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There was crying echoing from somewhere nearby.
Usually, Stendhal stuck to his own business, he only cared for taking care of crooks and criminals that flourished under the cover of night, not wanting any part in the aftermath. Being an illegal vigilante didn't exactly leave much of a choice.
But as he yanked his katana out of the knocked-out thief's leg, he takes notice of two things:
One, it's 2;34 am.
Two, the crying sounds like that of a child.
Despite his reputation and outward presentation, children have always been a soft spot, no matter how annoying or gross he finds them or how much he tries to deny it. It was somewhat easier to ignore kids, whenever one fell and grazed their knee they always had a parent to go crying to. That, and he never usually went outside during the day, unless necessary.
But a child crying in a back alley during the darkest hours of the night was a cause for alarm. He could not just ignore it. Wiping his hands on a cloth that hung from his belt, he exited the side street and took off in search of the crying child. He peered cautiously around a brick wall, behind it was another more enclosed alley. He tensed up, alert for any potential dangers that may have lingered.
He dropped his shoulders slightly when nothing stuck out, he crept silently into the brick pocket gaps between the buildings providing little light. As he walked further into the alley he began to make his footsteps audible, hoping he wouldn't startle the kid. Then he saw it, a blanket that was shaking softly in time with the sobs. He neared ever so closer, his footsteps louder now.
The blanket stilled and the crying spluttered out with a choked gasp. His presence had been detected.
"It's ok." He whispered out, as gently as someone with a rough scratchy voice could. The blanket, stained with something, shifted slightly. He slowly lowered himself onto the ground, loosely crossing his legs, trying to appear unthreatening.
"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his voice slightly, still quiet. There was a moment more of silence, neither of them moved before he received an acknowledgement.
"Then what do - do you want?" The response was strained and squeaky, muffled in between hiccupped sobs.
"What's a kid doing out at this hour?" He questioned gently. Another pause.
"What time is it?" Was the almost inaudible reply.
"Currently?" He checked his watch, "2:39 am." A sniffle, followed by more silence.
"Ain't you cold?" He pressed on cautiously. He didn't want to rush the kid but he was getting impatient, holy All Might he is not good with children.
"I dunno." The blanket lowered, and he finally looked at the kid better. They were so small and skinny, malnourished if he were to guess. The most startling thing was the state of the kid's face. It was currently a clump of marred flesh, blood red, still dripping. The nose looked like it was about to fall off, merely holding on by strings of flesh.
"Oh fuck." His face contorted in horror. What had happened to cause this?
"You said you could help me?" He let out a sigh, the least he could do was take the small thing to a hospital. They were half dead as it was.
"Yeah, don't worry kiddo, I've gotcha."
-time skip-
"IZUKU!"
He blinked awake, hands went to rub the sleep from his scarred face. A knock sounded at his door.
"Yeah, I'm up." He called out, voice scratchy from sleep. Chizo must have started breakfast. He sat up, shifting his feet around and out of his covers. He and Chizome Akaguro lived in a two-room, one-bathroom apartment in a somewhat rough neighbourhood. He wouldn't say they're poor, the two of them get by just fine with what they have. Despite some ups and downs, anything is better than living on the streets Chizo would tell him.
They shared a small bedroom and slept on simple futons on the worn tatami floor. Izuku decided he preferred it to a raised bed, not that he's slept on one recently, but he gathered as much from a general assumption. Anything that was raised off the ground was an inconvenience for someone lacking in sight.
"Don't forget your morning stretches." Chizo's voice rang out from the main room, which consisted of their living room, kitchen, and dining room. In reality, it was a five by five metre room with an old stained couch backed up against the wall opposite the genkan, a coffee table stacked with books and papers sat in front of the couch, a short round table was set in the middle of the room and two cushions acted as chairs. On the wall opposite the bedroom door stood a kitchenette, consisting of a sink, a mini-fridge, a few cabinets, a small oven, and a countertop stove and microwave. All the floors were tatami mats, rather old but traditional. The bathroom door was next to the last bench in the kitchen. It was nothing spectacular, just a toilet, a curtained shower, cabinets and a sink.
He shifted from his mattress and onto the floor, beginning his stretches. After going over (most of) them, he stood up slowly and decided to ignore the way his joints cracked as he did. After living in the same small space for almost nine years, he knew the layout perfectly. Chizo took care not to leave anything lying around, so he had no need to worry about tripping over. Of course, habits take time and when they were still getting used to each other he would stumble and fall near constantly, no less was expected of a newly blinded five-year-old.
They don't talk about what happened before Stendhal had discovered him, not that he could remember much. Chizo never pushed him for information either because he didn't care or he knew it would upset Izuku. It was in the past and he was fine now.
He makes his way out of the bedroom, reaching out for the door to make sure of where it was - partially open. From the door, he began counting the steps to the table, he counted five then squatted down, knees cracking once more. His hand outstretched and touched the smooth wooden surface, with the other hand he reached downwards to locate a pillow, and then sits down. Nothing was currently on the table so he tilted his head to where he could hear the older man shuffling around the small kitchen.
"Almost done with the eggs and rice, the tea is ready if you think you can grab it." Was the reply to his wordless remark.
"But I just sat down." He pouted, earning a chuckle from the other.
"How's your pain today?" He heard a click as the stove turned off, the slight scrape of china on metal as Chizo grabbed the boiled teapot and two cups, walking over and setting them down on the table. Izuku felt around, finding the cool smooth surface of a cup and then the burning hot feel of the pot. He was careful not to spill anything as he poured himself a cup of green tea.
"My knees are aching more than usual, and I have a headache." He finally answered. A second of clattering noises from cupboards, followed by a sigh.
"We only have one painkiller left, I'll have to go out and get more."
"Is it the orange brand?" He asked, Chizo hummed his affirmation, "Don't bother with more of that one, it doesn't work anymore." He grumbled, lifting the tea to his mouth to blow on it.
"Shit, I'll find something else then, until I can afford to get you in to see a GP so you can get a prescription," Chizo suggested. Izuku perked up slightly,
"Can I come with you?"
"Fine," The vigilante groaned, "I need to go out and do some shopping anyway, you can come if you promise not to run off. I don't need a repeat of our last outing together, the Hero Commission is after both of us remember?" Izuku just shrugged sheepishly, feeling the man's eyes on him.
"Ok, alright."
When Izuku first came into Chizome Akaguro's care, the man tried to take the boy in legally. Long story short, the Japanese government had some complications with Izuku's file and wanted to take him off the man for "security reasons". Most heroes know the Commission can be untrustworthy at the best of times, they had a habit of taking kids with potentially powerful quirks. But Izuku was quirkless, and Chizome could not for the life of him find any reason as to why the government was after the boy.
He sauntered over and sat down, placing two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks down on the table.
"You spilt some of your tea," Chizo commented offhandedly as he poured himself some tea. He watched as his sightless and cloudy-eyed ward reached his hands out before latching onto his bowl, pulling it towards him and giving it a sniff. He then held out his left hand expectantly, Chizome picked up a pair of chopsticks and placed them in the boy's open hand.
Izuku was never one for manners, neither of them were. They never felt any need for it, it was only the two of them and each was grateful of the other, without the need of constant praise or politeness.
Izuku was grateful that Chizome took him in, looked after and cared for him. When he was younger he had the habit of constantly thanking the older man continuously. The vigilante learned very quickly why he avoided other people.
But likewise, the older man was grateful for the young boy. Izuku tends to joke that without him Chizo would either be in jail or dead in a back street dumpster. Luckily for both of them, Izuku is rather good at mending a variety of injuries and ailments, his own aches and pains, and the occasional stab wound the vigilante came home with.
Chizome wasn't Izuku's parent. He didn't want or need to be, the young boy was resourceful and cunning. He taught the kid a few things, such as self defence, some basic first aid, and how to get out of 'sticky' situations. It was not so much a parent-child relationship, more like friends.
(Stendhal denies it, but Izuku means the world to him)
"Eat your food, or you can't come with me." Izuku balked,
"What! Hold on, I was simply pondering good sir! Please, please I really need to get outside! Or I'll go feral and tear up the apartment." He squawked, both hands planted on the tabletop, elbows stuck out to the sides. Resembling an angry chicken.
"Alright! Alright! You can come, but hurry it up. You know how I feel about waste." Chizome's hand once again found his forehead. Izuku grinned and proceeded to shovel his breakfast into his mouth. Chizo took their dishes while Izuku went to wash up in the bathroom, taking a few minutes to find where he'd left certain things.
Once he'd finished he walked back into the main room where the older man stood waiting by the door, holding the boys cane. The cane had been a birthday gift when he'd turned 8. The length was adjustable so he didn't need to get a new one every time he grew taller.
"Wasn't it expensive?" Izuku had asked after he'd been gifted it and had Chizome explain what it was.
"Pfft, of course not." Was the good humoured response, "It was like 1420 yen from some corner store, quite the bargain if you ask me."
Izuku lifted a hand to reach out for his cane, but was stopped by a flick to the back of his head.
"Ow! What the fuck was that for?" Chizome said nothing, but grinned, knowing the boy couldn't see.
"What took you so long." He grumbled. Izuku just pouted and reached out to find his cane, Chizome let him snatch it away then ruffled his hair.
Chizo ushered him out of the door before locking it behind them.
"Did you brush your teeth?" He asked,
"YeEEsss mOtherrrr." Izuku responded teasingly in a high pitched nasally voice, earning him a chuckle and another flick to the back of his head.