
Hitoshi was close enough to the door now that he could see the sign displaying the gym’s opening and closing times and a certain time stood out to him. “I thought you said this gym was an exception?” He gestured to the sign stating that the closing time for Friday nights was in fact 7pm.
“And it is.”
Before he could question the boy, Bakugou pushed open the apparently not locked door and walked in like he owned the place.
“You gonna explain how you can get in after hours?”
“Nope.”
Great. Hitoshi really hoped that he wasn’t gonna get arrested for breaking and entering. That would really suck considering his Old Man specifically told him not to get arrested. Again.
Eventually, he was led into an spacious dojo, equipt with faded red and blue mats covering almost the entirety of the floor, leaving a corridor of floor for bags, shoes, and spectators to sit. One of the walls was covered in a mirror that expanded along the whole length, top to bottom. The other three walls were hidden behind numerous punching bags along with other training equipment like resistance bands and hand-held weights.
It was an impressive dojo. Not as big as the one at Loud Mouth Agency but still roomy and generous.
“Nice,” Hitoshi whistled.
“Right? Now don’t just stand there, gawking like the idiot you are, and put your shit down so we can get started.” Bakugou dumped his bag on the patch of floor not occupied by obnoxiously coloured mats.
Histoshi followed suit and took his shoes and socks off before stepping onto the training floor.
“Alright, I need to gauge where you are physically, so come at me with everything you got,” Bakugou demanded cockily.
Hitoshi was happy to do so.
In not five seconds was the blonde pinned down beneath a knee digging into his back, hands secured above his head with one hand whilst the other pressed his neck into the mat.
“Yield?”
Bakugou was silent for a moment, stunned by the swift takedown, before he mumbled out, “Yes, dammit! Get the fuck off me…”
Hitoshi obeyed immediately and let the blonde stand up and catch his breath, smirking slightly from the other side of the mats. “I thought you weren’t gonna go easy on me, Dandelion?” he teased, liking the way the nickname pissed Bakugou off even more.
“What the fuck was that?” He stared down the teen opposite him with narrowed eyes, filled with subdued rage and… some other emotion Hitoshi couldn’t place.
“You told me to come at you with everything. So I did.” He was having way too much fun annoying his sparring partner. “Not my fault you thought I was scrawny.” He shrugged with feigned nonchalance.
Bakugou angrily grumbled before huffing out an, “Again.”
This time, the fight lasted considerably longer.
Hitoshi charged straight in with a low gut punch, intending to take the other off guard. Bakugou was prepared this time, however, and used a small explosion with his right hand to push him out of the way, sending a roundhouse to the boy’s midsection the second his feet landed.
Hitoshi deflected with an inside block and ducked to evade the incoming punch aimed for his face. He was quick to counter with a sweep, simultaneously paired with a push on Bakugou’s shoulder. The blonde lost his balance but did not fall. Instead, he used another explosion to propel himself back upright to find his opponent backed off a few paces.
The two traded blows for the good part of three minutes before Hitoshi once again, was able to pin Bakugou down, this time on his back. The two stared at each other, Hitoshi’s shin braced across both of Bakugou’s thighs, pushing his entire body weight onto the boy below him. He had clasped both hands together, palms pressing against each other in order to prevent any pesky explosions. Their heavy pants were the only sound echoing throughout the dojo as they caught their breath.
“I feel like we should have told each other our quirks before engaging in combat,” Hitoshi finally broke the near-silence.
“But where’s the fun in that?” The snarky teen smirked despite his predicament. “Speaking of, you think you can get away without using your damn quirk?” His voice began to rise, anger evident as he tried to be intimidating from his restrained position. “What, you think you’re too good for it? Think you can beat me without it?”
“I mean… I kinda just did, Dandelion.” His quip earned him a small explosion to the chest that pushed him backwards off the other boy, having loosed his grip on his hands once the fight was over.
“Shut the fuck up, asshole. What the hell is your quirk, anyways?” The rage returned to his eyes as Bakugou stalked forwards menacingly towards Hitoshi who still knocked on his ass.
“You sure you wanna know?” Hitoshi laced his words with the silky sweet syrup of his quirk, letting the taste of his power run over his tongue and through his voice, the invisible thread reaching Bakugou’s ears.
“Obviously, dipsh-”
As the response fell from the blonde’s lips, that thread pulled taut and Hitoshi mentally yanked until he gained control over the heated mind.
“Sit down,” he ordered, syrupy power dripping in his tone.
Bakugou complied, settling into a cross-legged position, his blank void of any thoughts or emotion. Hitoshi observed him for a moment, drinking in the calmness never seen before on the boy’s face. He looked peaceful and without that ever-present scowl contorting his features, Hitoshi noticed for the first time the structured cheekbones and chiselled jawline. Preparing himself for the inevitable outburst, he released his quirk’s hold on the explosive teen.
He had expected an enraged tantrum from the other teen, but instead, all he received was a disorientated look followed by an appraisal that seemed almost… impressed?
“Hmph. Not bad, Purple Fucker,” Bakugou huffed before getting to his feet once more. “Now are we gonna actually fucking spar some more or what?”
Hitoshi grinned, displaying determination and a hint of pride as he jumped to his feet, pulling his hands into fists up by his face. Bakugou matched his expression with a grin of his own before rushing the taller teen.
Notes:
Aaaaaand that's it for the fluff!
I'll be sure to refer back to the plot and possible angst with the next chapter :)
(also please ignore the fact that my chapter titles are progressively getting worse. i have simply given up)
Chapter 8: Jam Opinions And Cheese Secrets
Summary:
A glimpse into how Izuku learnt to 'see'.
Also idiot crime fighters bonding over sandwiches
Notes:
TW for this chapter:
- graphic depictions of violence
This chapter is over a week late, I'm so sorry. A Levels are kicking my ass atm so updates might be delayed for a bit :(
But! Hopefully I should have another chapter out on Sunday?Special thanks to n00dles4loaf for beta reading this chapter!
Happy reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“On your feet.”
Izuku pushed himself up off the rubbery mats of the boxing ring. His left arm was throbbing slightly, and his head was pounding with the oppressive stimuli overwhelming his senses. Despite his pain, Izuku stood with no complaints, his fists rising to guard his face.
“Again.”
Immediately, the boy was met with a barrage of light thwacks, the sting of the wooden shaft just painful enough to prompt him to dodge but not enough to do any real damage. His attempts were determined but futile, causing him to constantly run into the stick instead of away from it. The next time Izuku was knocked on his ass, obvious frustration bubbled up within his veins.
“Alright, that’s enough for now,” Matsui-sensei called out to him before making their way out of the ring.
“Wait! I can do it. Just one more time, please, sir,” he implored, stubbornness filling his voice. He made his way to the edge of the ring, using the ropes to guide him to the direction where Matsui had sounded from.
“No. You’re not going to get it with the way you’re working.” Their tone was firm and decisive.
“What?” Izuku questioned as he climbed down from the mats, “What do you mean? I’m doing what you said to do!”
“No, you’re not.” Footsteps slapped towards him on the hardwood floor. “You are listening out for the jo’s movements and trying to dodge when it gets close to you.”
“But that’s what you said to do!”
“That is not what I told you to do.” Izuku could hear the clack of wood on wood but couldn’t place the source. “What I said was to use your senses to find the jo and follow it.” Matsui-sensei sounded just as frustrated as himself and that put Izuku on edge. It was never good to make adults angry.
Izuku huffed but kept his muscles tense, preparing for anything. He heard a soft sigh come from his teacher before they made their way over to him.
“Hand out.”
He obeyed promptly, finding smooth wood beneath his fingers.
“Follow it.”
The staff began to move slowly, in a figure of eight, and Izuku kept his fingers loose as he did as Matsui-sensei said, feeling the jo flow.
“This is what I want you to do. Instead of just listening to the whistle of air as the jo swings through it, listen to the jo itself. The creak within the grain. The light breeze that changes course as it hits the object. The squeeze of my palms as I grasp the weapon. That is what you should be following. You should be able to picture the staff in your mind and see it coming before you hear the tell-tale whistle.”
Izuku let his hand drop to his side, mulling over his sensei’s words for a minute. “Okay. Let me try again.”
“No. We’re doing another exercise now. Go stand in front of the windows.” More footsteps sounded on the floor as Matsui-sensei once again left him to navigate his way around despite having only been there a week or so. In fact, they had forbidden the use of his cane within the building, which had led to a lot of bruises on the first few days.
With his back being warmed by the early afternoon sun, Izuku turned his body to face the heartbeat that was sounding from across the room, to the left of the ring. He noticed Matsui-sensei opening a window beside him, letting in a slight breeze, before returning to the opposite side of the room from him.
“I’m going to throw an object on the floor, somewhere between where you and I are standing. You are going to walk up to the object and tell me what it is. If you touch the object in any way, you will walk back to the windows and start again. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Izuku’s response may have been affirmative, but in his mind, he was freaking out. How the heck is he supposed to tell what the object is without touching it?
“Good,” was all Matsui-sensei said before tossing an item between them.
Izuku focused on the rush of wind that it caused and tried to ignore his thumping pulse. There was a clatter of what sounded like plastic on wood, roughly three feet in front of him and to the right. He took a deep breath and walked to where he thought it had landed before his toes made contact with a cool hard surface. A sense of irritation filled his body, knowing what Matsui-sensei was going to say.
“Walk back,” his teacher called out as they made their way over to pick up the object by his feet. “Again.”
Izuku felt the familiar warmth on his back once more as he took notice of the much softer thump of another item being thrown. He began walking forwards with much more trepidation than last time and stopped about a foot in front of where he assumed the object lay. Using his sensei’s advice, he tried to listen to the object that sat before him.
Listening intently, he could hear the faint ruffle of air passing over… paper? No. Sheets, maybe? By the subtle shifts in the object’s movement, caused by the breeze from the window, Izuku could tell that it was a soft material that had multiple layers to it. Not exactly much to go off.
“A pillow?” he spoke after a while.
He would say that he was met with silence, but nothing is ever silent in Izuku’s life. Matsui-sensei’s heartbeat thrummed in his brain alongside his own. The thumping of blood in veins and scuffing of bare feet on wood bombarded his senses. They only added to the anxiety vibrating beneath his skin as he anticipated his teacher’s response.
“Wrong,” they finally called out to him, “walk back.”
Izuku sighed heavily as he ambled back in disappointment mixed with annoyance. “Will you at least tell me what it was?” he asked, turning his back to the heat that he was becoming to be well-acquainted with.
“No. Again.”
Indignation spiked through Izuku’s skin, distracting him from the main objective and only noticing that an item had been thrown when it hit the ground. This one created a high-pitched clattering ring as it collided with the hardwood, a slight twang adding to the sound.
Going off the little information he had, Izuku shuffled forward in the general direction of the noise, thankful that his feet only connected with the floor beneath them. The object was obviously hard if it was able to clatter like it did. Unfortunately, this meant that it didn’t move at all like the last one, making Izuku’s job harder. He tried to listen out for anything that could give him a clue but came up empty-handed.
“I- uh-” he mumbled, “a screwdriver?” Uncertainty tainted his speech, announcing his doubtfulness in himself.
“Wrong. Walk back.”
As this back and forth continued for some time, not once was Izuku able to correctly guess the object. Sometimes he even walked in completely the wrong direction, only finding out that he was nowhere near the item when he heard Matsui-sensei go to pick it up. He grew agitated with himself as he continued to mess up. It was an impossible task and he knew Matsui-sensei knew he couldn’t do it. Yet they still threw the objects, one after another, setting him up for failure each and every time. He was sick of it.
At the next “walk back” he heard, Izuku did not move. He kept his feet firm in place, fists clenched tightly at his sides and head hung low, his scarred eyes hidden behind unruly green locks. Matsui-sensei’s footsteps paused mid-pace.
“Midoriya?”
He stayed silent.
“I told you to walk back.” A darker tone entered their voice, a warning laced in their words.
“What’s the point, sensei? I won’t be able to get it anyway.” Izuku’s small voice sounded dejected to his own ears, but he didn’t have the energy to muster up anything better.
“That’s because you’re not using your senses,” they sighed, as their footsteps continued in their path.
And that confused Izuku to no end. Use his senses? What did they think he had been doing for the past hour? Sitting on his ass? He was frustrated. He was tired. Maybe that’s why he spoke with false confidence, with a boldness he should not possess given the tense inflection of his sensei’s voice.
“I am!” He stomped his foot like a spoiled child who had been refused ice-cream before dinner. “I’m doing what you said! I’m listening to the air moving as well as the sounds the objects make! What more do you want?”
“You’re not listening to me.” Their words were spoken a lot closer than Izuku had anticipated, startling him into taking a step back despite their cool tone. “Use all your senses, not just your ears. Feel the vibrations of the wood through your feet when it hits the floor. Taste the metallic twang in the air of the rusty spoon. Smell the detergent laced within the stuffed animal that’s been through the wash too many times. Those chemicals didn’t just enhance your hearing. They enhanced you. Your sensory input has been dialled to 50. Use it. Utilise your whole body to get a read on the entire room, not just your objective.”
Izuku’s muscles were frozen in place. Matsui-sensei’s speech had done more than they intended, Izuku was sure. It had taken everything he thought he knew and pulled it apart at the seams, reconstructing and sewing it into something new. A new way of thinking. A new way of being. Suddenly, the thumps of the two heartbeats resonated not just in his skull, but in his skin. In his muscles. In his bones. It was as if a thick fog had been lifted from his mind. The wall that he had subconsciously built to distort his other senses, to decrease the input, limiting it to just his ears, came crumbling down in an instant. Izuku was thrown back to the hospital room, the only other time he had felt like this. Like everything was invading him, bombarding his nerves with stimuli.
He should be terrified. He should be screaming and crying like he had back then. He should be running from the person who was able to break down his defences with words alone. The person who had done so without even knowing the impact it would have on him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he retraces his steps, landing in the exact spot he had stood so many times before, sun beating down on his back.
“Okay. Again.”
~*~
His knuckles felt the crunch of broken cartilage beneath the steel of his gloves, and he could hear the fracture line that cracked through the man’s nasal bone. The air tasted faintly of iron as blood dripped onto the ground between them, coupled with the alcohol invading his nostrils as the man let out a cry of pain in the vigilante’s face.
Izuku ignored all of this, however, in favour of focusing his senses on the thin tendrils approaching from his rear. In a flash, he ducked down and swiped a leg out behind him, sending his attacker sprawling to the ground. Using the momentary distraction, he grabbed onto as many tendrils (Or were they fingers? Tentacles? Spaghetti noodles?) as he could, tying them around the handle of a nearby dumpster before the squid-like woman could react.
Izuku was aware of the bloody-nosed man groggily making his way to his feet again. Two of his buddies stood up to their full height behind him in a pose that he was sure was meant to be intimidating. Unfortunately for them, it just reminded Izuku of an old pre-quirk movie that he used to watch with his mum. He half expected them to start passive-aggressively insulting his outfit and insisting that he wore pink.
He fought off a chuckle at the mental image, when his ears picked up on a familiar gait making its way towards the opening of the wide alley that Regina, Karen, and Gretchen were currently separating Izuku from. The recognition clicked in his mind, and Izuku let loose a much darker chuckle than he had previously been fighting off.
He noticed the hesitation in the gang of thieves’ movements and wasted no time in taking advantage of it. His jo thwacked against the Karen-wannabe’s cheek, causing the finger gun aimed at him to shoot an air pellet just to the left of his head. The crack in the brick wall behind him brought the other Mean GirlsTM out of their momentary pause as their friend dropped to the ground like a sack of melons.
Regina Bloody-Nose acted first, his left hand detaching from its socket and crawling down his leg. The man started towards Izuku once his limb reached ground level, running behind it on heavy feet.
A surprisingly high-pitched squeal echoed off the alley walls as those heavy feet landed on a now limp hand. Before the aspiring leader of the Plastics could register the blood red eyes boring into his back, the vigilante unsheathed two knives from his thigh holsters and stabbed Bloody-nose’s palms into the nearest surfaces. These surfaces happened to be dirty ground and Gretchen’s fleshy thigh, respectively.
Another, much deeper cry followed her leader’s at the action, which cut off abruptly as Gretchen’s mouth was covered by grey cloth. Grey cloth that, just as quickly, was yanked backwards, harshly bringing her nape down onto an awaiting knee.
Regina continued squealing like a pig as his fingers grabbed for purchase at the ground, trying to escape the steel blade pinning them down. Regina’s bloody nose started bleeding once again as Akuma pummelled his reinforced combat boot downwards, driving his skull into concrete and ending the shitty solo opera.
There were a few moments of tense silence as the Hero and vigilante stayed frozen in a stand-off, before Izuku bit the bullet and broke the silence.
“Meet you on the roof in ten!” He cheered with a hint of smugness and used the same dumpster that still had Spaghetti Fingers attached to its handle to propel him up the fire escape that was precariously fastened to the brick wall.
The sigh released from Eraserhead’s mouth would have been drowned out by Izuku’s footfalls on rusty metal if it weren’t for his refined hearing. He might have been worried about irritating the man (no you wouldn’t), but the fondness that radiated from his shake of the head dispelled any of those thoughts.
Exactly ten minutes later did he hear the consistent thump of Eraser’s pulse steadily getting closer to his perch.
Wow, this guy is a real stickler for being on time! He must have a pretty good watch. Hey, maybe he could recommend the brand to Izuku! Sure, he couldn’t read it without outing his not-quite-blindness to everyone, but it might look nice! To other people…
Before a chuckle could pull itself from Izuku’s throat at his own stupid joke, near-silent boots landed two feet to his left. Eraser settled down on the edge of the roof, same as Izuku, as looked out to the city that was teeming with life whilst his legs dangled over the street below. After a moment, he wordlessly reached into one of his many pockets and handed the vigilante a seemingly homemade sandwich, half cheese, half jam.
“I didn’t know what fillings you liked,” he explained needlessly whilst unwrapping his own jam sandwich.
Izuku huffed lightly in slight bewilderment, shook his head, and finally unwrapped his own snack, releasing the flavourful smells even more.
“I like cheese,” he muffled around his mouthful, “It can be totally bland or really strong or stinky or completely odourless. You have so many options!”
“Huh, I guess you’re right,” the Hero laughed, “I’ve never thought of that before. I like jam kinda for the same reason. There are so many flavours.”
Izuku paused for a beat. Then he laughed. He laughed loudly, shaking his whole body. He couldn’t help himself! It was fucking hilarious! It was absurd! Sitting there, listening to the most elusive and terrifying underground Hero in all of Musutafu talking so earnestly about his favourite sandwich fillings! Izuku was in goddamn hysterics.
Eraser looked at him with poorly hidden confusion until he too began to chuckle lightly to himself. It was a good few minutes before the pair were able to calm themselves down. Or, well, for Izuku to calm down and Eraser to make sure the kid doesn’t accidently fling himself over the ledge.
“Man! Sorry about that,” Izuku finally forced out with a flushed face, either from exertion or embarrassment. Knowing Izuku, it was probably both.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be sure to keep my jam opinions to myself in the future.”
His deadpan tone just made Izuku start laughing again, but luckily, he was able to keep his composure this time.
“Please,” he panted, “never not talk about your jam opinions.”
“Okay.” His slight smirk made Izuku suspicious. “So long as you never not talk about your cheese opinions.”
Izuku was only just able to keep his laughter to himself this time around.
“Okay, okay!” He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I promise to not keep my cheese secrets!” One of his hands lifted up to his chest and crossed his heart with a gloved finger.
“Good.”
Another minute of silence passed, but neither of them felt uncomfortable in the other’s presence.
“So,” Eraser started, “how’s the wound? I’m assuming it’s healed, considering you were fighting off a gang of sticky-fingered thieves, but I wouldn’t put it past you to go out whilst paralysed from the waist up.”
“Ahh, you know me too well, Eraser!” Izuku cooed, with his hands over his heart and batting his covered eyelashes. “But! I am actually healed this time! It took forever, but I stayed in, stuck in remote research duty.” Izuku’s teasing quickly switched to complaining and grumbling at the reminder of his time indoors.
“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t peg you as the researching type, more of the ‘restless kid with a questionable moral code’ type.” Eraser balled up the wrapping for his snack, having finished it, and stuffed it back into the pocket he’d produced it from. When his hand retracted, it carried two juice cartons, one of which he handed to Izuku.
“I actually really enjoy research!” He took the juice from Eraser’s hand, whilst speaking. “It’s just that I am a restless ki- guy with a fucked up moral code, so being stuck without patrol sends me kinda stir-crazy.”
It’s true. Izuku loved to research, especially things that interested him. It just made it that much more interesting! He told Eraser so.
“My favourite thing to research is quirks. They’re so fascinating! I’ve been meaning to ask about your quirk actually! I have so many questions on how it works, as well as suggestions on how you could use it!” He seemed to realise the way he was speaking was pretty pushy and probably too much for an illegal vigilante to be asking.
“I mean,” he continued in a cooler tone, “only if you’re cool answering them. I get if you need to keep that kinda info under lock and key.”
Way to go, Izuku. You’re gonna scare him off with your creepy ranting!
Before he could realise the irony in that thought, considering he described in great detail how he stabbed some fucker in the eye to the Hero, Eraser suggested something that Izuku had not been expecting.
“Tell you what,” he said, shifting his body slightly to angle it more to the other, “we carry on with our little agreement. You get to ask a question about my quirk, I get to ask you a question in return. Deal?”
That shocked Izuku. Eraserhead was known for being extremely mysterious and unknown. The fact that he was willing to give up any information regarding his quirk was unfathomable to him.
“Uh- uh, yeah! Yeah, deal,” Izuku stammered, still reeling a bit.
“Cool.” He was now sitting fully facing towards Izuku. “You go first.”
And he’s letting me ask him first? What the fuck…
“Okay, uhhh…” Ignoring the lack of distrust that the Hero was showing (should be showing, why isn’t he?), Izuku now had to try and not completely geek out and go on an indecipherable ramble. “I know your quirk cancels a person’s quirk, but are you actually nullifying the quirk itself or just the person’s ability to access their quirk?”
That was one of his more intriguing questions. Because if it’s the former, then Eraser might have the power to cancel his abilities even though it’s not a quirk. And that is a terrifying thought.
Izuku heard Eraser’s eyes shift minutely wider before quickly schooling his expression. “The second one. I’m able to disable a person’s conscious connection to their Quirk Factor. That’s why it doesn’t work on mutant type quirks. People with mutant quirks don’t consciously activate their quirk, their Quirk Factor is embedded in their DNA more than others and is always on. Ignoring any extra abilities they might consciously activate, of course.”
So nothing to worry about then…
“Woah…” Izuku was sure that if his eyes were visible, they would be lighting up like fucking flares. “That’s so cool! How were you able to learn so much about the mechanics of your quirk? Did you do, like, experiments? Did you get a quirk doctor to scan someone whilst you used your quirk on them? Did you-”
“Akuma!”
Eraser’s voice startled him from his babbling that was quickly turning into mumbles. It shocked Izuku. Whilst Eraser raised his volume in order to get his attention, his tone wasn’t scolding. It wasn’t irritated or exasperated. It was soft, almost as if the Hero was just reminding him of the situation so he didn’t get lost in his own head.
No one’s done that before, Izuku thought absently. Everyone else had either chastised him for being an annoying little shit, or let him ramble on until his brain works on auto-pilot and he starts to descend into a state of derealisation. It’s not their fault, though!
Izuku knows his derealisation looks vastly different to the average person’s, what with his eyes always being covered or staring indiscriminately anyways, so people usually think he’s just really focused when he’s actually lost all focus. Words end up tumbling from his mouth without him knowing, repeating what he’s memorised from his notebooks without his consent. A wall of fog blocks off his senses from him and as a result, his surroundings get blurry and distorted.
It gets a bit terrifying sometimes.
But Eraser… Eraser stopped him. Pulled him from his mental spiral before he could lose himself down the rabbit hole.
“...Thanks,” he responded gently after what felt like an eternity. He cleared his throat and physically shook off his wayward thoughts, a few stray curls coming loose from his mask at the nape of his neck.
If Eraser thought that his pause was odd, Izuku detected no indication of it. But then again, he is highly skilled and trained to keep his thoughts to himself, so he couldn’t be sure.
Ignoring the little lapse, the Hero continued on with the conversation as if they were old pals. “Okay, I guess it’s my turn to ask a question now.” His tone was obviously trying to seem bored, but Izuku had gotten quite skilled in deciphering people’s emotions. And Eraser was curious. “The veto rule is still in place, obviously.”
Now that got Izuku’s attention.
“What’s your quirk?”
Izuku froze.
“Again, I can ask a different question if you want, I won’t mind. But…” His fingers did that little twitch that Izuku had picked up on when Eraser got nervous. Except now, it was starting to sound suspiciously like the morse alphabet. Huh.
“I can’t say I’m not curious,” he finished, ceasing his fidgeting at the kana ‘ku’.
Normally, when he was faced with this question, Izuku either diverted the subject or prepared himself for an… unpleasant reaction. But right now? He’s not Izuku.
He’s Akuma.
And Akuma holds a certain confidence that Izuku doesn’t. Akuma kicks criminal ass with efficiency and without mercy, filling the back-alley streets and dingy bars of Musutafu with whispers. Whispers of the vigilante that seems to always know when something nefarious is happening in his city. The monster lurking under the bed and haunting the nightmares of assaulters and thieves. The devil who prowls the streets under the cover of night, waiting to dish out justice to those who deserve it. Akuma holds a power that strikes fear into those who know his name.
And Akuma has a quirk.
“My quirk, huh?” Izuku smirked, deviously at the man opposite him. “Yeah, okay!” He shrugged with nonchalance.
“Wait, what?”
“I’ll tell you my quirk!” Izuku confirmed. “I know that might be confusing with the whole secret identity shtick I’ve got going on,” he gestured to his mask covering the top half of his head, “but I can promise you that you won’t be able to get anything from it!” His shit eating grin contradicted his seemingly sweet voice.
“...You’re a little shit.”
“I know!” Izuku cheered almost proudly. “So yeah, I’m gonna tell you my quirk because I know it will frustrate you to no end, not being able to use it to arrest me or anything. But I’m also choosing to tell you for another reason.” His words turned to a more serious tone at the end.
Eraser picked up on this, shifting minutely, his spine straightening in attentiveness.
“I’m choosing to tell you because…”
Am I really going to admit this? Fuck, I am! Oh well, what’s the worst that could happen? Well…
Izuku quickly continued talking before he could finish that memory completely hypothetical thought. “Because I trust you.” Fucking hell. “And it would benefit both of us if when we worked together, we weren’t in the dark about what the other is capable of. So… yeah.”
That was so goddamn awkward. Oh, and look at him now! Well, not look but- it doesn’t matter! You broke him!
Izuku’s brain supplied him with the fact that, yes, he had in fact broken Eraserhead. Or he at least seemed broken. He was just sitting there, body unmoving, eyes staring blankly, and mouth slightly agape. Which, in Eraser’s case, was practically him with his jaw dropped to the floor and his eyes bulging out of his head like a cartoon character.
“Uhh… Erase-”
“You trust me?” Eraser seemed just as stunned as Izuku that the question left his mouth.
“I-” Izuku hesitated. “Y-yeah? Yes. I mean you stitched me up, basically saving my life. You had the chance to take my mask off and you could have easily handcuffed me and brought me in whilst I was out. But you didn’t. So, yeah. I-I trust you.” He gave a somewhat shaky smile that he hoped was reassuring.
“I..” Eraser cleared his throat. “Thank you, Akuma. I trust you, too.” He huffed a small laugh. “I mean, I kinda have to, letting you know the ins and outs of my quirk.”
Izuku snorted at that, as well. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
A moment passed where the two sat in understanding yet moderately stifling silence before Izuku figured he should probably get on with the whole ‘telling Eraserhead his supposed quirk’ thing.
“So! The mysterious quirk of Akuma!” The vigilante spread his arms, doing theatrical jazz hands to try and diffuse some tension. It seemed to work as he noticed the Hero’s shoulders relax imperceptibly. “It’s basically a simple sense enhancer. Four out of my five senses are heightened to a degree that I can detect things way out of the range of the regular person.”
“Four out of five?”
“Come on, Eraser,” Izuku sassed, “take a wild guess.”
Honestly, Izuku was pretty surprised that no one had picked up on the fact that his mask completely covered his eyes. No one except Mei, that is, but Izuku never really includes her in the majority of people in most categories. She’s the statistical outlier in almost every aspect and Izuku’s often wondered if that’s why they became such good friends in such a short period of time. Common experiences and whatnot.
“Wait, so you really can’t see out of that?”
“Ah ah ah, Eraser~” Izuku teasingly wagged his finger back and forth. “You already asked your question, remember?”
An annoyed frown settled on Eraser’s face but was quickly replaced with a small smile. “Fine. What’s your next question, then?”
Izuku started racking his brain once more, sorting through his multitude of queries until he found one that had been bugging him for a while.
“When you use your quirk, your hair floats upwards, out of your eye line.” Izuku had figured that it worked by eyesight given that he noticed that every time the Hero turned it off, he blinked. “In addition, your capture weapon is able to float around you before you send it out to actually capture someone. My question,” He paused for dramatic effect, ''is if you have a secondary anti-gravity aspect to your quirk?”
Izuku listened to the rapid blinking as Eraser seemed caught off guard by the question.
“I guess I…” He licked his lips thoughtfully. “I’ve never thought about it.” One hand lifted up to scratch at his scruffy beard. “I don’t think it’s anti-gravity, necessarily. Simply because of the fact that whenever I’m using my scarf to hang upside down, my hair doesn’t float up into my face. But I do know that my scarf was made with strands of my hair woven into the material’s makeup.”
He abruptly stopped in his scratching, obviously realising that he gave away one of the main elements in the support world’s best kept secret to an illegal teenage vigilante. What intrigued and somewhat confused Izuku, was when the man just sighed lightly to himself and returned to his relaxed posture. His heart rate barely even rose! He continued to ponder on the odd behaviour before realisation set in.
He trusts me.
He had already said so, but Izuku knew that he hadn’t fully believed the statement. This just solidified that belief, confirming that Eraserhead did in fact, trust Akuma. It was Izuku’s turn to go a bit slack-jawed, only snapping his mouth shut when Eraser’s gruff voice continued.
“Yeah, so I don’t really know but I’ll be sure to look into it and get back to you.”
“Wait, really?” Izuku’s now-loose curls shook slightly as he eagerly leant forward. “You’ll tell me?”
“It’s like you said,” Eraser smirked, “we gotta know what each other is capable of if we’re gonna work together.”
Izuku’s responding grin pulled so wide that he felt his cheeks push against his mask. He doesn’t get to relish in his glee for long, though, before Eraser is talking again.
“So,” he resumed, still with a smirk sat on his face, “my turn. I have a feeling you know what I’m gonna ask.”
Izuku gulped. If he didn’t play this right, he might end up revealing something that he really shouldn’t.
“I might.” Despite his nervousness, Izuku was sure to slip some mild playfulness into his tone.
“Good. Your mask then. Can you really not see out of it?”
Shit. Okay, Izuku. You can do this. Just skirt around the whole blindness thing. You’re used to it, having to convince everyone daily that you can’t ‘see’. Now just do it the other way round! How hard can it be?
“No. I can’t.”
Oh yeah. Great start, Izuku.
“Like I said before, my quirk only enhances four of my senses. It doesn’t do shit for my eyesight. This makes it my least reliable sense and it can honestly be a bit distracting sometimes when I’m patrolling and trying to use the others. So I just block it out! I’m able to know my surroundings way better when I’m not restricted to only seeing them in one direction, anyway.”
That was complete bullshit and Izuku is really fucking impressed with himself that he was able to pull it out of his ass. Never before had he been so grateful that most other people don’t have a constant stream of heartbeats pulsing in their heads, announcing everyone’s emotions at all times. It was like an EDM concert in Izuku’s brain at the moment with how quickly his blood was rushing through his veins.
“What do you mean by ‘one direction’?” Eraser asked in what sounded like a mix of confusion and curiosity.
“By using my other senses to ‘see’,” Izuku spoke, using air quotes around the word ‘see’, “I can tell the place or movements of objects without them having to be in front of me. Like, uhhh…” He was having difficulty describing his experience with someone who really relied on their eyesight.
“Oh! I can just show you! Hold up some fingers behind your back!”
“Okay…”
Izuku listened to the ruffle of fabric as Eraser moved his arm. He honed his ears to tune in to the groan of muscles and bones in the man’s rough fingers as he extended his thumb, index, and middle fingers.
“Three,” Izuku smirked.
Another ruffle of fabric and creak of muscles moving.
“Five.” The smirk stayed put on his face and the fingers began to move again. “One. Four. Zero. Seven.”
“Shit!” Eraserhead left his mouth hanging marginally open for the second time that night. “You can really tell that just by, what? Hearing me move? Smelling my hands or something?”
Izuku chuckled at the astonishment in his voice. “Something like that, yeah! Cool right?”
He was admittedly getting a bit excited. The only other person who knew of Izuku’s abilities was Mei, so it wasn’t often that he got to show it off properly. He was also secretly a bit proud that he was able to impress the Pro Hero Eraserhead.
“Very cool…” He trailed off, mouth still not quite closed.
“It’s probably not as impressive as I’m making it out to be, though,” Izuku added a little guiltily.
“How do you mean?” Izuku’s statement brought Eraser out of his thoughtful daze.
“Well, my senses are enhanced, sure. But I can’t control them.” He fidgeted in place out of embarrassment. “They’re always dialled up to, like 50. I’ve just learnt to filter the input, mentally.”
“Kid, are you serious?”
Izuku sighed. “I know, it’s pretty pathetic but I don’t really mind most da-”
“Akuma,” Eraser interrupted him, “how on earth would you think that was pathetic?”
The flush that had been working up Izuku’s face paused in its advance as confusion clouded his thoughts. “Wait, what?”
“Kid, you’re trying to tell me that you think it’s lame that you are getting that much input, twenty-four-seven, and you’re not constantly in a state of complete overstimulation?”
“Well, I-I mean…” Izuku didn’t even know what he was going to say when Eraser cut him off once again.
“That’s the most impressive thing I’ve learnt about you yet, Akuma. And I’ve seen you get your way out of my capture scarf more than once.”
The sincerity in his voice floored Izuku. He must have gone deaf as well as blind because there was no way that his ears weren’t deceiving him. He tapped his gloved fingers on his thigh and nope! He could hear the rustle of fabric on fabric as well as usual. But that can’t be true. Because that would mean that he really did hear those words come from his favourite Hero’s mouth. And he really did hear the steady heartbeat that accompanied them, indicating his truthfulness.
What the fuck…
“You mean that?” Never had the boy’s voice been so small when speaking in the mask. He couldn’t allow himself to be seen as anything other than strong and intimidating - he couldn’t afford to. But right now, it might have been totally impossible to muster up a shred of his usual snark and confidence.
“I do, kid.” Eraser smiled. “I really do.”
The embarrassed flush that had previously retreated came back full force at the earnest compliment. Izuku felt the heat rise to his cheeks instantly and was thankful that his mask and the dark cover of night shielded his abashment. Just to be safe, though, he quickly changed the subject.
“So!” He clapped his hands together, plastering a half-fake smile on his face. “I guess it’s my turn again?”
A barely-there huff escaped Eraser’s lips before he responded. “Yeah it is. But if your next question is as insightful as your last one, I’m not sure I’ll be able to answer it,” he teased.
It did nothing to dispel the blush on Izuku’s face and neck. Dick.
As he prepared to sort through his mental notebooks, a thought occurred to Izuku that he really should have mentioned earlier. “Oh! I meant to tell you about a meeting that I crashed a couple nights ago by the docks!”
Eraser’s back straightened at the subject change, obviously forgetting about their little question and answer game in favour of paying full attention to whatever Izuku was gonna say. “You mean the pair that was found tied up, each sporting their own collection of bruises and fractures?”
“You met them! Did they talk about me?” The habitual banter was easy to fall back on as his lips pulled up in a sarcastically sweet smile.
“Not the point, Akuma.” Exhaustion filled the Hero’s voice as was usual when Izuku teased.
“Right, yeah, I know. I was just curious! But anyway,” His hands flapped in dismissal. “My point. What do you know about the relationship between the Americans and Russians?”
“We don’t know any specifics but the guys down at the station know there’s some tension between the two groups, why?”
“What if I told you I got some specifics?” Despite the serious topic of conversation, Izuku couldn’t help but sport a truly shit-eating grin.
His grin was matched with the Hero’s own. “I’d tell you that you’re the best illegal teen vigilante this side of Musutafu.”
“Hey!” Izuku squawked indignantly. “How dare you call me a teen!”
Eraser inclined his head forwards in an obvious gesture of ‘really?’
He sighed. “Okay, okay! Just get your notebook out, you grumpy old man!”
Something that Izuku said made the man flinch in place slightly, but he didn’t detect any negative emotions radiating from him so he chose to ignore it. He had other things to worry about.
Like telling Eraser that two of Japan’s biggest mafias are on the brink of an all out territory war.
Notes:
Good news!
I finally got around to actually planning out the storyline of this fic! Beforehand I just kinda had an idea that I was rolling with but now I know where the story is headed! Mostly. Idk what the ending's gonna be yet but I'll burn that bridge when I get to it. I do know that it's going to be a WHILE away. I think I severely underestimated how long this fic actually gonna be when I started writing it...
Come yell at me in the comments. Or don't. I don't care. [ A S ]
Chapter 9: Never Play Jenga With An Engineer
Summary:
More backstory and ~friendships~
Notes:
So this is late. Again. I'm sorry.
But it's only one day late this time! So that's a plus I guessLittle bit of a shorter chapter this time but oh well, I hope you enjoy!
Special thanks to n00dles4loaf for beta reading this chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s been just over a year since Izuku started training with Matusi-sensei. By now, he’s able to ‘see’ better than the average person with ease. He no longer has to focus in order to know the layout of a room before he walks in the door. In fact, without even trying, he can sense the location of every object and person in the building he’s currently in.
Right now, however, the only other person in the building has sent a fist hurtling towards his face. And knowing it’s coming does nothing to help him avoid it, which is what leads to his back on the mats and a growing pain in his cheek.
“Really, Izuku? Come on, that was an easy dodge!” Matsui-sensei grasped his outstretched hand and pulled him roughly upright. “You’re distracted.”
Izuku sighed. “I’m not.” He started playing with the tape on his hands as if he wasn’t being obvious enough.
“I still don’t understand why you even try to lie to me anymore,” they mused, sitting on the floor of the ring, “Now, come on. I’m not gonna send another punch or kick your way until you tell me what’s bothering you.”
“So throwing’s still on the table?” Despite his teasing, Izuku sat opposite his sensei where they patted the floor for him to sit.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I don’t think you ever actually ask an explicit ques-”
“Izuku.” Their voice took on a no-nonsense tone, one that he couldn’t ignore.
Izuku sighed deeply once again. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little distracted.” Their silence was enough of a prompt to continue. “I’ve just- I’ve been thinking.”
When nothing followed, Matsui-sensei spoke up again. “About?”
“About…” Izuku mentally prepared for the topic he was about to bring up. “About what I wanted before the accident. What I wanted to be…”
He waited for the inevitable backlash he was about to receive. After spending so long with Matsui-sensei training him and practically raising him, his past idolisation of Heroes and dreams of becoming one had come up more than once. And every time it did, his teacher would voice their own opinions on the matter.
The opinion that all Heroes are attention-seeking and greedy fakes who never have the public’s interest in mind. Only their own.
They had expressed their distaste for the Hero Commission and anyone who willingly worked for them on multiple occasions. They had lectured Izuku time and time again about how they monopolised on people’s suffering and turned the people supposed to be focused on saving lives into celebrities. How all of Japan, and the majority of the world, have been putting Heroes on pedestals for so long that the profession has turned into a boast of power and money instead of its actual purpose.
So suffice to say, Izuku was really nervous bringing up this topic.
“Oh?” Izuku hadn’t learned to read emotions as well as Matsui-sensei just yet, but even he could tell their entire demeanour changed with just one word.
He cleared his throat. “Y-yeah. I’ve had some thoughts.”
“Care to enlighten me to these ‘thoughts’?” A terseness embedded itself into their voice.
“W-well,” he started, already regretting agreeing to talk about it. He really shouldn’t have gotten distracted. “I was thinking, I still want to be a Hero.”
Their whole body tensed.
“Before you say anything, let me finish, sir.” He held his hands out in a placating gesture.
“Go on…” Clear suspicion laced their tone.
“I know how you feel about the HPSC, and the Heroes in general, I do. I understand that they’re contributing towards a corrupt system and all that, okay? But what if I could do the Hero work without working for the Hero commission?” Izuku fidgeted his fingers on his legs, hopefulness and anticipation coursing through his limbs.
“I really hope for your sake that you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting,” Matsui-sensei responded harshly.
Despite the obvious warning, Izuku continued on, undeterred and radiating false confidence. “I’ve heard about a few vigilantes that pop up every now and again and-”
“No.”
“You didn’t even let me finish!”
They sighed loudly, taking a moment to calm themself, it seemed. “Izuku, do you know why there are only a few vigilantes and why they only ‘pop up’ once in a while?”
“I- W-well no but-”
“Two reasons,” they interrupted again, “Reason number one, they die.”
Izuku gulped.
“No matter how much training or experience someone may have had, if you’re not working for the law, then you don’t get the protection of the law. You don’t have any back-up. You don’t have any medical teams. You don’t have any resources.” Their hands ticked off each point with their fingers. “Not to mention the fact that you’re not only a target of villains, you’re a target of Heroes too. You have twice the number of enemies and not nearly as much support as a licensed Hero.”
“B-but-”
“Reason number two.” Matsui-sensei wasn’t letting him get a single word in. “They get caught. Now, Izuku, I know you don’t exactly have the best survival or self-preservation instincts as you should.”
He ducked his head sheepishly.
“But even you should realise that a missing, homeless, quirkless orphan getting caught for vigilantism, is never going to end well.”
By the time Matsui-sensei had finally finished their speech on how much of a bad idea his suggestion was, stubborn tears had gathered on his lash line, daring to fall any second. Izuku’s emotions bubbled within him, anger taking the forefront and spilling out of him in his words.
“Well then what’s the point!” He lashed out, hands flinging upwards as his volume rose. “What’s the point of training? I’ve already learnt how to use my senses to my advantage AND I don’t even need my cane anymore! Hell, I can tell what food you’ve put in the fridge for me before I even step in the door! You’re teaching me how to fight, but why? If I can’t do anything with it, why are you still bothering to teach me?”
Matsui-sensei rose to their feet to tower above him once again. Izuku hadn’t even realised he had stood up. The scent of their sweat penetrated his nostrils as they invaded his personal space, using their height to their advantage. “Listen to me when I say this. Don’t just hear me, listen to me. You are a quirkless, blind, orphan.”
Their bluntness was not new to Izuku, but hearing them say that rattled him more than he thought it would. His blood ran cold in his veins, and the thumping of his own heartbeat grew louder and louder inside his head.
“The world is never going to be kind to you. I’m not sure there’s a single person in all of Japan who will face as many hardships as you will. You’re a scrawny 12 year old who’s an easy target for anyone and everyone. I don’t doubt that many Heroes would hesitate to save you from a villain if the situation arose.”
By now, the tears were running freely down Izuku's cheeks. He only noticed them when they reached past his scar tissue, stinging his sensitive skin with saltiness. But still, he kept listening.
“Because of this, you need to know how to defend yourself. More than that, you need to know how to stick up for yourself. To be able to fight back against people who can and will try to kick you down. That, Midoriya Izuku, is why I’m training you. Not so you can run around, trying to save every person in trouble that you come across. But so you can save yourself.”
The only sound in the gym was the echoing drip of Izuku’s tears puddling on the mat between his feet. Izuku couldn’t even hear his or Matsui-sensei’s own heartbeats or breaths above the pitter patter of the salty waterfall. They stood like that for a while, neither daring to move an inch. Matsui-sensei stood towering over him whilst Izuku was clenching his fists so hard that they could both taste the metallic hint of blood in the air.
“We’re done training for the day.” Matsui-sensei’s voice broke the silence in the gym, the tension slowly bleeding out and dissipating. “Go to bed. We’ll pick it back up tomorrow morning.” And with those parting words, they stepped out the ring and gathered up their things.
Izuku didn’t move until after he heard the front door close.
~*~
He really should have seen this coming.
Or at least heard it.
Izuku was naive to think that Mei would drop the birthday party idea. In his defence, he thought that hiding out at the gym would be pretty fool-proof! He just hadn’t anticipated his Walking Headache of a best friend picking the lock of his front door whilst he was cleaning his equipment.
How did she even know where he lived?
“How do you even know where I live?”
Mei didn’t pause in her confident stride through the door to the main training room, clearly unperturbed about being blatantly obvious when breaking in. “You should know by now, Zu! I have my ways~” She placed a bag down by her feet yet Izuku was unable to identify the contents. Well, that’s not concerning at all.
He sighed, supposing he wasn’t going to be able to get anything more out of her. Izuku pushed himself off the floor with the help of the practice jo he had just been polishing, instantly missing the warmth of wood beneath his legs. The sunlight from the large windows allowed for him to have his own free, heated floor to sit on whilst doing maintenance on his weapons, even if he did have to shuffle every once in a while as the day progressed. Izuku refused to think about his resemblance to a certain household pet.
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t knock, you know?” he said, replacing the oak jo in its usual place. He reached towards the glasses on the counter next to the staff rack, but paused in his action halfway through, deciding against it.
“Why should I, when I can just let myself in?” The wide smile on her face showed that Mei really saw no issue with her criminal activity. “By the way, you should really upgrade your security in this place. It was way too easy to pick your locks.” She moved over to the sitting area in the corner, plopping down on one of the sofas unceremoniously.
“I am the security,” he said, joining her on the opposite sofa.
“Then how did I get in?”
“Mei, I knew it was you before you even got to the door,” he smirked, “Did you know that your heart beats at an accelerated rate compared to the average person?”
“Really?” She leaned forward in curiosity and excitement.
“Yeah! It scared the shit out of me every time you came into the library! Which, yes, I now know was stupid, given you already knew who I was.”
Mei snickered. “Yeah, you’re really not that good at the whole secret identity thing.”
“Hey! I take offence to that,” he grumbled back, “You know, Eraserhead still hasn’t figured it out yet.”
“Then he’s just as dense as you!” Mei’s smile didn’t fall from her face even when a cushion collided with it.
The two sat there, bickering back and forth for what seemed like hours but was probably only about twenty minutes. It was nice. Izuku has never had a ‘normal’ friendship before, but sitting here with Mei made him imagine what it would be like to have one. To do normal teenage things like going shopping together or hanging out at a park after school. But then again, Izuku wasn’t sure he would want a normal friendship if he had the option. Thinking about it now, he much preferred friendships formed unconventionally (or illegally). It was more fun that way.
However, Izuku mentally took back that statement the second the word ‘party’ came out of his best friend’s mouth.
“Absolutely not.”
“Come oooon, Zu,” Mei whined, “It’ll be fun!”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure it’ll be so much fun,” he drawled sarcastically, “I can invite all two of my friends. Yippee.” He lazily punched his fist up in the air.
Mei snorted at his exaggerated display. “Hey! You have three friends!”
“Eraserhead doesn’t count.”
“Why not? You spend so much time with him!” she protested, hands thrown up in the air.
“Yeah, as Akuma,” he pointed out, “You really think it’s a good idea to invite him to Izuku’s birthday party?”
Mei paused in her movements. “Okay, I see your point. But still! You can’t just not have a birthday party! That’s like against the law or something!”
“Ah yes, and as we both know, I would never break the law.” The right side of his mouth twitched upwards slightly, ruining his serious-faced facade.
Mei sighed dramatically, slumping back into the comfy sofa she was sitting on. Immediately, she started to sink into the fabric, drifting into a state of pure comfort. Izuku knew, seeing as that was exactly why he bought the thing. It let him relax after a considerably hard night of patrolling.
“If you want to do something for my birthday so badly, why don’t we just hang out or something?” He suggested this half to get Mei off his back about the whole thing, and half to stop her from falling completely asleep on his couch.
Apparently it worked because her eyes suddenly shot open as her body propelled itself forwards until she was sat on the very edge of the cushion. “Really?”
“Sure, yeah.” Izuku hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.
Mei jumped up to her feet, fist pumped in the air. “Fuck yeah! Let’s have a sleepover!”
Too late.
That night, the criminals and villains of Musutafu stayed wary as always, eyes and ears trained for any sign of the devil that threatens their plans. What they did not know was that this was for naught. Because the city’s devil did not prowl the streets. No, the feared vigilante known as Akuma was doing something much more important.
He was losing at Jenga to someone in a fox onesie. Whilst in a matching fox onesie.
“Fuck!” Izuku cursed loudly as the tower toppled onto the only part of the ring mat that still showed the rubber material underneath.
Mei had had the self-proclaimed ‘brilliant’ idea to gather every single one of Izuku’s blankets and completely cover the boxing ring. He really hadn’t realised how many he owned until that moment. Izuku was also sporting his incredibly soft birthday present from Mei, even though he said that the scarf was enough and he didn’t even want one in the first place! Although, he couldn’t deny that the fabric of the onesie was one of the softest things he’s ever worn, so he let it slide just this once.
On top of the hood were two ears that popped straight upwards, which were accompanied by a bushy tail that stuck out at the seam at the lower back. According to Mei, it was a garish orange colour that she would be able to spot from miles away even without her quirk, making Izuku all the more glad that he couldn't see with his eyes.
“HAHA! I win again!” Mei’s screech of victory was grating on Izuku’s ears, but he found himself grinning nonetheless.
“How are you so good at this game?” he huffed, leaning back on his hands as Mei began to set up the blocks once again.
“It’s all engineering, Zu! This is my specialty!”
“Yeah, well your ‘specialty’ is stupid,” he grumbled indignantly, finally giving in and lying down on his back, arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re pouting,” Mei teased, a smirk on her face. Abandoning the Jenga, she opted to flump down next to him and succumb to the pile too.
He straightened his face out. “No, I’m not.”
“How can you tell? You can’t even use a mirror!” She joked before sitting up abruptly. “Wait! You can’t use a mirror!”
“Yes, Mei. Thank you for reminding me, I almost forgot!” Izuku fake-cheers.
“Are you capable of saying anything that isn't sarcastic?”
It was times like this that Izuku really wished his eyes weren’t as unseeing as they were, because then he could properly give Mei a look that expressed his answer without words. It would have been useless, however, as she just jumped down off the ring and ran to her bag, not waiting for his response.
Having learnt to just go along with her antics by now, Izuku simply sighed and followed her. “What are you looking for?” he asked as she rummaged around in the seemingly bottomless rucksack.
“My baby!” she cried victorious as she held a contraption in the air that Izuku couldn’t even try to decipher the purpose for.
“Okay… Wanna share with the class what it does?”
“No!” she shouted excitedly, “Now go to the bathroom!”
“What? I don’t-” he sputtered as Mei started to push him in the direction of the stairs.
“No questions! Go! Go!” She kept pushing him until his foot stepped out the door and started down to the locker room.
Izuku sat waiting on the bench outside the row of showers for about five minutes when he heard Mei come down with a towel, an extension cord, and obviously her baby.
“Bin bag time, bat boy! Today is the day where you finally fix the bird's nest on your head!” Mei exclaimed, ripping three holes in the bin bag before unceremoniously shoving it over his onesie.
“Bat boy?” he muttered whilst finally catching on to his best friend’s plan.
“Yep! Now, let’s start with those shaved patches! They’re beginning to look more like forests than freshly cut grass.”
The buzz of Mei’s contraption filled Izuku’s head as he dreaded the state he would end up looking in the morning. If nothing else, at least his sides will stop tickling his ears as they had started to recently.
Just pray for the rest of it…
~
Naomasa didn’t have many friends, but he cared for the ones he did have very deeply. He’s one of those people who loves with their whole being, whether that was his job, his family, or his friends. He’s loved Makoto since they were both born, and he continued to love her when she supported him through his transition. He’s loved Toshinori since they became friends, and he continued to love him when he trusted Naomasa enough to tell him the secret of One For All. He’s loved Shouta since they bonded over a particularly difficult case that had them spilling their emotions to one another just two weeks after becoming coworkers.
Naomasa was having trouble continuing to love Shouta right now, though, considering he walked into his apartment to find the man perched on his kitchen counter like a cat, drinking his favourite coffee from his favourite mug at 2am.
“I regret ever giving you a key.”
“Regret it later,” Shouta responded, handing him a freshly brewed coffee in his second favourite mug, “We have things to talk about now.”
He stared down into the brown liquid, piping hot and with a tiny bit of froth on top, just how he liked it. “How did you even know when I’d get home?”
“I put a tracker in your yoghurt every morning.” Shouta brought the mug to his lips in an attempt to hide his smirk.
It did nothing, but Naomasa elected to ignore it as always, eye twitching slightly at the blatant lie. Bringing his own coffee up to his mouth, he savoured the flavour on his tongue, the slight burn in his throat failing to deter him. “Twenty minutes. And there better be another coffee ready when I get back.”
Hearing Shouta’s grunt of affirmation, he turned and walked in the direction of his bathroom, intent on washing off the grime from his long shift. After finishing his drink, that is.
Exactly twenty two minutes later, Naomasa was walking into the living room, dressed in his go-to comfy outfit of joggers and a jumper. He was glad to find that there was a fresh cup of coffee waiting for him set in front of the sofa that his friend was currently lounging on. Sluggishly settling in next to him, Naomasa took a long sip from the new mug before finally setting it down and turning his attention to Shouta.
“So?”
“I got some info from Akuma,” Shouta explained, grabbing his notebook from his pocket.
Normally the Hero would wait until the detective was working at his desk to file new information, so this was obviously urgent. Or confidential. “Go on,” Naomasa prompted.
“You know how I told you about that international American mafia branch supplying Steel to dealers after we arrested Cellier and his lot?”
“Sure.”
“Turns out they’re called the Giudice Crime Family. Their boss is a part of something called The Directorate - a council of the most powerful syndicate leaders south of Tokyo. Cellier was a member.”
Naomasa breathed out a sigh, dragging a hand down his face and distractedly noting that he hadn’t shaved in a while.
“The Directorate,” Shouta continued, “consists of three mafias, excluding Cellier. The Giudice Crime Family, the Vory Zhizni, and…” he sighed, “And the Shie Hassaikai.”
“The Yakuza group?” Naomasa exclaimed, spilling coffee on himself in his shock, “I thought most of the factions were dismantled years ago!”
“Yeah, exactly. Most.” Shouta got up to grab some paper towels from the kitchen area. “This is one of the ones that hid away to escape capture. Although, according to Akuma, there’s been reports of increased activity from the sect within the past year or so.”
Naomasa accepted the paper towels and started cleaning himself absently. “What else did he say?”
“Well, unfortunately, we were right. The territory left unattended from the French raid has created tensions between the remaining syndicates. Specifically, between the Thieves and Americans.” The Hero scowled as he sat back down.
“Shit. How bad?”
“Akuma said they’re on the verge of a war.”
“A war?” A pit was beginning to form in Naomasa’s stomach.
“Mhm. And not just a war of power; it’s a war of territory. And you know what that means,” Shouta pointed out solemnly.
“Hostages.”
“Right. If we don’t put a stop to this before they start clashing, they’ll end up taking regions by force, with the people in them.” He took a large swig of his own second coffee that Naomasa hadn’t even realised he’d made. He would never understand how the man could not only stomach plain black coffee, but enjoy it.
Maybe he just forced himself to love it in order to keep himself awake, the detective thought idly. He had tried asking him why he liked it so much before, but Shouta had always given him some obvious lie like “my quirk needs caffeine in order to make my hair rise” or “I have a genetic deficiency that can only be fixed with black coffee”. Despite being a detective for years, that’s one mystery Naomasa has never solved. One day…
Right now, though? This ‘Directorate’ case was more important.
“This is bad.” Naomasa stood from his seat with determination set in the crease between his brows. “We need to-”
“No,” Shouta said firmly, grasping onto his friend’s forearms, “This is why I told you here and not the station, otherwise you would have worked yourself into next week trying to stop it.”
“But-”
“No. You’re already in your comfies.” Naomasa frowned at the phrasing. “Go to bed, we’ll start this up tomorrow.”
He sighed. “Fine. You better head home too, though. If you show up to work looking more tired than usual, I’m calling Hizashi,” he threatened.
Shouta dropped Naomasa’s forearms. “Traitor. Why am I friends with you?”
“I buy the best coffee. Now go before I hide it all.”
Shouta huffed a laugh before grabbing his notebook off the table and making his way to where he left his shoes. He eventually left through the door, locking it after himself.
Naomasa slept fitfully that night, mind pondering the possibilities that the future holds.
~
When Shouta eventually made it back home, he was greeted by Hitoshi who was on the sofa opposite the TV, drinking hot chocolate topped with about a million marshmallows.
“You’ll rot your teeth if you keep drinking those, you know?” he called out, slipping off his shoes in the entryway and coming to sit on the adjacent sofa, eyes slipping shut as soon as his backside hit the cushy surface.
“You can’t say anything, Old Man. I can smell the coffee stained in your costume from here,” Hitoshi retorted back.
“Touché.”
The two sat in silence like they usually did when Shouta got back from patrol but oddly, after a few minutes, Hitoshi spoke up.
“I think I made a friend.”
Shouta opened one eye. “You think?”
“Well, you know that guy that took me to the hospital after running into me?”
“Yeah, Zashi mentioned you started training with him?”
Hitoshi shifted in his seat slightly. “Yeah, we started sparring on Fridays at Dynamo Fitness Gym. I figured it’d be good to get some practice in with someone other than you and Pa. No offence.”
“None taken. Whilst I do love beating you in every sparring match,” Hitoshi flipped him off which Shouta ignored and carried on, “I do think it’s good that you’re not training with the same opponents repeatedly. And that you’re spending time with someone your own age.”
“Yeah, well…” Hitoshi hesitated for a second before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I’m not sure we’re ‘friends’ just yet, but he- I told him my quirk. Well, actually I showed him. Just for a few seconds, but I was terrified that he would- That he’d blow up in my face or something. Literally.”
Shouta felt a rush of pride flow through him at his son’s braveness, followed quickly by anger at the response that he expected. He wasn’t angry at Hitoshi for thinking that. He could never be. He was angry because it’s completely logical for him to think like that. To think that the whole world is out to get him. Because a lot of the time, it is. Hitoshi has told him, in a few very emotional conversations, about the pain he’s experienced because of other people’s ignorance. Too many times has he gotten a negative backlash when people find out what his quirk is, that Shouta totally understands that he’s grown to expect it every single time. That doesn’t mean he can’t be angry for him.
“He didn’t though,” Hitoshi said and Shouta felt some of that anger dissipate, just a bit. “He even- He looked sort of impressed. Or not. I don’t know, maybe I was just imagining things.” He shook his head, lightly shaking his purple hair that had fallen in his face by this time of day. Night.
“That’s great, Toshi.” Shouta reached out and rested a hand on his son’s knee, speaking with sincerity. “That’s really great. I’m so happy that you’ve got a friend who can appreciate you. All of you.”
“But that’s the thing, I don’t think we’re actually friends yet. We just train together once a week,” he explained dejectedly.
“Well, do you want to be his friend? And more importantly, do you want him to be your friend?”
“I-” Shouta is glad to see Hitoshi taking his time to think about his answer properly, and not just saying what he thinks his Old Man wants to hear. He used to do that, and it frankly drove Shouta up the wall a bit before he learned to let Hitoshi know that he wanted to hear his honest opinion. “Yeah. I do.”
“Then make it happen. I know it might be hard, but I believe in you, Toshi.” Shouta sees the tears welling up in his son’s eyes but knowing him, he knew it was best to ignore them.
“But I can’t just ask him to ‘hang out’ out of the blue. The guy’s not exactly a sociable person and I don’t even know him that well!”
“Well, if you want an excuse, you could always say that your dads wanted to meet the mysterious boy their son spends every Friday night with. Alone.”
“Daaaad,” Hitoshi moaned, holding his face in his hands.
Shouta smirked at the boy’s dramatics. “Or you could just say that he owes you for sending you to the hospital.”
That got a small laugh out of him. “Actually, he’s the one that kind forced me to train with him ‘cause he quote ‘saved my life’ since he didn’t leave me to bleed out in the street.” His words were muffled by the palms covering his face still, but Shouta could hear the amusement in his tone, buried underneath the annoyance.
“Best to just go with the first one then,” he teased.
“I absolutely will not,” Hitoshi deadpanned, finally extracting his head from his hands and getting up off the sofa, “What I am going to do, is try to go to sleep so I can forget you ever saying that.”
“Good idea. I was thinking the same thing,” Shouta agreed before calling out to him as he made his way down the hall. “Hey, Toshi?”
He half turned around, looking at his Old Man but obviously longing for the comfort of his bed.
“I’m proud of you.”
For a split second, Shouta could see the emotions pass across his son’s face before he swiftly turned his head back towards his bedroom.
“Sappy dick,” he called back, affection lacing his tone in a way that it wouldn’t normally. It was usually just implied.
Shouta smiled as he picked up the empty mug to put in the dishwasher, eventually making his way to his own bedroom, and drifting off to sleep whilst cuddling Hizashi in a position reminiscent of a koala.
Notes:
Fox onesies!!!
Also I don't care if Aizawa and Tsukauchi have barely any interactions outside of the Vigilantes series, they are now best friends because I said so.
I plan on the next few chapters being more plot heavy and hopefully Arc 1 will be finished by chapter 13 so there's that to look forward to! I say look forward to... but there's gonna be angst.
Feel free to comment!
Chapter 10: Toph Beifong VS Pikachu
Summary:
Izuku learns some new info and also how to actually ask for help! For the first time in his life...
Notes:
So....
This is three weeks late. I'm so sorry.
My dad left and now I'm working every weekday so updates might be slow until the summer holidays start :/
On the bright side, I think this just makes me even more of an Izuku kinnie :DAlso, no beta for this chapter so please excuse any mistakes that I might have missed
Anyways, happy reading! :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Izuku’s abdomen twinged slightly as he moved his fingers across the page, a memory of last night when he failed to dodge one of Matsui-sensei’s attacks. He had gotten much better at going on the offensive lately, but it seemed that it came at the cost of his awareness. He would be focusing on what attack he was doing and how to make it work, but would then completely forget about the pair of fists aimed at him, resulting in more bruises than usual.
Izuku hissed quietly as he tried to ignore how his top moved roughly against his skin, instead concentrating on the biology textbook in front of him. The pads of his fingers were starting to skim over the next line when he noticed a rapid heartbeat approaching his secluded desk.
With Matsui-sensei’s help, he’s now able to identify someone by the sound of their gait, the shape of their figure, and most easily, the rhythm of their pulse. He’s learnt that each person has their own unique heartbeat, despite them all beating at relatively the same pace. Each heart has its own way of moving, its own sequence that dances within its ribcage, like a bird itching for flight. Some people’s hearts are like eagles; powerful and constant. Others are like robins; quiet but erratic.
Akari’s was like a parrot. It was always so loud and energetic, but not overwhelmingly. It beat with purpose, and that purpose sounded like happiness and expression. Izuku couldn’t begin to try and describe how a heart beating blood around a person’s body sounded like happiness, it was just instinctual to him.
Right now, that parrot was approaching his table, short stack body and large afro attached.
“Hey there, Izuku!” Akari greeted him quietly.
He gave a cursory jump to emulate surprise before smiling at the woman. “Hi, Akari.” The pair had known each other for just over a year now and had become an unlikely pair of close friends. Akari has helped him navigate the library and find the books he needs for the schoolwork he was missing out on (not that she knew the reason), and Izuku helps her every once in a while, organising the braille section and stocking new books.
“I’ve got a proposal for you,” she beamed. Izuku hadn’t learned how to discern facial features just yet, but he could hear the joy and mischievousness laced in her tone clear as day.
“Okay…” Knowing Akari, Izuku knew to be suspicious. Not of anything bad! She would never do something to make him uncomfortable! Something embarrassing like dragging him down the street on rollerskates, however…
He still had small scabs on his forearms.
“So!” she started, enthusiastically, “You’ve been coming here almost every day for quite a while now. You know your way around the braille section blindfolded, no pun intended.” Her tone contradicted her words. “You help me organise books most times you visit and I am an old woman who is beginning to wither away. You, however, are a young and spritely boy who seems to have a lot of time on his hands!”
Izuku could see (metaphorically) where this was going and he honestly wasn’t sure what to think about it. For the moment, he decided to play dumb. “Are you trying to get at something here, Akari?”
“You’re a smart boy, Izuku,” she teased, “I’m sure you can figure it out.”
He stayed silent, pretending to be deep in thought for a while, hoping Akari would take it as a sign to drop it, but the woman was persistent. Eventually, he conceded, heaving a deep sigh in a last ditch effort to hint at his reluctance. It did nothing to deter her.
“Fine. When do you want me to start?” Izuku asked, leaning back in his chair. “I could do with some of my own money, anyways,” he muttered under his breath.
Izuku didn’t need eyes to know that his favourite librarian was grinning from ear to ear. He was already regretting this.
~
“The library, huh?” Matsui-sensei opened their can of Chu-Hi, dripping some down the sides in the process, coating their fingers in sticky bubbles that went unnoticed.
Izuku opened his own pineapple Ramune, much more successfully than his teacher had done, and continued explaining the specifics of his new job. They were sitting in Matsui-sensei’s office on the thick mat that covered the majority of the floor, each with their own ready meal in front of them which they had picked up from the store earlier. Matsui-sensei said that it was to practise him knowing his surroundings without having to think about it, but Izuku knew they just wanted the new flavour of Chu-Hi that had been released last week.
“I’ll finally be able to buy my own sweets!” Izuku finished off his rant about his assistant librarian job with, what he thought, was the greatest benefit.
“Good. I didn’t think I’d be able to cover your pineapple-flavoured addiction any longer. You’re lucky I agreed to buy them for you in the first place.” They gestured towards him with the hand holding their drink, spilling even more on their fingers.
“You hardly buy me any, now!” he cried in indignation.
“And no more from this point on!” they said, matching his tone. “I don’t even understand why you like those acidic things so much.” The last part was muttered but Izuku caught it.
“I like them,” he emphatically insisted, “because they have the perfect balance of sweet and sourness! It’s the only attack on my senses that I will happily endure.”
“You’re an odd kid, kid.”
He flicked a green bean at their head, failing in his attempt as they caught it between the chopsticks before it hit them, popping the offending vegetable in their mouth nonchalantly.
Izuku huffed. “You gotta teach me how to do that, one day.”
“I can’t. You just have to be fast. And that quickness? That’s not something that can be taught. That’s something you have to learn on your own.” They slurped up another noodle into their mouth. “Ingrain it in your muscles. Hone your instincts to know exactly where to move to and how fast to get there. You can practise that later in the ring, though.” Matsui-sensei abruptly stood up, having finished their food. “Right now, we’re going to hone your senses instead. I want you to be able to tell what I’m thinking just by my face by the end of the day. Come on.”
Izuku slumped his shoulders at the thought of his meal going unfinished, ultimately getting himself up and following his teacher down the stairs to the main training room.
~*~
Sitting crouched on one of his usual rooftop vantage points, Izuku popped one of his pineapple hard candies into his mouth, relishing in the slight stinging sensation it evoked on his tongue. It was early in the night, with Izuku having just started his patrol. So far, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary so he had taken the time to enjoy his favourite treat whilst staying attentive on his perch.
His mouth may have been preoccupied, but his ears were still fully functional and immediately picked up on the scream that sounded from a couple blocks over, cutting off prematurely.
His boots pounded on the gravel and cement of rooftops separating him and the assumed victim. Determination set in his jaw in addition to the sweet that was lodged between his teeth. Izuku concentrated on not accidently choking on his bad habit whilst assessing the situation as best he could from his position.
One block away, he determined the source of the scream from before. A child lay seemingly unconscious on the pavement as a woman knelt in front of him emitting a heat from her palms, probably from her quirk. It was then that Izuku noticed the radius surrounding the pair that was emitting the same type of heat in a dome-like shape. A shield quirk, he absently noted.
What grabbed most of his attention, however, was the banging noise that echoed off the shield from a tall, broad man that was raining continuous blows down on them. Each hit produced a crackle that Izuku assumed was some form of static electricity although it was uncertain whether it was caused by the man’s quirk or the woman’s.
Regardless, he didn’t hesitate to charge forward and grab his jo from its brace on his back, swinging it full force at the attacker’s nape. Instead of knocking him unconscious, however, as Izuku had intended, the steel rang out loudly in the empty street as it collided with his skin. Whilst the vigilante stumbled slightly from the unexpected recoil, the man stood firm, undeterred by the assault. His fists stopped in their onslaught as his neck twisted until he was staring down Izuku.
“You should leave if you know what’s good for you,” he gruffly said.
Izuku leant up against his jo, giving off an air of nonchalance as his mind whirred with strategies for his enemy. “Hmm,” he pretended to think, “I dunno, man. I was really in the mood for some ass-kicking tonight.”
“Oh you’ll get your ass-kicking alright.” The attacker squared his shoulders, advancing towards him in an attemptedly menacing way.
Izuku used the opportunity to discreetly signal for the woman to take her son and run. Apparently it wasn’t discreet enough, though, as the man abruptly stopped and swivelled his head round to where the mother was in the process of picking up her son’s limp body. Izuku ran up to where the back of his head was now facing him, reaching up and using two knives to slash the tendons in his shoulders. But just like before, the blades made a grating sound as they too bounced off the man’s skin.
Sparks flickered from his fingers, vibrating the air slightly and causing Izuku’s hairs to buzz and stand on end. Definitely his quirk then. Izuku groaned internally at the thought. Because if that was the man’s quirk, then he didn’t have one that hardened his skin, mutation or otherwise. Which could only mean one thing.
Steel.
Shit.
The sparks grew in intensity until eventually they started whipping out and latching onto the nearest conductible source. The villain started towards Izuku once again, this time much faster and holding his arms out to the side, sending shocks to nearby cars and lampposts. To try and save him from the same fate, Izuku ran at him head on, out of the path of the outstretched limbs. He tucked into a roll and passed through the tall man’s legs, jumping up on the other side and placing a firm kick on his lower back.
What Izuku forgot to factor in, however, was the fact that his boots were reinforced with metal tips which didn’t really help with electric quirks. He learnt this quickly as he was shocked backwards from the force, just as much as the criminal was. His foot tingled alongside most of his calf but he shook it off, pushing himself off the ground and facing his enemy with a laid back manner concealing the determination.
“Not quite the ass, but a kicking nonetheless!” Izuku teased the man like he usually would but it came out more strained than he intended. His mind was set on the fact that this was the strongest case of Steel he had ever witnessed. Most batches just increased the toughness of a person’s skin but this? This made it actually like steel. Izuku had always thought that the name was an exaggeration to increase the selling rates but maybe he had just been seeing weaker doses up until now.
There was no more time to ponder the fact, though, as the man shifted his arms to point his hands straight towards Izuku. The vigilante was fast but evidently not faster than electrical bolts. Izuku dove sideways, his side bursting into pain as the man’s quirk struck him on his way to the floor.
Clutching one hand to his injured torso, Izuku hastily pushed himself upwards and to his feet. He grasped his jo firmly, running low at the man’s legs and swinging his weapon behind his knees. Izuku felt the electricity flow through the staff as the criminal fell on one knee. He braced for the incoming shock but was surprised to feel nothing but a small tingle. Realisation of the fact that his gloves doubled as insulators caused Izuku’s mood to increase rapidly.
Taking advantage of this new information, he holstered his jo and pulled back a fist, striking the man’s jaw and succeeding in dislocating it from its socket. Before he could celebrate too soon, however, he heard the crackle of a high voltage palm soaring towards his calf. Pain seared through his muscles briefly, making him stumble the landing when he jumped backwards.
“Man! You sure are one shocking guy!” Izuku quipped, flipping out of the way of another electricity bolt, “It must be real difficult for anyone to surprise you!” He dove behind a nearby car to dodge another attack. “I mean,” He ran around to face the electric man’s back. “You’re an expert in leaving someone stunned!” A knife handle made its way into his hand, quickly darting out to strike his opponent in the thigh.
“Stop yapping!” A fist that hummed with potential energy passed harmlessly over Izuku’s head as he ducked and rolled his way back in front of his assailant.
“But it’s part of my charm!” Izuku sarcastically whined. Keeping an ear out, he noticed that the woman and child had fled at some point during his scuffle with the villain. But that wasn’t all he noticed.
A deep breath through his nose confirmed his suspicions. The man was bleeding.
Izuku had mainly aimed to stab him as a distraction in order to make distance between the pair, but now he could smell the distinct scent of rust and copper pennies. It wasn’t much so the wound was shallow at best, but Izuku was optimistic. Because this meant that the Steel was wearing off.
A terrifying smirk made its way onto his face, causing the villain to falter in his steps. Izuku took the opportunity to lunge at him once again, aiming his hands, now both armed with a knife, at his ankles. He cut both achilles tendons whilst sliding through his legs, quickly popping up on the other side. The man fell to his knees as Izuku watched, abruptly remembering the pain in his side when he stretched to his full height. He didn’t have time to dwell on that though, as he sprung forward and thrust the butt of his knife into Electro-Dude’s nape.
Due to the residual drug left in his system, the man failed to fall unconscious, instead becoming disoriented and dazed. With his jaw still hanging loosely, head wobbling groggily, and feet sat unnaturally, the guy looked a mess. Izuku took pity on him and hit him again in the same spot with his jo, finally knocking the electrifying man out cold.
“Wow! Who knew a battery could put up such a fight?” Izuku blew out a breath and stepped forward to restrain the villain before he could wake up, but as his left foot hit the ground, pain shot through his calf.
“Shit!” he cried out, “Fuck, I forgot about that!” He hissed out a breath as the adrenaline wore off and all of his injuries became more apparent. Hesitantly walking on his left leg again, Izuku carried on towards the man on the floor only slightly slower than before.
After securing his wrists behind his back and his ankles together, Izuku manoeuvred him into a more comfortable sitting position against a parked car. He assessed the man’s injuries and grabbed his compact first aid kit from one of his many pockets. With his ankles wrapped and jaw relocated, the Electro-Dude’s head lolled to the side as Izuku contemplated his next action.
Usually, this is the part where he would call up Musutafu Police on his untraceable phone and bolt before he ended up in uncomfortable handcuffs. But this guy was different. He was using a version of Steel that was unfamiliar to Izuku. It was stronger and more effective enhancement-wise. The timing though… Most cases of Steel last up to five hours, but this time it only lasted about an hour before it started wearing off. So either wannabe Pikachu took a much smaller dosage than was typically given out, or this new type of Steel had its drawbacks.
That’s probably why I’ve never seen it before. The Giudice Crime Family must not have wanted to distribute an unfinished product and so made a weaker version that would last longer. They never would have released something that wasn’t complete at risk of their reputation! But if that’s the case…
“How the hell did you manage to get your hands on some, huh?”
This is why Izuku was holding off on calling the police so soon. Maybe if he could get some answers out of knock-off Jolteon, he’d have a better shot at taking down the Directorate. One weak link in the operation could end up unravelling their whole operation if Izuku was smart enough about it. He just needed the information…
~
Two minutes later, Izuku was perched on the roof of the parked car when he heard the shift in breathing and change in heart rate. A few seconds later came the muffled groan and subsequent cry of pain when the man moved his jaw. Izuku took that as his cue to jump off his seat and squat in front of Electro-Dude.
“Rise and shine, Palpatine!” Izuku chirped, clicking his fingers in front of the man’s face.
“Ugh, what?” he groaned in response.
“Come on! Wakey wakey! You’ve got some talking to do, mister!”
Kami, Mei was rubbing off on him. Izuku really didn’t know how to feel about that.
“You!” the man shouted, going to aim his fists at Izuku before finding them incapacited behind his back.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna be very effective, bud,” Izuku explained pityingly, as if talking to a child, “So here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them and keep all your bones intact. Got it?” The smile on his face exuded threatening sincerity.
Izuku could smell the salty scent of sweat dripping down the back of the Electro-Dude’s neck coupled with the sound of his heart steadily beating faster. When he received no answer, Izuku leaned forward, placing one hand on his ankles and leaning his weight into them.
A cry of pain sounded loudly from his mouth. “Okay, okay! I got it!”
Izuku lifted his weight back off abruptly. “Good! First question - Where did you get the Steel?”
The man’s mouth lifted up into a smirk. “What Steel?”
Izuku clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Wrong answer, mister.” Once again, he leant on the restrained ankles, this time with both hands and more of his weight.
“Fuck! Fuck, stop!” Electro-Dude squirmed and shouted in protest.
Izuku let up and sat silently, waiting for an answer to come.
“The Americans. I got it from the Americans, alright?” He huffed a pant, relieved from the pain momentarily.
“Well, I know that! I mean,” Izuku leaned in closer, “How were you able to obtain this type of Steel, hmm?”
“W-what do you mean?” he stuttered.
“You know what I mean.” A sickly sweet smile made its way onto Izuku's face again. “The Giudice aren’t distributing this type of shit yet. It’s not finished! What I wanna know is how you were able to get your sparky little hands on them.”
“I-I well-” The man spluttered for a few seconds too long as Izuku snatched a knife from his holster and aimed it towards a particularly… sensitive area. “W-wait! Wait, I remember!” The knife retreated slightly. “My mate, Minato. H-he has connections with some American caporegimes. He’s a cop and apparently he kept them from being charged a few times or something, I dunno. Anyway, Minato got given a few samples to test out for them and he gave me one! That’s all I know, dude. I swear!”
Izuku slouched back on his haunches, twirling the knife between his fingers. It’s not uncommon to hear of dirty cops in Japan but in Musutafu? With the abundance of Heroes due to it being UA’s hometown, and especially with All Might’s return to the city, there’s relatively little corruption in Shizuoka. He’ll have to let Eraser know next time he sees him.
“So you don’t know anything?” Izuku prompted with hidden suspicion.
“No! Nothing!” The telltale flutter of the man’s increased pulse and slightly quickened breaths were all Izuku needed to hear.
“You know, lying won’t do you any good.” He crawled forward, grabbing onto the man’s scruffy hair with one hand and bringing the knife up to his eye with the other. “Now why don’t you tell me the truth this time, yeah?” The blade inched closer with each silent second.
“Alright, fine! M-Minato mentioned a meeting!” The man released a heavy breath as the blade retracted.
“A meeting?”
“Yeah, apparently Giudice and the other bosses or whatever are having a meeting tonight. The caporegimes were gonna celebrate their night off at a bar and they invited Minato.”
“Where?” The knife raised back up to half an inch from Electro-Dude’s eye socket.
“An abandoned warehouse by Takoba Beach! T-that’s everything I know, so will you get that out of my face or what?!” The man’s voice had risen in pitch so much by this point that Izuku’s ears were starting to ring.
“Hm.” He dropped his arm, flipping the knife as he stood up, and holstering it back into its place.
The man spoke up again with a trembling voice. “Y-you’ll let me go now, right?”
Izuku ignored him, already on his way to his and Eraser’s rooftop as he pulled his phone from his pocket, putting on a deeper voice.
“110, what’s your emergency?”
“Patch me through to Detective Tsukauchi in Musutafu.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Musutafu, Precinct 12, Detective Tsukauchi.”
“Sir, I can’t just-”
“I need to talk to him immediately! It’s an emergency!” Izuku breathed heavily as his feet pounded against the tarmac.
“Alright… One moment, sir.”
There was a long minute of silence before a click sounded through the speaker, signalling the new caller.
“Detective Tsukauchi. Who am I speaking to?”
“Detective! So great to finally speak with you!” Izuku couldn’t help but default to banter despite the urgent situation.
“...Who is this?” The suspicion lacing his tone was evident as he repeated his question.
“Aww, you don’t recognise your own friendly neighbourhood devil?”
Izuku heard a sharp inhale of breath on the other end of the line.
“Akuma?” came his hesitant answer after a moment.
“Ding ding ding! I can answer any questions you have like ‘how do you know my name?’ or ‘how long have you known I was working your case?’ or whatever later. Right now, I need you to listen to me, okay? It’s important.”
There was an audible sigh that sounded from Tsukauchi before he answered tiredly, “Alright. What have you got?”
“I don’t have Eraser’s number so you need to call him and get him to meet me on our rooftop as soon as possible. I know it’s his night off, but this is time sensitive.”
“I’m patching him into this call.”
Izuku could not have been more thankful for the detective’s no-nonsense tone.
The several tense seconds of harsh ringing in his ear was tortue to Izuku. It seemed like an eternity passed before the Hero picked up.
“Naomasa?”
“Sho-”
“Eraser! Glad you could join us!” Izuku chirped as soon as he heard the familiar gruff voice. He wasn’t sure why, but Eraserhead’s presence instantly installed a sense of relief that lessened his anxious state just slightly. He’d address that later. Maybe.
“Akuma?” he called out in surprise. “What’s going on?”
“I’d like to know as well,” the detective pitched in.
“I’ll tell both of you once you’re on your way, Eraser. I need you to meet me.”
Shuffling came from the Hero’s end of the line. “I’m on my way. Now, what’s. Going. On?” he emphasised once again.
“I just got some info from a Steel villain. Oh yeah! That reminds me, Detective - he’s still tied up on 7th and 52nd street.”
Izuku heard a deep sigh that he wasn’t entirely sure who it came from.
“Hold on one second,” Tsukauchi said before clicking off, presumably to send a colleague to the address.
“Akuma…” Eraser started in his recognisable scolding tone.
“Yeah yeah, I know. But can we do this later, we’ve got a more pressing issue at the moment.”
“...Fine.”
A click.
“Okay, I’m back. Now explain, Akuma.”
“Right, yeah. So this guy is apparently friends with someone who’s friends with some American mafia members. He actually said his friend was a cop so you’ll have to check that out, Detective. Anyway! He said there's gonna be a Directorate meeting tonight. It’s not far from our usual meet up, Eraser - just off Takoba.”
At this point, Izuku had finally arrived at the rooftop but instead of lounging on the edge like he usually did, he stayed standing, one ear to the phone, and the other listening out for anything suspicious. The industrial estate was just within his range so Izuku could hear movement within them relatively clearly, especially with the echo they created.
As he absently heard Eraserhead’s reassurances and the detective’s orders for backup, Izuku fidgeted whilst pacing. This was it. They were finally going to get the people him and Eraser had been after for months now. He had so much energy bubbling beneath his skin, waiting to erupt at a moment's notice. It was as if Electro-Dude’s quirk was still affecting him without how jittery he was. His feet couldn’t keep still, constantly moving or tapping in place but never stopping. Izuku felt the anticipation coursing through his veins as his ears strained for any sign of his targets. He was completely focused. So much so that he didn’t realise he had company until a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Kid-”
Eraser wasn’t able to get another word out as Izuku immediately flipped him on his back, knee pressed into his chest and arm trapped in a painful lock.
“Eraser!” Izuku released him instantly and stood back up as he clocked who he had attacked. “How did you get here so fast?”
“It took me twenty minutes, kid.” The Hero stood as well. Izuku could practically feel his intense stare boring down on him, as if checking to see if he was real. Or intact. “You stopped responding after you explained yourself. Scared the crap out of Naomasa but I figured you just got in your head again and spaced out.” Despite his apparent calmness, Izuku could hear Eraser’s heart beating erratically, though it seemed to be slowing. “Now tell me, do you know where they are?”
Izuku shook his head lightly as he fully pulled himself from his anxious state of mind back into the present, flipping his phone shut. He felt a few loose curls brush against his neck and quickly hid them away as he spoke. “Uh no, not ye-”
His head cocked to the side as he cut himself off. Izuku slowed his breathing as he heard the crunch of heavy boots on concrete and the click of a gun reloading. An AK-47.
“Akuma?” Eraser asked after several moments of silence.
“They’re here. Or at least one of them is. Based on the weaponry I’d guess the Pakhan.” Izuku’s feet moved him closer to the ledge of the rooftop, intent on getting more information.
“Where, kid?”
“The fifth warehouse from the south edge of the estate. I’m hearing more movement but I can’t tell who or what it is accurately without getting closer. Come on.” Izuku’s mind was on a one-track course at the moment. Nothing else mattered except getting to that warehouse and taking down the Directorate. Nothing was going to stop him.
Nothing aside from the hand grabbing onto his bicep.
“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” Eraser’s scolding tone stunned Izuku, his jaw hanging open slightly. Eraser must have noticed as his hand dropped as quickly as it had risen. “You can’t go running in there without backup, no matter how skilled you think you might be, Akuma.”
“I do have backup - I’ve got you! Now come on!” Izuku tried to jump away again but was stopped once more by the same hand. “Eraser!”
“I mean more backup, kid,” the Hero sighed, “It’s on its way, we just have to wait, okay?”
“Wait?” Izuku’s tone indicated his offence at the suggestion clearly. “We don’t have time to wait, Eraser. I can already hear voices coming from their location! If we don’t move in now, the meeting will be long over before we arrive!”
The two stood staring each other down (not very effectively), determination set in both their stances as they silently persisted. Eventually, Izuku heard the all too familiar tap-tap of fingers on fabric. He recognised the beginnings of morse code.
Eraser was cracking.
“You will listen to me.” He finally spoke, breaking the tension. “I have years more experience than you do. I know how these types of fights go. So you will listen to me and do as I say. I don’t care how eager you are to take these guys down - believe me, I am too - you cannot go running in headfirst like usual. Understood?”
“I don’t go running-”
“Understood?”
Izuku had never heard that tone from the Hero before. It was demanding and able to shake Izuku’s core in a way only one other person had been capable of doing. It scared him somewhat until he took note of Eraser’s breaths. They were ragged and shaky, one finger still tapping on his thigh.
He was scared too. But not of Izuku, for Izuku.
“Okay.” He said. “Understood.”
As the pair made their way over to the meeting place, Izuku’s mind raced with thoughts. Most prominently, he thought about how he was once again thankful that Eraserhead did not have superhuman hearing, and could not tell when the vigilante was lying.
Notes:
What's this? Izuku lying? Wow, never would've seen that coming
Three more chapters to go until the end of the first arc! So far, I have about 2 or 3 more arcs planned but I don't think they're gonna be as long as this one. Or maybe they will! Who knows? Certainly not me
I hope you enjoyed this chapter because it's gonna be pretty angsty for the next few ones :D
Chapter 11: Plans Are For The Law-Abiders
Summary:
Akuma and Eraserhead take on the Directorate
Notes:
I'm only one day late this time!! Don't get used to it, I have terrible time management skills...
So... Directorate fight... Take a wild guess as to how this is gonna go
Hope you guys enjoy and I take no responsibility for any and all emotional damage :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Rise and shine, Izuku!”
“Oof!”
Izuku woke up to the unpleasant feeling of the wind being knocked out of him. He instantly felt the warm rays of sun beating down on his face despite it being early in the morning.
Wait a minute.
It’s July. The sun doesn’t rise high enough to shine into the gym windows until 7:30am in July. He knows this, because he’s always awoken by his sensei at 6:00am every day - excluding Sunday - in order to keep him disciplined. And to get more hours of training in, each day. No matter how close the pair had gotten over the years, that was one thing they never budged on. But he could feel the sun. That means…
“You let me sleep in?” Izuku blurted out as soon as he realised. “You never let me sleep in! Are you sick or something, sir?”
“Do I sound sick to you, hmm?” The challenging tone to their voice made it clear that there was a correct answer, and an answer that got him two more hours in the ring.
“N-no, sensei! Absolutely not.” He vehemently shook his head, his short mullet-type hair scratching lightly against his neck. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” they prompted.
Best not to jinx it. “Nothing!” Izuku was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, lest he find a fist waiting for him.
“Mhm. Sure.”
Putting his mind away from the strange behaviour, Izuku finally took notice of the object that winded him. Well, objects.
“What’s this, sensei?” He picked up the two smaller ones first, feeling them under his fingers. They were gloves. Leather gloves, with hardened knuckles. Izuku would guess they were steel.
“Birthday present,” they said flatly.
“Birthday-” Izuku’s eyes widened, stretching the scar tissue surrounding them. Shit. He had forgotten his birthday. He’d never forgotten his birthday before. Izuku didn’t know how he felt about that and, deciding to ignore it until later, he physically shook the thought from his head. “I told you, sensei I-”
“‘Don’t celebrate your birthday’ yeah, I know. This isn’t that. I just happened to give you these on the fifteenth of July. Totally unrelated.” Their lips pulled up at one side into a smirk.
“But you said-”
Ohta-sensei interrupted him again. “I didn’t say anything. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now put those on; you need to learn how to move in them.”
And with that, they turned and walked through the main training room door, leaving Izuku to examine the other two objects more closely.
They were boots. Thick boots that were made from a material that Izuku could tell was tough. Tough enough to stop a blade, he noted, running his fingers down the sole until he reached the toe cap. Izuku’s eyes widened once more as he smelt the distinct scent of steel that he had identified in the gloves previously.
Ohta-sensei gave me steel-toed boots?! Those are expensive!
Whilst his thoughts tried to focus on the price of such gifts, Izuku couldn’t deny the real reason for his surprise. These gloves and boots were high quality. They could do some real damage when facing an opponent. The fact that Ohta-sensei had trusted Izuku enough to give them to him…
Tears welled up on his lash line, threatening to spill at a moment's notice. A warmth settled in Izuku’s stomach that he hadn’t felt in years. It was unfamiliar but not unwelcome and Izuku finally allowed his tears to cascade down his cheeks, pooling at his chin until they dripped onto the leather material in his lap. Hastily, he wiped the salty puddle from the gloves and pushed himself off the mattress. Determined not to think about the emotions swirling through his mind and stomach, Izuku did as his sensei said and got himself ready for the day.
After Izuku pulled on his second sock, completing his training outfit, he walked over to where he left the gifts on his mattress. His hair, still damp from the shower, tickled his neck in a not unpleasant way as he crouched to examine them once more. Eventually, he sat down and began untying the laces.
Ohta-sensei walked into the main training room just as Izuku finished strapping on the second glove. They seemed to stutter in their steps momentarily before clearing their throat and speaking.
“They suit you,” Ohta-sensei said after a second of hesitation.
Izuku huffed lightly. “How would you know?” he smiled.
They smirked back. “Because I’m Matsui Ohta.” Izuku heard their feet pad along to the ring, jumping up onto it before addressing him again. “Now let’s see how well you can move in them.”
Izuku clenched his fists resolutely, face pulling into a terrifying grin as he followed his sensei’s lead.
~*~
Izuku grinded his teeth together anxiously, feet pounding against asphalt roofs as he ran behind Eraserhead. Scenarios and strategies ran through his mind, organised from most to least likely to work successfully. Realising that he was getting himself worked up when he should be focused, Izuku concentrated on Eraser’s breathing pattern, his breaths accompanying his heartbeat in a controlled manner. The Hero was a picture of coolness and steadiness in Izuku’s eyes. His pulse was always ever as consistent as his skills and his skills never wavered.
Izuku knew that he could count on the man to keep a level-head and have his back when he needed him. He wasn’t quite sure when he grew to trust Eraser so much. Like, he’s trusted the Hero for a while now - ever since he patched him up - but the extent to which that trust goes seemed to have skyrocketed without Izuku knowing. Considering his stance on Heroes as a whole, Izuku felt like he should have realised when this phenomena happened.
There was no time to dwell on that now, however, since his ears picked up the distinctive sound of a gun’s machinery clicking as the holder shifted it in place.
They were here.
By now, Eraser and Izuku had reached the warehouse district and were manoeuvring by foot instead of rooftops. They paused in their movements just before reaching the location, hiding behind the warehouse south of their target.
“Okay, Akuma. What’s the situation?”
Izuku had never been on a mission with Eraserhead before. They had only talked on rooftops or with flippant quips thrown in during a fight. That’s why Izuku hesitated before answering the Hero, not used to hearing the serious tone that his voice took. It wasn’t as gruff as usual but more… deep. No, not deep - dark. This was the underground Hero that villains were afraid of. Whose name had such a reputation that it struck fear into the hearts of low level thugs and caused wariness in the movements of high ranked villains.
Izuku was glad they were on the same side.
“Uh yeah. Yeah, hold on,” he mumbled, realising that he hadn’t answered Eraser yet. Izuku tilted his head in concentration, listening for the shuffling of feet and the thumping of three heartbeats. He took note of the weaponry that he could identify and catalogued them alongside any info he could discern about the targets.
“They’re all here. One of them, presumably the Pakhan, seems to be about seven foot tall. She’s carrying an AK-47 and from here I can tell that the room is cold, emanating from her body. I would guess a temperature based quirk, most likely something to do with ice or manipulation of the cold. The other two don’t have any indicators for their quirks, at least not outwardly. One of them is short in stature, wearing a double breasted suit and a fedora. He has two handguns, one hidden in the lining of his suit and the other holstered on his right ankle. The last guy doesn’t have any weapons on him. Either he’s an idiot or he has confidence in his quirk/physical abilities. Given the pointed mask that he’s wearing, it's safe to assume both are true.”
Eraser huffed lightly at Izuku's joke. He doesn’t blame him, though. Izuku understands the severity of the situation intimately. He knows that there is a time and a place for witty remarks and for focused, detailed reports of information. Despite this, Izuku can’t help but try and abate his anxiousness with insults to the enemy.
And if those insults happen to be directed towards the most unliked mafia boss this side of Shizuoka, then who’s to blame him?
“Good work, kid,” Eraser quietly grunted, “Can you hear any backup they may have planted?”
Izuku turned his head slightly. “Three women posted on the north side of the building, each armed with a semi-automatic rifle. There are two guys with bird masks flanking the leader of the Eight Precepts about nine feet behind him. Given that the other two haven’t said anything, they either have a cloaking quirk or are just good at using the shadows to their advantage. Finally, there are three men on the roof of the building to the west, one manning a sniper. Not sure why, though, given that the warehouse doesn’t have any windows. Stupid.” He muttered the last bit to himself but had no doubt that Eraser caught it.
“Okay.” Eraser stayed quiet for a few seconds, Izuku practically feeling the cogs whirring in his mind. “I’ve got a plan. Now, listen to me, Akuma.”
There was that dark voice again, but this time laced with a hint of concern that Izuku was sure he wasn’t meant to hear.
“You are going to follow my orders to a T, am I clear?” Eraser inclined his head meaningfully towards the vigilante.
Izuku smiled for the first time since his fight with Electro-Dude. “Crystal.”
His heart stuttered in his chest for a millisecond.
“Good. Now,” The concern left his tone almost completely, leaving only the darkness behind. Mostly. “I’m going to sneak in through the roof and assess the situation from above. You are going to sit here and wait for me to tell you your target. I’ll send you a signal when it’s time to move in.”
“What’s the signal?” Izuku blurted out, blushing slightly as he realised a second later that the Hero was probably just about to tell him. He hoped Eraser didn’t notice it under the cover of darkness.
“How sensitive is your hearing from this position to the roof of the warehouse?” he asked.
Izuku huffed lightly at the suggested doubt in his abilities. “I would be able to hear your heartbeat easily.”
Eraserhead knew this already yet still raised his eyebrows, seemingly unconsciously as he quickly schooled his expression. “Good… Yeah, good.”
Izuku internally chuckled at his obvious shock. Well, obvious to Izuku, anyway.
“This will be the signal, then.” Eraser tapped on his leg in quick succession, spelling out ‘now’ in morse code. “That’s morse for-”
“‘Now’, yeah, I know,” Izuku interrupted, eager to make a move.
Eraser sighed softly to himself. “Of course you know morse code,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay, I’m heading in. Wait. Here.” His tone took on that darkness once more, emphasised on the last two words.
Izuku nodded.
And with that confirmation from the vigilante, Eraserhead moved swiftly to the roof of the warehouse, careful to stay on the side which the snipers couldn’t see.
Izuku waited exactly ten seconds before moving from his position, feet falling silently on dirtied concrete. He had never been good at staying still, especially not when he was specifically told to do so. There was something that was always lying beneath his skin, itching him to move and take action, like a panther right before it attacks its prey.
He snuck up to the south-side door of the warehouse, double checking the bosses’ positions. They were all still in the middle of the empty-crate-filled room with the Pakhan situated to the right of the door, Giudice on the left. The guy in the beak-like mask stood between them, directly in line with the door and Izuku’s entrance point.
He could hear Eraser making his way through a deteriorated part of the roof that allowed access to the rafters overhead. Like always, his pulse and his breath were both steady and controlled as he whispered, just loud enough for only Izuku to hear.
“Akuma. I’m in.” Despite the low volume, Eraser’s voice still somehow had that darkness tethered to it when he spoke. “I can just about see the two lackeys you mentioned before on the south of the room, hidden in the shadows of the crates. I’m going to drop in and take out the Directorate members. When I give the signal, you attack the lackeys and join in when you can. I want you to stay on the outskirts, though. Do not engage directly unless absolutely necessary.”
Izuku heard Eraser’s plan. It was a good plan, all things considered, but whilst he may have heard it, he wasn’t paying attention. Instead, Izuku was listening to the conversation that was being had between the targets. Although, ‘conversation’ might not be the right word…
“Kozel! You think you have full power over Cellier’s district because, what? You wear hats that make you seem taller? Ha! If you are going to be arrogant, you should have the strength to back it up.” The Pakhan’s voice was booming, much louder than the other two, yet not necessarily as commanding.
Giudice scoffed. “And you do? My family runs distributions. It is only fair that we take over from Cellier, wouldn’t you say?”
“You run drug distributions, not weapons! Your business has nothing to do with Cellier’s and you know it. You just want to gain the land so you can target the low-income population of that area!” Her tone was feminine yet still rough, in a way that suggested to Izuku that it was used often.
“So, what? You think you don’t want it for the same reasons as us?” Giudice put his hands in his pockets. A dumb move in Izuku’s opinion, given that it would take him that much more time for him to reach his firearm.
“Unlike you,” the Pakhan sneered, “my clients usually have a lot of money to throw my way in exchange for my services. You? You rely on desperate junkies with pocket change.”
The two continued back and forth on the matter for what seemed like forever until the man who had his back to the door where Izuku was waiting finally spoke up. When he did, it was in a calm and cool tone, not as brash as Giudice’s and certainly not as loud as the Pakhan’s.
“There’s a simple solution to this little dilemma.”
The other two shut up immediately at his icy voice, hands subtly moving towards their weapons.
“I take the territory. In exchange, I don’t kill the pair of you. Sound fair?”
Izuku instantly felt the temperature drop from where he was standing. The whole world seemed to stop, frozen in time for two long seconds before the frigid illusion shattered. So many things happened at once that even Izuku, who has trained to know everything that’s going on around him at all times, lost track of what each person was doing.
The moment that those two glacial seconds passed, Izuku was moving. He burst through the door almost unnoticed by the enemy due to the raging movements caused by the two foreigners. Almost.
All three of them shifted to use their quirks, freezing simultaneously as they felt the hollowing sensation of losing access to their quirk factor. The falter prompted each villain to frantically swivel their heads to search for the culprit, the shortest of which landing his eyes on one teenage vigilante.
“You!” Giudice cried hatefully, reaching into his pocket as the other two turned their attention to the underground Hero currently hanging from the ceiling.
Izuku felt the crunch beneath his boots as he bolted towards his opponent, jo already in hand. He changed his feets direction at the sound of a handgun cocking. The bullet whizzes past his head as he ducks and rolls, jumping up a foot from the short Italian man.
His jo comes crashing downwards, aimed at his target’s collarbone. However, instead of the familiar sound of bones splintering under the weight of his blow, Izuku’s ears rang with the clang of metal on metal.
Shit. Arm braces.
Another gunshot sounded out in the echoing space, rattling Izuku’s eardrums even more as he backed off his opponent. He didn’t even register the pain in his bicep until he noticed Giudice reaching into his suit jacket once more. Izuku leapt to hide behind a crate before he could be on the receiving end of whatever else he had stashed in there, cringing at the blood trickling down his arm underneath his top.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! You fucking forgot about the lackeys!
Izuku hastily grabbed a bandage from his pocket and wrapped it around his bicep, stopping the blood flow only partially. As he tied it off, Izuku heard the quiet footsteps of one of the lackeys moving in towards his position. Gaging the distance to be about six feet, he tossed one of his knives behind him, over the top of the crate. The masked man went down with a yelp of pain and a hand clutched to his shoulder.
One deep breath was all Izuku had to prepare himself before he jumped back out into the fight, flipping off the top of the crate and landing behind the second lackey. Using his position to his advantage, the vigilante swung his jo down towards his opponent’s knees, sending him careening to the floor. Another thwack to the person’s temple left them out cold on the floor.
“Aahh!”
Izuku’s head turned so fast he feared it may fall off. His ears zoned in on Eraser’s fight with the other two bosses, finding him crouched on the rafters, panting heavily and bleeding from a wound in his right calf. Stabbed. Not by a knife, though - something much more rough. Izuku’s teeth clenched in rage, feet moving in the direction of the Hero before his mind could even realise what he was doing.
A bad decision. He should never have kept his attention away from his main target for so long.
All of a sudden, Izuku was flung back with what felt like the force of ten charging elephants. He flew through the air for several seconds before colliding with the empty crates behind him, slumping to the floor on impact.
Through the daze in his mind, Izuku tried to bring his senses back into focus to figure out what the fuck just happened.
Giudice… It must have been him. But it couldn’t have been his quirk - he would have used it beforehand.
Izuku barely registered the faint flick of a flame igniting on a lighter ten feet from where he was slouched over.
A weapon then. But he didn’t have anything on him other than handguns… Maybe his quirk-
A whistle of air was the only thing that warned Izuku of the incoming solid lead ball, aimed straight at his head. He reacted instantly, bending at the waist even more so than he already was, allowing the fucking cannonball to pass harmlessly over his head, smashing into the wooden boxes he had previously been resting on. He moved quickly.
After putting himself out of view of his attacker, Izuku finally let himself continue his train of thought.
Where the ever-loving FUCK did this motherfucker get a goddamn cannon from?!
He took note of Giudice taking a piece of paper from his suit pocket.
His quirk! Izuku realised. It must be some sort of remote teleportation or object summoning quirk. But then why was the impact so much less than a regular cannon? And why would he have the two handguns on him? Maybe a failsafe? Or can he only summon a few objects at one time? What’s the paper for? Is it related to his quirk or something else?
Izuku froze. Giudice had a cannonball in his hands. It hadn’t been there two seconds ago.
How did he-
His thought cut off as Izuku realised that the piece of paper the villain had been holding had now fallen to the ground by his feet.
…Huh.
Izuku dove to his right, just in time to avoid the incoming cannonball crashing through his hiding spot. The move may have saved his life for the moment, but he was now in plain sight for his enemy to see him.
“You!” Giudice cried, a thick half-American half-Italian hybrid accent coating his words.
That was the second time he had shouted out at Izuku like he knew him. Given that he had never met the man before, Izuku was understandably confused but didn’t let that deter him from running straight at him. He wasn’t going to allow him any time to reload this time round.
“You’re going to pay for the trouble you’ve caused my business, Akuma!”
Ah. So his reputation precedes him. Izuku usually would have been proud of such a feat, probably would have even thrown back a clever pun in response. But he couldn’t think of anything funny in the current situation. Not with the sound of Eraser’s fight invading his senses.
He could hear the grunts of pain, smell the metallic scent of blood, feel the iciness building up on his side of the warehouse.
Eraser was losing.
Izuku wasn’t going to waste any more time on the stupid fucking mob boss that got off on drug cartel sales. So he didn’t.
Still running towards his opponent, Izuku pulled two more knives from his many holsters, embedding them with expert accuracy into Giudice’s feet. The resulting screams were like whispers to Izuku’s ears, too focused on Eraser’s fight to stop in his tracks or incapacitate the man any further. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Taking in the situation in front of him, Izuku made several decisions on the fly.
First, he was going to get Eraser to a doctor as soon as they got out of here.
The man was standing but only barely. There was ice creeping along his left arm, reaching up to his shoulder. Dried blood stuck to his left calf whilst fresher blood trickled over it. His hair floated upwards as his breaths came out in shallow pants, lungs never expanding to their full size at each intake. Yeah. He definitely needed medical attention.
Second, he was going to attack the freaky bird motherfucker.
The Pakhan’s gun was discarded on the floor not that far from her reach, but considering the only bullets he could count were scattered across the warehouse, it was no question why she didn’t have it in her hands. Her only weapons now were her quirk and physical strength, both of which Eraser could deal with. On the other hand, the leader of the Eight Precepts had had no weapons on him since the beginning. He had been fighting with Eraserhead for a good while now and, unlike the seven foot tall woman next to him, there was not a single scratch on his skin. Obviously this man was causing trouble for the Hero and Izuku was more than happy to step in and offer his friend some assistance.
Finally, he decided that, in the future, he was going to wait for backup.
Because there is no way in hell that Izuku was going to leave this warehouse in a healthy condition. He already had a bullet hole through his bicep and, given the state Eraser was currently in, he was going to get a few more bumps before he could make it out. Probably more than a few.
Oh well, he thought sardonically, it’s not like I got into this whole illegal vigilante thing thinking I was gonna end up unscathed.
That cynical thought was the last thing Izuku thought before his fist connected with the edge of a bird mask, knocking it off the smug bastard’s face.
“Akuma!” Eraser shouted, already making his way towards the vigilante when a wall of ice separated the two pairs from one another.
“You take on Elsa, Eraser!” he called back, “I’ve got old Buckbeak over here, don’t you worry!” No matter how hard he tried to speak with his usual teasing smile, Izuku couldn’t keep the underlying anger from his tone.
Eraser was hurt. And the man most likely responsible was standing in front of Izuku right now.
Well, half standing, half crouched over. He still hadn’t moved from when his mask had been forcibly removed, one gloved hand raised to his cheek. When the short haired man finally lifted his head to face Izuku, there was a silent threat emanating from his face. Izuku didn’t need to see to know that the man was glaring daggers into his skull. His teeth were clenched impossibly hard and his nostrils flared with each breath.
“You little brat! You’re so diseased it makes me sick,” he practically spat to Izuku before saying nonchalantly, “No matter.” He pulled at the material of his one gloved hand until it dropped to the floor by his feet. “I intend to rid the world of your contamination, one way or another.”
Before Izuku could even try to understand the significance of those words, the villain dropped to the floor, one hand splayed out on the concrete. Almost instantly, cement spikes shot up in Izuku’s direction. Only his ability to feel the vibrations in the floor were able to save him from impalement.
He may have saved himself from becoming a devil-kebab, but Izuku was now several feet further away from his opponent than before. Given that he has no long range weapons, he started running forwards to the villain, zigzagging whenever he felt the slightest tremor beneath his feet.
“Stop moving!” the Yakuza boss grunted out of frustration, “You’re getting on my last nerve.” His chilling sinister tone clashed with the snarl he was currently sporting.
Despite the obvious warning, Izuku continued to bound around the area, never staying in one spot for too long. His heart was thumping loudly in his ears, beating at almost double the pace of his panting breaths. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body, preventing him from fully comprehending the wound on his arm and any other scratches he’s acquired from near-misses with the knockoff plague doctor.
Then he took three seconds. Just three seconds to pause and catch his breath. And those three seconds seemed to pass by in slow motion for Izuku, stretching on for an infinite amount of time.
In the first second, he landed on the jagged ice wall separating him and Eraserhead’s fight. His steel toed boots collided harshly with the small icy ledge, only just big enough to support his body weight. His right hand clutched onto a slippery spike that jutted out just above his head, holding on desperately tightly in an attempt to not fall face-first onto concrete. Having been reaching towards his jo mid-jump, his left hand stayed half-gripped around the steel, the position pulling on the sloppily tied bandage on his bicep. A drop of blood seeped through both the material of his top and bandage, staining it a beautiful crimson colour that Izuku would never be able to properly appreciate.
In the next second, Izuku heard it. An ear-piercing screech from the other side of the translucent border he was perched on. It was grating on Izuku’s eardrums. It was such a guttural and painful sound that it made him freeze in place. The harrowing noise reverberated in his skull, sending chills down from the top of his spine to the ends of his toes. He could feel the vibrations shivering through the air and through the solid ice structure he was crouched against.
It was high-pitched.
Izuku didn’t notice.
All Izuku knew was that his blood was pumping and his breaths were harsh and echoing. He had been running from the leader of the Eight Precepts for so long that his mind was tunnel-focused on the vibrations beneath his feet to indicate when he needed to move. So when Izuku heard the scream that resonated in his very bones, only one thought occurred to him. There was only one person in Izuku’s mind who that cry could have belonged to. It didn’t matter that the frequency was too high or that it was accompanied by an icy waft of air. It didn’t matter that the man usually had a deep, gruff tone that was easily recognisable to Izuku’s trained ears and very clearly didn’t match the shriek he had heard.
None of that mattered.
Because Eraser was on the other side of the wall.
Eraser was hurt. Badly.
That was the only thought that seemed logical to Izuku in that second. It was the thought that caused him to stop all movements, his breaths included. His left hand never gripped around the jo that it was reaching for and his lungs never expanded in the way they did every other second of Izuku’s life. He was completely frozen for exactly one second before he registered the tone of voice. Before he realised that Eraserhead was fine, most likely more than fine if his opponent had that reaction.
But one second was all it took.
In the third second, Izuku heard it. It echoed in his skull long before the feeling registered in his brain. The squelch of bloodied flesh and shattered bone was deafening to him. His ears picked up the tear of muscles being pulled apart ruthlessly. A rustic iron taste landed on his tongue. Whether it was from the air like usual, or from his own mouth, Izuku didn’t know. Although, given the sticky substance making its way from his tongue and through his teeth, he would have to guess the latter. His nose picked up the stench of metallic blood coating his whole body.
Izuku concentrated to try and find out where it was coming from but his mind was too fuzzy to focus on anything in his area. His senses were focused on himself and him alone, listening to his blood gushing, tasting his blood on his tongue, smelling his blood spilling from his body.
Then he felt it.
If Izuku could see, he would have described the pain as blinding. It was pure agony. His right thigh was screaming at him so loudly, he was sure it was doing so in the literal sense.
Wait. No. That was him. Izuku was screaming. How hadn’t he noticed? His scream was ear-splitting. It was worse than the one that had distracted him just a second ago. How was that possible?
His hands were clutching at his leg. When did they get there? He doesn’t remember moving them. They were desperately trying to simultaneously stop the bleeding and pain pouring from the wound.
Izuku was on the floor. He was on the floor? But he was just on the ice wall. He was crouched there, he knew he was. So how did he get to the floor? Did he fall?
Oh wait. No. He just wasn’t being held up anymore. Like he had been. He had been stuck to the ice wall. Pushed up against it before being dropped like a used toy. The spike was removed.
The spike.
The spike that had been in Izuku’s leg. In his right thigh. In his flesh. In his bones. It was gone. And it left a giant gaping hole in its wake.
Right. Now he knew. He remembered.
The boss of the Eight Precepts had got him when he had been distracted by Eraser’s scream. No, not Eraser’s. The Pakhan’s. Yeah, it must have been. Eraser was alright.
Izuku let that thought fill his brain, the relief it caused washing over him in a wave. He stopped screaming. His hands fell limply to his sides. His leg no longer throbbed in pain. He couldn’t even feel the bullet wound in his arm that had been bugging him throughout his whole fight with the bird man.
He felt nothing.
Izuku’s world started falling out of focus. His senses dulled down second by second, until he was just a quirkless blind boy, bleeding out on the dirtied concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse. The last thing he heard before his ears finally stopped picking up anything besides his own pulse, was the distant call of a gruff voice. Izuku knew that voice. He could recognise it anywhere. Why couldn’t he now? Why couldn’t he put a name to the faceless voice?
It didn’t matter. It was comforting. That was all Izuku needed to know. It was familiar and at the sound of it, of him, Izuku let himself fall into the abyss of unawareness. The heart in his chest slowed down with each passing second, lulling him to fall asleep. A quiet part of his brain warned him against it but Izuku didn’t pay attention. He was too busy listening to the thump of his heartbeat.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump.
Notes:
:)
Chapter 12: A Hero's Torment
Summary:
The aftermath...
Notes:
*drops this chapter after not posting anything for almost two months and runs away*
[shouted from a distance] "I'm sorry!!!"In all honesty, I am really sorry :( This chapter took a lot longer to write than I thought it would, partly because of the pacing but mainly due to the fact that it is entirely from Aizawa's perspective. I'm not sure I've ever written a chapter where there's only one perspective before so this was quite tricky to get through and make sure it wasn't boring for you guys.
This chapter has not been beta read even though it definitely should have but oh well, we die like Inko
Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and also forgive me for disappearing for weeks <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Shouta’s blood turned to ice.
Colder than the ice creeping up his arm. Colder than the breath of the unconscious villain at his feet. Colder than the wall separating him and Akuma.
Akuma.
Shouta heard him.
He heard the gut wrenching yell that tore itself from the vigilante’s mouth. He heard the flow of blood dripping onto concrete like a damned waterfall. He heard the thud of the kid’s body hitting the floor in a slump.
The kid. He was just a kid. His kid.
Shouta ran.
He didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in his life. Except maybe…
No. He can’t think about that. Not now. He couldn’t let it happen again. He wouldn’t. He was going to go over there, look behind the wall, and find Akuma. Alive. He had to.
Despite feeling as if his feet were moving at lightning speed, time was moving at a glacial pace for Shouta. He was running as fast as he could, so why wasn’t he getting any closer? Why was the wall so far away? Why was he so far away?
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Shouta reached the ice wall. He could see the vague shape of the kid’s figure slumped on the floor through the translucent ice crystals. Time caught up with the Hero as he made his way around the jagged edge of the gradually melting wall. There was a villain on the other side. The leader of the Shie Hassaikai.
Shouta didn’t care.
Because there was the kid - his kid - lying motionless on the dingy ground, blood pouring from the gaping hole in his right thigh. He was next to him in an instant, hands pressing firmly on the wound, trying desperately to stop the flow.
Shouta frantically looked over the rest of his body. There was a poorly wrapped bandage around his upper left arm and blood smeared on his chin. There was blood smeared everywhere. On his legs, his arms, his face…
Shouta’s hands. His hands and the rest of his arms were starting to become just as coated as Akuma’s body. The red flooded his vision, flushing out any other colour that tried to creep through the gaps. His whole world was covered in crimson and no matter how hard he tried, Shouta couldn’t ignore it. He tried desperately to focus on Akuma’s face, to pay attention to any sign of movement that he could detect, but the blood kept creeping in on the edges of his vision.
His years training as a hardened Hero paid off, though. In the next second, Shouta saw it. The slight tremble of the kid’s lips, a shallow and stuttered breath escaping his mouth. He was breathing. He was alive.
Shouta released a heavy breath from his own mouth, his shoulders relaxing minutely as the smallest sliver of tension left his body. His kid was alive. He was hurt badly and bleeding out profusely but he was alive.
With his mind no longer tunnelling in on his kid’s wounds, Shouta felt the rush of his surroundings flooding his senses again. He heard shouts coming from outside and the scuffle of feet moving around the warehouse. Belatedly he realised that backup had finally arrived, but he was too focused on the villains’ actions to fully understand their shouts. The Shie Hassaikai boss was moving quickly, his hands planted to the floor as he created a pillar to push himself upwards and out the opening in the roof that Shouta had dropped in from. Giudice was limping, with the help of one of his men, out the south doorway, blood trickling behind him with each step. Shouta could hear movement coming from behind the ice wall but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Akuma long enough to turn around.
Gunfire sounded from outside the warehouse but Shouta didn’t care. Because the blood was still flowing. And Akuma’s breaths were becoming shallower by the second, each one more ragged than the last. Shouta pressed his hands impossibly tighter on the leg wound, his own breaths coming out in quickened pants as he tried to think rationally about what to do.
He had to get out of here.
Akuma couldn’t be here when the police entered, they’d arrest him. Shouta couldn’t let that happen. The kid trusted him, he couldn’t break that. Especially not now. Not after this. He’s already in too much pain.
So he had to move him. Get him to a safe place where he could heal. Because he would. He would get treated and rest and heal. He would survive and recover. Shouta would make sure of it. On his own life he would. But how? How could Shouta transport him without making his injuries even worse? Where would he take him?
There were too many questions and not enough time. Deciding he would figure it out on the way, Shouta moved to pick his kid up. A hand on his good arm stopped him.
“Shouta…” Naomasa’s voice was filled with so many feelings that Shouta didn’t have the brainpower to decipher. The detective crouched down next to him and pointedly looked into his eyes, ignoring the boy on the floor.
Filled with rage at his friend’s attempt to stop him, Shouta spoke with venom lacing his words. “Naomasa, I-”
“Are hurt,” the detective cut him off with a soft yet urgent voice, “and you need to report to the officers outside since you’re the main Hero on the scene.” He glanced down at the battered kid splayed out in Shouta’s lap before looking back to his friend’s eyes. “I’ll take him. I can get him some place faster with my car anyways and you know it.”
He did. Shouta knew that Naomasa was right but that didn’t make handing his kid over any easier. Not just his kid, his dying kid. He was dying. Shouta could practically see the life leaving him with each breath that escaped his twitching lips. He didn’t have time to argue with the one person who could help him. Who could save him.
“Okay,” he eventually agreed, “t-take him- take him back to my place. Zashi’s out so you’ll have to let yourself in. I’ll call Shuzenji and meet you there once- once I’ve talked to the police. Just- just get him there quickly. Please.” Shouta’s words were stuttered and desperate but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but his kid right now.
“I will,” Naomasa spoke, eyes earnest and voice coated in raw emotion.
After a moment’s hesitation, Shouta finally released his iron grip on Akuma’s body, slowly and carefully handing him into the detective’s arms. More blood trickled onto the floor as the boy was raised upwards, the sound of it echoing in both men’s ears despite the sirens still blaring outside. Shouta watched with attentive eyes as his friend quickly made his way out the south side doors to where his car was parked away from the rest of his team. He didn’t stop watching them until the pair were completely out of sight, at which point he turned around and ran through the opposite doors.
Shouta’s eyes strained against the blinding headlights of the police cars parked outside the north doors to the warehouse. His heart had already been pounding, ever since he heard that anguished scream. But now? Shouta could both feel and hear his blood pulsing through his body. Akuma was hurt. He was hurt and Shouta wasn’t with him. He could die and Shouta wouldn’t be there.
These thoughts were the ones running on repeat in Shouta’s mind as he faced the officers and detained criminals in front of him. He ignored the shouts of the aggravated people in handcuffs as well as the orders barked at police workers from across the open area, moving towards one of the senior officers after eventually prying his feet from the spot of asphalt they seemed to be stuck to.
Shouta’s report was brief and muffled to his own ears, mind too focused on the boy he knew was bleeding out in the backseat of his friend’s car. Without waiting to hear the disgruntled response from the newly promoted chief inspector, the underground Hero moved swiftly through the chaotic scene, dodging and swerving soundlessly around the crowd of people in his way. The minute he was out of sight of any curious eyes, Shouta’s feet pounded in time with his heartbeat as he ran to the outskirts of the abandoned warehouse district. He shot his scarf upwards once he reached the edge of a low rise apartment block, latching it onto the roof ledge and yanking himself through the air until his feet touched gravel.
Then he ran.
Shouta ran over rooftops, through scaffolding, under vent shafts. His cheeks tinted pink as the wind billowed against his face and through his hair. The thumping of his heartbeat drowned out any ambient sounds of the city’s nightlife. Of the people milling around, blissfully ignorant to the horrors that invaded their home years ago. The monsters that lie in their shadows, waiting to prey on the weak and innocent. The villains who will stop at nothing to achieve their selfish goals.
‘Villain’ was a term that Shouta often avoided. In his underground work, he’s met many of the people that the law calls villains. Those who risk all that they have in order to provide for their family. Those who can’t afford to get a licence for their quirk but need it for the work they do. Those who are just trying to do some good but don’t have the resources to work within the law. Shouta’s seen the other side of the law where most spotlight Heroes choose to ignore, focusing instead on ‘catching the bad guy’ and bathing in their false glorification. He’s witnessed the label of ‘villain’ being forced on too many people by society and having their lives upturned in a single night. So he was always mindful to use the word ‘criminal’ or ‘suspect’ when on a case or at the station.
But there were exceptions. Exceptions reserved for the worst of the worst. For the rapists and abusers and bigots. And there was a special reservation for the criminals who hurt kids. The word ‘villain’ would be spat from Shouta’s mouth with extreme prejudice the minute he knew a child was involved.
The word currently sat on the tip of his tongue, dripping with venom and leaving a bitter taste in his throat, itching to be shouted with disdain.
Because this was his kid.
This was the kid who mocked Shouta. The kid who teased him and laughed at his failed attempts at capture. The kid who was more skilled than a number of his students but still in way over his head. The kid who he shared sandwiches with in the middle of patrols. The kid who’s cried in front of him multiple times. The kid who was vulnerable towards him and trusted him enough to tell him his quirk.
The kid he cared for.
The kid who was bleeding out in a detective’s backseat.
The kid who was dying.
So Shouta would call the people who did it to him villains. He would call them monsters. He would snap out the word when warning others of the atrocities they are capable of committing, because he was going to make damn sure that it would never happen again. Shouta was going to catch the fucker in the bird mask if it was the last thing he did.
But not the first. The first was saving Akuma.
Shouta waded through the fog of anger in his mind, finally thinking clearly enough to realise that he was coming up on the secure area his apartment block was located in. It was about nine square blocks of land, holding several residential buildings, a large and well-furnished gym, a few food shops, and other essential stores. The majority of underground Heroes - or ‘Unders’ - who were stationed in Musutafu lived in the area. Given the scarce number of them, many civilians were also housed in the apartments, but not without extensive background checks done and NDAs signed beforehand. And if a few Unders happened to run into an ex-vigilante or two in the cereal aisle then no one was the wiser.
That was why Shouta was so comfortable having Naomasa take Akuma there and not a hospital. The residents knew not to ask questions or report slightly illegal behaviour if another trusted resident was involved. The kid would be safe.
The underground Hero landed on the rooftop of his apartment block, absently taking note of his friend’s car parked outside as he made his way through the locked roof access door. He flew down the stairs, at a speed he’d only done a few times before, until he reached his floor. In an instant he was outside his slightly ajar door, staring down at the few splatters of blood coating the handle. He spent exactly four seconds internally panicking, his mind focused on the red blotches, before he burst through the entryway. His eyes pinpointed the short scruffy black hair peeking out from the other side of the sofa and he bolted towards it.
The sight that met him was haunting. The kid was laid out on the couch, his leg tied with a bandage that was completely bled through. Pale skin surrounded the slightly agape mouth that was exposed beneath his mask. His hands were limp beside his prone body, gloves discarded on the floor next to Naomasa’s bloody trench coat that had obviously been used in place of the bandage during the drive over.
“Shouta-” Naomasa started but was cut off by his friend’s frantic voice.
“I forgot to call Shuzenji.” The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut. He should have called her the second he got away from the scene but he had been too angry. Too full of rage and worry to comprehend anything other than Akuma and his fatal injuries. And now it was too late. There was only a sliver of a chance that Shuzenji would make it in time before he bled out completely and an even slimmer one that she would be able to save him. He was going to die. His kid was going to die and it was all his-
“I called her.” Naomasa’s voice halted Shouta’s thoughts from continuing and sending him into any more of a spiralled panic. “I figured you wouldn’t be thinking straight so I called her as soon as I got in the car. She should almost be here.”
The calmness of his tone did nothing to disguise the obvious anxiety that had settled within his mind but Shouta appreciated it nonetheless. He needed to be grounded, to not lose himself to his emotions. Not now.
Shouta nodded distractedly as his heart rate decreased the smallest amount. Their conversation was cut short at the familiar click-clack of Recovery Girl’s cane growing closer to the apartment door. With a look towards his friend, Naomasa stood from his position crouched by the sofa and walked briskly to the entryway, Shouta quickly replacing his spot on the floor. Muffled voices barely reached his ears as Shouta hesitantly grasped Akuma’s small fingers, letting their warmth comfort him.
A hand landed on his shoulder but Shouta couldn’t tear his eyes away from Akuma. “I need to assess him, Aizawa. Can you let me check him over?”
At the uncharacteristically soft words from the woman, Shouta reluctantly shifted out of the way, never letting his gaze stray from the kid’s face. That is, until another hand, a larger one, was placed on his other shoulder.
Naomasa’s voice spoke softly with less hidden anxiety than earlier. “Shouta, can you come with me?”
That spark of rage glimmered in his chest again for a moment before his friend’s voice reached his ears again.
“We need to give Shuzenji some space to work, yeah? Plus, you should call Hizashi. Tell him what’s going on.”
At the mention of Zashi, Shouta’s mind finally deviated from the tunnel it had created, with Akuma at the centre. He turned his head to meet Naomasa’s gaze, his eyes swimming with too many emotions to match his calming words. After a long moment of contemplation, Shouta sighed shakingly and stood from his place on the floor. With twitching fingers and heavy footfalls, he followed Naomasa through the apartment, ending up in his and Zashi’s bedroom.
The second his legs hit the duvet, Shouta slumped down and sat with his head in his hands, all the adrenaline having worn off, leaving a dense tiredness and sense of dread in its wake. Naomasa’s hand found its way to Shouta’s back, slowly rubbing light circles to soothe him. It worked almost immediately as tears prickled in the corner of the Hero’s eyes before falling through his fingers and hitting the carpet below.
Naomasa quickly shifted his position to be sat next to his friend, holding him in an embrace and letting Shouta silently cry. It wasn’t often that the hardened underground Pro showed his emotions so openly. Years of experience and practice had taught him to keep his guard up, both physically and mentally, lest his enemies take advantage of his weakness. He knew it wasn’t always a weakness to show emotion just like he knew it wasn’t always his enemies who used it against him. Even so, Shouta could take no chances.
Naomasa though? Naomasa had seen this before. He had been allowed to witness Shouta’s weaknesses many times. Had helped him emerge from the ocean of emotions that Shouta found himself drowning in, guiding him to the surface and bringing him out of his own head. He was someone that could be trusted with this sort of openness from the Hero.
So Shouta cried.
He cried until his cheeks stung with dried tears and his eyes turned puffy and red. His shoulders shook against his friend’s embrace, the only indication of his current state to a non-existent onlooker. Shouta felt as if he could cry for an eternity as the sobs wracked his body and the never-ending flow of tears continued to fall.
Eventually though, Shouta knew he couldn’t stay there forever. His kid was bleeding out on his apartment couch. He couldn’t just wallow in his bedroom and try to wait it out. Zashi was out supervising the second year’s training camp but Shouta still needed to call him; tell him what was going on. Not only that, but it was a Friday so Toshi would be coming home soon from training with his new friend.
Slowly and reluctantly, Shouta lifted his head from Naomasa’s shoulder, grunting lightly as the pain from his injuries finally registered in his brain. Apparently, the emotional outlet was what he needed to come down from his anxious adrenaline high. That’s not to say he wasn’t still anxious, of course he was, it just meant that his head was cleared enough for both pain and anxiety to make their home in it. Nevertheless, he had to move.
“Hey, wait-” Naomasa called out softly as Shouta began to lift himself from the bed, his knees almost immediately buckling out from under him. “Woah! Okay now, sit back down.” The detective caught him by the armpits and pulled him back into his original position before his body could meet the floor. “You’re hurt, Shouta. Wait here and I’ll get Shuzenji to take a look at you, okay?”
“No!” Shouta cried out, “No, she- she needs to focus on Akuma. I’m fine, I just-” He fumbled with his left pocket. “I just need to call Zashi.”
Naomasa caught his wrist in his hand. “Shouta, what you need is medical attention.” He sighed, releasing his friend’s hand and reaching for his own phone instead. “I’ll call Hizashi and let him know the situation.” He stood from the bed, fingers already manoeuvring to the familiar contact. “Stay here. I’ll get Shuzenji to check on you once she’s done with Akuma, alright? Please, Shouta,” Naomasa begged him when he saw the determined look on his friend’s face.
“...Okay,” Shouta responded, ultimately giving in just a little bit to the exhaustion creeping in on his vision.
Naomasa’s shoulders slumped slightly in relief. “Good. I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, lifting the phone to his ear as he closed the door behind himself.
Shouta lasted exactly fifteen seconds.
Not caring about the aches weighing down his limbs or the remains of ice on his arm that had yet to melt, he pushed himself to a standing position and stumbled his way to the door. Walking down the hallway, Shouta could hear Naomasa speaking with Zashi in the office, the door ajar just enough for the voices to carry. He took advantage of the distraction and his regained-awareness to slip silently into the living room.
Shuzenji was just beginning to pack up her equipment when she noticed Shouta lingering in the hallway entrance. The pair stood staring at one another, speaking a silent conversation until the Youthful Heroine broke the silence with a soft tone.
“He should be alright.”
Shouta exhaled deeply, relief washing over him in a heavy wave as he moved to collapse on the other sofa.
“He needs rest, a lot of it. I was able to heal his leg to the best of my ability but there’s only so much I can do without surgery. It’s hard to tell at this stage how well his body will recover but I’m afraid it won’t ever be the same as it was before. Whether that’s a permanent limp or just a mild pain is impossible to know but I have good faith in a smooth recovery.” Her voice was informative but reassuring, a tone that he heard many times over the years. Shouta just wasn’t used to hearing it be used to talk about a patient other than himself. He’s not sure he ever would be. “There is one more thing…”
Shouta looked from his intense gaze on Akuma’s body to the eyes of the woman standing next to him. They seemed hesitant.
Without receiving any indication to do so from the man in front of her, Shuzenji continued speaking. “I need to check him over for head wounds.”
Shouta froze in place, his eyes widening slightly in realisation. Heaving a sigh of acceptance for what needed to be done for the kid’s own good, he moved to kneel beside where Akuma’s head was laid. “I’ll do it.”
“Of course, dear,” Shuzenji responded with understanding, moving to busy herself in the kitchen and leaving Shouta alone.
Despite his mind telling him that it needed to be done, that the kid could have a serious injury and none of them would know, Shouta couldn’t help but hesitate. Akuma trusted him. His kid trusted him. It was an agreement between the pair of them that Akuma would continue to help Eraserhead in their work on the Directorate and in bringing in night-life criminals, and in exchange, Shouta try to bring him in. Wouldn’t try to trap and arrest him. Wouldn’t try and find out his identity.
But there was no other option. He had to make sure he was okay. Shout told himself that even if he saw his face, that didn’t mean knew the kid’s name or his civilian identity, but the argument was weak to his own mind. This was breaking his trust.
With the knowledge of the weight of what he was about to do, Shouta raised his hand to the mask still in place on the kid’s head. His hands moved slowly and carefully with a slight tremble to them as his thumbs hooked under the bottom of the black fabric. In one motion, the gear slipped off the vigilante’s head and dropped to the floor.
Once again, Shouta was frozen in place. Because he knew the kid was young. He knew he was a kid that’s why he called him one. But not this young. Akuma couldn’t have been older than sixteen and that was gratuitous. His lips were parted slightly and his eyes were closed, as if he were just sleeping peacefully and not on the brink of death barely an hour earlier. Shouta couldn’t believe that a boy so young, with a face that displayed such innocence, could be the devil of Musutafu that struck fear into the hearts of law-breakers and scumbags.
Shaking himself from his stupor, Shouta threaded his fingers through the deep green curls and lifted the kid’s head to do what he was supposed to in the first place. After a thorough examination, Shouta was relieved to find no wounds or bumps, sighing out a breath that had been held in his lungs.
He couldn’t bring himself to put the battered and blood-stained helmet back on the kid’s head, so he left it on the floor by his knees and grunted as he got to his feet. Shouta was just going to have to keep Naomasa and Shuzenji out of the living room because he was sure that if Akuma woke up thinking his identity was still intact, he would never be able to admit the truth to his kid, not whilst knowing it would break his heart.
Shouta’s legs limped across the hardwood floor, echoing in the near-silent space, until he bumped into Naomasa who was making his way out the office door. Quickly, Shouta moved his body to shield the detective’s view of the couch, pain shooting through his right calf at the sudden movement. Technically, Akuma’s face couldn’t be seen from where the pair were standing, but Shouta wasn’t going to take any chances.
“Shouta? I thought I told you-”
“Kitchen,” he quickly cut the detective off, manoeuvring him towards Shuzenji, “Now.”
The pair shuffled awkwardly into the kitchen area, causing the Youthful Heroine to pause in her tea pouring and look up, rolling her eyes at the display before reaching up high into the cabinets to grab two more mugs.
Naomasa sat tiredly on one of the stools surrounding the breakfast bar. “So?” He turned to look at Shouta, raising one eyebrow. “Kitchen?”
A deep sigh left Shouta’s mouth. “Kitchen,” he repeated. “I didn’t want you seeing Akuma’s face,” he explained after a further questioning look from Naomasa.
“You saw his-” Naomasa quickly lowered his voice at his friend’s quirked glare. “You saw his face?” he continued in a register just above a whisper, his brows furrowed incredulously.
Shouta grunted uncomfortably. “I had to. I had to check under his helmet for head wounds and I-” His regularly stony face contorted slightly to show his discomfort. Shouta thought he might’ve shown more emotion in the past six hours than he had in the past month. “I didn’t want to put the mask back on,” he finished, not bothering to explain his thought process and schooling his face into a more neutral one.
Naomasa slumped in his seat. “Don’t suppose you’ll consider-”
“Not a chance.” Shouta didn’t need the man to finish his sentence to know what he was going to ask.
Naomasa sighed acceptingly. “Yeah, I figured. Can’t blame me for trying though.”
“Believe me, I know,” Shouta agreed, falling onto the stool next to Naomasa, “More than anything, I want to help the kid. And I can’t do that properly without breaking his trust. Well. More than I already have…”
Naomasa hummed in understanding.
“By ‘help the kid’,” Shuzenji piped up as she placed the two freshly brewed drinks in front of the two men, startling them slightly at the sudden reminder of her presence, “do you mean ‘adopt the kid’, Aizawa?” The warm smile on her face did nothing to conceal the mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Oh don’t you start,” Shouta bemoaned, reaching for his tea and subsequently making a face at this taste. Decaf. His glare on the old woman turned even colder.
“She’s got a point, Shouta.” Naomasa brought his own mug down from his lips, leaving a smirk in its place. “You do have a habit of adopting kids in need that you encounter whilst on the job.”
“I’d hardly call once a habit,” he scowled in response.
“Habit or not,” Shouta jumped at Shuzenji’s voice suddenly at his feet. He seriously wonders sometimes how she is able to creep up on him. “It’s obvious that you care for that boy,” she finished.
Shouta hesitated for a couple seconds. “I’m not denying that,” he spoke slowly, “it’s just that adoption is a bit far. Also, let’s not forget the fact that he probably already has a famil- AH!” He yelped loudly at the sudden pain shooting up his right leg. Looking down, Shouta found the source of his discomfort - an impish old woman feeling around his calf.
Shuzenji raised her eyebrows at the man. “How long did you think you could keep me from noticing the stab wound in your leg, young man?” Her tone indicated that no matter what Shouta said next, it would be the wrong answer. But even so, he was tired, and anxious, and clearly not thinking in his right mind as he snarked out a reply.
“Long enough,” he shrugged.
Shuzenji merely tutted as she effortlessly ripped his outfit to reach the wound hidden beneath. She examined it for a moment, sighing at the state of it after it had been neglected for however long, before moving her gaze upwards to his still dripping wet arm. The majority of the ice had melted off by this point, leaving only numbly bruised flesh in its wake. The woman hummed in consideration, her eyes narrowing as she took in Shouta’s physical state as a whole.
“You’re too depleted of energy for me to use my quirk substantially, but I can get the healing started most of the way.” Her voice was muffled as she spoke from the inside of her comically oversized medical bag in comparison to her own frame, digging around to find the necessary equipment. She emerged with rubbing alcohol, gauze, microporous tape, and a pack of gummies that she tossed at Shouta, hitting him in the nose. “Maybe if you eat those, you’ll bring up your energy enough to actually catch the next projectile headed towards your face,” she teased with an eyebrow raised.
The sarcastic smile that made its way onto Shouta’s face was quickly dropped and replaced with a grimace as Shuzenji got to work cleaning the injury, her hands a little too rough for Shouta’s liking but moving with care nonetheless. The woman may be cynical at times but she was nothing if not kind to her patients, especially the patients she had been working with for nearly fifteen years.
Shouta grumbled slightly as he let Shuzenji treat his wounds, chewing absentmindedly on the annoyingly tasty fruit gummies. He had never had much of a sweet tooth, but Recovery Girl’s gummies were the sole exception. Time and time again, he had asked for the recipe for the quirk-made sweets (minus the quirk), but never once had the old woman relented.
Before long, the experienced doctor finished dressing the cut and, after confirming that Shouta had eaten all of the gummies, planted a kiss to his exposed leg. Shouta felt her quirk at work in his body with familiarity, noting the weakened version as she stopped it from taking full effect. He rolled up the sleeve on his left arm, inspecting the bruises that lessened alongside the numbness that dulled. A yawn pulled itself from his lips as the little energy he had left was drained from him, causing him to slump into the marginally raised back of the kitchen stool.
Shuzenji clicked her fingers in front of Shouta’s face, making his eyes shoot back open from where they had unknowingly drooped closed. “You’ll need to rest for a few days before you can go back to patrolling. You come see me on Sunday so I can heal you the rest of the way, alright dearie?” Her voice spoke a question but Shouta could see her eyes spoke a command.
“Yeah, yeah. Rest and visit. Got it.” He lazily waved a hand in the woman’s direction before standing to make himself a cup of something actually caffeinated. He was sure Shuzenji and Naomasa were able to scold him for moving on his feet so quickly after treatment but their berating words were cut short by the sound of keys in the apartment door.
The three froze in place, heads snapping to the source of the noise as their heartbeats increased in anxious anticipation. They waited with bated breaths as the door slowly creaked open to reveal a sweaty fifteen year old, purple hair stuck to his forehead and gym bag hanging off his shoulder.
Hitoshi’s eyes rose to meet the odd ensemble around the corner of the wall that separated him from the rest of the kitchen area, feet frozen in the entryway.
“You know,” he started, “I’m not sure I even want to know.”
Notes:
Yay! Face reveal! This will certainly have no consequences on Izuku and Aizawa's relationship whatsoever :) I promise :)
Also a little snippet at the end there with Hitoshi (more of him in the next chapter ;) )
Sorry again for the late update but hopefully the next one will be sooner! (they say with absolutely no certainty how long the next one will take...)
love y'all <3
Chapter 13: To Be Left And To Leave
Summary:
Izuku wakes up
+ backstory lol
Notes:
I'm not super super late this time! At this point I don't think I even have a schedule anymore but oh well.
This is officially the last chapter of arc 1! I won't say anymore so as to not spoil the chapter but I hope you guys enjoy it!
Happy reading <3
(this was only briefly beta read so if you see any mistakes, no you didn't)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“I just don’t see what the issue is!”
Izuku’s voice rose an octave higher, much like his volume, as he loudly expressed his opinion on the matter. Him and Ohta-sensei had been having one of their casual discussions on the Hero society and its effects over time. Like most times, this discussion had turned into a bit of a history lesson for Izuku and a small debate on the ethics of commercialising tragedies. Also like most times, the ‘small debate’ had turned into a full-fledged argument on why Izuku should or should not dabble in vigilantism.
“Exactly!” Ohta-sensei responded with as much vigour, “You’re too young and inexperienced to understand the risks that this would present!”
Back when Izuku had first moved in, Ohta-sensei - or ‘Matsui-sensei’ as they were then - had refrained from raising their voice above a certain volume in consideration for Izuku’s sensitive hearing. Not to mention the amount of times they would catch him flinching at loud noises. However, since then, the pair had grown fonder with each other and became much more comfortable. Because of this, coupled with Izuku’s increased skill in regulating his senses, Ohta-sensei was happy to be loud whenever they pleased.
And apparently that included during arguments.
“But I’m not!” Izuku rebutted, “You know just as well as I do that I am plenty experienced, in fighting skills as well as the dangers that are out there!”
Izuku had been proud of himself when he learnt how to discern the expressions on people’s faces using his senses, but now, facing Ohta-sensei’s furrowed brow and downturned lips, he wishes that he hadn’t.
“You are experienced, yes.” Izuku’s mouth opened to speak but Ohta-sensei quickly cut him off. “But not in this way. You are experienced because you have faced the discrimination and hatred that ignorant-minded people have pushed on you. You have not experienced, however, the criminal underside of this city.” Izuku’s muscles in his shoulder tensed at their harsh tone. “You have not experienced the power-hungry individuals who will stop at nothing to get what they want, going through anything and anyone that gets in their way. You have not experienced being on the opposite side of the law, with Heroes actively hunting you down who also will stop at nothing to stop the ‘villain’.” Izuku had no idea that finger quotes could be so aggressive.
“Well how am I supposed to be experienced in those things if you won’t let me experience them?” He could feel his nostrils flaring as he spat out the anger-filled words.
“Why on earth would you think that I would ever allow you to experience them, let alone encourage you to?”
“Because you want me to do something significant with my life? Because you care about me enough to know that I want to help people?”
“It’s because I care about you that I can’t let you do this!” They sighed deeply, slightly shaking their head. “Don’t you get that I’m trying to protect you from the shit that’s out there? You would have so many enemies after you and you’re just one kid. There are other ways to help people that don’t include you putting your life in significant danger.”
“My life will always be in danger as long as I’m blind and quirkless,” Izuku spoke softly but with obvious conviction and a hint of bitterness. “Isn’t it better to actually do something with it? Something that matters?”
“Why do you insist on presenting yourself to more risks than necessary?”
Izuku’s fists clenched at his side. “Because someone has to. Because the majority of Heroes aren’t doing the job they were supposed to and the ones that do need all the help they can get.”
Ohta-sensei scoffed. “Oh, and I suppose you’re going to be the one that helps?”
“Yes!”
“You’re just a kid, Izuku!” Izuku’s eyes were beginning to sting as Ohta-sensei continued talking. “The kind of people that are out there would eat you alive! You’re in over your head if you think you can take on not only the low-life criminals without a moral code, but also the Hero Commision itself! You are just not ready, Izuku.”
By now, the tears were streaming down Izuku’s cheeks, seemingly incapable of stopping any time soon. His stubbornness prevented him from acknowledging them, however, letting the tears pool on his chin and fall freely to the floor beneath his feet.
Without another word, Izuku turned and walked out the main training room. His feet didn’t stop moving until the front door slammed closed behind him. He stood there for a minute, catching his breath that he hadn’t even realised had become erratic.
Once his heart rate had returned to a only slightly elevated speed, and the tears had slowed to a trickle instead of a waterfall, Izuku started moving again. He didn’t have any particular destination in mind, he just chose a direction and walked. He kept walking, mind fogged with emotion and hurt, until the air turned cold and he felt droplets of rain hitting his neck.
The coolness of the water seemed to wake him from his trance. Izuku had no idea how long he’d been gone but it was only then that he realised that, in his haste to leave, he had forgotten to grab his glasses and cane. He sighed dejectedly at his stupidity, turning around to head back home the way he came. At least he had remembered to actually put shoes on.
~
An hour after their argument had ended, Izuku walked back into the gym. His hair dripped water onto the floor as he tugged off his trainers in the entranceway, fingers shivering as he did so. Izuku had no idea if they were skating from the cold temperature or the nervous energy built up inside of himself at facing Ohta-sensei again.
It seemed, though, that his anxiety was unwarranted, as Izuku paused in the hallway, taking in the cold emptiness of the building before him.
They were gone.
Of course they were. It was getting late and after their fight, Izuku shouldn’t have expected them to stick around and wait for him. He knew this. He should have expected it, honestly. Who wouldn’t go back to their own home and bed after a messy argument and being stormed out on?
Why does it hurt so much, then? Izuku wonders.
Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling that began to knot in his chest, Izuku walked up the stairs, heading straight towards the fridge. Grabbing a pineapple Ramune, he headed down to the main training room and, subsequently, his bedroom. Izuku popped the marble into the bottleneck as he sat down on his mattress, spilling the fizzy contents over his fingers and bedding, leaving them sticky and unpleasant.
Great, he internally sighed, just what I needed.
Izuku placed the, now half empty, bottle on the floor and stood to go grab some tissues. He approached the coffee table on the other side of the spacious room, fingers reaching down to take the tissue box and accidentally brushing something on the way.
Izuku froze at the feel of the familiar fabric.
Slowly, he picked up the reinforced gloves, turning them over in his hands and fingers tracing the seams as his tired mind started whirring. The cogs in his brain turned steadily, gradually picking up speed as an idea formed in the forefront of his consciousness.
Izuku’s mind was still clouded with anger and hurt. He knew, logically, that he needed to sleep and talk with Ohta-sensei in the morning. But he didn’t want to be logical right now. He wanted to prove his sensei wrong, to show them that he’s not just a kid who needs protecting. That he’s not helpless.
So Izuku forcibly shoved logic to the back of his mind, hands gripping tightly on the leather fabric as he spun round on his feet and walked determinedly to the weapons display.
I’m not a little kid. I can prove it…
~
Izuku stood on the gym roof, cold wind ruffling his already messy curls and biting at his exposed skin. His gloves and boots were familiar additions to his outfit by this point but he was nervous about the glasses staying on if he were to get into a fight. No matter, though. What was important was that he was going to help people. He was determined to help at least one person tonight.
With a confident grin on his face and a jo in his hand, Izuku let his practised mental filters drop and listened to the city of Musutafu and its nightlife. It was a bit overwhelming at first but he quickly adjusted and sought out anything that sounded suspicious.
It didn’t take long before Izuku caught the sound of a man’s pained scream. With a goal and destination in mind, Izuku started off towards the roof’s edge, aiming to jump the ledge to the next one.
‘Aiming’ being the key word.
The second his feet got close to the waist-height ledge, Izuku skidded to a stop on instinct. His breathing was heavy and his heartbeat was starting to sound closely similar to an EDM beat. What was he thinking? He can’t parkour over rooftops on his first night out! He’d literally never done that before!
Finally getting his breathing under control, Izuku jogged over to the fire escape attached to the side of the building and quickly made his way down.
On foot was probably faster anyways.
~
On foot was evidently not faster, Izuku soon discovered. Or at least, not fast enough.
When he got to the location he was sure the scream had come from, Izuku froze in his tracks at the mouth of the alleyway. He had heard heartbeats and a scuffle so he was almost certain that the person in trouble was still in the middle of said trouble.
He was wrong.
Absently noting the three people arguing off to the side, Izuku’s focus was pulled immediately to the scent of blood in the air. No, not the air. The floor. The floor was covered in blood. Izuku thought he might even be standing in some. Because there, to the left of the alleyway, slumped against the brick wall, was a body. A man’s body. With no heartbeat.
He was too late.
A man was dead.
Because Izuku was too slow.
Izuku turned to his side and promptly threw up on the dirty concrete, one hand stabilising himself on the wall to the right. No matter how much he turned away from it though, Izuku could still sense the man’s body. Still knew it was there. Still heard the blood trickling from his neck onto the ground. Such was the curse of having no eyes to see, Izuku saw everything.
A high-pitched whistle rang in his ears as the last of the bile was spat onto the pavement. His senses were flooded with his own adrenaline and heart rate increasing. So much so that he didn’t notice the three people stop in their arguing. He didn’t notice the sets of footsteps slowly encroaching on his position.
He did, however, notice the solid fist that was sent hurtling into his gut.
Having already churned up his stomach’s contents, Izuku could only cough up more bile as he was sent lurching to the floor. By this point, the ringing in his ears had dimmed to a low whine, just in time for Izuku to hear the drawn out grind of a sword being unsheathed. He rolled out of the way of a boot that was rapidly approaching his skull and quickly jumped to his feet.
After a quick assessment, Izuku noted four things.
Number one, the person to the left was short. She had scaly skin and a long tail. The tail moved quickly and sliced through the air much like the claws at the end of her fingers. Reptilian quirk. Most likely high agility and ferocity.
Number two, the person to the right held impressive height and an equally impressive sword. He was skinny but his feet shifted with obvious weight. The sword slows him down but adds to his lethality.
Number three, the person in front was both tall and muscular. She had no obvious mutations or weapons but her feet and fists had moved with recognisable power. Most likely a quirk. She was the obvious leader of the little gang and was the one to most be wary of.
Number four, all of them were standing in blood.
Izuku included.
He didn’t hesitate to dart forward, recklessly aiming for the leader’s legs. His attempted tackle was quickly halted as a second fist came rushing towards his head. Another duck and roll saved Izuku from more ear-ringing, but not from the feel of cool steel slicing through his forearms.
The echo from his own blood dripping onto the ground accompanied the infrequent drops coming from the man’s neck.
Izuku may be brave and determined but he wasn’t stupid. He knew when he was outnumbered. Overpowered. Underprepared. He wasn’t going to win this fight. So Izuku did what he did best. He ran.
Darting through the legs on the tall sword-wielder, Izuku willed his feet to push him towards the fire escape that was mounted on the brick wall at the other end of the alley. He knew he was fast. He could run faster than Ohta-sensei on a good day and keep up with them on a bad one. His feet were used to moving at such speeds. They weren’t used to being stopped in their tracks, though.
His boots skidded on the concrete as Izuku felt the vibrations of a strong tail swinging through the air in front of him. A set of sharp claws came slashing down, nicking him on the chin and knocking off his glasses in one movement. The pain blooming from his face snapped Izuku’s mind into focus. The whistle that had been tormenting his ears turned to a low hum and his heart beat drifted into background noise as it did normally.
Without a second thought, Izuku snatched his glasses from the floor and leapt up to the fire escape. From his distance, he was lucky to feel the metal catch beneath his fingertips. Hastily pulling himself up the entire way, Izuku took the steps two at a time, making his way up to the roof in no time. His feet pounded on asphalt as he bolted across the rooftop, not hesitating for a second before jumping over to the adjacent ledge.
Izuku ran.
He kept on running for what seemed like hours until he reached the gym, the familiar gravel crunching beneath his feet as he stumbled to the service door. Its rusted metal frame felt cool against his face as he slumped against it. Izuku dredged up what little energy he had left to push himself through the door and into the office below. Ohta-sensei’s laptop was still open on the desk, their earphones still connected and left haphazardly on the wooden surface.
Izuku ignored the twisted feeling in his gut at the reminder of his sensei and pushed forward to the stairs and down to the main training room. Using the last of the last of his energy, Izuku tugged the boots and gloves off by the ring, slinking down onto his mattress shortly after.
He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
~
Ohta-sensei didn’t come over the next day.
Which was fine. Izuku knew how to take care of himself, and he did with only a few mishaps. By noon, the gashes on his forearms and chin were cleaned and wrapped, and Izuku was happily eating his lunch, totally not waiting around for Ohta-sensei. By the evening, Izuku had gone out and gotten some new glasses after assessing that his were scratched beyond a reasonable amount.
Ohta-sensei didn’t come over the day after that. Or the day after that.
Which was totally fine. Izuku even thought it was expected. They did have a rather nasty argument after all. Why wouldn’t they take a few days to have a break from Izuku’s presence?
After a week, Izuku was getting nervous.
It’s not like they hadn’t been gone for long before. Sometimes they had some business to take care of that they couldn’t tell Izuku about and that was fine! But they had never left without their laptop before. Or their earphones.
In the days following, Izuku could be found frantically pacing the halls of the gym. Walking into every single room only to walk back out a second later and repeat the cycle for the next room down. It didn’t matter, though. Izuku knew every inch of the building from top to bottom like he knew his own name. Nothing could move inside the walls without him knowing about it. But that didn’t stop the teen from patrolling the gym over and over just to be sure.
Two weeks had passed since their argument.
Izuku finally decided to do what he had been contemplating doing for the past fourteen days. He grabbed his cane and new glasses, shoved his shoes on his feet, and headed out the door.
He carried on walking the way he had only been once before but made sure to have memorised when he did. The map of the city was clear in his head as he made twists and turns in the right places, following the path through the maze of buildings which he knew was correct. His legs took him with speed to his destination until they stopped in front of Ohta-sensei’s apartment building. He marched through the foyer, bypassing the elevator altogether and bounding up the stairs with anxious energy.
Despite the speed in which Izuku had arrived, he hesitated at the door in front of him. His ears strained to listen inside the apartment, heart rate picking up as he realised what he was hearing. With no regard for the door’s integrity, Izuku broke the handle, and subsequently the lock, with his cane, the way Ohta-sensei taught him to. He pushed open the door with caution and stepped into the tiny entranceway on quiet feet.
Izuku stood dead still.
Because it was silent.
The whole apartment was silent, frozen in a state of disuse. There was not a single insect or gust of wind that would emulate a sense of movement. The floorboards did not even creak beneath his feet. A few papers lay scattered on the coffee table with a thin layer of dust covering them. A singular mug sat in the sink, not yet washed.
Izuku sank to the floor, cane clattering on the wooden floor on his way down. His head thumped against the wall to his right as tears dripped down his scars and onto his cheeks. Some people say that you can hear when a person’s heart breaks but all Izuku could hear was the loud thumping of his own heart beating like a drum trapped in his ribcage. The sound reverberated in his skull, growing louder and louder as the tears started falling faster and faster. Izuku’s mind could only focus on the one thought that repeated on loop in his brain. The only thought that he could possibly think since he stepped foot in their apartment. He might have even been thinking it for the past two weeks.
Ohta was gone.
~*~
Thump thump.
“...long have you…”
Thump thump.
“...delicate situation…need you to…”
Thump thump. Thump thump.
“...course I…you know…promise…”
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
“...you. I’m sorry for bringing all this…”
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
“...okay, Old Man. I was going to find out eventually.”
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
“Yeah, but I had hoped it would have been in a different situation.”
Eraserhead?
Izuku breathed in deeply through his nose, registering his senses gradually coming back to him as he woke up. His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears as he tried to pinpoint another sensation to ground himself.
The couch.
He was lying on a couch. His fingers shifted against the scratchy fabric. No gloves then. And no boots either, Izuku discovered as his toes wriggled freely in his socks. Trying to focus on the materials he was touching directly, Izuku noticed the gauze covering his torso beneath his armoured shirt. He lifted his hand to investigate but stopped halfway as voices drifted over to his direction.
“You mean when you signed the adoption papers?”
“Oh Kami, not you too.”
That second voice was definitely Eraser, Izuku was sure. He wasn’t quite awake enough to get a sense of the room or people that were in it but he would recognise that gruff tone anywhere. Based on the heartbeats that were sounding out louder than anything else, apart from Izuku and Eraser, there was one other person in the room.
The first voice.
It worried Izuku but also confused him at the same time. He was worried because he had no idea who this other person was. He didn’t know their motives or morals on legality and Izuku’s disregard for it. He could be sitting in the waiting room of a police station for all he knew, with Eraser chatting with an officer about his arrest. He couldn’t know for sure until he woke up fully and got a handle on his senses.
What confused Izuku, though, was the fact that there was the slightest twinge of familiarity wiggling at the back of his mind. It wasn’t the voice that was familiar, though. It was quite a unique voice, not that dissimilar from Eraser’s but much younger all the same. They spoke to Eraser with ease and an underlying fondness. Now, Izuku had only heard one other person speak directly to Eraser so he didn’t have much to go on, but something told Izuku that not a lot of people could get that close to the mysterious underground Hero.
But still, that wasn’t what Izuku caught onto the most.
No, what Izuku identified as the source of his familiarity, was the person’s heartbeat. Each individual has a heart that beats ever so differently to the people around them, making it easy for Izuku to recognise a person near him without having to focus on the rest of their body. And the heart that was beating just a few feet away from him was a heart that he had heard before. Izuku had no idea where he had heard this heart or when but he knew he had at some point.
His mind was working furiously to try and figure it out when they started speaking again.
“Let me guess, Naomasa?”
Eraserhead sighed. “Yes. And Pa. And Shuzenji.”
The unknown voice chuckled lightly. “They’re right. You can’t deny that the way that you’re acting is a bit, eh… familiar?” Their tone was obviously teasing despite the flatness to it.
“Shut up, brat. How would you know how I’m acting, anyway, hmm?”
The voice scoffed. “You found him, injured and alone, and brought him back to your apartment.”
Wait.
“I didn’t find him, we were working together.”
“You still brought him back to your apartment.”
Izuku was wide awake now. It was obvious who the pair were talking about and he wasn’t about to ignore anything being said. With his new state of consciousness, Izuku took in the space around him. Just like the mysterious voice had said, he was in fact in an apartment, and if they were to be believed, Eraserhead’s apartment. Not a police station.
Huh.
The couch he was lying on was one of two that were situated in a living room type area. It wasn’t quite a room in itself as it was open plan and adjacent with a kitchen. A kitchen with a peninsula. With four stools. Two of which were currently occupied. Not by police officers, but by Eraserhead and someone else who Eraser obviously trusts enough to have in his apartment.
Izuku was still reeling over the fact that Eraser hadn’t turned him in to the authorities whilst he was injured and unconscious when the voices started talking again.
“Well, I couldn’t exactly bring him to a hospital, so this was the next best option.”
“And Recovery Girl patched him up?” There was a pause. “And you?”
“Yeah, Naomasa called her.”
“Ohhhh,” they said with mock realisation, “so that’s why she didn’t just shout at you to go to a hospital, like normal.”
“She doesn’t shout at me.” Izuku didn’t think he'd heard Eraserhead sound so indignant at such a small thing before. The noise sounded foreign to his ears.
“Yes, she does. She does all the shouting so me and Pa can do all the worrying.”
Pa? Eraser had mentioned them before…
“You don’t need to worry about me, kid,” Eraser said, softly.
“You’re my dad, of course I’m going to worry about you. Idiot.”
The last word was muttered under the mystery person’s breath.
No, not a mystery person. Eraserhead’s son. Eraserhead has a son. Eraserhead has a son who is sat a few feet away from Izuku. Who is talking to Eraser with such ease that seems obvious to Izuku, now. A son who…
Who Izuku recognised.
Izuku knew that heartbeat, he was certain of it. But how was that possible? How could Izuku know Eraserhead’s son? Maybe he had saved him from a mugging or something at one point? But no, he would have at least some knowledge of Akuma, then. So from the library, perhaps? Yeah. Yeah, that has to be it. He comes into the library every so often that Izuku had picked up on his pulse pattern.
Sighing lightly at the somewhat doubted relief, Izuku let his hand flop from where it had been nervously hovering over his abdomen. His arm dropped off the side of the couch, dangling in the air and letting his fingers fall limp. His hand swung slightly as it went slack, fingertips only just brushing the surface of the rug that lay flat beneath the sofas and coffee table.
Izuku realised not a moment later that, in focusing on Eraser’s conversation and his earlier confusion, he had in fact not assessed the room to its entirety. Because as his fingers hung freely off the couch cushion, they came into contact with something hard. Something that was definitely not the rug or the couch or the coffee table. Izuku instantly recognised the material but frantically shifted his grip to be sure. His hand grasped the edge of the object and brought it up to chest, as if bringing it closer to his body would deny his suspicions and suddenly change what he already knew. But alas, using both hands to fumble around the object merely caused Izuku to return to his panic from before and amplify it tenfold. A shuddered breath escaped his lips as one hand moved up towards his face whilst the other stayed put, clutching onto his helmet.
Izuku’s breath was warm against his hand but the scarred skin around his eyes felt nothing but a dull pressure as his fingers traced over it. His eyes blinked rapidly as if to try and wake himself up again. Because it had to be a dream. A nightmare. He couldn’t be lying on Eraser’s couch, having been unconscious for likely hours, with his helmet and mask sitting firmly in his hand and not on his head. However, no matter how much Izuku tried to blink it into existence, that reality stayed only as a hope, a dream that would never come true.
Eraser had seen his face. His mask had been removed and his scars and identity were on display for the Hero or anyone else in the apartment to see. A new wave of panic rose in Izuku’s throat, his breath quickening as his fingers began to twitch in place. Blood pumped through his veins at a deafening speed, caused by the rising in his pulse and the newfound adrenaline spiking through his system. He had to leave, he had to get out. Izuku’s body had been thrust into fight of flight mode and he was damn well sure that he wasn’t going to hurt Eraser. How the man hadn’t heard Izuku’s rustling yet was a mystery but one that Izuku wasn’t going to ponder at that moment.
He had just located his gloves and boots that had been placed at the end of the couch by his feet when Eraser’s voice spoke up once again.
“Yeah, well you’re only fifteen. You shouldn’t have to spend your time worrying over you Old Man.”
“My dads are Pro Heros,” the boy deadpanned, “I’m never going to not worry.”
Eraser sighed deeply. “I know.”
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t trust you to get home safe. I’m not going to spend my whole waking hours fretting over you, you know. You’re not that special.”
A huff of a laugh escaped Eraser’s lips.
Listening to the pair talk helped dull Izuku’s panicked state just slightly. They were so comfortable around each other that it made Izuku feel warm just being in the same room as them. But accompanying that warmth was a low sense of sadness. Of jealousy. Of yearning. A want, a need, for what they shared. And just there, in the corner of Izuku’s mind, sat a hint of grief for what once was.
That was what shook Izuku out of his panic-induced stupor. He couldn’t let his mind drift to those thoughts. Not now. Not when he needed to get out.
So, as slowly and as quietly as he could, Izuku sat up and leaned over to grab his things. Banking on the fact that Eraser and his son were too focused on their own conversation to notice his movement, Izuku quickly put his helmet back in place, feeling an instant relief at the material covering his eyes. His hands moved quickly to shove his feet into his boots, lacing them up as fast as he could.
“Real funny, brat. Now, come on.” Eraser grunted faintly as he stood up. “I don’t want you to be in the room when the kid wakes up. He’s gonna be freaked out enough when he finds out I saw his face. The least I can do is assure him that I’m the only one who did.”
“Yeah, I get it,” the boy responded, also standing up. “Night, Dad.”
“Night, Hitoshi.”
Izuku froze. His hands stilled halfway through lacing up his second boot. He wasn’t even breathing. The blood in his veins had turned to ice as the rest of his body felt as if it had been dunked in an ocean.
It was quiet.
No noise was making its way to Izuku’s ears. There was no high-pitched ringing. There was no shift in the wind as breaths were inhaled and exhaled. There was no heartbeat. Nothing.
For the first time since the accident, Izuku heard nothing.
The peaceful tension felt like it lasted for eternity and one second all at once. After an indeterminate amount of time, Izuku breathed.
Everything came flooding back. The creaks in the floor, the shifts in the wind, the thumps of heartbeats. All of it assaulted Izuku’s senses in a torrential onslaught. He ignored every bit of it. His mind was a tangled web of confusion and understanding as he processed the new information.
It seemed he had been frozen in place for too long, however, as suddenly a body was sitting next to him on the couch. Eraserhead. The Pro Hero. Eraser. Izuku’s friend.
Hitoshi’s dad.
“I’m sorry, Akuma.”
Izuku turned his head slowly to face the man sitting next to him.
“It’s my fault you got hurt. I shouldn’t have let you join the raid, it was irresponsible of me.” Eraser sighed. “And… I’m sorry I saw your face.” His fingers started fidgeting in morse code against his leg. “I- I didn’t want to. You were- I had to check your head for wounds, I didn’t have a choice.” There was something in his voice. It was as if he was expecting something. Dreading it. “I hope… I hope you can learn to trust me again. I’m sorry.”
Izuku didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He just turned back to his boots, tying off the laces and grabbing his gloves from where he had dropped them on the floor. Silently, he stood, pulling on the gloves as he made his way over to the sliding doors that lead out onto the balcony. He stayed there, standing in the door frame, one hand on the handle holding it open.
“I do trust you, Eraser.”
His words were spoken softly but the small intake of breath assured Izuku that the Hero heard him.
Without another word, Izuku left.
Eraser let him.
Notes:
I would say I'm sorry but I'm not lmao
I've planned ahead quite a bit and have several more arcs laid out so don't worry, things will get better :)
(and when I say "quite a bit" I mean that this fic is gonna be loooooong)I hope you guys enjoyed the first arc! We've officially seen the last of Izuku's backstory so future chapters will not have anymore flashbacks from Izuku's perspective. At least not majorly plot-wise but there still might be the odd short one for funsies ya know? The next arcs will have Hitoshi and Katsuki featuring more, as well as more canon-related stuff as we're getting closer to original timeline (i.e. entrance exam, LOV etc.) If you're someone who liked Ohta's character, don't worry this isn't the last we see of them ;) If you don't like Ohta then tough :)
Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to yell at me in the comments
Love you guys <3
Chapter 14: Terrifying Tiny Kittens
Summary:
More Bakugou and Shisnou interactions as well as a quick look into how Izuku is doing
Notes:
...
I'm sorry.
I have nothing to say for myself I have been so busy with college work and actual work that I just haven't had the time to finish this chapter but it's finally done! This is the start of the second arc but that doesn't mean we're gonna get rid of the flashbacks all together. It's unlikely that there will be any more from Izuku's perspective as his backstory has now been told in full but there is one backstory that I'm itching to write about.
Anyway, sorry for disappearing for months again. I'll try not to do it again!
Enjoy the chapter! :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
2 months later
With a thump, Katsuki’s head hit the soft mats. Quick to get on his feet again, he swiftly sent a weak explosion to the purple blur in front of him. His palm made contact with a single tuft of hair before his torso twisted to dodge a fist aiming for his gut. Taking half a second to catch his breath, Katuski dove in to tackle his opponent to the ground. His knees landed on either side of the boy’s torso, one hand pushing down between his shoulder blades and the other hovering threateningly above his face.
Tap tap.
At Shinsou’s sign of surrender, Katsuki released his hold on the teen and rolled over onto his back, heaving air in and out of his lungs.
“You need… to work… on your stances,” Katuski said in between breaths. He looked over to Shinsou beside him and found that he had assumed the same position as himself.
“Hah… yeah… I know.” Shinsou was just as worn out as Katsuki, if his lack of insult was anything to go by.
“Alright, come on, Voice Box.” Katsuki pushed himself up onto his elbows with more effort than necessary. “Grab your shit.”
There was a low noise of confusion that came from the teen still lying down with his eyes closed, seemingly attempting to sleep.
The fucker must be properly worn out if he’s trying the impossible, Katuski thought.
Deciding that the idiot was taking too long, Katsuki got to his feet and chucked Shinsou’s bag onto his outwardly lifeless body. He smirked at the resounding grunt of discomfort.
Ten minutes later, Katuski was locking the gym doors when he heard Shinsou speak behind him.
“Are you gonna tell me why we’re leaving half an hour early, Dandelion?” he drawled.
A few months ago, Katuski would have turned to yell loudly at the nickname, but he now knew that his friend wasn’t affected by such tactics. This was because of two reasons. The first being that he was a sarcastic asshole who found joy in pissing off others, and the second being that he was Katsuki’s friend and was now immune to his usual taunts. Which was weird. He hadn’t had a friend that close since-
“Because,” Katuski interrupted his train of thoughts, “We’re going somewhere, and they close soon.”
“Oh we’re ‘going somewhere’, are we?” Shinsou asked sarcastically. “I never agreed to that.”
Despite his words, Shinsou continued to walk beside Katsuki without any further complaints on skipping training. This, however, did not stop him from making his usual snarky remarks at his friend, much to Katsuki’s annoyance. The two made verbal - and occasionally physical - jabs at one another until Katsuki stopped them and pulled his friend through some glass doors. Shinsou didn’t have time to read the sign outside before the jingle of a bell pulled his attention towards the interior of the shop.
Shinsou froze in the doorway.
Katsuki smirked. He had found this place a couple weeks ago and had been thinking about it during every training session since. The shop had just screamed ‘Purple Fucker’ that they might as well have had a sign plastered on the front that said ‘Prime spot for sleep deprived teens with gravity-defying hair!’ Given the look on his friend’s face right now, Katuski had been right. As always.
“Dandelion.” Shinsou spoke with an even tone, not taking a second to tear his eyes off the scene in front of him. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Alright, Voice Box, close your mouth. It’s not that impressive.” Katuski started to move towards the counter of the cat cafe where an old man and teen girl were working. “Go grab us a table while I order.”
That startled Shinsou out of his daze and he walked over to take a seat on a sofa in the far corner, a tabby cat trailing after his feet as he moved. The poor fucker looked like he had died and gone to heaven - well, as much as he could with his emotionless face - sitting with the same tabby cat as before now curled on his lap and another tuxedo cat lounging on the back of the sofa and playing with his hair.
Katsuki realised he had been staring too long when the girl behind the counter cleared her throat. He quickly tore his gaze away and began surveying the menu board up on the wall. “Yeah, can I get a tea with milk and one of those chocolatey coffees?”
The girl looked like she was holding back a laugh as she said, “You mean a mocha?”
Katsuki scowled at her. “Whatever, Pinky. One of them, sure.”
“Alright, that will be 750 yen. Is that to have in or take away?”
The stupid smile on her face was pissing Katuski off. What, she thinks she’s so much better for knowing fancy coffee terms? Whatever, he was too tired for this bullshit. Telling her that it was to have in (not said without some attitude), Katsuki went over to the corner where Shinsou had settled. He found his friend almost drowning in fur with two cats on the back of the sofa, playing with his hair like a cat toy, the same tabby still on his lap, and two more cats rubbing against his feet.
When Shinsou’s eyes met his, Katsuki abruptly dropped the small smile that had definitely not been forming on his face. He quickly sat on the armchair opposite his friend and shifted his focus over to an orange kitten making its way cautiously over to him.
“How did you find this place?” Shinsou asked, breaking the near silence of the cafe. There was only one other customer due to the late hour, so the only other noise was the whirring of coffee machines and the occasional meow.
Katsuki shrugged. “I was on a run and stumbled on it. The drinks are good.” It was a lie and both boys knew it. Katuski never strayed from his usual running route, and the nearest he would come to this place whilst on it was two blocks away. He averted his eyes to avoid Shinsou’s suspicious glare, landing back on the orange kitten that was now climbing its way up the shredded fabric of the armchair.
Katsuki had not seen a flyer for a new cat cafe in the area and had not immediately thought of his cat-obsessed, caffeine-addicted best friend. And he definitely had not changed his strict running route in order to stop by and check the place out. If anyone suggested such a thing, Katsuki would quickly send an explosion-powered punch to their face for such delusional thoughts.
“Huh,” Shinsou spoke up, prompting Katsuki to raise his gaze back up, “Well, it seems as if the hair-for-brains is actually capable of having a good idea once in a blue moon.” His lips raised into a shit-eating smirk.
“Oh, you wanna talk about hair-for-brains, huh?” Katsuki’s usual explosive demeanour returned in an instance. “You’re one to talk! Even the cats know the only interesting thing about you is your stupid anti-gravity hair!” He gestured to where the two cats were playing with the purple locks more fervently than before.
Shinsou’s eyes widened a fraction before his smirk grew in size and snarkiness. “You think my hair’s interesting?”
“You-”
“One milk with tea and one mocha!”
Katsuki’s reply was cut off by the chirpy girl from the counter slamming their drinks onto the coffee table, the liquid sloshing right up to the rim but staying in the mug. She bounced on the tips of her feet causing her unruly pink hair to move animatedly. Her yellow irises gleamed mischievously in the inky black of her sclera and she looked between the pair of teens. “What you guys talking about, hmm?”
A couple of sparks crackled in Katsuki’s palm but, once again, his reply was cut short by another person butting in on their conversation.
“Now, now, Mina,” the old man from the counter said softly, placing a dark pink hand on the girl’s - Mina’s - shoulder, “What did we say about invading customers’ privacy?”
Mina deflated with a pout on her face. “To not do it. Sorry, Jiji.”
“That’s alright, Little Gumball,” he smiled up at her, “Why don’t you go and chat with Eijirou whilst I refill the cats’ bowls?”
“I told you to stop calling me that, Jiji!” she called over her shoulder as she moved over to the black-haired customer sitting in a booth, “It’s so childish!”
The old man turned back to Katsuki and Shinsou. “Sorry about that,” he smiled, “my granddaughter can be a bit… intrusive at times.” Despite his exasperated tone, the man carried a fond look on his face.
Katsuki was baffled by how someone could wear that kind of face when talking about how annoying their relatives are. Then again, he had learned by then that his family wasn’t exactly the model example of showing affection. Seeing how the Bakugou household interacts with one another would send most running to call the police, at first glance. But Katsuki knew that laced in those insults and harsh words was love and concern. He knew when his mother cuffed him on the back of the head, it was the equivalent to another mother’s hugs. He knew that his father’s quiet smiles and small words were given frequently but never without intent and affection behind them. They may not say the words “I love you” as often as other families, but their actions spoke it loud enough. And fuck knows the Bakugou’s were loud.
Sharp pains shooting up his leg brought Katsuki out of his head. Looking around, he found that the old man had returned back to the counter and the orange kitten was now climbing its way up Katsuki’s joggers. His head snapped up at the sound of Shinsou stifling a snicker.
“The fuck you laughing at, Voice Box?”
Shinsou dropped the hand that was covering his mouth, giving up on all pretences. “You,” he smirked, “and the way you’re so obviously terrified of a tiny kitten.”
Katsuki scowled. “I am not scared of any goddamn kit-” His words were cut short by a small paw patting him on the face. His whole body froze, eyes wide, as the orange kitten started using his nose as a plaything.
“Ha!” Shinsou blurted out a laugh, surprising even himself.
Katuski’s eyes shot up to meet Shinsou’s, a retort on the tip of his tongue when something stopped him. The boy’s usually uninterested and dull eyes were crinkled at the edges and shining slightly in the dim coffee shop light. His lips were upturned at the sides, a genuine smile barely noticeable on his face. A light blush dusted his cheeks making his faint few freckles stand out in contrast. Every clever quip and insult disappeared from Katsuki’s mind, leaving behind only one word in their wake.
Beautiful…
Followed promptly by another word.
…Shit
Katsuki could feel the heat rising up his collar and quickly reached for his drink, coughing softly as he did so. “Whatever, shut up, Voice Box,” he grumbled, hoping that his mug would hide his rapidly advancing flush.
Shinsou’s gaze turned suspicious but he must have decided to leave it as he just took another sip of his own drink. The two teens were silent for a while, just relaxing in the content atmosphere and each other’s company. After a few minutes of idly stroking cats and sipping coffee, Shinsou hummed softly to get his friend’s attention.
“Hmm, I just remembered,” he said, placing his now empty mug on the coffee table between them, “my Pa has been bugging me about you.”
“The fuck?” Katsuki responded, confusion clear on his face.
Shinsou smirked back at him. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Dandelion. He just wants to meet the strange dude who ran me over, saved my life, and now beats me up every Friday.” Despite his jovial tone, Katsuki could see the tenseness lining his friend’s shoulders.
“Pfft, of course he would,” Katuski joked, “who wouldn’t want to be in my presence twenty four-seven, huh?”
Shinsou’s posture relaxed almost imperceptibly. “I can think of a list of about, ooh, eight billion people?”
“Oh, so you want to die?” Katsuki raised his hand in a half-assed threat, sparks crackling in his palm.
“Sure. I’d die happy knowing I got you thrown in prison for my murder,” Shinsou sighed, eyes closed and arms outstretched in invitation.
Katsuki scoffed. “As if I’d get caught.”
One of Shinsou’s eyes peeked open. “We’re in a public place with multiple witnesses,” he smirked, “not to mention my dads are Pro Heroes and would immediately hunt down the sketchy dude I’ve been hanging out with late at night when I turn up dead.”
The sound of a mug shattering echoed throughout the cafe, sending the remaining cats in the room scampering off through a cat flap into a side room.
“Your dads are WHAT?!”
~
Sweat dripped down the back of Katsuki’s neck, pooling at the collar.
He checked his watch. 12:54.
His hands reached up to check the batteries on his hearing aids. A high-pitched ringing in each ear reassured him that the new ones he put in this morning hadn’t mysteriously drained of power in the two hours that he’d been wearing them.
He checked his watch again. 12:56.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, raising a fist to knock on the door he’d been standing in front of for five minutes already. He was still technically four minutes early but, as the hag would say, “If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late. And if you’re late, you’ve got a fork in your eye.” He never understood what that last part meant but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna find out.
Twenty torturous seconds later, Shinsou opened the door.
He stared blank-faced for all of three seconds before speaking. “Calm down, Dandelion. You look like you’re about to wilt.”
Half of the nervous energy seeped out of Katsuki at the familiarity of his friend’s insults. “Shut the fuck up, Voice Box,” he retorted, pushing past him into the entryway.
“No, I’m serious,” he smirked, “if we don’t put you in some water soon, you might not make it through the day.”
“Toshi,” a monotonous voice calls out, “you can’t just insult your friends and expect them to like you.” What Katsuki thinks to be a homeless man gets up from the sofa at the far side of the open room. He vaguely recognised him as the guy who picked up Shinsou at the hospital when they first met. Well, maybe “met” isn’t quite the right word.
Shinsou huffs. “I can when they insult me back.” He smirked and turned back round to smirk at Katsuki. “Especially when their insults sound like they came from a twelve year-old who just learnt swear words for the first time.”
“Fuck you, my insults are the shit,” Katsuki replied, following Shinsou further into the room, “you just can’t appreciate them cause you have no taste.” Another retort was ready to fly off his tongue when Katsuki turned his head to look into the kitchen area and froze. Because holy shit, that’s Present Mic in a ‘Kiss The Cook’ apron…
Shinsou must have noticed his state as his hand lifted up towards his mouth, covering his giggles. Poorly. Katsuki hits his side, not taking his eyes off the number 14 Pro but taking slight joy in the little grunt that Shinsou lets out.
“You’re-” Katsuki starts but is cut off as Present Mic turns around to greet him.
“Ah! You must be Hitoshi’s friend! Bakugou, right?” The Voice Hero sticks out a hand towards him. “I’m Toshi’s Pa, but you can call me Yamada!” Every word sounded like if the smiling face emoji could speak and chose to be as loud as possible without yelling.
Katsuki was suddenly grateful for his hearing aids' ability to not whine at the high level of noise, eyes flicking to the similar ones adorning Present Mi- Yamada’s ears. The action didn’t go unnoticed by the Pro so Katsuki distracted him by finally shaking the hand in front of him.
‘Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m… Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki or whatever,” he muttered, desperately trying to will the colour off his face.
Yamada smiled brightly. “Pleasure to meet ya! And this is my husband, Shouta. Although I think you two have met before,” he spoke, at a slightly lower level than before, gesturing towards the definitely not homeless man who was making his way over to the island table sticking out from the kitchen wall.
“Call me Aizawa,” he said, sitting on one of the stools.
Katsuki nodded whilst being internally a bit grateful he didn’t also offer a handshake as he was still recovering from shaking Present Mic’s hand.
Stop it, Katsuki. You’re being fucking ridiculous, they’re just Voice Box’s dads. Anyone would think you were a die-hard fanboy with how much you’re freaking out right now, just like-
Abruptly cutting that train of thought short, Katsuki moved to sit at the kitchen island next to where Shinsou was now sitting.
“I know the names can get a bit confusing,” Shinsou spoke from his left, “but it’s necessary. If it became public knowledge that not only two Pro Heros were married but also had a kid? It could be dangerous.” The bored tone that Katsuki was used to was laced with an undercurrent of severity and meaningful glance at Katsuki.
“Very dangerous,” Aizawa said, still in that monotonous voice. His posture was relaxed and eyes drooped slightly, but Katuski still felt the warning aimed in his direction through his words.
Katsuki nodded shortly. “I understand.”
Shinsou whistled lowly. “Wow, no swear words? That’s how you know he’s serious.”
At the teens light tone and playful smirk, the tension in the room eased, leaving a comfortable atmosphere in its wake.
Yamada placed four mugs of tea on the table, sitting in the last stool available. “Lunch will be ready in about twenty minutes. Plenty of time to get to know our esteemed guest!” His smile was infectious, Katsuki noticed, the corners of his lips pulling up just a smidge.
Shinsou snorted lightly. “Esteemed my ass.”
“Language.”
“Anyway,” Yamada said, pointedly glaring at Aizawa, “Toshi tells us you’re training to get into UA as well, Bakugou?”
Katsuki unconsciously wiped his hands on his jeans. “Yeah, I’ve known I was gonna attend UA for years. Actually got my head out of my ass and started preparing for it properly around five years ago, though.” He could feel the sweat pooling in his palms and mentally willed them to stop. He didn’t want to cause any acid-damage to the furniture on his first fucking visit to his friend’s house.
Aizawa shifted in his seat. “What made you pick UA? Don’t say All Might.”
Yamada hissed a quiet reprimand at his husband but Katsuki ignored it, sharing in Aizawa’s resentment. “It used to be All Might, when I was younger. But some shit happened, basically giving me a smack round the head and a reality check. Now I’m going to UA because it has the resources I need.”
A light tenseness settled in the air. “Resources?” Aizawa questioned.
“Yeah,” Katsuki said, staring at the man and silently daring him to ask more. It probably wasn’t a good idea to try and intimidate your best friend’s Pro Hero dad during your first conversation with him but when has Katsuki ever had a good idea? Nevertheless, it seemed to work as the dark-haired man sat back in his seat, effectively dropping the subject and dissipating the strained atmosphere. Katsuki was glad. He did not want to talk about him right now.
Shinsou, ever the conversationalist, decided that then would be the perfect time to bring up every single time Katsuki has ever gotten his assed even slightly kicked in training. Laughing at the guest’s incredible ability to end up pinned to the ground when his opponent has one hand tied behind his back seems to be a great way to alleviate any tension in the household. Fucking brilliant.
Katsuki suffered through Shinsou’s taunts, throwing them back with just as much fire and no intent to hold back in front of the parents sitting two feet from him. Instead of seeming shocked or affronted by his lack of restraint, however, Katsuki glanced over to the couple when Shinsou was speaking, finding only fondness written on their faces. The sight caused a little pocket of warmth to bloom in Katsuki’s chest as well as prompting him to include the two Pros in a few of his further insults. After a slight jab towards Aizawa, leaving Shinsou snickering in his seat, Katsuki spotted a hint of a smile on the man’s face and grinned internally. Although, by Shinsou’s sudden sputtering stop in the middle of his laughter, Katsuki thought he may have grinned a little externally as well.
The banter continued, Yamada’s boisterous laughter peppered throughout, until something caused the two most tired-looking people at the table to raise their heads. Katsuki’s brows furrowed in confusion before smoothing out when Aizawa explained that the timer had gone off, letting them know that the food was ready. With all the rowdiness at the table beforehand, Katsuki had turned down his hearing aids at some point, right after a particularly loud bark of laughter from Yamada. It seemed as if the blonde man had done the same as his left hand lifted up to his ear, fiddling with the volume as he moved to turn off the oven.
Katsuki felt his face warm as he lifted his own hand to do the same thing. He never wanted to draw attention to the pieces of plastic hidden behind his wild hair, too reluctant to display his weakness to the whole fucking world. Aizawa’s eyes flicked to the movement but said nothing, moving to collect the now empty mugs and place them in the sink.
“Come on, Dandelion,” Shinsou said, nodding his head in the direction of the dining table off to the side of the living area, “let’s grab a seat.”
Katsuki shook off the feeling of eyes trained to him as he walked over to the table. He wasn’t too sure if it was the hearing aids or nickname that caught Aizawa’s attention but the man’s gaze didn’t leave his back until Katsuki was sat down. He could tell this was going to be an uncomfortable dinner, what with Katsuki’s own jitteriness and the calculating gaze of his friend’s dad. Except he wasn’t fucking jittery, he was just… restless. Prepared. Yeah that was it. He couldn’t just fucking sit still cause he was waiting for something to happen. He was in uncharted territory and, like he’s tried to drill into his head after searching up ‘hero in training top tips’ on Google, Hero’s need to be prepared for anything when in new situations with unknown variables. So no, Bakugou Katsuki was’t fucking jittery, or anxious, or sweating a fuck ton because of nerves. His body was just naturally getting ready to beat the shit out of someone. You know… just in case.
That was what he told himself when he made eye contact with Aizawa who was suddenly sitting in front of him. He hadn’t even heard the fucker move! Which, he reasoned, was a perfectly good explanation for the sweat droplets dampening his jeans beneath the table.
You’re just gonna have lunch, dipshit, Katsuki argued with himself, how hard can it be?
~
“Come ON, Zu! It’s just throwing a scarf around, how hard can it be?”
Mei’s voice carried across the training room. She was sitting cross-legged in the boxing ring, munching on a packet of frankly horrid-smelling squid jerky that was getting on Izuku’s nerves. The putrid stench mixed with the grating sound of Mei’s crunching assaulting his senses did nothing to help his concentration. Izuku felt the material go slack in his hands once more, irritation evident on his face by the furrow in his brow.
“Pretty fucking hard, Mei,” he panted. The prototype capture scarf slipped through his fingers as Izuku shuffled over to sit with his friend on the mats.
“You know,” she mumbled with jerky still in her mouth, “I think that you’re just not focused enough.” She swallowed the rest of the jerky that she had stuffed in her face. Izuku sighed at the relief to his nostrils. “I think you’ve got something else on your mind. Something to do with a certain Pro Hero, hmm?”
Izuku’s jaw unconsciously clenched. The morning after the raid, Mei had strolled into the gym (he has got to get better locks) and hurriedly checked over him before chewing him out on his idiocy. He still had no idea how she heard about the impromptu operation anyway given that the police would have made sure the media wouldn’t get wind of it. Apparently she thought that “through the grapevine” was an acceptable explanation and honestly? Izuku really didn’t want to look into Mei’s vast network of contacts and informants that she had gathered through the PCD (he definitely did).
After an initial scolding at his actions, Mei took note of his emotional state in addition to his physical one and elected to spend the whole day with Izuku, forcing him to listen to obscure conspiracy theory youtube videos and eat proper meals. However, after a week of Izuku hiding away in the gym, Mei finally took action and gradually pulled the whole story from him. And he means the WHOLE story. His relationship with Kacchan (or lack thereof), his time at the orphanage, his friendship with Hitoshi, his time spent with Ohta-sensei, the realisation at Eraser’s house. The whole fucking nine yards. There had been lots of tears on both ends and more than one panic attack but nothing the pair of friends hadn’t each been through before.
Not long after that day, Mei started to do what she did best - pestering Izuku to no end about his personal business without regard for whether he wanted her to or not.
“You told me your whole tragic backstory and expect me to not nag you about it? It’s like you don’t even know me! I thought we were besties!”
And they were besties, but right now, Izuku wanted nothing more for Mei to stop talking.
“I am focused,” he argued, “it’s just my stupid leg messing me up.”
Oh yeah. His leg.
Obviously after the raid, Izuku was majorly banged up. He didn’t get out of bed for the first eleven days afterwards and relied on Mei’s mediocre cooking skills and willingness to give up the last of her summer break in order to tend to Izuku. When he first ventured out from the land of satin sheets and comfy pillows, Izuku had been too hopeful - or maybe too cocky - as he made the mistake of putting all his weight onto his right leg.
And immediately collapsing to the floor.
Whatever magic Eraser had pulled on his leg to stop him from dying was truly impressive. The wound on his arm had already mostly healed when he woke up on the sofa in the man’s apartment and he had felt the fragments of the bone in his leg had been returned to their correct places and on the way to joining back together. Well, he assumed they were in the right places. Just because he could feel the bones underneath his skin didn’t mean he knew shit about anatomy. He did know, however, that getting his leg to that state in the short of an amount of time was serious miracle work. Unfortunately, he took the miracle for granted and thought that, after a week and a half, his thigh would have been virtually good as new.
He was wrong.
The next two weeks had granted Izuku the torturous experience of using his jo as a walking stick to put his weight on when moving around. Unwilling to give up all training, he had resorted to only working with his upper body, doing seated workouts and combat techniques on the punching bag as well as trying out some new jo moves. All with Mei’s surveillance of course, as she so insisted.
When those two weeks were up, Izuku discovered that his right leg still had slight pains shooting through it each time he took a step as well as a stiffness to his muscles that restricted his movements. With some youtube videos and Mei’s help whenever she could visit the gym after the new school term started, they worked through some home-grown physical therapy. Izuku hated every second of it. It led to some progress though - now Izuku could train on his feet and he had got the hang of running again. But it wasn’t without its drawbacks. There was a lingering stiffness in his right thigh, preventing him from bending his leg the whole way back, foot to ass like he used to be able to do. And on cold days it would ache faintly when he walked, prompting him to increase the amount of heat packs he owned because, even though it was still summer, he knew that when autumn rolled around he was gonna fucking need them.
“Sure,” Mei said, “it’s your leg messing you up. The leg you’ve been training on for two months now. Not at all the issue of your Pro Hero friend slash pseudo-dad also being the dad of your long lost childhood friend.”
Izuku flinched at his friend’s words. It didn’t escape his notice that Mei purposefully chose to use “friend” and not “best friend”. The memory of his and Kacchan’s last conversation echoed in his head.
“Tch, stupid Deku,” Kacchan grunted as he shoved Izuku’s shoulder causing him to stumble backwards.
The pair were on the street outside their elementary school. It had been twenty minutes since the last bell had rung, meaning most of the other students had already gone home, leaving Izuku and Kacchan on their own.
“You can’t say shit like you did today,” Kacchan practically shouted at him, “I’m not your fucking friend!”
Izuku had made the mistake of referring to Kacchan as his friend in the middle of a group discussion in class. He usually stayed quiet in the back row, terrified to bring any extra unwanted attention towards himself. But that day he couldn’t stop himself from saying something.
The class was talking about Heroes and how they all wanted to grow up to be like All Might and someone had made a comment about how Kacchan was too mean to be a Hero. Of course, Izuku had no idea who said it but he did know that the whole class laughed. And despite their rocky relationship, Izuku wasn’t going to just stand by whilst his classmates laughed at Kacchan. So he didn’t. He gathered all the courage he had in his body and stood from his seat, saying that his friend was going to be the number one Hero someday. Ultimately, this just led to the class laughing more, but at least now it was at Izuku and not Kacchan. Izuku could handle it.
“B-but Kacchan-”
“Shut it!” Kacchan shouted at Izuku, “I don’t want to hear you fucking speak!” Izuku heard him heave a deep sigh, his heart beating uncharacteristically fast. For someone with such an explosive personality, Izuku always found that Kacchan’s heart kept a steady beat no matter the situation. But something was causing that to change at that moment. “I’ll fucking admit it. We used to be friends. Best friends.”
Izuku inhaled sharply at those words. He hadn’t heard such sincerity from Kacchan in years and he was so shocked that he couldn’t move. He could barely think as he anticipated the blonde boy’s next words.
“But that’s over, got it? You’re quirkless. You can’t be a Hero.”
Tears were dripping from behind Izuku’s glasses but he didn’t move to wipe them. He couldn't.
“I won’t be friends with a quirkless nobody. I can’t be. It’s not how it works. Heroes are friends with Heroes.”
The tears were streaming down Izuku’s face now but still, he didn’t dare move to stop them.
“Goodbye Deku.”
And with those harsh yet somehow the most genuine words spoken, Kacchan turned around left.
“You’ve addressed your leg, mentally and physically,” Mei continued, pulling Izuku from his wayward thoughts, “but ever since the raid, you have been stubbornly determined to not think about the one thing you really should be thinking about.”
“Trust me, Mei, I’ve been thinking about it.” Izuku jumped down from the boxing ring, moving to the mini fridge in the corner to grab a bottle of pineapple Ramune from inside and one of the candies from the bowl on the top.
“Obviously not enough! It’s affecting your training and you know it. How many failed attempts at mastering the capture scarf is it gonna take you to realise that, huh, dingus?”
“At least one more,” Izuku replied, moving towards the bundle of fabric left on the floor after leaving his unfinished bottle by his bed in the corner. The course material felt familiar in his hands. He placed it around his neck and grabbed hold of one of the many strands, copying Erserhead’s typical pose he assumed before attacking. One deep breath went in and out of his lungs before Izuku tugged on the scarf, mentally willing the fabric to move in the way he wanted. It started off alright, like always, with the weapon floating around his head in a ready position. Carefully, he shifted his weight and moved his hand forward, intending to send the scarf careening towards the punching bag hanging freely in front of him. For a fleeting second, Izuku thought that it was actually going to obey his command and wrap around the cylindrical object…
Before it fell limply to the floor just a foot short of its destination. The scarf situated around his neck stayed floating for a second longer until it too lost its weightlessness, settling down onto his shoulders. Izuku heaved out a defeated sigh.
“You just need to talk to him,” Mei mumbled matter-of-factly around a pineapple candy of her own.
“Mei?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Notes:
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I want to focus more on Bakugou and Shinsou's relationship this arc but that's not gonna be the main plot point, don't worry. Aizawa will be making an appearance next chapter as well as some backstory because (and I can't stress this enough) I'm SO excited to write it. It's probably my favourite backstory that I've come up with so far and could be it's own story itself.
I've already started writing the next chapter so don't worry it won't be as long as before until it's released. Hope you guys have a good day and feel free to leave comments! Love you guys <3
Chapter 15: His Personal Pink Elephants
Summary:
A look into Ohta's backstory and the fallout of a green-haired vigilante returning to work
Notes:
You guys remember when I said I was gonna post a new chapter each week? lmao me too
In all seriousness I am sorry for the lateness of this chapter but there were some issues with getting it beta'd so it's out later than I intended. Also, it means this chapter has not been beta-read so if you see any mistakes, no you didn't.I've got my A-levels coming up soon so updates may slow even more (I know, I'm sorry) but I'm already like halfway through the next chapter so hopefully it won't take too long.
Anyways I hope you enjoy this chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ohta felt the cartilage crunch beneath their knuckles as their fist made contact with the man’s nose. They could smell the blood staining their hand wraps, the scent of iron just a faint whiff in the wave of sweat that encompassed the gym. The sound of a bell ringing pulled Ohta out of their own head, awareness swimming into their head as they returned their hearing to normal, dissipating their tunnel vision.
They ducked out of the ring, stepping down to the ground floor and swinging their silk robe over their shoulders. Their manager was yelling to them over the sound of the crowd, insisting Ohta go back up to the ring to show face and accept the win but they just kept walking. They didn’t stop until they reached the changing room, quirk straining to keep the noise level to almost zero as they relied on their other senses to observe their surroundings. It was just as they were unravelling the bloodied tape from their hands and chucking it into the bin behind them that Ohta felt the tremors of footsteps approaching from their left. By the weight of the person’s footfalls and the sound of their gait, Ohta instantly recognised the man. They released their quirk slowly to allow the sounds back in, holding up a metaphorical guard as the man approached.
“Giran.”
“Jellyfish!” the lithe man shouted, arms stretched out in greeting, “congratulations on your win!”
Ohta hummed in acknowledgement and turned back to their bag, stuffing their sweaty kickboxing clothes in the duffel.
“You sure slipped out pretty quickly. Then again,” Ohta could hear the sly smugness in his tone, “you never were one for the spotlight, were you?”
“What do you want, Giran?”
The broker let out a low whistle. “What? No pleasantries? You wound me, Jellyfish.” Ohta didn’t need to concentrate on Giran’s face at all to hear the exaggerated pout in his voice. Their eyes rolled as they slammed their locker door closed.
“Giran.”
“Alright, fine,” he sighed, “I have a proposition for you.” There was that smugness again.
Ohta clenched their fists in annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you, Giran? I’m not gonna be your fucking dog on a leash. If you want to send a message to someone, send a letter like everyone else.” They turned around, glare settled on their face and toned arms crossed over their chest.
“I know, I know!” Giran responded, hands held placatingly up, “I don’t want you to beat anyone up for me, don’t worry. In fact… I want you to do the opposite.”
That made Ohta pause. “What?”
“My deal. Well, not my deal, per say. A deal that I have taken interest in, let’s say.”
Ohta bristled, muscles contracting in anticipation. “Who’s then?”
“Questions, questions,” Giran tutted, hands now back in his pockets as he slouched back in his stance, “you are quite the curious one, aren’t you Jellyfish?” It seemed as if he was intending to leave it there but Ohta’s silence told as much as their words. “Hmm, fine. It was Machida’s idea.”
“What kind of deal would my manager consider that would interest you?” Ohta thought out loud.
Giran grinned. “And here comes my proposition. There’s been an agreement arranged with Iron Tooth and her managers. You two are scheduled to fight in the next tournament in May and several interested parties are betting on a… particular outcome.”
The space between Ohta’s eyebrows furrowed. Their stance shifted ever so slightly, weight placement changing and quirk activating in preparation. “You better choose your next words carefully, Giran,” they warned.
“Now now Jellyfish, don’t get your hand wraps in a muddle, eh? There will be a hefty sum coming your way if you agree to tussle about a bit with ol’ Toothy and get knocked out in the fifth round. I’ll give you a bit of time to think about it don’t you wor-”
Giran’s words were cut short by a swift jab to the throat. His hacking coughs echoed throughout the hall as Ohta made their way to the exit and out into the chilling night air. Their blood was boiling with rage and their hands were clenched tightly, one around their gym bag and the other around their phone. Ohta’s grip was so tight that they could hear the slight crackle of the phone screen as well as the strain of the bag straps fabric fibres pulling at each other in protest. Their rage followed them home until the front door of their apartment slammed closed.
The next morning, Ohta Matsui’s kickboxing manager received an email detailing their resignation from any and all future tournaments as well as a request to pull their name from the Musutafu Federation for Kickboxing.
~*~
Shouta slammed two coffee mugs on the detective’s desk. “Nothing.”
The frustrated furrow in his brow was laced with a hint of determination and worry. It’s been two months. Two months since the raid. Two months since Akuma almost died. Two months since he saw the kid’s face.
But it wasn’t just Akuma’s face. Shouta hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the vigilante ever since that day. He had expected - and hoped - that he wouldn’t hear from the kid for a while, because if the little brat thought that he was gonna patrol even a minute before his wounds had properly healed, Shouta was going to personally escort him home, secret identity be damned. Still, he had thought that after this long, Akuma would get a bit restless like he did with the stab wound back in July. And yet…
“He wasn’t on the rooftop?” Naomasa needlessly clarified. The pair of them had had this conversation at least twice every week for the past month.
Shouta grumbled non-committedly as he slumped down into the chair opposite his friend. He couldn’t help but think of all the possible reasons why Akuma was avoiding him. The most obvious and glaring one was on the forefront of his mind: the kid didn’t trust him anymore. Shouta knew that as the vigilante was slipping out the balcony doors, his parting words were ones of reassurance. Reassurance that Akuma did trust him. But even so, Shouta couldn’t help but look at the facts, and the facts were that he had taken the kid’s mask off. He had seen his face. A complete violation of trust.
And now he was gone.
There were other reasons filtering through his mind as well, though. Maybe he had been hurt more than Shouta or Shuzenji had originally thought and he needed some more rest. Maybe he only had one outfit for vigilante work and he was waiting for a new one to be made to replace the ripped one he was wearing last time Shouta saw him. Maybe he’s just biding his time, doing research before he goes back out and confronts the directorate again. Or maybe… maybe he isn’t patrolling because he can’t patrol. Is it that far of a stretch to think that the motor mouthed-teenager pissed off the wrong person? To think that he might not have been on his best game ever since the injury to his leg? That the wrong criminal at the wrong time might have gotten the upper hand? Maybe the kid is just lying somewhere, body cold and dirty as he lay motionless in a random alleyway, with no one to come find him.
“Hey,” Naomasa clicked in front of Shouta’s face, pulling him from his stream of thoughts, “I can see you’re doing The Bad ThinkingTM again. It’s written all over your face.”
“The Bad ThinkingTM ? Really Naomasa?” Shouta sighed. “I’m just… I’m worried about him.”
Naomasa breathed deeply. “I know Shouta. I am too, believe me, but you’ve gotta wait for him to come to you.”
The pair sat in a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable yet filled neither with the sense of ease which they so desperately craved. They took the time to mull over the thoughts circling around in their minds for a good few minutes until their tentative tranquillity was interrupted.
“Detective!” one of Naomasa’s officers enthusiastically cried as she barged into his office.
“Nakamura, how many times do I have to-”
“They just brought in a Steel dealer that was dropped off at the steps of the station,” Officer Nakamura said excitedly, cutting off the detective, “They’re saying that Akuma’s the one that nabbed him and- hey!”
Shouta was pushing past the officer and through the door before she could finish her sentence. He rushed to the interrogation rooms down the hall, frantically looking through the tiny windows in the doors whilst Naomasa shouted at his back. Finding the only interrogation room with a battered and bruised young man staring angrily at his hands cuffed to the table, Shouta burst through the door, startling the detective who had been failing to pull any information.
“Get out.” Shouta didn’t even look at the annoyed glare sent towards his head, trusting that Naomasa would cover for him. Right on cue, Shouta caught some whispered words exchanged between the detectives and an eventual shuffle as Naoamasa shut the door behind himself as he moved into the cold room.
Not once did the Hero’s eyes leave the criminal sitting in front of him. Not even when Naomasa moved to sit in the opposite seat and started reciting how the questioning process would work. He placed a soft but solid hand onto the detective’s shoulder, cutting him off in his explanation. “Who brought you in?” Shouta’s tone was ice cold as he regarded the cuffed man.
He scoffed. “Why don’t you ask your little piglets, huh?” he looked upwards through his lashes, a smirk plastered on his face.
“I’m not asking who arrested you,” Shouta spoke in a low voice that had the man’s lips twitching slightly, “I’m asking who brought you in.”
The man gulped. Shouta smiled.
~
An hour and a half later, Shouta unlocked his apartment door and walked in to find a familiar sight - his son nursing a hot chocolate whilst sitting on the sofa. Sighing deeply at the sight, he dragged himself over to the kitchen area and made himself a cup of decaf coffee, sitting down next to Hitoshi and burning his tongue as he sipped on it too soon.
“Anything particular today or…?”
“Nah,” Hitoshi said, wiping the milk from his top lip, “just regular ol’ insomnia.”
Shouta hummed. It eased his mind that it wasn’t the nightmares again but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of indignance on his son’s behalf. No one, let alone a child, should have to deal with the problems that had been thrown onto Hitoshi for all his life. And when the kid finally had a safe place he could call home, life just threw him another obstacle. It made Shouta angry.
“Oi. Stop it.”
Shouta's head swivelled over to Hitoshi. “Hm?”
“I know what you’re thinking, Old Man,” he clarified, “It’s not that bad. I can handle it, you know?”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Shouta grumbled into his coffee mug.
They sat in a comfortable silence like they usually did when Shouta got home from work late. It lasted about five minutes before Shouta piped up.
“Akuma was back out tonight.”
Hitoshi choked on his hot chocolate, coughing extensively before asking loudly, “What?! You- you saw him?? Is he okay?”
“Kami, calm down kid,” Shouta spoke softly, “and no, I didn’t see him. We got a guy dropped off on our doorstep covered in bruises and, after some… lengthy interrogation, he let slip that it was Akuma that brought him in.”
“But that’s good news, right? It means Akuma’s patrolling again. It means he’s okay!”
Hitoshi's enthusiasm shocked Shouta slightly. He knew that after the whole fiasco two months ago that the kid had been a lot more interested in the vigilante, milking Shouta for all the info he could get, but the concern laced in his tone when talking about Akuma didn’t escape his notice.
“We can’t know for sure but,” Shouta sighed deeply, the corner of his lips twitching upwards just a tad, “yeah. Yeah, I think he’s okay.”
~
Izuku was definitely not okay.
It was only his second week patrolling and already his leg was pissing him off. Sure, it didn’t hurt anymore, but the stiffness left behind was just as torturous. Manoeuvres that used to be second nature to him were now slightly wobbly and part of his mind was distracted by trying to figure out how to adapt them.
Which had landed him here. Winded, bleeding, and cornered in a back alley by a guy with some sort of speed quirk blocking his path out. The buildings either side of him had no fire escapes or windows for him to grab onto and the roofs were too high for him to parkour up to. It was times like this when he really hated the fact that he hadn’t got the hang of Eraser’s scarf enough to take it on patrol yet. If he had, he would have been able to capture the would-be burglar as fast as the Pro.
As it stood, Izuku was out of breath, out of patience, and thoroughly pissed off. His usual strategy when on patrol was to use his advantage of anticipating the situation before it happened. The element of surprise was a key part of Izuku’s tactics and a speedy criminal in a confined alley kinda fucked up that tactic.
So, he needed a new strategy.
Slowing down his breaths, Izuku stood up to his full height and holstered his jo onto his back. He tuned into his senses, focusing on the flinch he heard from the criminal at the mouth of the alleyway. He waited for the right moment, when the guy shifted his stance, letting his guard down for just a second as he seemed to ponder Izuku’s behaviour.
Then, he struck.
A knife embedded itself into the man’s thigh, making him cry out in pain as Izuku darted forward, grabbing another knife from its holster on his thigh. He felt the telltale shift in the air of the criminal preparing to use his quirk again, but Izuku was ready. He latched onto the man’s bicep with his free hand and slashed across his abdomen with the other. The sound of blood dripping onto concrete echoed in Izuku’s ears. The drops quickly slowed. A surface wound.
The grip on his bicep tightened as he tried to use his quirk once again. Izuku didn’t let him. A swift cross to the jaw sent the man stumbling and a hefty kick to the stomach knocked him onto his back. Izuku stalked over to the groaning mass of a criminal on the ground. He flipped the knife in his hand around and viciously sent the butt into the man’s temple. Izuku listened intently. Unconscious.
After zip-tying the criminal’s hands together and calling the police, Izuku darted out of the alley and climbed up to the roofs at the first fire escape he saw. His patrol was far from over.
~
Two hours later, Izuku was crouched at the edge of the roof of a 24-hour corner shop, the faint buzz of its neon sign flickering in his ears. Patrols hadn’t been that busy lately which should have been a good thing, but Izuku knew better. He knew that this was just a sign of the directorate regrouping after the raid. Gathering reinforcements and information that they didn’t have before. Information on him.
It hadn’t escaped his notice that the few shestyorkas and associates that still roamed the streets at night for the Thieves and Giudice were talking. Specifically, about one jo-wielding vigilante and his current whereabouts. He was almost flattered to be honest. It wasn’t often that people took a particular interest in little old Akuma. Apart from the obvious exception.
Izuku gritted his teeth at the thought of Erashead. He was on patrol, dammit, he didn’t need to be thinking about that right now.
Another ten minutes went by of Izuku determinedly not letting his mind wander to thoughts of the Pro before he realised that he couldn’t actually focus on any sounds other than the ambient noises of Musutafu.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered, jumping across to the next rooftop in an attempt to clear his mind. He distantly thought about a metaphor he had heard of once, chuckling to himself slightly at the comparison of Eraser to a pink elephant. Almost instantly, he caught his blunder and internally chastised himself for thinking of the Pro so soon after saying that he’d do anything but that. Man, he really was like the fucking pink elephant.
His ears latched onto the sound of a distressed shopkeep and he changed direction with ease, happy to have a distraction from the jittery fingers tapping out morse code in his mind.
Izuku arrived on the scene to find a scrawny teenager holding up a shaking palm towards the face of a middle-aged woman whose entire body was tensed so stiff that the only sound of movement that Izuku detected was her racing heart and short breaths. He stood in the doorway, unnoticed by the pair, as he sensed the shift in the air surrounding the teenager's hand. Based on the rattling noises coming from most small metal objects in the vicinity, he could guess that it was a weak magnetic field quirk.
“Come on, lady,” the kid not that much older than Izuku pleaded, “just hand over the cash from the register and nobody has to get hurt.”
Something in their voice made Izuku pause. Originally, he was going to take out his Eraser-related annoyances on the next scummy criminal he came across (not a great coping mechanism, he knew, but he’s working with what he’s got, alright?). This kid though, Izuku could tell, was nowhere near a scummy criminal. At most, they were someone who had got into the wrong situation and definitely did not want to be there. It was easy to tell by the sweat dripping down their spine like a waterfall, and the quivering tone lacing their words. They were scared.
Sighing slightly to himself and returning his jo to its place on his back, Izuku figured he should stop this before the poor shopkeeper handed over her entire week's revenue. He suddenly felt much older than fifteen.
“Can I put in a suggestion?” he spoke up, causing both heads to swivel in his direction.
“S-stay back!” the kid warned, moving his hand over to point at Izuku.
Izuku lifted his hands placatingly in an offering of peace. “Hey, I just wanna chat,” he said, giving a small smile.
“I said stay back!” they shouted.
“Okay, okay. I’m staying right here. Like I said, I just wanna chat, kid”
“Don’t call me kid!”
The air shifted once again, more intensely than before but less than what Izuku would consider dangerous. He took a couple steps backwards anyway. “I’m sorry, I won’t, okay? Why don’t we just calm down for a second, yeah?”
The teenager didn’t say anything but they lowered the intensity of their quirk just a fraction, barely enough for anyone but Izuku to notice. Their breathing was ragged and stuttered, chest rising and falling rapidly in succession with their intakes. The shaking of their hands caused a drop of sweat to fall from their outstretched palm, landing on the untied laces of one of their slightly ratty shoes.
“Look, it’s obvious you don’t want to be here,” Izuku started carefully, “but you are so you must have a reason, yeah?”
Izuku hadn’t expected an answer so he was mindful to hide his shock when the teenager nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Right. You don’t have to tell me that reason if you don’t want to, but I wanna know one thing - is it money or food?”
“W-what?” The kid’s brows furrowed.
“Do you need money, or do you need money for food?” Izuku repeated slightly slowly.
The kid was quiet for a beat before talking in a small voice, like they were scared at what might happen if they said it too loud. If they admitted it. “Food.”
Izuku smiled in a way that he hoped was comforting. “Okay, I can help with that. Is it for just you or…?”
This time the kid spoke with a marginally louder voice than before, hand lowering as he did so. “My… my sister.”
Izuku kept that smile on his face but internally his heart panged with hurt at the thought of these siblings in such a situation. His mind drifted back to when he was in their position, with no parents and no… Ohta to help him out. He remembered feeling as lost as this kid sounded and he ached to help as best he could. To do that, he knew what he had to do but fuck did he not want to. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help the kids, Kami he’d do anything he goddamn fucking could, but the best way to get them the support they needed came in the form of a phone call to, not the last person he wanted to talk to but maybe the second last.
Keeping his hands up where the kid could see them, Izuku started moving over to the ready-meals section of the shop. He wordlessly picked up four packets of onigiri, two ham and cheese sandwiches, and two bottles of orange juice. From there, he went to grab a plastic bag from the shopkeeper who had been watching from the side in a mix of fear and curiosity. Still in sight of the kid, he dropped the food into the bag and grabbed more than enough cash from one of his belt pockets, leaving it on the counter for the woman behind the cashier.
“Let’s go get your sister. I know someone who can help.” Izuku tried to reassure them with that smile that he hoped was understanding. He must have got something right, because the scent of tears falling silently down the kid’s cheeks and whispered agreement leaving their lips filled Izuku’s chest with warmth. Handing off the bag to the teenager, the pair walked through the door of the mini-market.
The air was cold as Izuku followed the teenager - who he learnt was sixteen years old and called Sasaki - towards the apartment block where the pair of siblings lived. The two shared light small talk as they moved under the light of the evening street lamps. From the intermittent and quiet contributions from Sasaki, Izuku learnt that they and their six year old sister lived alone in an apartment down on 5th street. Their parents hadn’t been around for about a year now, but when Izuku tried to ask why, Sasaki clamped right up. He didn’t ask again.
When the two of them arrived at Sasaki's apartment, Izuku felt that same ache in his heart before they even opened the door. When they walked through the threshold, Izuku aws hit with the smell in even more intensity. It was obvious that they had tried to keep it as clean as they could but there was only so much that a sixteen year old and their little sister could accomplish on their own. The bin was overflowing with wrappers and used kitchen roll. The sofa in the next room was covered in toys and gave off a faint smell that could only be created by poorly cleaned messes and stains.
“Akina!” Sasaki called out into the apartment. The soft patter of feet made its way down the corridor but stopped just short of the kitchen where Izuku and Sasaki were standing. “It’s okay, Akina. We’re gonna get some help okay? Come on.” They gestured with open arms and their sister rushed to jump up into their arms with no hesitance.
The three kids trekked back out into the cold October night, no small talk exchanged this time. Izuku had never met a six year old who kept so quiet in any situation let alone when following someone they didn’t know out to who knows where in the dead of night. It made that ache in his chest burn that bit deeper.
Fifteen minutes later, it was obvious that Sasaki recognised where they were going as they abruptly stopped short in their tracks, breaths picking up by the second. “Y-you… you said you were gonna help- you-”
“Hey, hey,” Izuku stepped towards them but Sasaki shuffled backwards, angling their sister away. Izuku stayed still. “I am going to help you. Look, I know a lot of them aren’t gonna want to help you, trust me I know. But I’m friends with a guy.” ‘Friends’ was a bit of an overstatement but Izuku knew he could trust him to do the right thing. “He’s a really good guy and if anyone can help you guys get some support, it’s him. Can you trust me on this?”
The teenager still seemed panicked and hesitant but after a couple minutes of contemplating, they nodded with only a small frown on their face. Izuku’s shoulders slumped into relief as a smile couldn’t stop itself from pulling at his cheeks. “Great. Awesome, I- I’ll call him now. Just give me a minute, yeah?” Hearing the rustle of their jacket as Sasaki nodded once more and shifted their hold on their sister, Izuku grabbed his phone from his utility belt and pressed in the sequence of numbers he had memorised. After the incident with the Directorate raid and how slow it had taken him to get into contact with backup, Izuku had used some of his completely legal ‘researching skills’ to acquire the personal phone number of one very helpful individual. He had thought about finding the number to the phone of a much more helpful individual, but eventually landed on the decision that that was a boundary he wouldn’t cross. Not after what he knew now.
The dial tone rang out in Izuku’s ear as he waited for it to connect, an echo of the sound reaching his ears from where it rang in the police station two blocks over. If he concentrated, he could pick up the sigh let out from the man’s mouth right before a click sounded from his flip phone, letting him know the call had connected.
“This is Detective Tsukauchi,” his tired but chipper voice came out tinny from the old phone’s speaker. It spoke wonders to the detective’s dedication to his work that he was able to sound so alert despite his obvious fatigue. Obvious to Izuku, anyway.
Izuku gulped in a breath, steeling his resolve before speaking. “Hey! Uh hey- hey detective, it’s-”
“Akuma!” the detective stammered out in surprise, “Holy sh- I- uh, it’s good to hear from you! Really good, actually. Where have- I mean how are… how are you doing? Are you… is- is your leg holding up? Are you holding up? Eraser said-”
“Detective.” Izuku was quick to cut off his rambling, using his stern voice that worked well with low-level criminals that he encountered. He didn’t want to think about how the detective had sounded. How frantically relieved he seemed at the mere prospect of hearing his voice. He didn’t want to acknowledge the little flicker of warmth blooming in his chest at the idea that someone else, other than Mei and Akari, someone that had barely interacted with him besides one rushed and desperate phone call, could have been worried about him. Could have been wondering if he was alright, if his leg had healed. Could have cared about him.
But no, Izuku needed to squash that flicker. He couldn’t- wouldn’t allow it to grow. Not when he knew the truth. The truth is that this was the lead detective on his case. It was this man’s whole job (well, maybe not his whole job) to track down Izuku- no Akuma, the wanted and illegal vigilante, and arrest him. Bring him into the station and cuff him. Discover his identity and his quirkless status. Toss him either in prison to never have to deal with him again or in a random care home or orphanage for him to try and escape again. This man did not care about him and Izuku was damn well not gonna convince himself that he did. Because he knew that if he admitted that the detective might care about him, then Eraser definitely did. And if he admitted that, then Izuku was never going to have a good night’s sleep for the rest of his life until he talked to him. The sound of Hitoshi’s heartbeat echoing in his mind reminded him of why he couldn’t do that. Not yet, at least.
“I need your help with something, Detective.” Izuku’s voice was stony with professionalism that he did not possess.
Tsukauchi spluttered a bit at the vigilante’s tone of voice before shifting back into his obvious work-mode. “What is it, kid? What’s going on?”
Electing to ignore the ‘kid’ comment - for now - Izuku focused back on the issue at hand. “Look, I’ve got some kids with me, siblings. They’re not in a great situation and they could really use some support. Some help.” He dragged a hand down his face, sighing slightly before speaking again. “You’re a good cop, Tsukauchi. A good man. I know there are others, most others, who would do the bare minimum to help them out. Throw them in the system and let it be their problem to deal with. But I trust you, alright? I trust you to do the right thing and get them what they actually need. Safety. A home. A f- a family.” Izuku could hear his voice choking up a bit as he continued to speak. He knew that Tsukauchi would be able to pick up on it if he carried on so he wrapped up the call as fast as he could. “I’m gonna send them to the station to meet you outside. I’m trusting you to take care of them, okay?”
“Of course, Akuma. Of course I will but what about you? Eraser hasn’t seen you in months and-”
Izuku flipped his phone shut and stuffed it back in his belt pocket. He turned back around to where Sasaki and their sister were standing, eyes dodging his gaze in an attempt to hide the fact that they had heard everything that Izuku had said to the detective. He sighed and approached the pair.
“Alright, my friend is gonna meet you on the front steps of the station. I’ll walk you the next block up but I’ll have to leave you after that. I’m gonna wait on the rooftops nearby to make sure you’re safe though, don’t worry.” Izuku hoped that his voice conveyed how much he wanted these kids to be safe. He may have been younger than Sasaki, but he just felt this overwhelming urge to help them out. To make sure they weren’t alone.
Turning to lead the way to the police station when Sasaki nodded their head, Izuku let out a shaky breath, willing his mind to think of anything other than quiet gyms and empty apartments. Once again, however, he was reminded of pink elephants and their insistence to be so fucking annoying.
Three minutes later, Izuku gave the siblings some words of encouragement and reassurance before dipping into an alleyway and manoeuvring up towards the roof by window ledges. He desperately tried to rid his thoughts of pink elephants which became increasingly difficult when he noticed Detective Tsukauchi waiting by the station doors. His head was on a swivel as he obviously attempted to find where Izuku was hiding, knowing the vigilante too well to think that he would leave the kids on their own for even a second. Izuku ducked behind the stairwell entrance, shielding himself from the detective’s watchful eye whilst still able to sense everything.
Despite the tiresome training and long hours he put into perfecting it, Izuku was always thanking himself for learning how to “see” without his eyes. It made covert situations so much easier. At least, he thought it did. He didn’t really have anything to compare it to. His basis was mainly logical thinking and comments from people who had experienced both realities. People who he was definitely not thinking about.
Goddamn pink elephants…
Once he heard the detective giving his own words of reassurance to the kids as he brought them into the station, head still on a swivel, Izuku let out a sigh of relief. The glass door swung shut just as his feet landed on the harsh concrete pavement. He geared up to continue with his patrol before the wound on his leg made itself known again, the taste of iron alerting him to it reopening before the pain did. Right. The speed quirk guy. Suddenly reminded of the scattered but minor slashes adorning his body, as well as the dull ache still present in his right leg, Izuku mentally debated with himself for a second before resigning to his fate.
Mei would be furious if she knew he had kept patrolling in his state, even if he’d done so in far worse conditions. Izuku scowled as he made his way over to the PCD. His traitorous thoughts kept him occupied with the world’s most insistent pink elephants.
Notes:
Please tell me you guys have heard about the pink elephant metaphor cause otherwise this wouldn't make much sense lmao
Just in case you had no idea what i was talking about in this chapter, basically it's like telling someone "Quick! Don't think about a pink elephant!" and then it's really hard to NOT think about a pink elephant so it's a metaphor for when you're trying to not think about something then all you can do is think about it
What did you guys think of Ohta's backstory so far? I'm hoping to build it up in the future chapters (believe it or not I actually have a plan for the next few chapters for once)
Let me know your thoughts in the comments! I absolutely love reading all of them and it'd be great to hear feedback on what you'd like to see in future chapters :)
love ya guys <3
Chapter 16: The Ethics of Adopting the First (and second) Orphan You Find
Summary:
More of a look into Ohta's past and an unexpected encounter whilst Aizawa is on patrol
Notes:
Another chapter?? So soon?? From moi?? I'm just as surprised as you guys are this hasn't happened in months
ANYWAY I just wanna warn you guys that this chapter has almost zero dialogue in it BUT I am really excited to share this chapter with you guys so I hope you can forgive me lol
TW FOR THIS CHAPTER:
- panic attack (starts at "His throat was tightening, making breathing even more difficult." and finishes at "And that was all that was needed.")
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ohta slammed their coffee mug down on the sitting room table, hot liquid spilling over the edge onto their hand and the stained wood.
It had been two months since they had quit kickboxing, refusing to set foot in the gym that promoted bribery and dishonesty. It had been a month and three weeks since they started working as a personal trainer at Dynamo Fitness Gym and it had been a month, two weeks, and five days since they realised that they hated working as a personal trainer. Everyone that was assigned to them by the managers either had the most unrealistic goals and least amount of motivation to achieve them, or they immediately made assumptions based on Ohta’s lack of sight that caused them to switch to a different trainer.
Maybe they should have learnt by now that people who make money off other people’s willingness to exercise rather than their actual fitness and success, don’t give a shit about their training. They just care about how much they train, regardless if it’s useless or not. Even their old manager, Machida, only cared about money in the end.
Ohta sighed and yanked their earbuds away, walking over to the kitchen sink and washing up their mug as they tried to drown out the junkies’ voices that carried down the hallway without straining their quirk. The two twenty-something year olds had moved in down the hall almost three months ago, and not one day had gone by where Ohta was free from their incessant music and chatter. And if the noise wasn’t bad enough, their (not at all discreet) dealer came over at least once a week to trade pills and plants for way too much money than what they were worth.
Their irritating voices grated on Ohta’s ears as they finished drying the mug and placing it back in the cupboard.
“I’m telling you, dude! I won so much money!”
“Yeah I can fucking see that, Tsuki. What I’m saying is that there’s no way you didn’t just mug some bloke in an alleyway to get it!”
“No, no I swear it. The Dive is no joke. I watched some guy’s horn get ripped from his skull! It was awesome! Fucking lucky, as well, that I bet on the chick that did it.”
There was clatter coming from their apartment as the two moved around but Ohta was listening now. They could ignore the grating in their ears for a short while if it meant they could hear more about this ‘Dive’.
“You gotta come with me tonight, Noya. We can make double what I did last time!”
“Fucking…” Ohta heard a deep sigh come from the man’s mouth. “Fine. But if I get fucking ripped off because of you then you owe me like TEN spliffs, got it?”
“Jesus man, yeah fine, whatever.”
Ohta drummed their fingers along the countertop before letting out a sigh of their own and pushing off towards their bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, they were following two blocks behind dumb and dumber underneath buzzing street lights. Once the two turned into an unassuming alleyway that led to the service door of a stationary shop. Three quick knocks and two slow ones prompted a gruff voice to call out from behind the steel door.
“Name?”
“Uhh, coral reef?” one of the junkies replied in a shaky tone.
Nothing happened for about three seconds before the door swung open and the pair of idiots bounded inside, an ominous locking sound echoing behind them. Ohta repeated the knock and code in their mind as they stopped activating their quirk and walked along the quiet street. A strong smell of alcohol and iron flooded into their nose as Ohta turned into the mouth of the alleyway.
Stationary shop my ass.
They repeated the knocking sequence on the cold metal and waited for a response. That same gruff voice called out once again.
“Name?”
With a monotonous and confident tone, Ohta replied, “coral reef.”
They waited with baited breath for five long seconds before the door swung open. With a nod from the surprisingly short man holding it open, Ohta stepped inside the small store room just enough for him to swing it shut behind them.
“Never seen you here before,” the man stated, an obvious question in his voice.
Ohta stood tall. “My neighbours are loud. Was kind of hard not to hear about the place where they won ‘so much money’.” They knew it was harsh to throw the junkies under the bus like that, but Ohta honestly couldn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to them.
The short man grunted in annoyance before nodding his head once again in the direction of another door. “This way.”
They followed him down a set of wide stairs that were cold from a draft moving upwards from wherever they led to. The sounds of cheers and argued growls roared from the dingy crowded room just around the corner. As they stepped into the stench-infested open area, Ohta noticed several different things.
Number one, there was a ring. Not that large but guarded by a tall chain link fence that reached towards the ceiling. There were no mats lining the floor or designated spaces for fighters to take breaks or talk to their coaches. Mainly because there were no coaches, at least, not from what Ohta could tell. A rowdy mob lined the edges of the cage, the only thing barring them from the two opponents in the centre being the rattling metal of twisted strands of steel wire. It almost didn’t seem strong enough to keep them all out but miraculously it never once wavered or strained under the weight of at least two hundred bodies.
Number two, the open area (that was less open with how many people were packed in like sardines) was in fact a subway station that seemed to have been out of use for at least ten years. Two carriages had been abandoned on the rails of the station; one was being used as a betting booth for people to gamble away their money whilst the other had been closed off, heavy locks on the door and something that worked as a dampening barrier which blocked off Ohta’s senses. They couldn’t tell whether the long line leading into the first carriage was for betting on fights or the fighters themselves but given the setting, it was probably both and more. The second carriage was most likely an office of sorts for the shitheads that ran the stinkhole.
Number three, the fighters themselves. Obviously Ohta had noticed the sounds of their match filtering up towards the surface ever since they stepped foot in the alleyway. What they hadn’t noticed was how much the two seemed like they were actually trying to kill one another. Over the years, Ohta had witnessed their fair share of aggressive matches. Hell, they had dabbled in a few MMA fights during their kickboxing career. But this? Ohta could tell why this was kept underground. There were no regulations against quirks as evidenced by the shakes that rumbled the arena floor. Neither were there regulations on how hard a fighter could hit.
Ohta was paying attention to how the nose of a female fighter was being repeatedly pummelled into the concrete when their ears picked up a familiar gait headed towards them amongst the crowded room. They would know that man’s sleazy presence anywhere.
“Jellyfish? Is that you? Haha! Never in a million years would I imagine you here!” Giran’s obnoxious tone drifted through the air only loud enough for someone of Ohta’s ability to hear above the crowd. “Hell,” he leaned into their space, “didn’t you leave the MFK because of unlawful gambles??” His voice was laced with a knowing sarcasm that pissed Ohta off to no end.
Still, they could use this. It was obvious that Giran wasn’t there for pleasure and it could prove valuable they had an in with one of the higher-ups in this place.
“Giran,” they said evenly, not deigning to turn their head in his direction, “where do I sign up?”
~*~
Shouta cinched the criminal’s wrists tight together with his capture scarf. It had been a fairly quiet night so far with only a couple of petty thieves ruining the peaceful atmosphere of the Musutafu night. It was only peaceful, however, in the world existing externally from Shouta’s mind. Internally, he was desperately trying not to let his distracting thoughts cause his Hero work to slip.
And Kami was it difficult.
Not two hours ago did Naomasa decide to let him know the latest news on a certain child vigilante right before his patrol started. He loved his friend, he truly did, but sometimes the man could be the dumbest motherfucker alive. Or at least the motherfucker with the worst timing possible. The low levels of activity did nothing to help Shouta’s state. And the few criminals that were able to pull his attention away from his thoughts were so annoyingly thick, that they were never able to do so for long before Shouta had them wrapped up in long grey cloth. Which left him in the same situation he was in right now - waiting for a police car to arrive on the scene with nothing to do but mull over the many things that plagued him.
Such as adoption.
Now, Shouta knew about adoption. He knew about the processes you had to go through, he knew about how long it can take, he knew about the torturous and countless visits from social workers. What he was pondering, was the ethics of adopting the first orphan you run across.
Don’t get him wrong, Shouta loved Hitoshi and would never regret adopting him for even a second. But sometimes he wondered if he hadn’t been thinking completely clearly at the time he decided to adopt the kid he had just saved from an abusive situation. Because, since it had been one of the best decisions of his life, Shouta’s first instinct when working with children - whether that was saving them or teaching them - was to check on their homelife and see if they needed help. Needed a new home. Which, he knows, isn’t exactly healthy. Ever since Hitoshi, there had fortunately been few cases in which Shouta found a child that he had saved also had a crappy home. And in all of those cases, there were relatives such as grandparents or aunts or cousins that were happy to take the child in once they were informed of the situation. And in the even fewer cases where a student of his was in a shit situation, Nedzu had come up with a suitable plan to help them out quickly, needing very little assistance from Shouta. Not that he hadn’t helped anyway.
So in most situations, his overprotective attentive tendencies had helped an unfortunate circumstance be resolved fairly quickly.
What he had been presented with, however, was not most situations.
Shouta had no idea about what Akuma’s homelife was like. For all he knew, the kid could have a very loving family that doted on his hand and foot and were blissfully oblivious to the illegal activities he got up to nearly every night. Somehow. Shouta had absolutely no reason to suspect that the kid was in a bad environment.
Except he did.
The kid had been injured so severely that Naomasa and Shouta had been scared for Akuma’s life. The damage to his leg was extensive and only a blind person could have missed it. Which, he supposed, was a possibility, but something told Shouta that it wasn’t likely. That meant that whoever Akuma was living with, parent or guardian, had either been so neglectful that they didn’t notice that life-altering injury, or they just didn’t care and allowed him to start patrolling again as soon as he was able. Either way, Shouta wasn’t happy.
There was also the possibility that the kid was living on his own, but he had deemed that unlikely as well. Considering the generally healthy state he was usually in on top of the high quality outfit he wore, it was safe to assume the kid had a steady income from somewhere that allowed him to access food and utilities.
But what really tipped Shouta off, though, was the way that Akuma handled the Sasaki siblings’ situation. He knew the kid was a good kid, of course he knew that. But not just any good kid would have caught that Sasaki Rin - the older one - was in need of help and not just stupidly trying to get some quick cash. And on top of that, Akuma had personally escorted both siblings to the police station, calling up Naomasa on his mobile (still not sure how he got that) to pick them up himself.
It was clear that Akuma had issues with the police force which, Shouta admitted, weren’t completely unfounded. So for the kid to hand them over to the police, even if it was just a known and seemingly trusted detective, it was a show of total and utter care about the siblings. A regard for their wellbeing so high that he had trusted a detective who had openly tried to track down and arrest the vigilante. A detective who worked for the very system that he disliked or even hated. A detective who had helped save his life.
The lengths that Akuma went to for those kids made it clear that he cared deeply about them and the position they were in. More than would be expected of the average Hero or vigilante. But not more than would be expected of someone who had been in that same position before themself.
Which is why Shouta was having so many conflicting thoughts on adoption, specifically the adoption of one strangely-skilled, green-haired, child vigilante with a lack of regard for his own safety.
He was pulled from his internal debate by the sound of a police car pulling up to the pavement where he and the bound criminal were waiting. He spoke to the officer briefly, handing off the weed-dealer to her custody before swinging up to the rooftops to carry on with his patrol. Shouta was just thinking about how his night had been relatively quiet so far so he could probably head home to Zashi and Toshi early, when he was reminded of why he should never be optimistic.
The sound of a scuffle could be heard about twenty metres in front of him, making Shouta pick up his pace to reach the car park where it was coming from. He came to a stop on a rooftop nearby and crouched by the edge to assess the scenario. It was as his eyes were surveying the open lot, that they landed on two people violently fighting each other and instantly widened behind his yellow goggles.
When Akuma got hit with an impossibly turning projectile, Shouta immediately snapped out of his shock and jumped down into the fray.
~
Izuku panted heavily as he got to his feet again.
He had interrupted a Steel deal about fifteen minutes ago, preparing to apprehend both parties quickly like usual. Instead he was almost instantly caught off guard by the dealer’s quirk and skills. Izuku had assumed that they had some sort of spider mutation quirk, given the eight eyes and fang-like teeth that resembled what he could remember spider faces looked like when he was a kid. They also had creeped him out.
So you could imagine his surprise when the dealer slung three solid iron balls (that bloody stank) in Izuku’s direction, following his movement when he dodged out of the way. The spider mutation must have just been an inherited trait from one of the guy’s parents cause Izuku was like 85% sure that spiders didn’t have some form of telekinesis or perfect aim.
The three heavy balls had slammed into his torso, winding him just enough to give the other guy who was buying the Steel to scamper away. Izuku had thought that, once he realised the true nature of the dealer’s quirk, then it would have been a cut-and-dry jab and restrain type job, as it was with most Steel criminals. However this eight-eyed motherfucker decided to be the most annoying person in all of Musutafu.
And his best friend was Mei.
His gymnastic and evasive technique was something to envy as he dodged Izuku’s attacks one after the other. Eventually the pair had moved from the alley where their fight started out to an open car park. From there, the two traded blows on a pretty much one-for-one basis.
The man was fast. Extremely fast. And his body contorted in ways that Izuku didn’t know was possible. But his ammo was limited. Izuku counted seventeen balls in the man’s pouch attached to his thigh at the start of their fight, not including the three he had already thrown at Izuku. It was clear that the criminal was trying to conserve ammunition by relying on hand-to-hand.
Good thing Izuku had a big ass fucking stick to keep him at distance.
The man’s long gangly limbs dodged in every which way but he wasn’t quite fast enough to miss getting swung at a fair few times. When he was able to get in close, though, his height gave him an advantage against Izuku, allowing him to sneak in quick punches and kicks that didn’t hit that hard but still were a fucking pain when he aimed at the right spots. And fuck was he good at aiming. Izuku supposed it was because of his quirk but he didn’t really have time to stop and ask him.
The vigilante had reduced on his quick remarks and wit when on patrol as of recently, mind too preoccupied on other issues to see the point in it. That wasn’t to say that Izuku didn’t enjoy his vigilante work anymore, he loved it! But after the raid and its aftermath, it had taken a bit of the fun out of his work.
Izuku’s focus was on the man’s quick feet aiming towards his knees, meaning that he missed when he reached back into his pouch. The dealer’s foot made contact with Izuku’s right thigh, sending shooting pains up his leg as the old injury was aggravated, and causing him to drop to the floor on one knee. He was quick to raise his jo to block the next kick aiming for his head but that just opened up his torso to the two iron balls that went straight into his solar plexus.
Izuku’s breath left him in a gasp as he stumbled to not fall over completely. He knew that he had to move but the man was too fast. Despite the years of training that Izuku had under his belt, the long hours spent increasing his speed and reflexes, the man was at least ten years older than him. He had much more time to hone his skills and improve his reaction time. Which meant that by the time Izuku was diving his body into a roll to his right, the man had already sent another ball his way.
He was sure it was going to hit him. There was no way he had enough time to get out of the way, and even if he did, the guy’s quirk would just redirect it. Izuku was mid dive and couldn’t brace for impact. He accepted the fact that he was going to get hit once again and would just have to stand up as quickly as possible once it made contact, when he finished his roll and realised that he was already on his feet.
The ball whizzed straight past his body, exactly where he had just been crouched. That didn’t make sense. The spider dude’s quirk should have meant that he couldn’t miss. Unless…
Izuku really needed to focus more when fighting a single assailant. Because he only just clocked the floating hair and scarf of Eraserhead on the top of the building behind him.
It really said a lot about him that he didn’t notice the one person who had been plaguing his thoughts every waking moment for the last two and a half months.
~
Shouta dropped down from his perch with record speed. He kept his eyes on the tall man Akuma was fighting, not letting his quirk slip for a second.
Akuma took advantage of the man’s confused state of having his quirk erased and swung his jo at the guy’s temple. It would have been a shot that knocked him out cold if he hadn’t bent over backwards almost completely in half.
Kami, the fuck is up with this dude?
Shouta immediately jumped into the fight as soon as his feet brought him close enough, quickly sending his capture scarf out to try and nab the lanky guy. He missed by just a hair, but it distracted the man just enough for Akuma to land a hit to his thigh with one of his knives. The man cried out in pain, one of his hands grabbing some more projectiles and throwing them in Akuma’s direction but, once again, the combination of Shouta’s quirk and Akuma’s reflexes made it a fruitless attempt.
The fight continued on like that for a while, with the spider-like man evading less and less attacks from the pair and Shouta evading thoughts about how good it felt to fight alongside Akuma again. The two of them worked seamlessly together, moving with a grace that suggested they had known each other for years. If one of them was about to be hit, the other would block it. If one needed an opening, the other would create one. They didn’t even need to speak, each other's moves and tactics ingrained in their brains despite not having seen one another in months.
Shouta had missed this.
As they gradually gained a bigger upper-hand on the guy, Shouta took the time to glance over at Akuma’s legs. The kid was just as fast as ever, moving through the air like a silent bullet. But if he looked closely, Shouta could tell he was favouring his right leg just a tad. It wasn’t obvious but he knew that the injury from the raid had left a lasting effect on Akuma’s mobility. He forced himself to drag his attention away from the fully healed injury. The kid was doing just fine and he didn’t need an old man worrying about something that barely impacted his abilities.
That didn’t mean he was going to drop it though.
Shouta doubled his efforts, hoping to finish the fight soon, and it wasn’t long before one of Akuma’s strikes landed on the man’s head, knocking him out cold. The pair of them stood over the criminal’s body, panting in the silence.
Shouta went to grab some quirk-suppressant cuffs from his pocket, kneeling to put them on the man’s wrists. Once they clicked, he turned to say something to Akuma. He had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth but it didn’t matter.
When Shouta turned back around, he was met with an eerily silent and empty car park. Akuma was gone.
~
Izuku was breathing heavily as he ran towards the PCD.
Motherfucking shit fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…
His brain was on a rampage with the panicked state he was currently in. Izuku’s feet thundered down on the asphalt of several rooftops, not caring for stealth at all the moment, just focusing on getting away.
That was Eraserhead. Eraser had helped him in a fight. Just like they used to. It should have been a completely normal occurrence. There was no reason that this fight was any different than the countless others where the pair had worked together.
Except that wasn’t just Eraser. That was Hitoshi’s dad.
Izuku jumped down onto Mei’s garage roof, trying desperately to calm his breathing and stave off the panic attack that he could feel building under his skin, waiting to pounce.
He quickly swung in through the window that Mei alway kept unlatched for him. He could hear her heartbeat thumping louder and faster than the music blasting through her headphones. Stumbling over to the workbench closest to him, Izuku tried to call out to Mei in a breathy voice. But she had her back to him and fuck was her music loud. He really wasn’t sure why he expected anything else - the girl did everything to the extreme.
There was a half-finished contraption lying on the bench next to where he was leaning. Izuku grabbed it and tossed the oddly-shaped gadget at his best friend’s back, absent-mindedly putting in the effort to not lob it full strength.
The sound that Mei made could have been described as the noise a parrot makes when someone pulls on its feathers. But that was only if you wanted to get a wrench to the face.
“Fucking CHRIST, Zu!” Mei shrieked as she twirled around to stare down Izuku. He didn’t need any of his senses to feel her gaze boring into his skull from behind her goggles. “You better not be stabbed again,” Mei sighed as she put down the soldering iron she was using just a second ago, “it’s too much effort to clean up your blood stains from the workbenches.”
“Good to see you too, Mei,” Izuku retorted in a voice that was more ragged than he had hoped. He winced internally when Mei’s posture shifted to one more alert. Damn she knew him well.
She started towards him. “What’s wrong? You’re doing that weird breathing thing you do when you try and not break down. You know that hasn’t actually ever worked, right?” Despite her teasing tone, Mei moved Izuku to sit on the beanbags in the corner, taking his mask off his head and fussing over him whilst simultaneously trying not to touch him too much.
“I don’t do that,” he protested but he could feel the forced-calmness he had been maintaining slowly seep from his body, leaving his heart rate to pick up drastically in its wake. Izuku noticed the tells of the start of an panic attack increasing in intensity.
His throat was tightening, making breathing even more difficult. The sound of his stuttered and short breaths grated in his ears. Everything was getting louder. His focus was slipping, letting in all the background sounds that he usually tuned out.
The flap of a pigeon's wings outside.
The honk of a car horn two streets over.
The tick tick ticking of the watch strapped onto Mei’s wrist.
Every single heartbeat from every single person on the block.
It was like drums in his head, thumping frantically and completely out of time from one another.
He had taken his gloves off at some point in a hurry to feel the air on them, but it was backfiring on him now. The scratchiness of the beanbag felt like sandpaper on his skin. He could feel the slightest change in temperature as his breathing picked up and blew air over his hands. Putting them on his trousers just made it worse. He could feel dried blood flaking off when he grabbed at the material tightly.
He didn’t know whose it was.
Izuku’s head was ducked between his knees. He didn’t know when he put it there but he did know that his boney knees were keeping out a fraction of the noise. It turned out to be counterproductive after not that long as Izuku quickly realised that it just made his breathing even louder.
It had gotten faster.
Why couldn’t he stop?
Why were his lungs so determined to burn out?
Why couldn’t he just breathe?
…
Then there were slightly calloused hands gently placed on top of his own.
The hands softly coaxed him to let go of his trousers and slowly brought them out towards something.
Izuku’s palms rested on a soft but firm surface.
A body. A chest.
His hands were raised and lowered at the speed of someone breathing. After a little bit, his focus started to trickle back in and Izuku consciously tried to match his breathing to the speed of the person whose breaths he was feeling. It took a while, but eventually he brought his stuttered breaths down to almost a regular speed. The slower his breaths got, the more he could focus. The more he could control.
Gradually the thumping drums in his head died down to just a familiar hum in the back of his skull. The burn in his lungs stubbornly stayed but each intake no longer felt like razors scraping down his throat so that was a plus. He could smell the tangy scent of salt in the air and realised that he had begun crying at one point.
The dried tear tracks on his face were starting to itch.
Hesitantly, Izuku removed one of his hands from its place on his friend’s chest, swiping it across his cheeks with trembling fingers to scrape off the itchiness. He sniffed in deeply and let out a long shaky breath as he dragged his palm down his face in some hope of regaining composure - a pointless attempt given the fact that Mei had seen him in this state many a times before and he still had his hand clasped beneath her own, his breaths following her guide.
The pair sat together in silence, just breathing together, for another five minutes before Izuku spoke.
“...okay.”
And that was all that was needed. One word for Izuku to confirm that he was calm. One word for Mei to slump her shoulders in relief, knowing that her best friend was okay.
One word for Izuku to realise that he really needed a drink.
Mei seemed to be on the same wavelength as he was as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before getting up to walk over to the mini fridge in the corner. A cool bottle of water was placed into his hands when she came to sit back down on the beanbags with him. Izuku let the droplets from the condensation glide over his skin, cooling down his palms and helping them to stop in their trembling. He greedily gulped from the bottle opening in an attempt to soothe the residual pain in his throat.
Izuku screwed the cap back onto the now half-empty water bottle and let a tired sigh spill from his lips.
“I saw Eraser tonight.”
The sharp intake of breath was all the warning Izuku got before he was being tackled by his best friend. He tumbled back onto the pile of slightly scratchy beanbags feeling Mei follow him and lay her while body weight on his chest. It was comforting. Like a weighted blanket that was heated. And had arms.
Mei stayed where she was, somehow knowing exactly what he needed at the moment. Her weight was a warmth that eased out the last of the tension in his body. That warmth remained as she began to speak. “What happened?” Her voice did that thing it does when Izuku is having one of his bad days. The usual loud and excitable tone was replaced with a quiet softness that, unless you knew her well, you wouldn’t expect to be able to come from the hyperactive teen girl.
And so Izuku explained.
He gave a brief summary of what happened with the Steel dealer before the Pro arrived which Mei lightly admonished him for, saying that she would scold him properly later about how he could have easily taken the guy if he wasn’t so stupid. Izuku had given a little huff of laughter at that, thankful for his best friend’s ability to keep the situation light.
Izuku stuttered through the recount of how Eraser had saved him from getting hit with another heavy metal ball. His recap of the rest of the fight was rushed and broken but he eventually got out that the two hadn’t actually spoken because Izuku had run off the second the fight was over.
Mei had given him a light smack to the arm when he said that, another promise to chew him out properly later when they woke up.
It was then that Izuku realised how late it was. He strained to focus on the hands of the clock on the wall opposite him and found that he had spent the better half of an hour shaking and crying in Mei’s garage.
It wasn’t the first time his friend had dealt with him like that but it was the first that he had done so in her place. It didn’t matter that he had done the same thing for her in the same room when one of her inventions went wrong and got just that bit too close to almost seriously hurting her, Izuku still felt the heat of shame rise up on his cheeks, no doubt turning them a light crimson.
Most of his mortification drained from his thoughts when he felt Mei shift to cuddle him more comfortably. He supposed they were sleeping in the garage tonight. Izuku mentally reasoned that that was okay, sounded pretty good even, as his eyelids slowly drifted shut and his breathing finally evened out.
Notes:
I was sick in bed two whole days this week with a really bad cold so I decided to draw some art for the fic! So this is what Izuku looks like in his whole vigilante get-up that Mei made for him :)
Hint for a sneak peek at the next chapter: I added a new character tag ;)
Hope you guys enjoyed reading! Come yell at me in the comments if you want
Chapter 17: Harsh Red Into Gentle Ruby
Summary:
Fluff, fluff, and more fluff
Notes:
So I only just realised that it's almost been exactly a year since I posted the first chapter of this fic and it genuinely has gone by so quickly. I thought it would be really fun if I hit 100k words on the anniversary of this fic so I've been speedrunning the most recent chapters lmao.
Because I want to get this and the next chapter out by the 27th, they haven't been fully beta'd so this is your warning if it turns out I've made like 50 spelling or grammatical mistakes.
Anyway I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The crowd’s enraged cheers and boos pounded in Ohta’s head at the same time as their fists pounded their opponents face into the ground. Her deer-like antlers vibrated as they clanged down on the concrete letting a short but unpleasant sound resonate in Ohta’s ears. The woman’s teeth were gritted in a snarl as she attempted to struggle against Ohta’s hold, only to find that the second she did, she got another face full of knuckles.
With two more carefully aimed thwacks, Ohta’s opponent slumped motionless on the ground. Unconscious. The celebratory cheers and angered heckles of the mob clambering just outside the cage pissed Ohta off to no end. It took little effort to turn their hearing down and tune them out almost completely. With a wipe of their bloody hands on their joggers, they trudged out from the opening in the chain link fence that appeared suddenly thanks to one of the worker’s quirks.
Most other fighters were instantly hounded the second they stepped out from the cage, losers wanting their money back and winners wanting to get closer to the victor that brought them fortune.
But not Ohta.
As they walked out towards the once public toilets turned dingy changing room, the crowd parted like the Red Sea to let them pass. Because everyone knew that if you tried to even look at the Jellyfish the wrong way, they would know. And you would be dead.
Ohta was five feet from the door when they noticed the small body curled up in the corner of the changing room on the bench that was a hair’s breadth away from crumbling under its own weight. Choosing to leave them be for the moment, they walked into the small grimy room that always smelt of old socks with a hint of metal and sat down on the opposite bench. Ohta began to slowly unravel their bloodied hand wraps that they assumed had once been a very different colour. Once they were halfway through getting their second hand free, they heard the telltale rustle of the small body shifting to lift their head upwards. There was no change in breathing or body language from the… boy? It was hard to tell with how young they were.
The child had hair that seemed like it was trying to stick upwards but just flopped down onto their forehead. Their hands were clenched tight around their trousers from where their legs were pulled up to their chest. A deep furrow was settled on their brow, a glare evident on their face from the way their lips were pulled downwards. It was odd to find a child that young in a place like this but not unheard of. Ohta wasn’t too concerned until they noticed the rest of the kid’s body.
The skin was almost completely covered in scars that were being held together poorly by rusty staples.
The scent of blood seeped out from the seams and Ohta could practically taste the iron from how it was caked onto the kid’s skin. They had no idea whether the kid was just hiding out from something or whether they were actually planning on stepping into the cage. Or if they already had and had done a shit job patching up their wounds. Either way, they needed to say something. Normally they wouldn’t give two flying fucks about some random kid that most likely had just snuck into the wrong place.
Except you don’t sneak into The Dive. You can’t. Ahmya The Bouncer (full legal name) wouldn’t let anyone even near the door if they looked the slightest bit shady. So this kid was here, in the changing room for the fighters, on purpose. Which wasn’t worrying at all.
Heaving out a deep sigh, Ohta dumped their wraps down next to them on the bench and opened their mouth to say something to the kid before they were interrupted by footsteps making their way towards the door to their left.
It swung open, wafting in the stench that always came off that one sleazy coach/sponsor/manager who tended to the newbies who had no idea what they were doing. Ohta had snapped his finger within their first five minutes of meeting.
“You’re up, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
And with that the taller-than-expected kid stood up and followed the walking trashbag out to the cage.
Oh this was not going to go well.
~
Ohta doesn’t usually hate being right.
The kid - a boy going by the name of Dabi as announced by the walking trashbag - had started off pretty decent. He had a powerful fire quirk and it was obvious that he had had some training before. But the training he had been given was professional. It was sculpted. Clearly designed to be used in open spaces where he had the advantage. That kind of style was only taught by arrogant assholes who refused to think about every scenario, refused to believe they could lose.
So of course he wasn’t ready.
The kid started off strong, throwing flames left and right that kept the air bending opponent at a safe distance. But it didn't last long. The broad man he was fighting had quickly given up on using his quirk, knowing that it would only be an advantage to his combatant in a fight like this, opting to instead turn to the throwing knives he had hidden in his pockets. Within thirty seconds, the kid had two knives embedded in his arm and calf. Another minute got him a slash across the face just above where his scars ended.
The fight finished at seven minutes and sixty three seconds.
The kid was unconscious and bleeding when they carried him out to the medical tent set up in the corner. ‘Medical tent’ was a generous term as the people in there just made sure the downed fighters didn’t bleed out or anything and waited for them to wake up so they could kick them out.
When the kid did eventually wake up and the workers did in fact kick him out, Ohta was waiting in the alley at the back of the stationary shop for him. When he stepped past Ahmya The Bouncer out into the dead of night, he instantly stiffened upon spotting Ohta leaning against the opposite wall. The pair were in a silent standoff for the better part of two minutes before Ohta broke the tension.
“That was stupid.”
His hackles were immediately raised. “Excuse me?” There was venom laced in his kind of squeaky voice but it was half-hearted at best. Probably because of the dried blood stuck around his many open wounds causing him to wince every couple of seconds as he pulled on them. Still, that didn’t seem to deter him from lighting a flame in his palm at a poor attempt at a threat.
“I said that was stupid,” Ohta repeated, “your technique was practised but unfit for the environment. You were going into a pit of rabid animals with a whistle and a chew toy thinking they were going to listen to you.”
The kid scowled and was about to spit out a rebuttal before Ohta cut him off.
“Am I right in thinking that you’re gonna come back here?” The hesitance in his posture was answer enough. Ohta sighed. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, son-”
“Don’t call me son!” he shouted, flames roaring in his hands and a dangerous expression on his face.
Okay. Sore spot.
“What I’m trying to say is that you’re gonna keep coming back, I know you are, and you’re gonna keep fighting like you do cause it’s all you know. Which means that sooner or later you’re gonna get yourself killed. Don’t even try and argue cause I’m right.”
His mouth clicked shut.
He seemed to grind his teeth for a minute in thought before speaking again. “Maybe you are right. But why are you telling me? Don’t tell me that you care cause I know that’s not true and frankly I don’t want to throw up again.”
He was right. They didn’t care. He was just some random kid that was in over his head. They had no reason to be talking to him right now. Except…
“You’re skilled. I can tell that fighting comes natural to you but you’ve never had anyone competent enough to hone your skills to a technique that works for you. In all environments. I guess you could say I’m curious is all. You have the capability to be a fucking good fighter if you had the right coach. And I’m getting bored with just fighting shitstains who can’t hold a fight to save their life.”
“Wait, you’re saying-” The kid scoffed, cutting himself off. “You’re crazy, Jellyfish. I don’t need you’re fucking help. I’m fine on my own.”
He hobbled out the alleyway, one arm plastered to his side to try and stave off the blood that had started trickling down it again after reopening at some point.
Ohta let him go.
~
A week later, the kid - Dabi - had entered into two more fights in the cage. After his third official fight had left him thoroughly bruised, missing multiple of his crusty staples, and with skin flapping off in different places, he approached Ohta in the changing room when they had finished up a fight of their own right after his.
He stood in front of them, hands clenched at his side as he determinedly tried to ignore the multitude of injuries covering his body. They waited for him to speak and raised one eyebrow in expectation when he said nothing.
He sighed. “Alright, fine. Maybe you were right.”
Ohta huffed lightly as the side of their mouth twitched upwards. “I always am. Come on,” they gestured with a nod of their head towards the door whilst picking up their bag, “let’s go get you cleaned up. Then we can start your training.”
~*~
“Oi, Voice Box!”
Bakugou’s voice resonated in the apartment, reaching Hitoshi’s room where he was sat doing homework at his desk. He sighed heavily, mentally reminding himself to apologise to his dads for his friend’s behaviour before standing up and making his way to the front door as slowly as possible just to piss the blonde boy off.
The sound of fists thudding on the door just made him walk even slower until he eventually made his way to the entrance.
“Hmph, took you long enough,” Bakugou huffed out as he passed Hitoshi, walking into the home as if it were his own. “Got any food?” he asked whilst toeing off his shoes in their usual spot.
“...Hello to you too,” Hitoshi mumbled and swung the door shut.
It had been like this for weeks now. Ever since Bakugou had met his dads, Hitoshi had had to deal with him barging into his home, eating their food, using their TV, yelling at the top of his voice and making the neighbours hate him. But Hitoshi guessed it was kinda his fault for saying that he could come over whenever - which had apparently meant everyday after school.
But it wasn’t like Hitoshi was complaining.
Sure, outwardly he was a dick and cursed out his friend for being such a nuisance. But no one had to know that he made sure there was enough snacks in the cupboard before Bakugou came round. Or that he had a list of movies on his phone that he thought that Bakugou might like so they could watch them together. Or that on the days that he came over, Hitoshi’s insomnia would be just that little bit better that night.
No one had to know. Except his Old Man.
“Toshi, if that boy wakes me up from my nap one more time he’s not allowed over anymore,” his dad piped up from where he had just walked into the kitchen. He added a pointed glance to the end of his sentence whilst Bakugou’s back was turned, the hidden meaning behind it obvious to Hitoshi: I know how much you wouldn’t want that.
Hitoshi just sent a glare his way before following his friend into the living room.
Bakugou had apparently heard the threat and responded with, “Pfft, just learn to sleep better,” whilst kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.
The spiky-haired boy’s reverence for the status of Hitoshi’s parents had quickly vanished after the first time he came over. Hitoshi guessed seeing one Pro Hero in comfy joggers and the other spill ramen all down his shirt kinda ruined the illusion. He just sighed at his friend’s behaviour and plopped down onto the sofa next to him, fishing the remote from under legs with a grimace at the pain from where he had sat on it.
“My choice today.”
“Wha- why?!”
“Because it’s my house and I said so. Also you put your feet on the table so you don’t get an opinion. Heathen.”
Bakugou grumbled with a glare on his face which was made redundant by the fact that he took his socked feet off the coffee table and curled them under his lap. Hitoshi smirked.
The intro to ‘Love in Limbo’, a popular new romcom that had been released a couple months ago, played out through the speakers whilst a recognisable scene filled the TV screen. Bakugou groaned loudly from beside Hitoshi.
“Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t. I just love to watch you suffer, Dandelion.”
Hitoshi grinned wickedly at his best friend, revelling in the disgruntled glare he got in return. He loved to wind the blonde boy up in any way that he could, whether that was with verbal taunts, physical jabs like poking his arm or tripping him up, or with stuff like this, where he could watch as the displeasure rolled off him palpably. The way that Bakugou reacted to every little tease or the way he rose to Hitoshi’s every goad, filled the purple-haired boy with unparalleled glee. Satisfaction filled his veins with every glare and yell that was tossed back in his face.
Hitoshi knew that if he verbalised these feelings to anyone else, that they wouldn’t understand.
Because it wasn’t the rage that filled Bakugou’s piercing red eyes that he loved. It was the softness that clouded over them afterwards.
You wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t looking, but Hitoshi was. Ever since they started hanging out, Hitoshi was always watching, waiting, for the moment when Bakugou would snap. When he would scream at him, call him a villain, tell him that he could never be a Hero. When he would walk away. Because that’s what everyone did. What everyone has ever done.
So Hitoshi watched. He searched for that look that would let him know that his friend hated him just like everyone else did. He had waited for months for it to appear. Each time he used his quirk, Hitoshi would think, This is it. This is what pushes him over that line. And each time it never came. So he looked more closely. And he found something else.
Whenever Hitoshi would taunt or tease or jab at Bakugou, the boy would get mad. But then he’d wait until he thought Hitoshi wasn’t looking, and he’d smile. Just for a fraction of a second, his lips would pull up at the right side of his mouth causing a small dimple to appear on his cheek. It had taken a while for Hitoshi to spot it but once he did, he started noticing other things.
Like the fact that even when Bakugou got royally pissed off at Hitoshi cause he was being a prick, he never activated his quirk. Sure, he used it a bunch when sparring - it was an extension of himself. It seemed as if it came as naturally to him as walking did. But off the mats? Not once did Bakugou let off even a little spark, no matter how mad he got.
Or the fact that whenever he raised his voice, he would catch himself and hesitate for a split second before coughing and lowering it back down. Hitoshi used to think that his voice was just rough from yelling so much but he quickly learnt that it was just a distraction to cover the fact that his tone shifted.
But none of those little things could hold a candle to his eyes.
Bakugou always expressed his emotions in his eyes, Hitoshi found. He would glare, he would squint, he would roll them. They say some people wear their heart on their sleeve but Bakugou hid his in his eyes. The taunts would earn Hitoshi furrowed brows and red eyes filled with annoyance.The physical prods and pokes would earn him yelps and big, wide, red eyes that spoke of disbelief. The purposefully questionable tastes in movies would earn him scoffs and red eyes pointed upwards in exasperation.
And after every single one of those emotions that Bakugou showed so openly, his eyes would soften. Harsh red irises turned into gentle ruby stars, shining just enough to make the whole atmosphere brighten the tiniest amount. It was only ever for a second, never enough to get a good look but just enough to notice. Well, for Hitoshi to notice anyway. Hitoshi saw it every single time.
And Kami, what he wouldn’t do to see it a million more.
“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna sit here silently, you do know that, Voice Box?”
Hitoshi was pulled from his own head by Bakugou’s gruff tone, an eyebrow raised at his own question.
“Oi! Don’t go to sleep on me, dude. I’m not fucking watching this chick flick by myself!”
Hitoshi scoffs. “As if you wouldn’t love that. I’ve seen you read at least three different shoujo mangas.”
The sound of the movie is quickly drowned out by loud threats and louder laughter.
And then Hitoshi’s world gets a little bit brighter.
~
Katsuki had already gotten up to get popcorn, drinks, crisps, and an extra blanket at different points in the movie, just to try and get away from the cheesy plot and bad acting. He had even been to the toilet three times to try and escape it. But no matter his efforts, Katsuki had to admit that it wasn’t working. Everytime that he would leave the couch, he would turn up his hearing aids to catch what the characters were saying on screen. He would hurry to grab whatever he was grabbing as quickly as possible, then walk back into the living area at a normal speed, hiding his hastiness and discreetly turning his hearing aids back down.
There was no denying it. Katsuki couldn’t keep lying to himself any longer, especially since he was gripping the sofa cushions when the love interest drove away in his car.
He was hooked.
It was so fucking stupid! The storyline was shit, the actors were terrible, and Katsuki didn’t even want to think about the writing. And yet he kept finding himself strangely invested in what was going to happen next. He hated it! There was no way that Bakugou Katsuki was actually enjoying a romcom and not throwing up in his mouth.
But the main girl had just taken up a job in the city and the main guy had lashed out and left her stranded outside a mediocre restaurant. So obviously Katuski had to know what was going to happen that was going to somehow redeem this jackass.
Another ten minutes go by with Katsuki’s eyes plastered to the screen when the girl forgives the guy after a half-assed gesture with flowers and a necklace.
“She can’t do that! He was an asshole to her!” Katsuki yelled indignantly at the TV before immediately releasing his mistake and freezing in place. He could already feel the smug look creeping up on Shinsou’s face before he dared to look over.
“Oh? He was, was he? Tell me more about that, Dandelion.” Shinsou was smirking pointedly at Katsuki as the teasing words left his mouth.
Katsuki could feel the heat rising to his face. He didn’t know if it was out of embarrassment, anger, or something else entirely, but he knew that it was Shinsou’s fault. Which is why the cushion he threw at the purple mop was perfectly justified.
“Shut the fuck up, Voice Box!” he shouted, “And yes! He was! That was a complete dick move and you know it!”
The only response Katsuki got was the muffled sound of cackles coming from behind the cushion he had just thrown. The second cushion just seemed to spur on his perpetually tired friend who seemed to have overcome his usual drowsiness to laugh at Katsuki’s expense.
“Alright, that’s it!”
~
“...I don’t even want to know.”
Hits Old Man spoke up from behind the couch. Instantly, Hitoshi bolted upright from where he had been laying on the floor. The move also pushed Bakugou onto the rug, sprawled on his back, since he had been trying to smother Hitoshi with a cushion at the time. The blonde boy let out an ‘oof’ as his back hit the floor but Hitoshi was more focused on the state that the living area had ended up in.
There were blankets and cushions tossed across the floor and sofas. An upturned bowl of popcorn lay discarded on the rug, the remains of uneaten popcorn and unpopped kernels strewn out beside it. Hitoshi saw that Bakugou had crisp crumbs in his hair and he no doubt did too. Luckily, their drinks had both been finished a while ago so the empty glasses sat undisturbed on the coffee table which had been pushed forward at some point, causing the rug to bunch up in places. ‘Love in Limbo’ still played on the TV, the only sound to break the silence being the overdramatic soundtrack layered behind the main characters crying at each other over something arbitrary.
“We’ll clean it up,” Hitoshi said after almost a full minute of no one moving an inch.
“What do you mean WE-”
Hitoshi shut up Bakugou’s loud protest with a cushion to the face. He had lost count of how many times the two of them had done that to each other just that day. Hitoshi was pretty sure he was winning though.
His Old Man’s eyes darted between the two teenagers before huffing and moving into the kitchen to grab himself a coffee. Hitoshi let out a sigh of relief before turning to face his friend.
“Well,” he said dejectedly as he stood up, “come on, Dandelion. We gotta get this cleaned up quickly if you wanna see the end of that romcom.”
“I DON’T-”
~
Hitoshi had just finished putting the empty popcorn and crisp bowl in the dishwasher when he walked back into the living area to find Bakugou sat bundled up in a blanket on the sofa, remote in hand. There were two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table. One in front of Bakugou and one in front of the empty space next to him.
Without turning towards him, Bakugou started speaking in a voice just a bit quieter than his usual brash tone. “My turn to pick this time. And no, we’re not watching another stupid chick flick.”
Hitoshi chuckled as he sat down in his spot, grabbing his mug from the table on the way down. “Stupid? Don’t try and play dumb, I know what you are.”
He had made sure to keep his tone light and teasing but for some reason Bakugou shifted almost imperceptibly in place, seemingly nervous about something. “Oh yeah? And what’s that, Voice Box?” he asked, still not looking at Hitoshi.
“A massive sop who loves romance,” Hitoshi smirked, internally sighing in relief when Bakugou relaxed once more.
The blonde huffed lightly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, you wish.”
Hitoshi froze.
Bakugou’s eyes widened.
“Wha-”
“THE GHOST OF KASHIHARA!!”
Bakugou’s sudden burst sent Hitoshi reeling back slightly in his seat, eyes blinking wide.
“I- what?”
“What?” Bakugou sneered, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks, “scared of a little ghost story? Figured you would have loved watching a movie about your own creepy kind.”
“Oh haha,” Hitoshi deadpanned in response, forgetting all about the weird exchange. For the moment. “Just play the film. That is, if you’re not too scared, Ka-tsu-ki~”
Hitoshi revelled in the dumbfounded look that came over his friend’s face, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water before quickly composing himself and yelling obscenities like normal. The TV made a low ringing sound as the movie started to play, both boys quieting as they pulled up their feet onto the sofa to situate themselves more comfortably.
~
An apprehensive tension had been building in the movie as well as in the living room for a good twenty minutes when Katsuki noticed Shinsou shuffling closer. He kept moving closer as the soundtrack started to pick up in intensity, hinting at a jumpscare of some sorts. Eventually, Shinsou had shimmied his way over so that one of his legs was underneath Katsuki’s blanket.
That motherfucker! He’s trying to steal my blanket!
Instantly, Katsuki yanked it towards himself and away from the other boy. Shinsou turned to him with an affronted expression on his face, grabbing at the other end and pulling it back. The tug of war continued in silence as the two attempted to not break the atmosphere that the movie had created.
Ultimately it was in vain since the first jumpscare of the movie caused them to both yelp loudly, and let go of the blanket altogether. There were heavy breaths filling the air as they both tried to compose themselves once more, ignoring the fact that they had screamed like little girls at a translucent head poking out of a wall.
They ended up sharing the blanket.
~
Katsuki was trying to focus on the movie. He really was! It’s just that, since the blanket wasn’t the biggest and the warmth from their hot chocolates had worn off, Katsuki and Shinsou were sat quite close. He didn’t mind at all! You’d have to be a fucking dickhead to care about sitting close to your best friend.
Except that’s all he could think about.
Katsuki would start getting into the movie, paying attention to the plot and watching out for any upcoming jumpscares, and then he’d feel the brush of Shinsou’s hand or leg against his own and his mind would latch onto it like a cat to a laser. He didn’t have any particular thoughts about it, no opinions on whether the contact was good or bad, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was driving him nuts. He just wanted to actually watch the movie that he had picked out and prove to Shinsou that he wasn’t fucking scared.
It seemed that the world hated him though. Because at the next jumpscare, Shinsou flinched in his seat and grabbed onto Katsuki’s hand under the blanket. Neither of them said a word and they didn’t dare look at each other, but ever so slowly and cautiously, Katsuki shifted his fingers to hold onto Shinsou’s hand properly, clasping it in his own.
The movie continued to play and Katsuki continued to pretend to pay attention, knowing that it was useless to try and attempt to do so for real now that all he was thinking about was the soft palm held against his own. He really didn’t have an opinion on the contact, merely offering comfort to his friend that was scared. He was probably only doing it to make fun of Shinsou afterwards for how much of a wimp he was. Yeah, that was it. Katsuki was just proving a point. That’s all it was, there was no need to think about it anymore than that.
Katsuki kept repeating that same thought in his head over and over, hoping that it might become more truthful.
~
The continuous whirring sound of a coffee machine filtered through Katsuki’s foggy brain. It was at such a pitch that his hearing aids were only able to just pick it up, but that was enough to annoy Katsuki. Annoy him so much that it pulled him from the groggy state of half-sleep he was in.
He blearily blinked his eyes open to try and locate the source of the goddamn electronic buzzing noise, only to be met with the menu screen of ‘The Ghost of Kashihara’ shining onto him and blinding him for a second as he got his bearings. Katsuki craned his neck up from where it was tucked into something comfortable, only to find Shinsou’s dad staring down at him ominously from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand.
Given the setting and the person Katsuki knew Aizawa to be, the sight should have been terrifying. Except Katsuki knew Aizawa well enough that his sinister aura had been dampened somewhat by bright pink joggers and a soft spot for cats. That just meant that it wasn’t terrifying though; having your best friend’s dad staring at you in the almost pitch blackness of his apartment is still pretty freaky.
The two maintained eye contact for what seemed like forever, neither moving a muscle, before Aizawa spoke softly, “thank you.”
Katsuki’s brows furrowed. “For what?” he whispered. He wasn’t quite sure why he was whispering but it just felt like the right thing to do.
Aizawa nodded in the direction of the couch with a barely-there smile on his lips. “It can take forever to get him to sleep that peacefully this early in the night.”
It was then that Katsuki looked down to see that he was practically completely on top of Shinsou, the blanket a half-tangled mess between them. One of his hands was still clasped in Shinsou’s, if not a bit more loosely now. The other lay gently on the taller boy’s chest. He could feel the rise and fall of his even breaths moving his ribcage beneath Katsuki’s fingers. Their legs had moved up onto the couch at some point and were now entwined together in a way that really should have been uncomfortable but surprisingly was not.
Katsuki was about to shift his body, already feeling the blush rising up his neck to his cheeks by the second, when Aizawa’s voice stopped him.
“If he wakes up, it will be your fault and there will be consequences.”
He froze in place.
With a satisfied smirk on his lips, Aizawa took his steaming coffee mug down the hallway to where Katuski knew his and Yamada’s room was, leaving him in the… precarious situation by himself. Well, not completely by himself.
Katsuki turned to look at Shinsou’s face in the dark, only being lit up on the side facing the TV that was still on. He studied the different features that he had noticed before when they hung out but never had time to fully appreciate. Like the very faint freckles that were dusted across his nose and cheeks. And the eyebags that were a permanent fixture on his face somehow seemed less intense than usual. His lips were parted slightly as air was pushed out of them with each breath.
When Katsuki realised that he had been staring creepily at his friend’s face for way longer than what was considered appropriate, he had two other realisations.
The first, was that this was not how friend’s typically acted or felt around each other. He didn’t really have the best experience in that area, he will admit, given that the only friends he’s actually had were dumb extras who used to follow him around in past years at elementary and middle school. And Izuku. So not exactly the best examples but Katsuki wasn’t stupid. He knew that there was a distinct difference between platonic feelings and… not-platonic feelings.
Which led to his second realisation - he was totally and decisively fucked.
But he was also tired. And he really didn’t want to deal with that shit right now, whilst currently lying on top of the source of his problems. So he mentally decided that that would be an issue for a more awake Katsuki tomorrow, and laid his head back down to where it was previously placed - in the crook of Shinsou’s shoulder. It was comfy.
Notes:
I had an idea for how this chapter was going to end and then just decided to make it 1000% fluffier with everything beforehand. This chapter was a bit out of my comfort zone writing wise so I really hope I conveyed the double gay crisis well enough lol
I've got a snow day off from college today and I'm gonna spend it writing the next chapter (whilst drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate)
Feel free to leave comments! I love reading all of them <3
Chapter 18: Unstylish Fedoras
Summary:
More of Dabi and Ohta as well as Izuku having several existential crises
Notes:
100,000 WORDS!!!! AAHHHHH I'm so excited to post this chapter! I know I said I'd post this on the 27th but oh well it's out now!
Once again this chapter hasn't been beta read so please forgive any spelling or grammar mistakes
Happy reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Oof!”
Dabi’s back hit the floor with a resounding thud, his breath forced from his lungs in a harsh wheeze. Ohta-sensei had been training him for almost a year now and Kami was it a tough year. Granted, it wasn’t as tough as when he was at home with him but that wasn’t difficult. Dabi had quickly learned that Ohta-sensei didn’t tolerate slacking or tardiness at all and would be rewarded for such behaviour, not with beatings or relentless training until he threw up and then some, but with longer hours that were actually useful to him.
Although, that doesn’t mean it didn’t tire him out until every muscle in his body was screaming at him.
“Again.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” the white-haired fifteen year old grumbled. They had been sparring for close to an hour now and Dabi felt like his arms were about to fall out of their sockets. Which, he will admit, was an improvement from when he had started training with Ohta-sensei. Back then, it used to feel like his arms had already been set on fire and chopped off with a hacksaw.
He was back on his feet quickly, fists settling into their familiar place by his head. A beat passed and then the two were flying at each other. Hands and feet moved elegantly across the mats as they engaged in a dance of ferocity. Dabi’s quirk activated in small increments, adding more and more power to each attack he threw. Fire covered fists flew through the air towards Ohta-sensei, each one shooting out a controlled flame at the last possible second, and each one missing their target by a hair. It didn’t matter how long the pair had been training together, Dabi could rarely land a hit on Ohta-sensei. Their reflexes were off the charts and Dabi’s ingrained instinct was to be loud and abrasive. Power over stealth. Which was a shit technique when fighting someone who could hear your every. Single. Move.
Once again, Dabi found himself on his back with Ohta-sensei standing above him, a slight smirk on their face.
“Alright, that’s enough sparring for today,” they said, “I want to try something new to help you with your stealth.”
Dabi groaned. “You know I’m shit at stealth! This isn’t going to go well,” he grunted as he stood up, “I think you’re just trying to torture me.”
Ohta-sensei just grinned in response then stepped off the slightly raised mats onto the linoleum floor of the gym. The spacious training room of the commercial gym that Ohta-sensei used to work at was filled with artificial light and the stench of sweat permeating the air. Apparently, the staff never made Ohta-sensei give back their keys after they quit so it had become the perfect space for the pair to train after hours. Especially since they never checked the security feed unless an incident happened and even then, they never bothered to check the overnight footage.
Dabi watched as Ohta-sensei made their way over to a pile of assorted objects in the corner and started picking their way through it. He took that as his cue to follow and hopped down after them, hands in his pockets as he stood lazily watching them.
“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen,” they started whilst chucking various objects across the floor, “I’m gonna use my quirk to turn my hearing down, a bit below the average human’s. Then, I’m gonna stand over here at the edge of the room with a tennis ball. Your job is to walk from that end of the room,” they pointed at the wall opposite them, “to this end, without me hitting you with the ball.”
Dabi gaped at them. “You can’t be serious.” Ohta-sensei was silent. “You’re serious,” he scoffed, “how can you actually believe that I have any chance at this? You’re literally like a walking radar!” Ohta-sensei just raised their eyebrows. Dabi huffed and grumbled as he made his way over to the starting position.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Ten minutes later, Dabi had about twelve new bruises from an annoying bright fucking green tennis ball. He groaned internally when, once again, the ball hit his body. Except this time he hissed in a sharp intake of breath right afterwards as pain bloomed from his arm. He could feel the blood trickling down his skin from where one of his staples had dislodged from its place. In an instant, Ohta-sensei was moving across the room to grab their first aid kit, sitting Dabi on the edge of the sparring mats and ordering him to take off his shirt.
~
“You need some new staples,” Ohta-sensei said after silently patching up Dabi’s arm, a bandage wrapped tightly around it to keep it in place, “these ones are getting rusty. I’ll grab some at the shop tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” Dabi mumbled. He could feel Ohta-sensei studying him from where they sat. There was no way to actually tell when they did it, no signs that gave it away, but Dabi could always feel it. A prickling sensation under his skin that let him know he was being scrutinised.
“What are you thinking about?” they eventually asked, a curious lilt to their tone.
Dabi scoffed. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well which is it? Is it nothing or is it something that I don’t have to worry about?”
“Both. Nothing that you don’t have to worry about.”
The silence that followed was almost suffocating, stretching into what felt like hours until Dabi broke.
“Alright, fine! Kami, you’re an asshole,” he muttered, knowing it would do nothing to stop them from hearing. “I was just thinking about the fucking egotistical idiots who call themselves Heroes.”
Ohta-sensei sighed. “This again?”
“I don’t get why you’re not on my side with this! You know how corrupt the Hero system is and-”
“Exactly.” Ohta-sensei cut off the start of a long tangent. “The Hero system is corrupt. That doesn’t mean that all Heroes are bad. They still save people and do what they can to protect others.”
“Except they don’t! They don’t do what they can, they do the bare fucking minimum that won’t get them fired but just enough to make them famous! That’s all any of them fucking care about! Fame and money and power. They’re power hungry, self-absorbed bullies, who are praised for their flashy quirks and nothing more!”
Dabi’s breathing was ragged as he realised that he had stood up from the mats at some point. Ohta-sensei sat silently in the same spot, an unreadable expression on their face.
“We’re done training for the day. Come back in a couple days when you’ve cooled off a bit.”
Dabi huffed and stomped over to his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and ignoring the pang of pain it sent shooting up his arm. The cold night air that hit his face when he stepped out the doors did nothing to temper the quiet anger simmering just below the surface but he tried to calm down anyways. He wasn’t going to be like him. He could control his emotions. He wouldn’t lash out. He wouldn’t.
~*~
Izuku could hear the empty can flying towards his head but knew it was pointless to dodge. That would just make her more mad. And so he stood still, accepting his fate and hoping that the mindless act of pretty much harmless violence would help calm Mei down. The can made contact with his forehead, clanging as it fell to the wooden floor between his feet.
“Stop being an idiot!”
Nope. Didn’t work. Izuku sighed.
“Mei-”
“No!” she yelled from where she was lounged on the sofa in the corner, “you’re being a moron and it’s annoying me!”
The two had been chatting mindlessly whilst Izuku tried to improve his technique with the capture scarf. He had gotten relatively better with the weapon over the past couple of months, now able to grab a hold of larger objects if he concentrated. Still, he knew it wasn’t nearly enough to be effective during a fight. At some point in their conversation, Mei had suggested getting someone to help him train with it. Someone who knew what they were doing. Izuku had given her his best attempt at a deadpan stare at that, a little disappointed in her for such an obvious ploy to get him to talk to Eraser again. He had gone back to practising his technique whilst they bickered back and forth about why it was such a terrible idea.
But then Izuku had made a mistake. He had slipped up and said that Eraser probably didn’t even care that he was gone. That he was probably thankful for the time away from the vigilante. And thus, can met head.
“How is it possible for someone to be so smart and such a bonehead at the same time?!”
“Yes, Mei, thank you. I get it.”
“But you don’t though!” she whined, “you can’t get it through your thick skull that people might actually care about you! So stop being a big idiotic baby, use some critical thinking skills, and go talk to your dad!”
“Mei!” Izuku’s disbelieving tone and affronted expression prompted his best friend to burst out in cackles and almost fall off the sofa. She continued to laugh hysterically for so long that Izuku could feel the beginnings of a chuckle rising up in his throat. A particularly harsh laugh sent Mei toppling onto the floor and Izuku broke. The training room filled with ear-splitting roars of laughter as the two teenagers held their stomachs as the hilarity overcame them.
They didn’t even know what they were laughing at, but every time they were able to calm down, they would only be able to sit in silence for a few seconds before immediately falling into another fit of laughter. The two continued this cycle until they physically couldn’t laugh anymore for fear of passing out. After a full minute of just lying on the floor in silence, Izuku spoke up to Mei on the other side of the training room.
“He’s not my dad.”
“He so is.”
“Meeeeeei,” Izuku whined petulantly.
“He is! You have to admit he acts like your dad with how much he checks up on you. He brings you snacks on your patrol, for Oni’s sake!”
Izuku sighed. Partially at the fact that he had spent so much time with Mei that she had picked up the habits that he had picked up from Akari, but mostly at the fact that he knew she wasn’t going to let this go.
“Giving someone snacks doesn’t make you their dad. It just makes you concerned about their calorie intake.”
“Aha! So you admit he’s concerned about you!”
Izuku froze, processing his own words.
…Damnit.
“Anyway,” he quickly changed the subject, “I gotta do some research then patrol so…” He made a shooing motion towards the door prompting Mei to groan from her place on the floor.
“You just don’t want to admit I’m right. But fine,” she lamented, pushing herself up to her feet, “I’ll leave you and your little bubble of denial in peace. But don’t come crying to me when you realise that you’ve basically been adopted already!” The last sentence was called over her shoulder as she walked out into the hallway and down the stairs. Izuku was just grabbing his things from where they were strewn across the floor when he heard Mei turn around and quickly bound back up the stairs, poking her head back through the doorway of the training room. “You know I’m just kidding, right? You can always come crying to me even if you just stubbed your toe. Got it? Good.”
And with that she turned and bolted out the gym, not letting Izuku respond in any way before she did. Izuku shook his head in a chuckle at his friend’s antics as he continued cleaning up his mess.
~
A sigh left Izuku’s lips, swinging his legs onto the sofa and leaning back against the armrest. His laptop warmed his thighs as he powered it up whilst plugging in his earphones. He knew that Mei was right. Not about the dad thing!! Fuck, definitely not about that, he thought, ignoring the niggling feeling of dishonesty in the back of his mind. No, but Mei was right in saying that he needed someone to help him with his capture scarf. He was good at teaching himself skills, he’d done it for years. But for something so technical yet instinctual, he could really do with a coach. And there was literally only one person for the job.
Izuku groaned into the palms of his hands, knowing what he had to do but dreading that he had to do it. Eraser was haunting his thoughts. He just couldn’t think of the man without Hitoshi's face popping into his head followed by a daunting sense of guilt. Izuku regretted never searching for his friend after they got separated. When Ohta-sensei had taken him in, it had been so terrifying yet unbelievable that it had overpowered the need to find Hitoshi. Mind you, that never stopped the thought of what might have happened to his friend from plaguing his mind.
With a shake of his head and another sigh, Izuku pushed those thoughts to a corner of his mind that he had long since labelled “shit for when I’m less tired”. That corner was seldom visited. Instead, he focused on the laptop in front of him. It had been a while since Izuku had sat down and done some research from the comfort of his own home. Sure, it took longer to get information and he had to navigate through less-than-legal sites and chatrooms with only his earphones to guide him but a lot of the time he found more detailed accounts of what’s been happening in Musutafu - criminals that he had beaten up and put into zip-ties surprisingly didn’t want to give up much info, especially when they're unconscious.
And so Izuku strapped in for a long night of research, fingers flying across the keyboard, letting muscle memory and his earphones guide him to the right places. He had found a chatroom a while ago that had been very fruitful in its information on Steel dealers. Some idiots had created it with a basic circuit-level gateway that hadn’t been updated since it was created and had so many holes in it that it was practically a fucking colander. It was child’s play for Izuku to find the right opening and work his way in, giving him access to the latest news on Musutafu’s dumbest drug dealers.
After a couple of hours of searching through multiple different black market sites and hidden forums, Izuku had come to a concerning conclusion.
Steel was rapidly becoming a popular resource for criminal activity.
Beforehand, it was only really used for private usage, with the occasional moron who thought they could take on a fucking Top-Tenner with just an added bonus of impermeable skin. Now though? Now it seemed it was almost exclusively being sold for crime, usually for larger groups of people that chose to take on a big job such as bank robbery, arson or trafficking.
It didn’t take a lot of thinking to reason that the rise in popularity and usage was likely due to the directorate, specifically Giudice. The man ran the drugs distribution in all of Shizuoka and Izuku had suspicions that he outsourced to other parts of Japan as well, even as far as the Miyagi and Nagasaki prefectures if he was right. There was no way that Steel’s resurgence wasn’t directly because of the fedora-wearing cannon-shooting twat.
But that didn’t explain everything. Izuku knew that there had to be a reason that Giudice wanted such a fast uprise in Steel’s consumption. To be able to manufacture, trade and distributions that quickly took a lot of effort and money to accomplish. Sure, if it worked it turned around a large profit, but it was risky. Too risky to be considered not peculiar.
Izuku rubbed at his temples, pissed off at the headache that his findings were causing him. He stretched out his limbs when he stood up off the sofa, leaving his laptop and earphones behind. The only way that he was going to get the answers that he needed was the old-fashioned way.
As his heavy boots moved quietly across the office carpet on his way to the rooftop, Izuku distantly noticed the layer of dust started to accumulate on the furniture. He made a mental note to clean the room some time soon whilst he started off in a jog over to the rooftop to his left, picking up speed when his feet left the ledge in a leap. It would be careless to let the place get dirty.
~
It didn’t take long for Izuku’s ears to find a deal in progress. Landing on one so fast left a bittersweet taste in his mouth as his feet pounded against the uneven rooftop gravel.
Izuku crouched at the lip of the apartment building rooftop, listening intently to a distinctly American-accented voice berating a seemingly young woman who was trembling all over like a leaf. She was obviously terrified of the man who was scolding her… selling abilities? Ah, she must have been a naive dealer hired by the Giudice Crime Family whose skills weren’t up to par. Izuku wasn’t quite sure why she was so scared, though. The gun holstered in the man’s pocket spoke of either a weaker quirk, or of a quirk that required weaponry much like the number 25 Pro, Snipe and the ex-Pro, Lady Nagant.
Izuku had done extensive research on her and Hawks when he had started out his vigilante work. Ohta-sensei would always talk of the corruption within the HPSC and once he was… on his own… Izuku had decided to check it out for himself. He didn’t like what he found. It had taken a while since his technological skills were severely lacking at the time but he had found that many thugs and low-level criminals would tell you just about anything to avoid a knife to the foot. And no matter how much the HPSC tried to cover up their dirty work, the underground always found out, especially when it came to Heroes.
But he was getting distracted. He could tackle the corrupt government and law enforcement when he wasn’t out on patrol. Maybe when he was on break at the library, though.
The young woman was now shaking more than ever and the man with an unstylish fedora had raised his voice even more, his left hand reaching towards his thigh where the gun was holstered. Izuku figured he should probably step in at this point. His feet soundlessly landed on the concrete, his knees staying bent as he reached behind himself and unlatched his jo. The dealer must have visibly noticed his entrance because Izuku heard the American turning to face him. Izuku instantly acted, striking the man on the back of the head before he could get a look at Izuku. His body hit the floor, fedora flying off his head in the process and landing in a nearby dumpster.
Izuku might have chuckled a little at that.
The young dealer had run the second that Izuku struck the soldato. He couldn’t be sure that the man was a soldato, but given the fact that he was wearing that god awful fedora, he was either a soldato, some higher form of made man - which was unlikely since they usually had much more important things to do - or just a pretentious associate that was trying to get himself killed. To be honest, Izuku didn’t really care. As long as he gave him information, it didn’t matter either way.
~
When the soldato finally came to, Izuku was leaning on the wall opposite him, watching as he took note of the uncomfortable position he was in. His arms and legs were bound with zip-ties around his wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles. His body was propped awkwardly against the rough brick wall of a knock-off boutique with his head lolled back from where Izuku had unceremoniously shoved it.
“Welcome back! Nice nap?” Izuku smiled with false cheer at the man, an underlying menace evident on his face.
The American shuddered in place before poorly steeling his face in an attempt at bravado. Izuku had to stifle a laugh at the obvious tremble in his lip.
“Akuma…” the man leered, half-heartedly.
Izuku dramatically placed a hand over his chest, his jaw dropped in excessive shock. “You’ve heard of me?! I’m flattered, honestly! Let me guess, you heard it from that fuckwit of a man you call a boss, huh?”
Plastic stretched under the strain of the soldato pulling against his restraints angrily, the sound of it grating in Izuku’s ears. “Jeez, dude,” he whined, “sore spot! I’ve got it!” Izuku hopped forward, crouching down in between the man’s legs with his elbows resting on his knees, head cocked to the side. “Now, I’ve got some questions and you, my friend, are going to answer them. You can choose not to, of course,” he flicked out a knife from one of his sheaths, “but I would highly discourage that.”
The soldato gulped audibly. Audibly to Izuku, anyway.
“Y-you…” he started, hesitating at Izuku’s curious pout, “you ain’t getting nothin’ out of me! I’m l-loyal to my b-boss!”
His attempt at confidence was greatly overshadowed by his quivering tone. Izuku could feel his dirtied dress shoes tapping against the concrete and vibrating up into his own boots. Yeah, this would be a piece of cake.
Izuku didn’t need to say anything, he just broadened his smile and toyed with the knife resting in his hand.
“I don’t even know anything man! I’m just an errand runner, I swear! A grunt worker!”
Izuku pointedly nodded his head as if looking the soldato’s suit up and down.
“...this isn’t even designer! I swear dude, I don’t know any-”
He was quickly shut up by Izuku’s knife grazing the light stubble on his chin.
“Are you gonna keep babbling lies? Or are you gonna let me ask my questions? Hmm?”
His jaw clacked shut.
“Good choice,” Izuku grinned.
He took the opportunity to shift into a sitting position, his legs crossed and arms splayed out back behind himself, one leaning on the floor, the other trapping his knife between his hand and the soldato’s leg. “So, how are you doing?”
A beat passed before Izuku lost composure and burst out in giggles. “I’m just fucking with you!” he gasped out between breaths, “no but seriously, why have you sped up Steel production?”
If Izuku could see colour, he was sure he would have seen all of it drain from the American’s face.
“Well come on, man,” he smiled, shifting his knife on the man’s legs, “don’t get quiet now!”
“W-well I-”
Izuku idly tapped his blade on the trousers where it was resting.
“I-it’s,” the soldato coughed, “it’s the Shie Hassaikai. Overhaul he… He’s trying to gain more power. The Directorate… they’re trying to stop him. Upping their operations to make sure he doesn’t overtake them. But that’s all I know! I swear, they don’t tell me shit. I just hear it from rumours. They don’t like their shit getting spread around.”
Izuku smiled insincerely at the man as his fist clenched around the leather handle of his knife. Overhaul… That must be the name of the fucker in the bird mask. It was a stupid name and hearing it was just fuel to the fire of annoyance burning inside the vigilante. He was really starting to piss Izuku off. Not quite as much as he did when he drove that spike through his leg but it was close. Izuku unconsciously contracted his thigh muscles at the memory.
Absently he realised that he had been sat still in front of the soldato for a good few minutes without saying anything, stewing in his own thoughts. The salty scent of sweat trickling down the man’s neck permeated Izuku’s nose. Huh, seemed as if him just sat silently smiling was a good intimidation tactic. He’d have to remember that.
In a flash, Izuku was back on his feet, crouching even closer to the restrained American with his knife dangerously close to his eye. He heard the familiar sound of a scared quick intake of breath and the quivering exhale leaving the same lips almost thirty seconds after. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he started, “you’re going to tell me everything you know about Overhaul. His operations, his goals, his fucking birthday, everything. Then, I’m going to knock you out again and let the police know where to find you. If you try to use any connections or bribery to evade arrest, I’m going to know. And I’m not gonna be happy.”
Izuku’s constant smile throughout the whole interaction had dropped the second he started talking, a cold expressionless look taking its place. He could hear the soldato’s heartbeat pulsing in his chest, moving at such a speed that Izuku might have been worried about his health if he hadn’t done this countless times before. For a made man, this guy really was a coward.
Maybe he was just a pretentious associate, Izuku mused.
“Or, you know, you could just not tell me anything. But then again,” Izuku dragged the tip of his blade down the man’s cheek until it rested at the base of his throat, “I really don’t think you wanna do that. Do you?”
The soldato didn’t move an inch so Izuku lightly pressed the tip in deeper, just enough to draw a single drop of blood. The soldato frantically nodded his head then, moving quickly enough for Izuku to notice but not in such a big movement that it would risk driving the knife in more.
“Good!” Izuku cheered, back to his smiley self as he jumped up to his feet and moved back to his original spot, leaning against the brick wall, “start talking.”
~
Half an hour later, Izuku watched from the rooftop as two officers had driven up to the alleyway where he had left the soldato and moved him into the back of their car. With the information that he had now, Izuku knew there was only one thing that he could do to have any chance of taking down the Directorate.
According to the mumbled ramblings of the petrified American, Overhaul had changed the Eight Precepts’ operations to fit his own crusade. The rest of the Directorate didn’t know much of the inner workings of the Eight Precepts. They didn’t even know about the outer workings. Overhaul was apparently very good at keeping his actions close to his chest. All anyone else knew was that whatever he was doing, was earning him a fuckton of money and a new flood of low-level criminals willing to work with him.
The soldato really hadn’t known that much but after some persuasive words, Izuku was able to pull out one more little piece of information from the man’s lips. A rumour that had been spread through hushed whispers in cramped back alleys between those high up enough to hear about it but lower down enough that they didn’t have the intelligence to not go spreading it around. Overhaul’s main mission. The reason that he was resurrecting the Yakuza and accumulating all this power.
The annihilation of quirks.
Izuku honestly didn’t know what to think of it. Surely, it couldn’t be possible, everyone had to know that. But then why were so many people willing to go along with the delusional cause? There had to be a reason. Some form of bribery or incentive that had thugs and thieves alike feeding into a neurotic man’s fantasies. Except no one knew what it was.
Which was how Izuku ended up here.
He hadn’t even meant to be here. His mind had been racing with the scraps of info he had received that his feet had been moving on autopilot, taking him wherever they saw fit. Which didn’t agree with Izuku’s mind. At least not his conscious one. He was lucky that his mind clicked back into place before he reached his destination but even when he realised where he was headed, Izuku let his body continue on, moving more discreetly than he had before.
When he finally got there, Izuku hid crouched underneath the lip of the rooftop, silently praying that the rusty old fire escape he was perched on wouldn’t make any noise under his weight. Because he was here. Izuku should have been surprised but he wasn’t. He knew the man too well that subconsciously, he already knew that he was going to be here before he found out for himself. He just didn’t get why.
Eraserhead sniffed lightly as he reached into his pocket and retrieved a juice pouch of some sort. If Izuku concentrated, he could smell the second juice pouch and packet of sweets sitting untouched in Eraser’s other pocket.
When Izuku first left Eraser’s apartment he had known. When he practised over and over with the capture weapon he had known. When Mei had pestered him for weeks on end he had known. When he heard of Overhaul’s increasing power and apparent end goal he had known. But the fact that Izuku had found Eraserhead here, on their rooftop? That was what really solidified it.
He was going to have to talk to him. And not just a little chat with discarded weapons and six feet of distance between them like they used to. A long and meaningful and important conversation. Izuku needed his help and if he was honest with himself, Izuku just wanted to speak with him again. He wanted the easy and light banter that would flow between them when they patrolled. He wanted the snacks that Eraser always brought with him whenever they met up. He wanted his friend back.
But not tonight.
Izuku wasn’t ready. He needed to build up to it, to mentally prepare himself for facing Hitoshi’s dad and pretending that he didn’t know who he was. Soon, but not now.
Notes:
Yayyy Izuku's finally got his head out his ass! But you know me, just cause he knows what he has to do doesn't mean he'll actually do it for a least a couple chapters :)
But we hit 100,000 words so I hope you guys can forgive me
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and feel free to leave comments!
Chapter 19: What's This? The Consequences Of My Actions Now?
Summary:
The end of Ohta's backstory (mostly. at least up until they meet Izuku)
Katsuki and Hitoshi have a Deep & Meaningful™
Notes:
This is the longest chapter I've written so far at 9326 words in total! And despite that it actually took less time to write than several of my other chapters.
The title is from the song Consequences by Lovejoy. The new album was released whilst I was writing this and I had it on repeat for basically the entire time I was writing so if you haven't listened to it yet, do!!
Once again I have to apologise that this chapter has not been beta-read. I wrote the majority of it within two days where I just sat in a Starbucks for hours and poured it all out lmao. Once it's on the screen I don't have the patience to find someone to agree to read over it and then wait for them to make edits cause I just wanna share it with you guys.
If anyone is interested in being a permanent beta-reader for any future chapters that I write I would really appreciate it :)
Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!! It might frustrate some since a couple of gay idiots are in fact idiots and don't see what's right in front of them :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ohta cringed as they heard the crunch from underneath the lizard woman’s fist as it made contact with Dabi’s nose. He was having a rough night in the cage since his opponent’s quirk gave her skin a natural resistance to heat. But even so, the kid was still just as quick and efficient as ever.
His sparring skills had greatly improved since he’d started training with Ohta and he now had a reputation at The Dive for being ruthless and methodical in his fighting. He ended matches quickly, hating to drag them out with how his quirk affected his body. Yet even with the drawback, Dabi’s proficiency with his fire was unparalleled when he was in the cage and his technique was exceptional. They would never admit it to his face, but Ohta was proud of how far the kid had come.
The two of them still argued often, though, despite how close they’d gotten over time. Every single disagreement always ended the same - with Dabi loudly berating all Pro Heroes and Ohta trying to explain the difference between personal actions and institutional wrongdoings. There was just no getting through to the kid. Ohta knew there was a personal aspect to his views given how emotional he would get, but they never asked about it. If he hadn’t told them yet, then he obviously didn’t want to talk about it.
That didn’t mean Ohta didn’t have their guesses though. From the way he talked, it was almost definitely family related. Close family. Dabi would always get especially emotional when there was a report on the news about something relating to a child, even more so when there were mentions of abuse. Ohta wasn’t an idiot, but they also weren’t a mind reader. So they had no idea if it was Dabi who was abused or someone close to him and they really had no idea how that related to Heroes. But again, it wasn’t their business.
If they ever found the person that hurt Dabi, though? Who’s to say what would happen?
Ohta was pulled from their revelry by a thud sounding in the distance. It was just loud enough for them to pick it up with their quirk which had been activated to pay attention to Dabi’s fight. That meant that Ahmya The Bouncer would have been able to hear it. But when Ohta focused their hearing, they couldn’t hear him doing anything. In fact, they couldn’t hear him at all. Ohta’s eyes unconsciously squinted in suspicion as they turned up their hearing to try and find the bouncer. He was a big guy, he couldn’t have gone far.
Dabi was just about to land a finishing blow to the lizard woman’s face when Ohta’s senses were suddenly flooded. Excruciating pain exploded from their whole body as they were knocked to the floor by an indiscernible source. Indiscernible since their eardrums had received the worst of the sudden onslaught. They could barely hear muffled shouting over the high-pitched ringing that filled their ears.
It felt like an eternity that Ohta was lying there on the floor, unaware of their surroundings. It was torturous only being able to navigate through painful touch alone. It seemed as if there were scratches and cuts all along their arms and legs, and they could feel bruises forming on their left side from where they landed. When the ringing finally died down enough for Ohta to process the chaos around them, panic filled their body.
Heroes. It was a raid.
There was rubble everywhere from where they had blasted through the ceiling, obviously from street level. Everyone was screaming and running, quirks flying everywhere either in attempts to escape or to try and fight back. It was futile though. Even though their senses were still fried, Ohta could recognise the huge physique of one specific Hero easily. All Might was grabbing people left and right and carelessly tossing them through the hole in the ceiling. It seemed as if there was another Hero at the surface catching them but Ohta couldn’t tell who it was or how they were able to stop people from getting injured. Maybe they weren’t.
Ohta struggled to their feet, pushing past the pain and trying to remain sturdy against the wave of bodies rushing to the exit. They had just about gotten a hold on their senses again, the ringing dying down to a quiet hum and the pain subsiding to a dull ache, when their mind caught up to the situation. A million thoughts rushed through their head before one loudly stood out from the rest.
Dabi.
Ohta had no idea where the kid was. He was in the cage when the Heroes burst in and Ohta was pretty sure that whoever controlled the chain link fence wasn’t going to waste time and energy on letting the two fighters out. They spent a split second mentally debating before rushing into the fray.
It took a lot of energy and concentration to keep note of who was where and what quirks were being used and what rubble was in their way. They couldn’t even begin to try to discern who was in the cage until they got within three feet of it. And when they did, Ohta heard their heart skip a beat.
There was a huge hole ripped into a part of the fence and sharp bits of rock straggled through and around the opening. The cage was empty.
Before their mind could start circling through all the possibilities, Ohta was suddenly aware of a looming presence on their right. They quickly jumped backwards, lightly bumping into two other people as they took in the tall man in front of them. He had on a neatly pressed suit that seemed surprisingly clean despite the environment. Either that or Ohta was still a bit out of it. When they tracked his slender fingers up to his face, pushing back some sleek glasses with his middle finger, they noticed that his hair was slicked over to one side, impossibly staying in place despite his movement.
He must had some strong fucking hairspray, Ohta thought before shifting their footing.
Even though the man just seemed like a pretentious business man, Ohta could tell that he was a trained fighter. His posture was controlled and relaxed, his feet planted in a subtle stance that gave him balance and drew power from the ground. This was a Hero. In a calculated decision that took all of three seconds, Ohta bolted. They kept their focus sharp and quirk activated, searching for Dabi as they manoeuvred through the throng of people, slipping through the gaps and weaving in and out of the way of loose limbs and quirks. The tall Hero attempted to follow after them but with his height and Ohta’s speed, he didn’t stand a chance. The mass of struggling people provided cover for the kickboxer as well as an obstacle for the Hero.
After what seemed like an eternity of pushing their way through sweaty bodies, Ohta came up to the top of the stairs of the entrance and pushed their way out into the cold air of the night. There were several police cars parked all around the alley openings and in front of the stationary shop as well as Heroes positioned by the gaping hole in the road that led to the subway station. Those running from the different openings were immediately confronted with law enforcement, some making it through, some not.
Whilst debating their options, Ohta noticed the body on the floor next to them. They quickly rushed over to Ahmya The Bouncer’s unconscious form, using the panicked crowd as cover. His pulse was steady but a scent of iron in the air let Ohta know that he was hurt. They reached out and felt the blood trickling from the side of his head, presumably the cause of his unconsciousness.
Those fucking bastards! The goddamn Heroes didn’t even bother to pick him off the floor!
Ohta’s lips pulled up in a snarl as they ripped a part of their shirt and pressed it to the wound. Half of the people in The Dive weren’t even betting! They technically weren’t even breaking any laws but the Heroes were throwing them around with no care. Bodies were piling up in police cars and vans as the sound of scared and pained cries filled the air.
Ohta still couldn’t hear Dabi.
Considering their options, Ohta found only one way out of the situation. After ensuring that the blood flow had stopped from Ahmya The Bouncer’s head, Ohta stood from their crouched position and jumped up to grab the fire escape on the opposite building. It took three times and too much wasted time before their hands grasped onto the ladder and pulled it downward. Determined to not waste any more precious time, Ohta bolted up the metal frame. They ran as fast as they could up the stairs to the roof, not caring about stealth given the commotion happening below.
As their feet pounded on the asphalt, Ohta couldn’t stop thinking about Dabi. Where had the kid gone? Did the Heroes get him? Did they arrest him? Did they-
They stopped that train of thought in its tracks. Dabi was a smart kid. Sneaky. He wouldn’t let himself get caught. He wouldn’t.
Ohta kept repeating that same thought over and over in their head, knowing that it was true and yet still not fully believing it. They hadn’t sensed him in The Dive. That could mean a number of things, though. He could have escaped before Ohta had gotten their bearings. He must have done. He had to have done. Ohta didn’t want to think about any other possibilities.
With their mind as distracted as it was, Ohta didn’t even realise where their feet were taking them until they landed on the roof of Machida’s gym. They were confused on why they had instinctually ended up there before deciding not to dwell on it. It was the best option at any rate, they realised quite quickly. With how determined they were to get as many wrists in handcuffs as possible, the Heroes would surely try and follow any notable stragglers. And with their reputation as Jellyfish, Ohta knew they were notable. That wasn’t pride speaking, it was just fact. As a result, the old gym was their safest option. It was nearby and locked for the night so if any Heroes or police came searching, they couldn’t get in without a warrant and they wouldn’t find out where Ohta lived.
And it also meant that Ohta could break into the place that was owned by the manager that tried to screw them over. If there was a slight smirk on Ohta’s face as they broke the handle of the roof access door then no one had to know.
~
The next morning, Ohta woke early with the sunrise and a sharp twinge in their back. The ring mats had served as a temporary bed that was for certain staying temporary. After they had broken in the night before, Ohta had only checked the building for any people that might still be inside before immediately crashing on the mats when they found none. Now that their senses had returned to normal and were fully functional, Ohta actually took note of the place.
It was a mess.
There were papers scattered across the floor and equipment left out haphazardly in the training room, a thin layer of dust coating pretty much everything. It seemed as if no one had stepped foot in the place in weeks.
Huh.
Guess it was a good thing that Ohta quit when they did. Or maybe Machida couldn’t keep the place up and running without his ‘star boxer’ Jellyfish. The thought of that made Ohta smirk.
Slimy fucker deserved it.
Despite their silent desire to trash the place even more, Ohta knew it was only so long before the Heroes tracked them there. Hopping down from the ring, they swiftly made their way down the familiar creaky stairs and shoved hard on the door before the lock gave way, hitting Ohta with a gust of frigid morning air as it swung open.
Their walk home was tense as they kept their quirk activated the whole way, vigilantly listening out for any signs of Heroes or police that might have been watching for them. Apart from a teenage mugger and one stray cat, Ohta heard nothing. They usually would have been suspicious of how quiet it was, even at the ass-crack of dawn, but given the raid the night before, Ohta was surprised that even a kid was stupid enough to be out and about, let alone committing meaningless crime.
After fifteen minutes of quick steps and nervous twitches, Ohta finally reached their apartment complex. The building was unusually quiet for the time of day; usually by now half of the residents would be getting up for work or yelling at their roommates. But then again, knowing the people who lived in the building, Ohta wasn’t all that surprised that they were either subdued for fear of causing even more trouble for themselves after the night before, or they were currently in the, no doubt very crowded, holding cells at Musutafu Police Station.
The creaky stairs of Ohta’s flatblock echoed against the dingy walls. With most of the flats being carefully kept quiet or deserted altogether, the isolated sound was grating against Ohta’s ears. A sigh of relief left their lips when Ohta reached their floor, quickly unlocking the door and sagging against it once it was shut behind them.
There was a rogue thought that had been nagging at the back of Ohta’s mind ever since they woke up in the old gym but they were resolutely ignoring it for the time being.
I’ll look into it later, they thought absently whilst flopping onto the sofa to get a well needed nap.
~
Ohta’s face was warmed by the sun shining through their window as they sat at their kitchen table. Their laptop was open in front of them with their earphones plugged into the side. Said earphones were reading out some very interesting information into Ohta’s eager ears. Information that left a small shit-eating smirk on their face.
It really didn’t take much consideration before they had picked up the phone and were dialling in the number recited to them by the screen reader connected to their earphones. With how much they had earned from The Dive, they had more than enough money to retire as well as make this decision.
The very next day, Ohta was once again standing in the musky shell that used to be Machida’s pride and joy. After a cursory look around the place and a few words exchanged with the realtor about how it had been on the market for over a year and was a right bitch to sell - not the realtor’s exact words but Ohta knew that’s what she meant - Ohta was scrawling their signature on a mountain documents and handing over a hefty sum of money in cash. The gym was theirs.
What should have been a very gratifying moment for Ohta, reclaiming the gym that had tried to screw them over years ago, was instead dampened by the wandering thoughts that hadn’t left their head.
Where had Dabi gone? What had happened to him? Was he okay? Had the Heroes got to him? Had they arrested him? Had they-
Ohta determinedly stopped that train of thought. It wouldn’t do good to dwell on the what-ifs. Instead they would just find him. It couldn’t be too hard. They would go down to the police station soon. They wouldn’t be able to go in the building and check themself but it wouldn’t be too hard to see if he was in there from outside if they focused their quirk enough.
And if he wasn’t there then… Well, Ohta would find him. They would. Of course they would. The kid wouldn’t just disappear. Not without spitting one last insult to Ohta’s face, he was too stubborn for that.
Ohta smiled to themself then. They were going to find the kid. And soon.
~
Two weeks.
Nothing.
Ohta was losing hope.
They had spent some of that time cleaning up the gym and moving some of their old equipment in from their apartment. Most of their days, however, had been spent relentlessly scouting out the different precincts in Musutafu for where he might have been taken. If they weren’t doing that then they were up on different rooftops, quirk activated in hopes of hearing any sign of the kid. At night they sat on their laptop, listening to their screen reader recite the obituaries monotonously.
Nothing.
They didn’t want to admit it.
They couldn’t.
He was just a kid.
Ohta was the one who had trained him for The Dive. They had been the one to encourage him to fight in the cage. And where had that left him?
Gone.
Dabi was gone.
And there was nothing that Ohta could do about it.
~*~
“Alright, you guys have fun yeah?”
“Not too much fun.”
“Sho! It’s Halloween! Let them be stupid kids for one night!”
“What do you two think we’re going to do?”
Yamada shrugged at Voice Box’s incredulous question. Both him and Aizawa were patrolling that night since it was Halloween and apparently criminals think that means that suddenly all crimes are now legal. Fucking idiots.
Shinsou had invited Katsuki over for the night to “watch horror movies that would scare my Pa shitless. The Old Man is weirdly unaffected by any and all jumpscares so watching horror movies with them is the most bizarre yet funny experience to live through.” Katsuki was unsure how such a seasoned Pro could be scared at obviously fake movies but with the way that Shinsou was talking, Yamada couldn’t handle even the slightest of jumpscares. Apparently he was alright with gore but that kind of to be expected with his line of work.
Katsuki didn’t want to think about the fact that he was going into the same line of work that made people insensitive to graphic injuries. Maybe insensitive wasn’t the right word. Yamada was a sensitive man in the way that he cared so much about other people and was very open about that care. No he wasn’t insensitive. He was just familiar with it.
Shaking that thought from his mind, Katsuki tuned back into the conversation between the two Pros and their insomniac son.
“Yeah, I get it, Old Man. No drugs, no alcohol and no letting Katsuki do any cooking.”
What the fuck?? How had the conversation turned in that direction??
“Good,” Aizawa said before Katsuki could speak up, “We’ll be back in the early morning so as long as you guys are in bed before we get back, I don’t care how late you stay up.”
“Sounds good,” Hitsohi responded, getting up to hug his dads before they left, “Be safe.”
“We will kid.” A hint of a smile was pulling on Aizawa’s lips as he watched Yamada give Shinsou an embarrassingly loud and sloppy kiss on his cheek.
“Ugh! Just leave already, will ya?”
Yamada just giggled at the disgusted look on Shinsou’s face before telling the pair of boys to have a good night and half-skipping out the door. When Aizawa followed behind him and locked the door on his way out, the apartment was almost silent aside from the low hum of the washing machine. If it were anyone else it might have been awkward, but Katsuki was far too comfortable around Shinsou to think that a bit of quiet was awkward.
After a full minute of the two sitting on the sofa in companionable silence, Katsuki finally spoke up.
“What the fuck is wrong with my cooking?”
Shinsou burst out into laughter at the sudden abrasiveness. Katsuki hadn’t noticed it before, but there was an underlying tension in the Voice Box’s shoulders ever since his dads had left. He was always a bit worried whenever Yamada or Aizawa left for patrol but Katsuki supposed that Halloween night warranted a bit more anxiety from the boy. He was glad that he could help relieve at least a little bit of that.
Shinsou finally calmed down enough to respond to Katsuki’s extremely genuine question. “Nothing, don’t worry. You’re actually a really good cook. It’s just that everything you cook is always so spicy that it leaves a spice residue at the bottom of all the dishes which means that whatever is cooked in them next, has a slight twang to it.”
“Good!” Katsuki’s indignant yell was completely justified and had nothing to do with covering up the fact that he could feel heat crawling up his cheeks. “Your food needs a bit more spice in it!”
Shinsou just snickered before getting up and moving into the kitchen. “I’ll grab us some snacks. You choose a horror for us to watch first, but if it’s not scary enough then I’ll shame you for your terrible taste and change it.”
Katsuki smiled as Shinsou turned his back.
Asshole.
~
The first jumpscare came a quarter of the way through the first movie. It was so stupid. Just a rat scurrying out from behind a crate in some dude’s garage. But with the tense music creating a suspenseful atmosphere, Hitoshi jumped. He wasn’t usually a jumpy guy. Hell, watching horror movies was one of his favourite pastimes. Hitoshi was no stranger to a little jumpscare, let alone the first one in a movie that barely constituted as scary.
But given the circumstances, could you really blame him?
Hitoshi and Bakugou had decided to share a blanket whilst they watched the film since it was the fluffiest blanket out of the lot and neither of them would give it up. The prob;em was, the blanket wasn’t exactly the biggest, so Hitoshi’s entire left side was pressed up against Bakugou’s. So it was actually very difficult to pay attention to the movie at all. That explained why Hitoshi jumped. He couldn’t have seen it coming.
That didn’t explain why he immediately grabbed Bakugou's hand beneath the blanket though.
It was probably just instinct, grabbing onto the nearest object in hopes of some sort of protection. However, that didn’t stop the flush from rising to Hitoshi’s face. He sat frozen for almost a full minute before he thought it was best to pull his hand away. Except when he went to do just that, he found that Bakugou had gripped onto Hitohsi’s hand as well.
The pair of them said nothing. They sat frozen with eyes glued to the screen yet neither were paying attention to the movie whatsoever. Another minute went by like that before Hitoshi felt movement. Thinking that Bakugou was pulling away, he opened his mouth to apologise, but instead stopped before his lips formed around the first word.
Bakugou had shifted his grip to interlace their fingers.
Hitoshi looked over towards the blonde but he was steadfastly staring towards the TV, a deep blush coating his cheeks and neck. Hitoshi found himself smiling before mirroring Bakugou’s position, his own blush heating his face.
Hitoshi had no idea what happened the rest of the movie. He was pretty sure Bakugou didn’t either. But every time there was another jumpscare, Hitoshi found himself squeezing onto Bakugou’s hand tighter. And every time he did, Bakugou would squeeze back.
~
When the credits rolled onto the screen, Hitoshi felt another blush rise to his cheeks. Now that the movie was over, there was no reason for him to be holding onto Bakugou’s hand. And yet, neither of them moved to release the other from their grip. Hitoshi belatedly realised that the pair of them had somehow moved even closer to each other during the film.
He should probably get up.
The credits rolled all the way to the end with neither boy moving from their position. When the blue menu screen loaded back onto the screen, Hitoshi figured that one of them would go to grab the remote from the table. But that would mean either acknowledging their situation or letting go. So they didn’t move.
The awkward silence of the room was only broken by the crappy ‘scary’ music accompanying the menu screen.
Alright, this is gonna go on forever unless one of us does something, Hitoshi thought resolutely, gathering up some courage he didn’t have and releasing Bakugou’s hand.
“Mine turn to pick this time,” he said as he reached towards the remote with his now free hand, “and I’ll pick an actually scary one this time.”
Bakugou snorted. “I dunno,” a teasing smirk lifted up at one side of his mouth, “you seemed pretty scared to me.”
Hitoshi shot him a glare with no heat and slouched back on the sofa. “Yeah, well you didn’t seem that brave to me either.”
“I’m brave!” he yelled indignantly.
“Uh huh, Dandelion,” Hitoshi responded in a patronising tone, “I’m gonna go grab us some more snacks.”
With his back turned on the blonde and feet moving towards the kitchen, Hitoshi almost missed Bakugou’s quiet words.
“I want to tell you something.”
~
FUCK why did I say that?! No, no Katsuki you’re brave. You are, you just said so. You can do this. You should have told him ages ago, this conversation is long overdue. Pull your fucking act together.
Katsuki had been thinking about this ever since he and Shinsou had become friends. He had talked to his therapist in his monthly visits about how he felt that if he didn’t, then he was lying to his friend. Dr. Hino had assured him that he didn’t have any obligations to divulge it to Shinsou but it could make him feel better if he did.
But Katsuki was a coward. He had put it off for far too long and he couldn’t anymore. The warmth that had risen in Katsuki when Shinsou held his hand for over an hour came with a terrible feeling of guilt. He had to tell him.
“What is it?” Shinsou responded in as small a voice as Katsuki had spoken. Great, now he’s made him nervous. Way to go.
Katsuki shifted in his seat and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. “You should probably sit down. This is gonna be a long conversation.”
Oh no, yeah. Cause that’s gonna ease his nerves. Idiot.
Shinsou’s face remained blank as he walked back over to the sofa, sitting in the same seat as before but leaving a gap between him and Katsuki so that he could turn to face him. Katsuki absently missed the warmth of his friend but quickly shook that from his head.
“So, you know how I said that I want to go to UA because it has the resources I need?”
Shinsou’s brows furrowed in obvious confusion as he nodded slowly.
“Well, the resources I need are to… To find someone. Someone I knew years ago. He… He went missing five years ago and I’m- I’m going to find him.”
Shinsou’s face had shifted from confused to sympathetic and Katsuki hated it. He didn’t deserve his sympathy.
“Bakugou, I’m so sorry. It must have been tough to lose a friend like-”
“He wasn’t my friend,” Katsuki interrupted, “Well, he was but-” He cut himself and sighed. “Our mums were friends when they were younger. We had known each other since we were born and we were friends since we knew what friends were. We were inseparable. That was, until we turned five. I got my quirk first. I thought I was so awesome,” he laughed deprecatingly, “We wanted to be Heroes. I mean of course we did, every kid wanted that. But we were obsessed with Heroes. So when I got my quirk, everyone told me it was such a heroic quirk. That it was so powerful. That I’d be an amazing Hero someday just because I could make explosions from my hands.”
Katsuki could feel his face contorting into one of rage and consciously smoothed it out.
“He thought it was awesome too. He told me the same things as everyone else except that I knew he said it, not because of my quirk, but because he truly believed it. He believed that I’d become this incredible Hero and was so excited for it.” Katsuki sniffed and shifted in his seat. He knew what he had to say next but it was like trying to cough up sludge trying to get the words out. “We… We waited for his quirk to come in. We talked about how it was going to be Heroic. As if a quirk could be inherently heroic,” he rolled his eyes, “We talked about how we’d be the most amazing Hero duo that ever was. That was all we talked about until… Until he came into school one day and told me- He told me that he’d been diagnosed as quirkless.”
Katsuki had no idea if it was the look on his face or the words from his mouth that caused Shinsou to inhale sharply. At some point, Katsuki had stopped looking at his friend and had instead spoken whilst staring at his old, slightly damaged jeans with faint acid stains on them. He didn’t know if he wanted to see Shinsou’s face or not. He didn’t look up. Instead, he kept talking.
“I regret how I reacted more than anything in my whole life. The minute he told me he was quirkless, I- I said… I said we couldn’t be a Hero duo anymore. I said that a quirkless loser like him couldn’t be a Hero. I-” Katsuki stopped to catch his breath. His voice had started to wobble but he wouldn’t let himself get emotional. He didn’t deserve to be sad over something that he did. With a deep breath, he carried on. “I started b- bullying him. I would tell him that he was useless. That he was a freak. A De- A Deku. I made his life a living hell. We were best friends and I ruined everything because of a stupid fucking word written on his file.”
A shaky breath left Katsuki’s lips and he pried his fingernails from his palms that he’d unconsciously clenched at some point. He studied the crescent indents whilst trying to compose himself enough to carry on.
“Bakugou-”
“Wait. Just- just let me finish? Please?” Katsuki still didn’t look up at Shinsou. He had never heard his own voice so small and desperate before.
“...Okay.”
Katsuki let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“It carried on like that for three years. I berated and abused him for years of our lives. When we were ten, there was an accident. Him and his m- mum got caught in the crossfires of a villain attack. Endeavour was the Hero on the scene. The news said that he didn’t realise there were civilians on the scene. It’s complete bullshit. He knew. He just didn’t care. One of the fireballs he had sent towards the villain missed its target. I don’t know the exact details but… His mum- no, Auntie. Auntie Inko, she- She died. And he- He was...” Katsuki sighed dejectedly. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. “Imagine that. He was quirkless. His mum had d- died, and he was- he’d- fuck! You’d think that an asshole kid like me would have had a fucking field day!”
Katsuki shook his head and watched as something dripped from his face and onto his jeans. Two more drops fell and Katsuki roughly scrubbed at his face, willing the tears to stop.
“I didn’t. After Au- Auntie Inko died I… I stopped. I stopped bullying him, I stopped talking to him, I stopped even acknowledging his existence. I don’t even know why. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe I subconsciously thought that he’d already gone through enough that he shouldn’t have to deal with me on top of that. I was the only one though. Everyone else in our class- in our school still called him names, pushed him around, made his life hell. Just cause I wasn’t the one throwing the punches anymore didn’t mean I did anything to stop the others. I just ignored him and everyone else. Which is just as bad, I know.”
Katsuki took another deep breath and fruitlessly scrubbed at his face again.
“It was like that for two years. Him getting bullied by pretty much everyone in our year and me doing nothing about it. And then one day… he just disappeared. He didn’t show up to school and the orphanage he was staying at didn’t know where he’d gone. But, of course, he was a quirkless kid so no one gave two shits. I don’t even think anyone filed a missing persons report to the police. The kids at our school kept saying that he- that he k- killed himself. But I know he didn’t. Even through all the years of abuse and torment. He never gave up. He never just laid down and took it. He always stood up for himself. He always fought back. No, he wouldn't give up. I might not have been his friend, but I knew him. Better than anyone else.”
Katsuki realised that his face had scrunched up again and the tears were flowing more forcefully. He quickly scrubbed at it again in a hopeless attempt to just get the tears to stop why won’t they just STOP??
He took another deep breath. The tears didn’t stop. But he kept talking.
“My mum signed me up for therapy after that. Talking about ‘grief’ or something. I don’t know what she thought I was grieving, I told her he wasn’t dead. I knew he wasn’t. Isn’t.” Katsuki sniffed lightly. “But the therapy helped. Dr. Hino - my therapist - she got me talking about what I’d done. About how I’d treated him. About how I thought about quirks. She helped me. A lot. I needed it. Well, what I really needed was a smack upside the head to get me to pull my shit together and she did that too. I know I was a dick. Not just because of how I treated him but because of why. It’s stupid to judge someone because of something they’re fucking born with. It’s even stupider to think that a person’s worth is tied to whether or not they have a fucking toe joint! And I was the biggest fucking idiot.”
Katsuki took a deep breath. He was getting worked up. He needed to calm down.
“So that’s why I’m going to UA. It’s the biggest and most prestigious Hero school in all of Japan. They’ll have what I need to find him again. And it has to be me that finds him cause I know damn well that no one else would even try. Not for a quirkless kid.” Another deep breath. “We’ve been friends for a while now and I know I should have told you sooner but to be completely honest I was scared. You're the first actual friend I’ve had since him and I can’t- I didn’t want to lose that. But you deserve to know the kind of person that you’re spending time with and I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore. I know I wouldn’t-”
Katsuki was cut off by Shinsou’s arms wrapping around him in a crushing grip.
He had already been crying before, but with the feeling of his friend’s warm body hugging him tightly, Katsuki let it all go. He collapsed into Shinsou’s arms and clutched onto his t-shirt that was becoming wetter by the second from his tears. Katsuki barely registered the wet patch forming on his own top and realised that Shinsou was crying as well. That just made Katsuki cry more, if it was even possible.
The two boys sat embracing each other for what felt like an eternity before Shinsou spoke up.
~
Hitoshi had stayed silent the whole time that Bakugou had been talking, intent on listening to everything he had to say, even if it hurt. And it was bound to hurt. Bakugou used to be a bully. One of the people that picked on others because of their quirk. Just like the people who used to hurt Hitoshi. Of course it hurt. This was his best friend. Had they met a few years earlier, Hitoshi was sure that Bakugou would have completely ignored him at best and bullied him relentlessly at worst.
And it hurt.
But that wasn’t who Bakugou was anymore. Yes, he used to bully and abuse his once friend because of a quirk status, he wasn’t going to ignore that or disregard it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change. That he hadn’t changed. The Bakugou he knew didn’t care that Hitoshi had a quirk that was usually considered “villainous”. He had never made Hitoshi feel bad because of who he was. Instead, he had offered for Hitoshi to use his quirk on him in order to train it. And it was obvious that he had worked hard to reevaluate himself and change his behaviours. Hell, he even went to therapy and admitted that it had helped him become a better person.
Still, Hitohsi couldn’t ignore the feelings that arose when Bakugou told his story. The memories that it had brought up weren’t pleasant and added to that hurt even more. Specifically, he couldn’t help but think of Izuku. Hitoshi had seen the way that the other kids at the orphanage had treated him and somehow it hurt even more when he thought of Bakugou in their place rather than Bakugou being one of the ones to hurt Hitoshi.
Hitoshi had been hurt before. A lot. The treatment of a kid with a “villainous” quirk was less than desirable. But it had never been as bad as what he’d seen Izuku get put through. In the eyes of the rest of society, a villainous quirk was better than no quirk at all. The thought of Bakugou treating someone who used to be his best friend the same way that the other kids at the orphanage treated Izuku? That was what hurt the most.
As Bakugou was talking, though, Hitoshi realised how self-centred his thoughts sounded. What right did he have to feel hurt because of how Bakugou treated someone else? That kid had obviously been through fucking hell and back and Hitoshi was the one that was hurt?
He knew he was allowed to be hurt by Bakugou’s previous ideas. From the way he spoke, it was clear that his prejudices had extended further than just towards the quirkless.
But it wasn’t Hitoshi’s place to be personally hurt by someone else’s pain. And it certainly wasn’t his place to forgive him for it.
His embrace with Bakugou lasted for what felt like forever but was probably only five minutes at most. His tears fell silently whilst Bakugou’s sobs wracked loudly against Hitoshi’s shoulder. Eventually, whilst still holding on tightly to his friend, Hitoshi spoke in a voice only just above a whisper.
“Thank you, Ba- Katuski. For telling me.” He hiccuped in a breath. “I… I’ll admit that hearing the things that you did… hurt.” He felt Katsuki tens up against him and stroked his hands up and down his back in response. “If we had met earlier then I don’t know what our relationship would have been like but I doubt it would have been friendly.” Hitoshi felt Katsuki pulling away from him but he held on tightly. “But we didn’t. We met when you ran headfirst into me because you can’t seem to pay attention to your surroundings whatsoever when you have headphones in.”
He felt Katsuki let out a wet chuckle at that and Hitoshi let himself smile slightly against his friend’s shoulder.
“I know who you are now. I know that when you knocked me out on the side of the road, you dragged my sorry ass to the hospital. I know that you stayed with me to make sure I was okay. I know that you called my Dad to let him know what had happened. I know that when you found out what my quirk was you didn’t yell. You didn’t call me villainous or a freak or tell me to fuck off. You just accepted it and carried on sparring. I know you, Katsuki. I know you’re a good person.”
Katsuki let out another sob then but Hitoshi carried on.
“I can’t talk for the kid you bullied. I don’t know how he would feel hearing you saying the things that you know to be true now. I don’t know if he would forgive you.” Hitoshi felt him tense up again. “And I don’t forgive you. I can’t. Because you haven’t done anything to me to make you need my forgiveness. You have been nothing but a good friend towards me. Granted, you have insulted me almost every time you’ve seen me but I know that you don’t mean it. I can see it in your eyes. You might be brash and loud and a bit of an asshole sometimes but you- You’re kind.” Hitoshi chuckled lightly when Katsuki huffed. “You might disagree with me on that one but it’s true. You care about me, I know you do. I care about you too. You’re my best friend. And nothing is going to change that. Do you understand me?”
Hitoshi finally pulled away to look Katsuki in the eyes for the first time since the conversation started and very nearly started crying again. The look on his face could have broken Hitoshi’s heart from how open and vulnerable he appeared. His cheeks were stained with tear tracks and his eyes were rubbed raw. Red rimmed eyes with ruby irises stared open wide in hope and wonder. Fresh tears trickled down his already damp face and Hitoshi wiped them away with his thumb.
“You-” Katsuki choked on a breath. “You really mean that?”
Hitoshi smiled. “Of course I do Dandelion.”
This time, Katsuki was the one to attack Hitoshi with a bone crushing hug which the purple haired boy happily reciprocated.
~
They stayed in that embrace longer than the one before.
It was probably half an hour later when the two finally peeled apart, eyes still red yet now dry. Hitoshi silently got up to grab them both a glass of water from the kitchen. He had had some time to think and yes, he could have just left it there. He could have agreed to carry on with their movie marathon night, most likely with even more closeness than before. Maybe even some cuddles. Hitoshi blushed at the thought.
Despite how much he craved that, it would have to wait. Hitoshi had listened to Katsuki’s story and how he’d poured his heart out to him. Katsuki had told him everything. It was only fair that Hitoshi did the same.
He knew he didn’t have to. That Katsuki would hate to feel like he’d pushed him to. He wanted to though. Katsuki had been vulnerable with him. Hitoshi would do the same.
Sitting back down on the sofa, Hitoshi made sure that Katsuki had drunk lots of water before he spoke again.
“I’m grateful that you’ve told me all of this. I really am. You’ve told me about your past at the risk of potentially losing our friendship - which, once again, is impossible - so… I want to do the same.”
“Hitoshi, you don’t-”
“I know. But I want to.”
Katsuki put his now empty glass back on the table and sat back on the sofa, giving Hitoshi his full attention.
Hitoshi took a deep breath and looked down at his lap before remembering that all he wanted when Katsuki was talking was to see his face and looked back up again.
“My quirk is brainwashing.” Katsuki knew this but nodded anyway. “It manifested when I accidentally brainwashed my birth mother into letting me stay up late one night. It was such a stupid little thing but I was just a kid. When my parents found out what I’d done, they- they were horrified. They took me to the doctor to confirm what my quirk did and when they named it ‘brainwashing’, my parents made me swear to never use my quirk again.”
Katsuki gasped at that and brought his hand up to cover his mouth. His face looked so outraged already that Hitoshi smiled sadly at how he might react to the rest of it.
“Of course, that didn’t really work out. I don’t know what they expected, I was four. Every time I used my quirk after that, they punished me. It started out with just sending me to bed without dinner, locking me in my room… but then it escalated. The more I used it, the harsher the punishments got. The first time my birth father hit me, I didn’t use my quirk for a month after.”
Katsuki’s brows were furrowed in anger and hitoshi thought that he might burst a blood vessel from how red his face was. He visibly tried to calm himself down when Hitoshi reached out and clasped his hands in his own. He pried Katsuki’s nails from where they had embedded within his palm and instead interlaced their fingers just as they’d done during the movie. It seemed to calm Katsuki down some as he started to stroke Hitoshi’s hands with his thumbs that were surprisingly soft.
“I escalated much faster from there. Both my birth mother and father didn’t hesitate to discipline me physically if I did the slightest thing to upset them. What would otherwise be considered playful ignorance to other kids was instead “villainous” and “evil” when I did it. When I started elementary school, they were worried about not being able to stop me from using my quirk to manipulate my classmates and teachers. So they found a way to prevent it.” Hitoshi reached up with one of his hands to trace the light scars on his cheek. He took in a deep breath before continuing, letting Katsuki’s small continuous strokes ground him. “Whenever I wasn’t being monitored directly by them, they would put a… a m- muzzle on me.”
Katsuki’s hand tightened around Hitoshi’s before he caught himself and released his grip. His free hand opened and closed at the same time that his jaw clenched and unclenched. It was clear that he was trying to restrain himself and it warmed Hitoshi’s heart enough to carry on.
“The m- muzzle made everyone think I was a villain before they even met me. It made the teachers wary of me and wouldn’t let me get near the other kids. It made the other kids tell their parents about the “villain kid” in their class. The other parents complained to the school about having their children be around me. They were scared I might h- hurt them.” Hitoshi let out a few shaky breaths. It was years ago and he’d moved on. He was happy now. It still hurt to think about though. “After all the backlash my parents received, they punished me even more. They kept the m- muzzle on me twenty four seven, only letting me out of it once a day to eat. Eventually, I guess they figured a villain kid wasn’t worth keeping in the house if they didn’t even want to be around him. They put me up for adoption.”
Katsuki squeezed his hand again but this time it wasn’t in anger. It was meant to comfort Hitoshi. It worked. Hitoshi realised that at some point he had started staring at his lap and instead he lifted his head up to look at Katsuki. The look on his face gave Hitoshi the courage to carry on.
“Of course, no one would want to adopt a kid with a villain quirk, and no foster homes would take me in, so I ended up where all the other “troubled” kids went. An orphanage for the kids that had something “wrong” with them. Most of the other kids there had behavioural issues, as in, they were little shitheads.” Katsuki let out a little snort at that and Hitoshi felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders. “You could imagine their reaction when a villain kid with a m- muzzle was brought in. It wasn’t good. I was their main plaything for years. That is… until this other kid turned up.”
Hitoshi took a deep shaky breath and looked up to the ceiling to try and stop the tears that prickled at his eyes.
“I had given up hope of having a friend of any sort at that point. I knew that he’d be just like the rest of them when he saw me. Heh.” Hitoshi chuckled lightly before carrying on. “He didn’t though. He was quirkless. I had heard of the other kids talking about “the quirkless” before. They would relentlessly bully me everyday but every once in a while they would talk about how at least I wasn’t quirkless. As if that was the worst possible thing a person could be. So when this kid showed up, I was wary of him. I thought he might just bring me more beatings if I got too close to him, so I stayed away.
“I was successful for a short while. But then one night, it had been a particularly rough day. The other kids had beaten me worse than they’d ever done before and when I went to bed, I stayed up crying. Despite how quiet I was trying to be, the quirkless kid heard me. He came over to my bed and I was scared of what he’d do but he just… he held my hands. He said we could be friends. He was the first friend I ever had.” Hitoshi let a small smile slide onto his face at the thought of Izuku. “More than once, he stepped in when the other kids would start beating me. Granted, it just ended up with him getting beat alongside me but that never stopped him from sticking up for me.” Hitoshi’s smile grew in size at the thought of his old friend’s bravery.
“The orphanage was across the street from an abandoned gym.” Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden subject change but he wisely and forcibly kept his mouth shut. “My friend found out about some of the other kids sneaking out to try and get a look at the place. They didn't get very far though because apparently there was some scary person guarding the place that scared the shit out of them. And my friend he- he had this crazy idea that if the others were so scared of the place, we could run away and they wouldn’t follow us there. And it was totally insane! But it was a chance to get out. So I agreed. We staged a distraction one night and snuck out a window whilst the rest of the staff and kids at the orphanage were freaking out. It was going so well. We were going to escape. But as we were about twenty feet from the abandoned gym, someone saw us.”
Katsuki gasped and squeezed onto Hitoshi’s hand and Hitoshi had to keep himself from smirking.
“I stopped running because I thought we were caught but my friend hadn’t seen him and carried on running to the abandoned building. I was about to follow him when the person who saw us called out to me. It turned out that he had only seen me and not my friend so he didn’t question where he had run off to. He walked up to me and I froze on the spot, half because I was caught and half because of who it was.”
“Who was it?” Katsuki blurted out and then immediately blushed at having interrupted Hitoshi.
Hitoshi just giggled slightly and answered him. “My favourite Pro Hero. Eraserhead.”
Katsuki’s mouth dropped open just a bit.
Hitoshi laughed at him.
“Yeah, that was how I met my Old Man. He was obviously appalled by the m- muzzle and did a full investigation on the orphanage. He found out how they’d been treating me and went ballistic. Although, I only found out about that years later. He didn’t want to scare me when he first met me and just brought me down to the police station to get me some help. Him and Pa had foster licences because of their jobs in case they came across a kid who needed a safe home for a little while so he took me home to stay with him until they found me a permanent home. My Dads say, though, that the minute Pa saw me, he knew he was gonna adopt me. Saps.”
Katsuki now had a smile on his face that matched Hitoshi’s. It only stayed there for a short while before it fell again.
“I’m- I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.”
“Don’t apologise. You didn’t do anything to me.”
Katsuki’s frown deepened then and Hitoshi regretted his words immediately. He didn’t mean it as a jab to Katsuki’s past but it had obviously reminded him of it. Hitoshi hated how the frown looked on his friend’s face so he decided to fix it.
“Great! Now we know each other's tragic backstories! Now we’re on like a level five friendship at least.”
Katsuki giggled at that. Actually, swear to Kami giggled. Hitoshi thinks he might have melted into a puddle right there if it weren’t for the soft hands keeping him grounded. “There are levels?” he huffed out between laughs.
“Of course,” Hitoshi deadpanned, “how else would we quantify our relationship?”
“Who says it needs to be quantified, Voice Box?”
“Hmm, good point. You’re now back down to level three.”
“Wha- hey!”
“I can bump you back up if you get us some snacks from the kitchen for the rest of our horror marathon,” Hitoshi smirked.
Katsuki mirrored his expression at the offer of carrying on where they had left off and practically jumped off the sofa to grab more snacks and drinks for the two of them.
Hitoshi threw his head back at the display and laughed loudly. He fucking loved his best friend. In what way, he wasn’t quite sure. But that was a completely different discussion for a very different day.
~
When they started watching movies again, there was no awkward pretence of acting as if they didn’t notice their proximity. They jumped straight back under the blanket and Hitoshi confidently grabbed Katsuki’s hand in his own. The blonde immediately reciprocated by interlacing their fingers and shuffling closer so he could rest his head on the purple-haired boy’s shoulder. They stayed in that position for the majority of the movie until Katsuki started to get tired.
It was kind of expected given the exhausting evening they’d had but Hitoshi still blushed a bright crimson colour when Katsuki practically climbed into his lap to get comfortable and almost instantly fall asleep. He wasn’t far behind his friend and by the end of the second movie of the night, both boys were fast asleep, tangled together with one another.
Hitoshi didn’t know when his Old Man and Pa got home that night but when he awoke in the morning, the blanket that had been pushed off the sofa at some point in the first half of the movie, was instead wrapped around the pair of boys. Hitoshi smiled at that when he woke up early in the morning and, instead of being embarrassed by being found in the position he was in with Katsuki, he instead snuggled closer and went right back to sleep.
Notes:
They're gay, your honour. Also idiots.
Are they really that stupid to think there are so many quirkless orphans in Musutafu that they knew separate ones? My answer to that is that yes, yes they are. They are too gay and traumatised to connect the dots and I just love keeping them in the dark :)
Feel free to leave comments on what you thought of the chapter! This is the longest chapter yet and one of the most important ones so I'd love to hear your guys' feedback on it :)
Chapter 20: Difficult Conversations
Summary:
Hitoshi backstory and sad gays being sad and gay
Notes:
So..... it's been a while
Sorry for the small hiatus guys, I have been stressed lol. Quick rundown: my gf broke up with me, I impulsively started writing a new fic to cope with that (go check that out), I started my last year at college, my great uncle died, my grandpa died, I applied for uni, I got two offers back so far, and I have a karate grading next week. Just like, if you wanted to know what I've been doing lol.
But anyway, as an apology for being away for so long, here are two (count 'em 2) chapters. I've been wanting to write these two for ages and they were really fun to write. I hope they hit you guys right in the feelings. They have not been beta'd - this is your warning.
Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments! Happy reading! <3
TW FOR THIS CHAPTER:
- mentions of past abuse
- panic attack
- accidental self-harm (scratching at cheeks)
Chapter Text
Hitoshi's breath hitched as the hot stream of tears cascaded down his cheeks. He could feel the droplets getting caught on the edge of the muzzle and sliding down the side towards his chin. It was too tight for the liquid to get through.
He blinked hastily, trying to remember everything that had happened.
He remembered an alarm.
He remembered running.
He remembered Izuku.
Izuku!
Hitoshi’s eyes widened in a panic as he quickly raised his head. He couldn’t see him. He didn’t know where he’d gone. Breaths started coming in faster and faster as he tried and tried to find Izuku. He had to be here. He had to. Hitoshi looked around frantically, realising suddenly that he didn’t know where ‘here’ was.
There were lots of people, all moving about quickly and talking loudly. There was so much noise. The sounds of hurried feet on carpeted floor grated on Hitoshi’s ears. His eyes were already burning but they hurt even more when he tried to focus on what was going on. Everything was going too fast and he just wanted it to stop. He wanted Izuku.
Where was Izuku? He wanted to find Izuku. He needed to find Izuku. Where was he?
The tears streaming down his face had increased tenfold by now and it did nothing to calm Hitoshi. They pooled at the top of the muzzle, running down the sides, running off his chin, running onto his shoes. Hands that never dared to go near the muzzle lest he receive punishment clawed at the edges. He had to find Izuku. To find Izuku, he needed to call out to him. Hitoshi didn’t even know if his voice would work anymore but he had to try. The stupid muzzle wouldn’t come off though! He pried into the metal with his fingers, scratching his cheeks with his nails in the process. It hurt but Hitoshi didn’t care. He just needed it off, it had to come off, WHY WASN’T IT OFF-
Hitoshi’s frantic thoughts were cut off by a hand on his shoulder. Instantly, Hitoshi pulled away from it, eyes widening from where they had clenched shut. A black smudge flooded his vision. As Hitoshi blinked his eyes, clearing them from the watery film that had blurred his sight, he realised that the black smudge was actually black hair. Hair with a face hidden behind it.
A man’s face. Wait, no, was it? Their hair was long but so was Hitoshi’s so he wasn’t sure. Hitoshi blinked his eyes some more, desperate to get rid of the blurriness. The features of the person’s face came into focus and Hitoshi’s eyes widened impossibly wider.
It was a man. But not just any man. It was Eraserhead!
Memories flooded Hitoshi’s mind. Running on grass. Running in the deserted road. Letting go of Izuku’s hand. Standing in the road. Staring at Pro Hero, Eraserhead running towards him. Breathing heavily. A hand on his chest. Breathing slower. A car journey. Questions. So many questions.
Right. Now, he knew. Hitoshi was at the police station. Eraserhead brought him here.
Eraserhead!
The reminder of the man crouched in front of him pulled Hitoshi out of his thoughts and back to the police station. Despite the boy’s brief moment of distractedness, the Pro Hero was still looking intently at him, patiently waiting.
“Mmph-” Hitoshi tried to speak but quickly remembered the contraption on his face. It wasn’t easy to forget but in rare moments of excitement, Hitoshi often found himself going to say something and being harshly reminded of his situation. The tears threatened to spill over again when Eraserhead started speaking quietly.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he lifted his hands placatingly, “We’re trying to figure out how to get it off you but it’s a little tricky without the key. As soon as we can do it safely, we will, okay? We’re going to take it off.”
Hitoshi was frozen. He didn’t know how to react, he had never been in this situation before. The muzzle had been there for years, ever since he was a kid. No one had taken it off, even for food. Instead, they had fed him liquid food through a straw. The thought of chewing on real food almost trumped speaking again. Almost.
Eraserhead’s face started to twist in what Hitoshi thought might have been worry. He hadn't moved in quite a while so maybe that was it. Except Hitoshi couldn’t move. He had no idea what to do. So, in order to stop his favourite Pro Hero from looking at him like that, Hitoshi followed his instincts.
He cried.
The salty tears flowed more heavily than they had that night. Despite his attempts to calm the man, Hitoshi seemed to just make Eraserhead worry even more, his face contorting into an expression Hitoshi had only seen from Izuku.
“Are- are those good tears?” Eraserhead asked hesitantly.
Hitoshi nodded stiltedly and let out a muffled hum.
“Okay. Okay, good. You’re safe now kid, alright? You’re safe.”
~
As soon as Shouta had seen that kid, he knew that Hizashi wasn’t going to stop until they adopted him. Yes, he’d rescued kids before and yes, they hadn’t adopted those ones. But the couple had been looking to adopt for a while now and although they were young, with their jobs as teachers, they’ve had plenty of experience dealing with kids. They’ve also had to foster some kids in emergency situations before but those were always temporary.
This kid though…
Shouta’s seen abuse cases before, more than he would ever feel comfortable with, and this one looked alarmingly familiar. Not to him, but to Hizashi. He’d been told by his husband about his childhood and had had to restrain himself from hunting down anyone who’d ever hurt him after seeing the scars on his face. It was horrifying enough to hear about but to actually see a child in a fucking muzzle- It made Shouta’s blood boil at the same time as breaking his heart.
He just hoped it wouldn’t leave the same marks on his tiny face.
After getting the kid to the station and making sure that the shithole of an orphanage that he was running from was dealt with, Shouta called Hizashi. There wasn’t anything he could do for the kid until they figured out how to get the horrid contraption off so he knew he couldn’t put off this conversation any longer. It wasn’t that Shouta didn’t want to tell Hizashi but he knew how this case might affect him.
Shouta took a deep breath and pressed the dial button on his phone, hearing the tone ring twice before it was picked up.
“Sho?”
“Zashi. I’m alright,” Shouta immediately reassured, knowing how uncommon it was for him to call whilst on patrol, “I… I just brought a kid into the station.”
“Okay…”
“It’s an abuse case. The kid was running away from an orphanage when I found him and- Zashi he… he was wearing a muzzle.”
Shouta expected the gasp from the other end of the line but it didn’t mean he didn’t immediately feel guilty, bringing up unpleasant memories for Hizashi.
“...Is he alright?”
“He’s scared, and a bit shaken, but seems physically okay. You don’t have to come dow-”
“I’m already on my way.”
“Zashi…”
“I’m alright, Sho. Well, I mean obviously I’m not, but I will be. It’s been a long time for me. For him… it’s still happening. I can help him. We can help him.”
Shouta sighed in understanding. “I know. We will.”
It was 20 minutes before Hizashi arrived and in that time they had figured out a way to bypass the locking mechanism on the muzzle. Luckily, they had an officer on duty who had previous experience with tricky locks (he wasn’t going to ask) and had seen this specific one before. They were just about to let the kid know when the usually loud-mouthed Hero walked briskly and uncharacteristically quietly through the station doors.
“Where is he?”
Shouta came up and instantly hugged his husband tightly. Long arms wrapped around him in return and Shouta could feel the tenseness lining Hizashi’s shoulders relax minutely. He pulled back and studied the blonde’s face, finding an expression that was uncommon but one that he knew well. His brows were furrowed in concern and his mouth pulled tightly in a nervous grimace. His eyes were drooped slightly in poorly concealed sadness and Shouta wanted to hug him again and never let go. He wouldn’t though. There was a kid that needed them.
“He sat in the waiting room. I was just about to tell him we figured out a way to get it off.” Shouta nodded over his shoulder to Officer Nakamura who smiled sheepishly at the silent mention of her skills.
Hizashi took in and let out a deep breath. “Well, let’s go get him out then.”
As the two tall Pros and one short police officer walked into the waiting room, Shouta immediately regretted their entrance when he saw the kid flinch at their presence. Three strange adults walking silently into the almost empty room probably wasn’t a very reassuring picture.
“Hey kid, remember me?” Shouta asked in what he hoped was a calming tone. He wasn’t always the best when it came to kids but in his line of work, he’d learned a couple things. Like to use facial expressions.
The kid gave a hesitant nod in response whilst still glancing nervously at the other two standing either side of Shouta.
Shouta walked forward and crouched down, just close enough to talk to the kid directly whilst keeping a distance between them so as to not scare the kid off. “These are my friends,” he started, nodding back to the others but not letting his gaze leave the kid, “This is Officer Nakamura. She’s going to get that off you, okay? Is it alright if she comes and takes a look?”
Purple eyes widened at his words and after a moment that Shouta was sure was filled with disbelief, he nodded slowly. Shouta let out a silent breath of relief and turned to Nakamura to give her the go ahead.
She smiled warmly at the kid and slowly approached him with words of reassurance. He flinched away from her hands at first but after some more comforting words, he let her reach her hands around the back of his head. It seemed like an eternity for Shouta, watching helplessly as the scared kid in front of him scrunched his eyes shut tightly, anticipating what could happen next. When the locking mechanism finally clicked open, Shouta felt everyone in the room hold their breath as it was pulled slowly from the kid’s tiny face. The faint metallic scent of blood made Shouta almost scowl at how tight it must have been put on, but his anger was quickly overshadowed by worry when he saw the kid’s expression.
He had finally opened his eyes and looked down at the muzzle in Nakamura’s hands. With wide eyes and an open mouth, he sat stock still for a full minute before tears welled up on his lashes. Hizashi was the first to move. He slowly approached the kid, cautious as to not startle him, and sat down on the chair next to him. The kid was unresponsive until Hizashi reached out and softly placed his hand on his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, the kid flinched, but when he swivelled his head around to the blonde, the flood gates opened. He still didn’t make any noise but the tears balancing on his lash line came tumbling down and Shouta made to walk over when he saw Hizashi’s face. His husband had a small smile pulling at his lips and, upon further inspection, the kid had the same small tug on the corner of his mouth.
Shouta felt his shoulders fall as he let out a sigh of relief. He motioned Nakamura over and quietly asked her to grab a first aid kit for the kid. He followed her out the room, sending a fond look over his shoulder at his husband. He really was great with kids.
Speaking of kids, Shouta now needed to figure out who this kid was and how to adopt him. He didn’t even need to talk to Hizashi about it to know he was coming home with them. Of course, he would talk to him, but going off the way he looked at the kid, there was no way Hizashi was going to let the kid out of his sight.
~
Hitoshi had been living with Eraserhead and Present Mic for a few weeks. He thought. It had been hard to keep track of time lately. Ever since he had been separated from Izuku, things had become blurry and hazy.
He needed to stay focused. He was in a new house with new people. Sure, they were Pro Heroes but that didn’t mean he was safe. They might have taken off his muzzle and they hadn’t hurt him yet, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Hitoshi couldn’t let himself get comfortable. Not when it wouldn’t last. Not when Izuku wasn’t.
Izuku was what was making him lose focus. Izuku was making him hazy. Izuku was… gone. He’d lost his friend. He had to find him again.
But he couldn't.
Hitoshi spent most of his time holed up in his room. He refused to eat most meals unless they were in liquid or jelly form. He hadn’t eaten solid food in years and he was scared that his teeth wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe they’d crack when he tried to chew. Maybe they weren’t strong enough to even chew in the first place. Maybe they’d all fall out at the first bite! He couldn’t risk it.
He also hadn’t spoken.
Not once.
Not when he was told he would be living with his favourite Pro Hero. Not when he was asked about what happened. Not when they even told him that he was being adopted. He didn’t speak.
It’s not that he didn’t want to. Well, he didn’t want to, but there was something else. It was as if there was something stopping him from talking. Like the muzzle was still in place. He felt like it was sometimes. He could feel the metal digging into his skin even when he knew it wasn’t there. It was horrible.
Not everything was horrible though. Hitoshi liked his room. He had a big bed, bigger than the one he had before. There were a few soft toys in the room that he sometimes clung to if he woke up in the night, which happened more often than not. In the morning, though, he would be sure to put them back in the exact spot where he had found them. He couldn’t let Eraserhead and Present Mic see that he was using their things. They would just use it against him, taking away everything he liked the second that he asked them a question.
Hitoshi knew that they had both worked super hard to get the muzzle off, but he couldn’t help wondering when they were going to put it back on. Because they were. Everyone did. This is the longest that he’s ever gone without wearing the muzzle and he knew that it was just going to be more painful when it came back.
Hitoshi curled himself tightly on his bed, one of the plushies clutched in his hands. He took up the smallest amount of space possible, crowding himself into the corner between the bed and the wall. He felt a hotness build up behind his eyes, threatening to fall down as tears. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut to make sure that didn’t happen, Hitoshi thought of Izuku. He thought about what his friend might be doing right now. He thought about when he might be able to see him again. He thought about never seeing him again. That was what made the tears finally fall from his lashes and down his face.
It was alright, he told himself. Soon, Eraserhead and Present Mic would be sick of him and he’d be free to leave and find Izuku.
~*~
Shouta sighed as he checked the time on his phone. Akuma wasn’t coming tonight. Just like he hadn’t the night before and the night before that and the night before that.
It had been three months.
Three months since the fight with the Directorate. Three months since Akuma got hurt. Three months since he saw the kid’s face.
Three months since he’d left.
In that time, Shouta had become a little… Hizashi would say obsessive. Shouta would say diligent. He had been visiting the rooftop almost every single night, in the hopes that maybe that would be the night that Akuma showed up. What if he showed up and Shouta wasn’t there? The kid would think he had abandoned him. He couldn’t let that happen.
But that wasn’t tonight. It was 2am and there hadn’t been any sign of the vigilante anywhere. Shouta reluctantly gathered his things, pocketing the snack that hadn’t been eaten back into his utility belt. He stretched upwards, hearing more than feeling his back pop multiple times as he did so. A sigh left his lips as he realised that he would have to go home to Hizashi’s sympathetic yet concerned expression. The man had been staying up more often than before, sending Hitoshi back to bed whenever he was up at the same time that Shouta got home.
Shouta didn’t know whether he was happy that Hitoshi didn’t have to witness his emotional and physical exhaustion whenever he got off patrol, or if he was annoyed at the fact that they were sending away their son obviously enough that he had to know something was up and that they were keeping him in the dark. Either way, the situation needed to change. But Shouta couldn’t. He couldn’t stop coming to the rooftop because what if?
He was tired. So tired. But it was worth it. For Akuma, it was worth it.
When Shouta finally dragged his feet through the front door, he instantly knew that something was up. Hitoshi, who was almost always waiting for him in the living room, was nowhere to be seen. That in itself wasn’t too strange - the boy did sometimes get a good night’s sleep. What really tipped Shouta off was Hizashi. Instead of his usual place sat at the kitchen island with a cup of tea waiting for him, he was perched on the counter next to the stove, head down and hair hanging in his face. No tea in sight.
“Zashi?” Shouta called out as he toed off his shoes, “Everything okay?”
Hizashi sighed and lifted his head. “No. It’s not, Shouta.”
Worst case scenarios rushed through Shouta’s head. Was Hitoshi okay? Was Hizashi sick? Did someone die?
Before he could voice any of these questions, Hizashi hopped down off the counter and instead leaned back against it to face Shouta properly. “You’re tired,” he stated simply.
Shouta scoffed slightly. “Of course I’m tired, Zashi. I just got off patrol-”
“No,” Hizashi interrupted, “you’re always tired. Even on the off chance that you get a full night’s rest you’re still tired.” He sighed. “Look, I know you care about the kid, Sho. I do too-”
“I’m not going to stop waiting for him,” Shouta deadpanned.
“It’s killing you, Sho! You’re running yourself ragged worrying about this kid. You’re having to get other teachers to cover your lessons because you’re too tired to teach them! You spend nearly every night on that damn rooftop waiting for a kid who hasn’t shown up in months! It’s unhealthy, Shouta. And I’m worried about you.”
Shouta could hear the concern in Hizashi’s tone but it was overshadowed by the painful words he said. He felt his hands clench. “He’ll show up. I know he will. I’m not going to just give up on the kid because I’m a little tired, Hizashi! You can’t ask me to do that! I don’t care if it kills me, I will go to that damn rooftop every fucking night until he shows up!” Shouta almost took back his words at the pained expression on Hizashi’s face but kept his mouth clamped shut. He meant it. He wasn’t giving up on Akuma. Not now, not ever.
“I’m not asking you to give up on him, Sho,” Hizashi said as if reading Shouta’s mind, “I’m just asking you to take care of yourself. You’re no good to the kid if you’re so tired that you end up collapsing in the middle of a villain fight.”
Shouta averted his eyes to the side. Logically he knew Hizashi was right, but the emotional part of him was so strong that it screamed at him that he was wrong.
Hizashi’s shoulders dropped as he let out a deep sigh. “I’m just- I’m so worried about you, Sho. The last time you got like this was after Shirakumo died,” Shouta flinched but Hizashi pillowed on, “and I don’t want to end up carrying your unconscious body to the hospital because you overworked yourself again. You nearly killed yourself before. I won’t- I won’t let it happen again.”
At the crack in Hizashi’s voice, Shouta looked up. He could see the tears welling up in his husband’s eyes and after a blink, he watched them fall down to his chin. Shouta felt all of the anger in him die out. “I- I’m sorry Zashi. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He walked up and hesitantly wrapped his arms around Hizashi’s waist who, after a second, gripped him back tightly.
“I know you didn’t. But I am. Hitoshi is too - he isn’t taking his sleeping pills because he keeps waiting up for you.” Shouta tightened his hold on Hizashi, burying his head into his long blonde hair to hide the tears building in his eyes. “I care about Akuma, too, Shouta. You know I do. But I care about you more.”
Hizashi sighed and pulled back so he could look Shouta in the eye. One of his thumbs brushed a tear from Shouta’s face and Shouta leaned into it until his face was being held. Shouta didn’t know how long they stayed there, just staring at each other, silent apologies spoken with their eyes.
“Three times a week,” Hizashi eventually said, breaking the silence. “You can go to the rooftop three nights a week but any more than that and I’m tying you down with your own scarf, alright?”
Shouta huffed a quiet laugh. “Well, damn. Let me get back out there-”
Hizashi pulled him back from where he’d been moving away, laughing as he did. “Not like that, you moron!”
Quiet laughter filled the kitchen as the pair held onto each other’s arms. Eventually, Shouta let his laughter stop, looking into Hizashi’s eyes seriously. “Three nights. I promise.”
Hizashi smiled. “Good. I’m sorry for snapping at you.”
“Me too,” Shouta replied. “Now what was that about my scarf?”
The smile on Hizashi’s face shifted into a smirk. His hands moved along his arms until they reached the grey cloth circling his neck. They stayed there for a second before he yanked hard, pulling Shouta’s face inches from his own. “Hmm, I don’t remember.” He leaned forward until his lips were brushing Shouta’s ear. “Why don’t you remind me.”
Shouta was dragged by the scarf around his neck through the apartment until they reached their bedroom and he was thrown on the bed. As he watched Hizashi slowly turn the lock on the door, not for the first time, Shouta was thankful that they had invested in soundproof walls.
~
The next morning, Shouta awoke to the smell of coffee wafting into the bedroom. He inhaled deeply through his nose, sighing at the pleasant aroma. His nose scrunched slightly when he realised that it was pressed up against something scratchy and was starting to get itchy. Reaching a hand up to itch it, Shouta found his hand met with long soft hair. It was then that he woke up enough to take in his situation.
The hand that wasn’t currently itching his nose was trapped underneath Hizashi’s body, just above his shoulders so that it wasn’t uncomfortable and was instead being used as a pillow. Shouta’s legs were tangled together with Hizashi’s in a way that made it so that he couldn’t tell where his leg ended and Hizashi’s started. The rest of his body was pressed up against Hizashi’s side, no gap left between them.
Once the scratch was sufficiently scratched, Shouta let his hand fall back down to where it had been before, laid across Hizashi’s chest, and nuzzled his face in closer to his husbands neck. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now but god did he want to. He never wanted to leave this bed, this moment. Where they used to have regular lie-ins on the weekend with each other, Shouta now realised that they had been replaced with cold mornings woken up in an empty bed. It was because he had always been so exhausted from his patrols, Shouta knew, but he didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to stay with Hizashi a little longer. To just ignore the rest of the world.
Five minutes later, a muffled grunt and shift from the body underneath him told Shouta that his husband had finally woken up. He tilted his head to leave a gentle kiss on Hizashi’s jaw, coaxing him to wake up fully.
“Mmfh,” Hizashi blinked his eyes open to look down at Shouta. “G’morning, Sho,” he slurred, turning his body so he could embrace Shouta properly.
“Morning, Zashi,” Shouta sleepily replied, his voice coming out groggier than he expected. He really should have expected it, though, given the night they had before. Shouta told himself it was from arguing. Yeah, definitely the arguing.
Hizashi hummed happily. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“I think so. I don’t wanna get up to get it though,” Shouta complained, nestling further into Hizashi’s side, effectively trapping him in the bed. He felt more than heard Hizashi’s chuckles, his chest rumbling against Shouta’s. Eventually, the promise of caffeine must have been strong enough to pull Hizashi from bed because he gave Shouta a quick kiss on the forehead before extracting himself from his grip.
Shouta whined at the loss, the bed turning cold with one less person in it. After lying there stubbornly for a minute, he finally lamented and grabbed a blanket to drape across his shoulders so he wouldn’t get even colder when he stood up. He dragged himself on shuffling feet to the kitchen, finding Hizashi hunched over on a stool and Hitoshi pouring out a mug of coffee. When Shouta sat down on the stool next to his husband, Hitoshi pushed the mug towards him. He nodded his thanks and lazily brought the drink to his lips.
“So,” Hitoshi started, dragging out the word, “you two were kind of loud last night.”
Shouta choked on his coffee. He spluttered out some coughs as Hizashi thumped him on the back. It was only after the blush had started making its way up his neck that Shouta realised that Hitoshi was talking about their argument.
Hitoshi’s nose scrunched. “Okay, gross. Wrong choice of words by me but please never react like that again, Kami.”
“Sorry,” Shouta apologised. “F-for keeping you up last night, I mean,” he added on quickly, not helping his case at all, “things got a little heated but we sorted it out. No need to worry.”
Hitoshi shrugged. “Eh, it’s not like I was gonna get much sleep anyway. I tried not to eavesdrop but you two were loud so it was kind of hard not to.” He shuffled in place, his eyes darting downwards so as to not meet his dads’ eyes. “Is Akuma okay?”
Shouta softened at the worry in Hitoshi’s voice, opening his mouth to answer but not having the words to reassure him. Luckily Hizashi sensed his struggle and jumped in.
“The police station is still getting dozens of criminals dropped on their doorstep by a short, masked vigilante every week so I’m sure he’s fine.” Hizashi reached out and held Hitoshi’s hand in his own.
Hitoshi gripped it back but raised his eyes to meet Shouta’s. “But you haven’t seen him?”
A sigh left Shouta’s lips. “I ran into him last month once during an altercation with a criminal. But no, I haven’t talked to him. Not since…”
“Since you saw his face,” Hitoshi finished, nodding his head in solemn understanding. He took in a quick breath, lifting his head with the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pa got you to cut down on patrols, yeah?” Shouta nodded, a sheepish expression appearing on his face as he glanced over to Hizashi. “Good. It was getting boring waiting up for you every night.”
Shouta heard the unsaid meaning behind his son’s words and his heart broke a little bit for ever worrying him. He made his way round the kitchen island and gathered Hitoshi up in his arms. “I’m sorry, kid.”
Hitoshi didn’t respond verbally but instead just buried his head in the soft blanket around Shouta’s shoulders. Shouta’s grip tightened so much that he thought he might crush the kid. Hitoshi said nothing, though, just gripping him back just as tightly.
~
It had been three days since Shouta had agreed to cut back on his patrols. He had spent the majority of that time being forced to rest by Hizashi. His husband had called into UA, saying that Shouta was taking some time off for medical reasons. Kami, had that been a fun phone call with Shuzenji when she found out. She gave him much of the same beratings that Hizashi had but in a much harsher and much less concerning tone.
Despite Hizashi’s obvious wish to keep Shouta wrapped up in a blanket in their apartment forever, Shouta had reminded him that he still had a job and that he did need to get back to it at some point. Hizashi had reluctantly agreed and, when Shouta made fun of him for being a needy husband for trying to keep him around, practically shoved Shouta out the door. With a promise not to stay out too late, Shouta had nearly ran out of the apartment, his mind going stir-crazy at being stuck inside for so long. Although, he had to admit, it was nice to spend so much time with Hizashi and Hitoshi.
The wind rushing through his hair was a welcome relief as Shouta ran across rooftops. He kept his eyes and ears out for potential criminal activity but was mainly focusing on the feeling of being out again. It had been a while since he could do this without the bone deep ache and exhaustion dragging his body down.
Thankfully, there had been only a couple of drug deals and one mugging that Shouta had to stop before he checked his watch and noticed the time. Ten fifty-two. With a deep sigh and a reminder to himself not to stay too long, Shouta made his way to the rooftop.
Two buildings away, he thought he saw some movement on the rooftop and quickly felt his hopes rise before he stopped them. It was probably just a bird. Desperately hoping that Akuma would turn up was what got Shouta into this situation in the first place. He shook his head and carried on across the rooftop he was currently on, intentionally not letting his pace quicken.
Once he landed on the rooftop and saw nothing, he sighed and silently berated himself for getting his hopes up. Shouta started walking over to the usual place where he sat but a flicker in the shadows caught his eye. He stopped in place, shifting his feet to a more ready stance, Hero instincts kicking in.
“Who’s there?” he called out, trying so hard to not let the pained hope seep into his voice.
The first thing he saw was a familiar pair of boots stepping into the light before the rest of his body followed. Shouta felt his mouth drop open and his guard fall. His arms swung by his sides as he took in the person stood in front of him.
“…Akuma?”
Chapter 21: Three More Hugs Than Usual
Summary:
More Hitoshi backstory and the father and son reuniting
Notes:
TW FOR THIS CHAPTER:
- panic attack near the end of the flashback
- mentions of past abuse
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Leaning against the countertop, waiting for the rice cooker to finish, Shouta sighed as he thought about Hitoshi. The kid had been living with him and Hizashi for over two months now and he still wasn’t talking. Which is to be expected, if he was honest with himself; the kid had been in a muzzle for who knows how long, at least as long as he was in the orphanage.
Kami, that fucking orphanage.
Shouta had followed up with the officers working on the case, making sure that they’d actually do something about it and not just brush it off. Fuck knows he had enough to deal with without corrupt and lazy police making his life that much harder. Luckily, he had been able to get Tsukauchi to be the lead officer so he was given regular updates on the case.
Every time he did, Shouta became more thankful and angry at the same time. Thankful, because it meant that the people who worked there were being exposed for their bigotry and abuse. Angry, because they had done it in the first place.
The records showed that Hitoshi had been in their care - ‘care’ being a generous word - for three years. Three whole years of being stuck in that muzzle. Three whole years of not eating solid foods. Three whole years of not speaking.
Shouta and Hizashi had been able to take him to a dentist shortly after they realised that he hadn’t actually chewed on food or brushed his teeth for years. Safe to say, his mouth was pretty fucked up. He had to have several fillings, a couple teeth even replaced with implants, and was to stick with a strict hygiene regimen. They visited a doctor after the dentist to get the kid a full work-up. There were a few concerning things but the most glaring was the kid’s weight. Despite eating the same thing as the other kids, just a blended up version, Hitoshi had been declared malnourished and was given a diet plan. The kid was reluctant at first, only eating food that was given to him in liquid form, but eventually Shouta and Hizashi brought him round. They were slowly building up his tolerance to solid foods again as well as his tooth strength.
The whole ordeal had been extremely stressful for all three of them but Shouta was just thankful that the kid had cooperated well. It didn’t seem as if he had any trauma related to doctors given his generally nervous demeanour barely changed and only did so with new places and people which was to be expected. Then again, they’d have no idea until the kid started talking. If he started talking.
The ping of the rice cooker jolted Shouta from his thoughts and he busied himself with getting the rest of dinner ready.
Once everything was prepared, he set three places at the dining table. They didn’t used to use it often but ever since Hitoshi started coming out of his room to eat, the dining table seemed to make him more comfortable than the kitchen island. Probably because it was more his height. Shouta padded light feet across the floor of the apartment before catching himself and forcing himself to make them slightly louder. He’d found that Hitoshi reacted better when he knew that someone was coming before they knocked on his door. It was still a work in progress to try and speak to Hitoshi without him having a terrified look on his face but it was progressing. Slowly.
Shouta took a deep breath. You just need to show him he can trust you, Shouta thought to himself before raising his hand to knock on the door.
~
Hitoshi hugged one of the plush animals whilst burrowed in the corner between his bed and the wall. He had just had dinner with Erasehead and Present Mic. He’d managed to eat half of his small bowl of gyudon before sending a questioning look to Eraserhead and, once he’d received a nod in return, running back to his room. It wasn’t that he was full. Hitoshi probably could’ve eaten the rest of the bowl all on his own. But he had a plan.
He was going to find Izuku tonight.
Hitoshi had thought it all out. Once Eraserhead and Present Mic had gone to sleep, he was going to sneak out through the living room balcony, just like he and Izuku did at the orphanage. Then, once he was out, he was going to find Izuku. He had to.
So he sat and he waited. He waited until he heard Eraserhead and Present Mic clearing up the rest of dinner. He waited until they both moved into their bedroom down the hall past Hitoshi’s room. He waited until the lights went off in the hallway and the apartment was dead silent. Then he waited some more, just to be sure.
It wasn’t until he abruptly woke up, eyes wide and looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, that Hitoshi realised he had accidentally fallen asleep. Once his eyes had focused enough, he let out a small breath, realising that it had only been for a couple of hours. Eraserhead and Present Mic were still asleep. He could escape. He could find Izuku.
With shaking hands, Hitoshi gripped his plush animal tight and hopped off the bed. He was only bringing it with him because it was soft. That was it. Hitoshi kept telling himself that as he held the fluffy green rabbit close to his body as he crept through the dark hallway. As he reached the living room, Hitoshi noticed that a dim light was coming from the kitchen but he ignored it. Present Mic always left a small light on just in case someone woke up in the night. Hitoshi shook his head at that thought. He wasn’t supposed to know things like that. He was supposed to be with Izuku, not here.
With renewed determination, Hitoshi made his way over to the balcony doors and stared at the lock by the handle. It seemed simple enough but he didn’t want to risk getting it wrong and having alarms going off. There might even be lasers. After all, this was an apartment belonging to two Pro Heroes. He continued to try and think of a solution until he was startled by a cough behind him.
“Turn the knob to the left.”
Hitoshi whipped his head around to find Eraserhead leaning against the kitchen island with a mug in his hands. Immediately, he started shaking in place, breath quickening and eyes blurring as they welled up with tears. This was it. He’d been caught. Eraserhead was going to put the muzzle back on him. He was going to punish him. Hitoshi’s mind raced with the thoughts of what was going to happen next.
Would Eraserhead lock him in his room? Was he going to make him go back to liquid food? He’d have to because he was going to put the muzzle back on. He’d caught Hitoshi breaking the rules. Was he going to hurt him? What if he used his Hero powers on him? His quirk was Erasure but that didn’t mean Heroes weren’t dangerous. What if he arrested Hitoshi? What if he sent him to prison as a villain? Hitoshi can’t go to prison, he has to find Izuku!!
His thoughts continued to spiral into more scenarios until he felt a hand on his shoulder and he jolted backwards. Hitoshi suddenly became aware of his rapid breathing but he couldn’t stop it. The air just wasn’t coming in so he kept trying and trying but it wasn’t working! He was going to pass out!
Hitoshi started to panic even more until he realised that Eraserhead was in front of him. The Hero was knelt down so he had to look up at Hitoshi slightly. His hands were held out in front of him, palms up. That was weird; usually when Hitoshi broke a rule, there were hands in his hair, hands grabbing his clothes, hands closed tightly into fists. Never hands held out like Eraserhead’s were.
“You’re breathing really fast, Hitoshi.” Eraserhead’s voice came out deep and soft and cause Hitoshi to look up at the Hero’s face. “I want you to help me slow it down, okay? Do you think you can do that?”
Eraserhead was asking him a question? It took a while for Hitoshi to register what he was actually asking but eventually he slowly nodded his head. He didn’t like breathing fast and he wanted it to stop.
Hitoshi watched as Eraserhead’s shoulders dropped slightly as he let out a breath. Breathing. He needed to breathe. “Okay. Good, that’s good. Are you able to hold onto my hands?”
Hitoshi flinched but the urge to breathe normally overwhelmed his fear of what Eraserhead could do. He moved one shaking hand to Eraserhead’s upturned palm, the other still clutching onto the fluffy green rabbit tightly. The large calloused hand lightly grasped his back and Hitoshi flinched again but forced himself to relax.
“Okay, just try and copy my breathing, Hitoshi. In,” he took a deep breath in and Hitoshi tried to do the same, only half-succeeding, “and out,” he let out a slow breath and Hitoshi did the same only much faster. They continued like that, in and out, in and out, for a while. Hitoshi didn’t know how long, but eventually his breathing was pretty much back to normal. When he realised that he could breathe on his own again, Hitoshi quickly brought his hand back to hold onto the rabbit. Eraserhead let him.
“Are you feeling better?”
Hitoshi hesitantly nodded again. He had no idea what was going to happen next but it was definitely some kind of punishment. The fluffy green rabbit was pulled impossibly closer to his body as Hitoshi waited for it.
“That’s good. That’s really good. You scared me for a second there kid,” Eraserhead said in that same deep, soft voice, sitting down on the floor as he did so. Hitoshi was so shocked by that sentence that he didn’t move or nod or shake his head or anything. Eraserhead was scared? Heroes don’t get scared! “Were you trying to go somewhere?” Hitoshi blinked away his shock and, in fear of being punished more if he didn’t answer, he nodded his head. “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me where?” Hitoshi just stared at him. “Yeah, that was a long shot.”
The two stayed in silence for about a minute before Eraserhead spoke again. “I’m not mad at you, kid.” Hitoshi blinked in surprise. “The balcony is quite high up and I was scared that you were going to hurt yourself, accidentally or not.” Eraserhead took a deep breath. “I don’t mind if you want to go places. If you ever want to go somewhere you can just let me or Hizashi know. You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to, you could write it down. But I just want you to know that you aren’t trapped here. Anytime you want to go out, we can go out, okay? Just please don’t try and do anything dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Hitoshi had been staring wide-eyed at Eraserhead the whole time he was speaking, not sure that he was hearing correctly. He… wasn’t mad? He wasn’t going to punish him? No, he had to. This was obviously just a trick. He was saying one thing and then later he’d come into Hitoshi’s room with a muzzle. Except… he didn’t seem like he was lying. He seemed… scared. But that couldn’t be true. Heroes don’t get scared. They’re Heroes!
Hitoshi couldn’t handle it anymore. He had no idea if he was in trouble or not but he didn’t care. He just had to move. So, without thinking, Hitoshi ran straight past Eraserhead and back to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He stayed there with his back to the door, waiting for the anger to come. For the footsteps to come marching down the hall. For the door to be ripped open and for Eraserhead to be standing there above him. But the footsteps didn’t come, and neither did Eraserhead.
Falling asleep against the hardwood bedroom door, Hitoshi dreamed of a green rabbit and a purple cat running around a big open garden with no walls, no people, and nothing stopping them from doing what they wanted.
~*~
Shallow breaths filled Izuku’s ears.
There wasn’t much that scared the vigilante of two years. But right now, stood on the familiar yet somehow foreign roof, Izuku was fucking terrified.
He hadn’t seen Eraserhead since that unfortunate incident a couple weeks ago and he hadn’t spoken to him since…
Izuku shook the thought from his head. He wasn’t going to think about that right now. He was here to meet Eraserhead, the hardened underground Pro Hero, not Hitoshi’s dad. It wouldn’t make this any easier if Izuku was thinking about his old friend the whole time.
…
God what the fuck was taking Eraser so long. Izuku knew he was coming. Ever since he had found Eraser waiting on their rooftop for him, Izuku had listened out for him on patrol. Like clockwork, the man sat on the ledge for a good couple of hours every Saturday night. He went other nights as well - almost every single night - but he was always consistent with Saturdays. Every weekend from 11pm to 1am, he sat and waited. Some nights he waited even longer. And every time he did, the pit of guilt sitting in Izuku’s gut widened just that bit more.
Gravel crunching underfoot two buildings away caught Izuku’s attention. Honing in on the sound, Izuku could make out Eraser’s familiar heartbeat getting closer by the second. His breath hitched and he shrunk back out of the warmth of the lone light on the stairway access and into the cool shadow by the air conditioning unit. Izuku told himself that he just didn’t want to scare Eraser off before he even reached the roof, but deep down he knew that he was really just nervous.
What would Eraser say? Would he say anything? What if he just left the second he saw Izuku? Was he mad? He had a right to be. Would he try to arrest Izuku? That thought made Izuku’s insides churn. He really didn’t want to entertain the idea that he had lost Eraser’s trust. Although, it wouldn’t be a stretch if he did. Izuku left. For months. What if Eraser never wants to talk to him again?
Before Izuku’s train of thought could spiral even more, heavy footfalls landed on the edge of the rooftop. Eraser’s heartbeat was simultaneously a comforting and daunting sound. The Hero started walking over to his usual spot at the ledge but stopped halfway.
His feet twisted into a more alert stance, hands raising to his capture weapon. “Who’s there?” he called out into the night.
Fuck. Izuku really should have expected this given the Hero’s skills in stealth and observation. Hesitantly, Izuku sucked in a deep breath and walked slowly out into the barely warm light of the bulb on the wall. He both wanted to hate the fact that he couldn’t stop himself from sensing Eraser’s reaction and be grateful that he could study it.
Safe to say, he was shocked.
Izuku knew Eraser to be this stone-faced stoic professional that only let his emotions show at very rare occasions. This was one of those occasions, it seemed. Izuku didn’t know whether to be honoured to be able to see this side of the Hero, or uncomfortable at the open display of emotions. He settled on a healthy mix of the two.
“...Akuma?” Eraser barely spoke above a whisper.
Izuku nervously chuckled. “Haha… Yeah, it’s me… um, hey? I gue-”
He was cut off by Eraser’s arms wrapping around him tightly, moving back before Izuku could even think to reciprocate.
“Shit, sorry. I just- I was so worried about you kid.” Eraser’s tone was laced with a hint of regret but overshadowed with stark relief. It caught Izuku a bit off guard. “Are you…” He hesitated and Izuku imagined he was looking at Izuku’s now healed leg. “Are you okay?”
Izuku unconsciously flexed his thigh and adjusted his stance, somehow feeling comforted by the slight twinge of pain it caused. He had come to expect the aches in his thigh muscles in everyday life and especially when on patrol. It was a reminder of who gave it to him and every single little pang just fuelled Izuku’s desire to take down the bird motherfucker and the rest of the directorate with him.
“I’m healed,” Izuku settled on, “What about you? You had more than a couple scratches last I saw you.” Despite the attempt at light humour, Izuku internally winced at the mention of their last meeting. The first thought that came to mind was Hitoshi but after pushing that to the far corners of his mind, Izuku was abruptly reminded of the other reason that he had left running from the Pro’s apartment.
Eraser had seen his face.
It hit Izuku like a freight train. How the fuck had Izuku forgotten that?! He wasn’t mad about it, or anything. He knew that Eraser only removed his mask in order to check his head for injuries but a flurry of questions flooded Izuku’s mind at the implications. Had Eraser tried to find his identity? He wouldn’t think that he would but he really didn’t know. Did Eraser know how old he was now? I mean, sure he’d been calling him “kid” for basically the whole time they’d known each other but did the Hero really know how young Izuku was? He must’ve by now. Izuku was not ignorant to the fact that he had a remarkable baby face. Both Mei and Akari had commented on it more than once.
Wait. Was Izuku expected to remove his mask to the Hero now? It was just the two of them whenever they met up on their rooftop so no one who hadn’t seen his face. Well, Izuku hadn’t in quite a while but he certainly knew what it felt like. Did Eraser want him to remove his mask? Would he care? Did Izuku?
There were too many questions floating around in his head that Izuku almost missed Eraser’s response.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Recovery Girl patched me up good. She’s the one who treated you, too. I hope you don’t mind me calling her in. I can handle simple first aid but… You needed more help than I was able to give.” Izuku paid more attention to Eraser’s voice then. There was a slight wobble in his voice at the end of his sentence that gave Izuku pause. He was upset. No, not upset. Afraid. For Izuku.
Izuku’s mind was reeling just a little bit. It was still hard to get his head around the fact that there were people who cared about whether he was alive or not. Luckily, he was able to shove that thought to the back of his mind to deal with later, when he wasn’t in the middle of pretending that he didn’t used to be best friend’s with Eraserhead’s son.
“I’m okay, Eraser,” Izuku said, hoping to chase the fear from the Hero’s voice, “Recovery Girl healed my leg. You saved my life. Thank you.”
Eraser let out a shaky breath. Izuku thought it might have been in relief but he was too caught up in his own emotions to tell. Sure, he had known logically that if Eraser hadn’t brought him medical attention then he most likely would have bled out. Saying out loud, though, made it that much more real.
The familiar tapping of morse code from Eraser’s hand on his thigh made its way to Izuku’s ears. “Is it-” the man started but cut himself off, taking a deep breath.
Izuku’s muscles tensed as he imagined all of the things Eraser might say. What if he wanted to see Izuku’s face again? What if he asked to stop meeting up? What if-
“Can I hug you again?” Eraser abruptly stopped Izuku’s straying thoughts. Before he could respond, Eraser carried on. “Sorry, It’s just- Kid, you scared the crap out of me. I thought you might’ve died. I thought you hated me. And I totally understand if you did-”
This time it was Izuku’s turn to interrupt Eraser’s rambling with a hug. He told himself that he just wanted to shut the Hero up. That he was just doing what he wanted to calm him down. Because he was Hitoshi’s dad. And when Eraser’s arms came up to hold onto Izuku tightly, so tightly he wasn’t sure he would be able to escape if he tried, Izuku ignored the wetness forming on his lashes and rolling down the numb skin around his eyes. He would never admit, to anyone else or himself, that he tucked his head into the dip of Eraser’s shoulder.
Likewise, Eraser would never admit to feeling the wetness on his neck and holding onto the kid impossibly tighter.
~
Izuku and Eraser sat side by side on the roof’s ledge, looking out over the city like they used to. They hadn’t said anything to each other since reluctantly pulling themselves away from their embrace.
Izuku absently thought that it should have been awkward. They hadn’t spoken in months and the last time they did, Eraser saw Izuku’s face and Izuku found out ERaser was Hitoshi’s dad. But it wasn’t. It was a comfortable silence that neither of them felt obliged to fill.
Eventually though, the silence had to be broken.
“Hungry?” Eraser asked out of nowhere that Izuku almost jumped.
Izuku felt his lip twitch slightly, remembering the countless snacks the pair of them had shared. “I could eat.” As he heard Eraser pull out two juice pouches and two packaged onigiris, Izuku was hit by the sudden thought that the Hero hadn’t known Izuku was going to be there tonight. That meant that he kept some food in his pocket every time he came to the roof, just in case Izuku showed up. Resolving to not cry again, Izuku squeezed his eyes tightly shut and distracted himself by unwrapping his food.
Apparently, the food had just been a way to get Izuku comfortable before Eraser started asking questions because, when Izuku had finished his onigiri and had started on the juice pouch, Eraser spoke up.
“So,” he shifted slightly in his seat, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Izuku froze, then slowly lowered the drink from his mouth. “If you want we can do the question for a question thing again.”
Izuku said nothing for a minute. He thought it over until he heard the telltale taps from Eraser’s fingers and finally nodded slowly. “Okay.” The taps stopped and Eraser let out a barely-there sigh. “What do you wanna know?”
It took what seemed like an eternity but was probably about thirty seconds until Eraser spoke. “What made you come here tonight?”
Izuku relaxed his jaw which he had unconsciously clenched. Okay, he could answer that. He cleared his throat. “I need some help with a couple of things. One of them is to do with the Directorate so I’ll leave that to later. The other thing,” Izuku reached into one of his deeper pockets and pulled out the capture weapon Mei had made, “is this. I’ve been trying to get it to work for me for months but I’m still only able to grab onto larger objects with not much accuracy.”
Izuku heard the click of Eraser’s jaw hanging open and had to stop himself from smirking. “Where did you get that?” he asked with not a lack of concern.
Izuku did smirk then. “Remember when you tried to trap me with yours and I escaped by cutting some of it off? Well, I have a friend who is very good at deconstructing and reconstructing weapons and materials. They made this as a gift for me.”
Eraser slowly closed his mouth and nodded. “Right. Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who this friend is?”
“Ha!” Izuku blurted. “You’re funny, Eraser.”
A sigh left Eraser’s lips and Izuku worried for a second that he might refuse. “Alright, kid, I’ll teach you how to use it, but only on the condition that you swear to never let it fall into the wrong hands.”
Izuku attempted to give Eraser his best approximation of an ‘are you serious?’ look with half his face covered. “I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not,” Eraser nodded. “Alright, your turn. We can go over Directorate stuff later.”
There had been lots of questions swimming around Izuku’s head ever since he left Eraser’s apartment but there was one that stood out from all the rest, shouting the loudest at him. “Do you know who I am? Like, after you saw my face, did you look me up?”
There was a horrifying moment of silence where Izuku was sure that Eraser was about to say yes and his whole life would fall apart.
“No, kid, of course not.” Izuku let out a sigh of relief and hoped that Eraser didn’t catch it even though he knew he did. “I only took your mask off to check for head wounds,” Eraser continued, “I would never do anything to betray your trust. Unless, of course, if it’s for your safety, like to see if you’re injured.”
The Hero’s choice of words made Izuku hesitate. “What would you consider as ‘for my safety’?” It was a very important question. What if Eraser thought that the best thing for Izuku’s safety was to find out who he was and where he lived to make sure his home life was okay? What if it meant he turned Izuku into the police because being a kid vigilante isn’t exactly safe?
To his credit, Eraser took his time to answer his question which Izuku appreciated. Slowly, as if carefully picking out the right words to use, Eraser said, “If I thought you would die or be seriously injured if I didn’t do something in that exact moment. So, yes, whilst I think that a kid your age should not be doing something as dangerous as you are, you aren’t in any immediate danger at this moment and you know what you’re doing so…”
Izuku fidgeted in place, his hand fiddling with the juice packet. “You promise?”
Eraser smiled. “I promise.”
“Cool,” Izuku nodded, hiding how much those simple words meant to him, “your turn.”
The way that Eraser furrowed his brow told Izuku that he knew Izuku wasn’t saying everything but thankfully he dropped it. “Alright,” he took a deep breath, “do you still trust me?”
Once again, Izuku was thrown by Eraser’s choice of question. The Hero still hadn’t asked why Izuku fucked off for several months. Moving past his small shock, Izuku surprised himself by how quickly he answered. “Yes. I do.” Izuku heard the muscles in Eraser’s shoulders relax and a breath released from his mouth. Did he really have to question that? Izuku told him that he did when he left Eraser’s apartment. “My turn,” Izuku coughed, ducking his head. “Do you have a son?”
Izuku froze. Why the FUCK did he ask that?!
He was too caught up in his own stupidity that he didn’t gauge Eraser’s reaction to the stupid-ass question, only his response.
“Yes, I do,” he said, mimicking Izuku’s last answer, “I guess you must have heard him when you woke up?”
Izuku wordlessly nodded, not allowing himself to speak lest he blurt out something even more idiotic.
“I know I don’t have to stress the importance of that being kept secret, right, Akuma?” It was obvious that Eraser was trying to be stern with his warning but Izuku was able to hear the small undercurrent of fear in his voice. Fear for the safety of Hitoshi no doubt.
Izuku put on the most earnest expression he could muster to show Eraser he was serious. “You can trust me, Eraser. I won’t tell anyone.”
It was so faint that Izuku almost didn’t catch it, but the side of Eraser’s mouth pulled up just slightly in a tiny smile. “I do trust you, kid.” Izuku ignored the feeling of warmth that blossomed in Izuku’s chest. “Okay, just one more question. Again, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Oh fuck here it comes, Izuku thought to himself, mentally bracing for the question that was sure to come out of Eraser’s mouth. Externally, he just nodded for the Hero to continue.
“Are you okay?” Eraser must have taken Izuku’s silence for confusion because he carried on. “Because, you know, that was a big hit you took at the warehouse and you almost… You didn’t patrol for two months after the raid and when I saw you fighting that gymnast guy you were favouring your left side. I just- I want to make sure you’re okay and I know you said you’re healed up but I’m talking about mentally too. Nearly dying can be a pretty traumatic experience so I’m just… concerned, is all.”
A flurry of emotions floated around in Izuku’s head but he pushed the happiness of having someone care about him and the upset of having worried Eraser to the back of his mind. Instead of voicing them, or even answering the question, Izuku latched onto the most confusing and annoying thing to him in that moment. “What the fuck?! That’s your last question??” He ignored Eraser’s stunned face. “Don’t you want to know where I’ve been? Aren’t you curious about why I ignored you for months? Aren’t you mad?!”
“Mad?” Eraser asked confusedly but Izuku ploughed on.
“Yes! Mad! You saved my fucking life and I avoided you! For months! And now you’re saying you’re concerned about me? You want to know if I’m okay? No, that doesn’t make sense!! You should be angry! You should hate me! Why don’t you-” Izuku breathed heavily, all of his energy leaving him quickly. “Why don’t you hate me?” he asked in the quietest voice he’d spoken in that night.
Eraser’s shoulders dropped. Izuku didn’t know why. He should have been realising that he did hate Izuku. He should have been getting up, leaving, arresting him, or something. Instead, he slowly reached out a hand and placed it on Izuku’s knee.
“Kid,” he spoke in a voice so soft Izuku almost thought it wasn’t Eraser, “Akuma, listen to me. I don’t hate you.” Izuku opened his mouth to protest but Eraser cut him off. “No, I don’t. And I shouldn’t. I don’t know why you avoided me and if you don’t want to tell me then I don’t need to know. I’ll admit, I was upset when I didn’t hear from you but that wasn’t because I was angry at you. It’s because I care about you. You went through an extremely traumatic event and I just needed to know you were okay. That you were safe.”
Izuku felt the telltale sign of heat building up behind his eyes but he refused to move to do anything to stop the tears that were sure to come, too focused on listening to Eraser.
“I was-” Eraser’s hand tightened on Izuku’s knee slightly. “I was scared, Akuma. I was terrified that your leg hadn’t healed properly and you bled out in an alley somewhere or that you’d gotten in a fight with the wrong person and were being held hostage. You scared the hell out of me, kid. But I was never mad at you. Not for a second, you hear me?”
For the second time that night, Izuku felt the wetness of salty tears fall down over his scars and down onto his chin. And for the third time that night, Izuku found himself being held in Eraserhead’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku hiccuped out between sobs, “I’m so sorry, Eraser.”
A hand stroked down Izuku’s back and it just made him sob harder. “It’s okay, kid. It’s okay,” Eraser whispered against Izuku’s head, which was digging into his chest, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Notes:
Yayyyy reunion!!! I hope this chapter is all you guys were hoping for (if you were hoping for it that is). Aizawa is just a dad in a constant state of worry for his two sons, someone please give this man a break.
Anyways, let me know what y'all thought of the new chapters. I love hearing feedback from you guys and I hope you're not too mad for the massive break.
Love y'all!! <3
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