Leave Tonight (Or Live And Die This Way)

by soobsodi

Summary:

All anyone ever does is take and take and take.

And Izuku, well he's weak.

So he gives and gives and gives, just hoping one day he'll give enough to be someone. To be something.

And then one day, the day Izuku decided he'd lost enough of himself and he wouldn't lose any more, someone gave.

Shota Aizawa, Eraserhead, found him and gave him a hand.

And later that night, Kit did the same.

He took their hands, one in each of his own, and let them pull him up.

 

A story of tragedy and learning to live in a world that only ever seems to be against you.

Notes:

I know, I know. This stories been written a hundred times before, but I wanted to give a shot at my own take on it, I hope it isn't too repetitive haha!!

I'm kind of playing around with my writing style with this one, so if anyone has any thoughts or criticism, I'd love to hear them!!

!!UPDATE 6/3/2024!!
THIS WORK IS NOT ABANDONED!!!
I have been going through a LOT the last couple of months and my writing has, sadly, been made one of my last priorities. I am back on my feet now and hoping I can get a new chapter out within the next or so. I'm so sorry for the wait, thank you for your patience!!

TRIGGER WARNING:
This story contains themes of past childhood rape/non-con, self harm, suicidal thoughts and behavior, and more. If you aren't in the right space to be reading this, please feel free to click away.

There will also be necessary TW's at the beginning of every chapter. If I miss any, please let me know.

Chapter 1: The New Vigilante In Town

Notes:

TW's:
implied past rape/non-con
discussions of suicide
discussions of bullying

Izuku is finally settling down after a long day. Lying on his back, sleeping bag beneath him, yellow backpack as a pillow, he stares up at the stars above him.

Rooftops on nights like these are nostalgic. Melancholic. Hypnotic. The stars, after staring at them for even a moment, seem to swirl around, drawing Izuku in. He thinks, sometimes, about how easy it'd be to join them. The stars.

But he can't, because he made a promise.

And right now, the effect of that promise alerts Izuku to the footsteps in the alley behind him.

His senses heighten. It's instinct at this point. Every step, every breath, every heartbeat can mean another person is after him.

Izuku moves quietly, crawling to peek over the edge of the building to the alley below. Three people, all dressed in dark clothing, stand below him. Two of them are standing shoulder to shoulder, staring forward at the third person before them.

Izuku listens.

"You got the money?" one of the people says. His voice, deep and thick, tells Izuku it's a man.

"I-I have most of it, I-I can pay you back by- by the end of the week," a timid, young voice stammers. A girl. Judging by her voice and height, Izuku would guess she's around his age, 14-15.

"You said you'd have the money," the man says.

One of them takes a step toward the girl, and Izuku can only assume it's the one that's speaking. If so, his voice matches his build. He's tall, much taller than the young girl in front of him, and his broad shoulders tell Izuku he'd got quite a bit of muscle on him.

"I do, I just won't have it all on me until the end of the week," the girl argues. Her voice would tell Izuku she's standing her ground, but her body language betrays her as she takes a step away from the man.

"That sounds a lot like she doesn't have the money," a third voice says. "Doesn't it, Ryō?"

It's another man, the one standing furthest from the girl. His voice also matches his build. It's thin and gravely, parallel to the man's thin, lithe figure. Something about it is unsettling to Izuku, sending chills down his spine.

"It does," the first man (Ryō?) agrees. "I have an idea of how she can pay up, though."

He steps toward the girl, making their size difference all the more noticeable.

Izuku grabs his mask from his pocket and pulls it over his head. It's a simple ski mask, leaving only his eyes visible, but it does the job. He pulls the hood of his dark green hoodie over the mask, and gets ready to interfere.

The man continues to intimidate the girl as Deku makes his way to the fire escape on the side of the building. Not wanting to make too much noise, he uses the railing to descend down the side of the fire escape.

When he drops to the ground and gains more visibility, he finds that the smaller man is standing in the same place as before, while the larger man has the girl pinned against a wall.

Before he can do anything, the smaller man turns toward Deku. "Ryō, we've got some company."

Deku swallows thickly. He hasn't been able to observe any quirks. He's basically going in blind.

Despite that, he lunges forward at the smaller man. If he takes out the brain first, the brawn will be at a loss.

He lands a solid kick on the man's side, and he stumbles, but otherwise seems unbothered. In fact, he smirks at Deku. Dark and calculated.

The man's hands, which have been in his pockets until this point, rise in front of him. They start glowing bright blue, hurting Deku's eyes as it contrasts against the dark alley.

He crosses his arms over his face as the light grows brighter and brighter, shielding his eyes.

And then the light is gone. Deku pulls his hands away from his face, but they're stuck together. No, they're tied together, by a rope he can't see.

No, no, no. This can't be happening.

Deku panics. He knows he can't, he knows that there's a girl in trouble only a couple meters away, but he panics.

He pulls and twists and does everything he can to rid himself of the invisible binds, but it's futile. All he ends up doing is knocking himself on his ass.

The man is standing over Deku, sneering down at him.

Deku kicks his feet against the cement ground to push himself away, his back hitting the stone wall behind him. His chest is heaving. He feels so stuck and helpless, a feeling he promised himself he'd never feel again.

It only gets worse, though, as the man attaches more invisible binds to Deku's ankles.

Deku kicks and yells and tries to get the man to just back the fuck off, but nothing works. He's stuck and helpless to whatever this man wants to do.

The man in question squats down in front of Deku, tilting his head and looking him up and down. Inspecting him with hungry eyes.

Deku tries to kick him with his tied-up feet, but the man just laughs. He uses two oddly strong hands to hold Deku's legs down, and he sits on them, straddling Deku's thighs.

Before Deku can even think of trying to hit him, the man grabs Deku's wrists and pins them against the wall, above his head.

Deku squirms, he tries to push the man off, but he can't. He can't do anything. He's trapped.

The man uses his free hand to pull at the bottom of Deku's mask.

"Don't," Deku bites out.

"Don't worry, I just wanna see your lips," the man says with a sadistic smile.

True to his word, though, the man only pulls the mask up far enough to reveal Deku's mouth. Deku bites his tongue, resisting the urge to bite the man's hand. He learned not to do that a long time ago.

The man's thumb presses against Deku's lips, roughly inspecting them. "Thin, but pretty," he notes aloud, making Deku cringe and squirm even more.

The man's hand trails over Deku's jaw, down his neck, and to the collar of his hoodie. His hands dips under the hoodie, gripping the spot where his shoulder and neck meet.

Deku feels as though he's watching from afar as the man gently, but threateningly runs his thumb up Deku's neck, running it over his adam's apple and stopping when he gets to his jaw, only to drag it back down again.

"You're pretty," the man comments again. "We could make some good money with you."

Deku doesn't move. He lies still. It's always better when he lies still.

The man talks a bit more, his hand exploring Deku's clothed chest and waist. Deku doesn't pay attention. He stares at the wall behind the man and checks out.

It's a strategy he developed a couple years ago, when he became all too familiar with wandering hands.

It's a three step strategy: Lie still, look away, check out.

Suddenly, his hands drop into his lap. He mentally kicks himself, he isn't supposed to move!

But then he realizes.

He can move.

He checks back in so abruptly that it's dizzying. He's disoriented, trying to grasp onto the current situation, but when he sees the man that was on top of him moments ago, he knows what to do.

The man in question is trying to tiptoe away down the dark alley, and before Deku can figure out why, he jumps into action.

The man is only a meter or two away, so he's able to get to him easily, despite his bound limbs.

He probably looks stupid, mask halfway up his face, invisibly bound, hopping after a man that's at least a foot taller than him in a dark alley but, hey, it comes with the job.

Deku's internally grateful he had the mind to focus on leg muscle in his training, as it makes it easier for him to lunge toward the man, shoving his shoulder against his back, and knocking them both to the ground.

The man yelps as Deku lands on top of him, and Deku makes quick work of straddling the man's back. He needs to knock the man out if he has any hope of getting out of these binds.

He loops his arms around the creep's head and pulls him into a chokehold. Typically, he'd avoid using this method to knock a perp out, but he's kind of in a bind (pun intended), so he'll do what he's got to do.

Focusing on cutting air flow rather than blood flow, Deku angles the man's head in the way that should cause the least amount of damage in the long term.

He waits for the guy to stop fighting him, and then a couple more seconds for his body to go limp before releasing him. Deku is thrilled to find he was correct in assuming the creep's quirk only works while he's conscious.

He takes a few moments to rub at his wrists and breathe. He looks around, finding someone fighting the bigger man from before. The girl is gone.

Deku's relieved, assuming she got away.

With the unconscious man still pinned under himself, Deku pulls his mask back over his face and looks around for something to tie him up with. He finds a bandana hanging out of the creep's back pocket, smiling in relief.

He rolls the bandana up and then uses it to tie limp wrists together, behind the man's back.

"Who are you?" Deku whirls around to find the source of the voice. It's just the man he saw fighting before.

Now that he can actually see him, Deku realizes he knows this man.

Aizawa Shota, better known as the underground hero, Eraserhead, stands a couple meters away from Deku. He has the bigger man from before tied behind him in his capture scarf and he's holding the other end in front of himself, staring back at Deku cautiously.

"Did the girl get away?" Deku asks, standing slowly and carefully.

"Yes," Eraserhead answers simply. "Who are you, and who is he?"

"This is the brain, I see you got the brawn," Deku gestures to the man Eraserhead currently has tied up behind him. "This guy can make invisible binds, be careful if he wakes up."

That bit of helpful information seems to lower Eraserhead's guard, even as Deku continues to slowly back up toward the wall behind him.

"Who are you?" he asks again.

Deku lowers his hand to his belt, pulling out the one peice of official gear he has.

It's an old grappling hook he found while cleaning Dagobah beach. He assumes it used to belong to a hero and got dumped there during a battle cleanup or something. It was in good shape when he found it, only needed some greasing and cleaning to work properly.

He aims it toward the roof behind the hero, the roof where he'll find his things, and shoots.

Just before he lets his grappling hook pull him onto the roof with practiced ease, he smiles at the hero, hoping he can see it in the very small amount of Deku's face he can actually see.

"I'm Deku!"

~

Shota has a headache.

He hasn't slept in 31 hours.

He woke up at 7:00 yesterday morning so he could be on time to teach the incompetent class he's starting to regret not actually expelling. Yeah, he sleeps during class, but it's never good sleep. He never lets himself fall into full unconsciousness while he's responsible for twenty children.

Training ran late, which meant he didn't get home until 16:30, only giving him enough time to take a quick shower and change into a clean costume before he was rushing out of the door, disposable cup of coffee in hand.

His patrol started at 17:00 and went for ten hours. Nothing big happened during patrol, a couple petty thefts and muggings. Paperwork was a bitch, though, and that kept him occupied until now.

The most notable thing to happen last night was what Shota originally observed to be an attempted rape. He interfered as though it was, but it was strange.

There's a tall, broad man pinning a small, teenage girl to the wall of an alley. He's caressing her and whispering in her ear, paying no mind to her screams for help. It makes Shota's blood boil.

As he drops down to intervene, he spots a second teenager pinned to the wall underneath a fire escape by a much smaller man. He hates having to make the decision, but he has to take the biggest man down before starting a second fight.

When he gets the man bound and taken care of, though, he finds that the second kid has done the same with the man that had been pinning him.

Not only that, but the kid has a tool belt resting around his waist, and what appears to be a ski mask pulled over his face.

This kid is a vigilante.

Shota pinches the bridge of his nose as he digs in his pocket for his eye drops, the relief filling his sinuses giving him the strength he needs to get out of the car.

He walks into the familiar police station, flashing his badge at the receptionist, and making his way to Tsukauchi's office. The detective, being the one assigned to the Deku case, called Shota while he was doing paperwork, having heard that he had an encounter.

Shota knocks twice on the door, waiting to be invited before entering the room.

"Aizawa, it's good to see you!" Tsukauchi greets.

"Yeah, you too," Shota mutters as he drops into one of the two chairs in front of the detective's desk.

"I hear you met the new vigilante in town," Tsukauchi starts the conversation, to which Shota nods in affirmation.

Tsukauchi slides a file across the desk and Shota takes it, scanning through the inside documents. "There are pictures taken from security cameras in the back of the file, just to confirm it's him that you saw."

Shota scans through the pages, stopping when he finds the photos. They're all blurry, but it's obvious this is the kid he saw last night. Dark green hoodie, black cargo pants, utility belt, even the kid's obnoxious red shoes. In a few of them, though, the kid has a yellow backpack hanging from his shoulders. It's familiar, though Shota can't quite recall why.

"Yeah, this is him," Shota confirms. He flips back to the front of the file.

The first page consists of a brief description along with any other possible information they have. There's not much, but Shota immediately realizes it's all wrong.

Age: approx. 18-19

Height: approx. 170-175 cm.

Weight: approx. 58-65 kg.

Eye Color: Black

Hair Color: Unknown

Quirk: Unknown

"This is all wrong," Shota sighs, dropping the file back on the desk. "Who the hell gave this description?"

"It's been compiled from multiple police reports," Tsukauchi sits forward in his seat. "The pictures are too blurry and dark to make out much and you're the first member of law enforcement to see him first-hand."

Shota looks up in shock. He hadn't known that, but it explains the shitty description.

"What can you tell me about him?" Tsukauchi inquires, grabbing a pen and pad from the desk.

"Well, I can tell you he's not an adult," Shota runs a hand through his hair. "This is just a kid."

"A kid?!"

"No older than sixteen, if even that," Shota watches Tsukauchi note that down.

"Okay what else?"

~

Izuku hates dumpster diving.

He's done it for years now, but it's never become any more tolerable.

He wouldn't even be doing this if Eraserhead hadn't shown up last night. Izuku left in such a hurry that he left his sleeping bag, only taking the time to grab his backpack.

That was the third sleeping bag he's gone through in his two years on the streets. He's annoyed, because now he's digging through the dumpster behind one of the two only sporting goods shops he knows of in this district. If he really has to, he could just walk to the next district over, but he really doesn't want to.

He lets out an excited cheer when he spots a green, cloth cylinder. He grabs it and pulls it out. Sure enough, it's a drawstring bag with a sticker stuck to it telling him the contents are, in fact, a sleeping bag.

He tries to contain his joy while hops off the dumpster and tears the bag open. He unrolls the sleeping back, right there on the dirty ground, and looks it over. He checks the seams, the zipper, and every bit of the fabric.

No holes, no wear and tear, and the zipper works perfectly.

"Jackpot!" he cheers, to no one but himself.

He dusts off the sleeping bag, carefully rolls it back up, wrestles it back into the drawstring bag, and slips it into the top of his backpack.

He walks with a bit more of a skip to his step as he makes his way to his favorite spot.

Kit's cafe.

Well, it's not Kit's cafe per say, but that's what Izuku likes to call it in his head.

Izuku met Kit about a year ago.

It's freezing, Izuku can feel it in his bones.

He shouldn't have thrown out his sleeping bag, he just couldn't look at it, let alone sleep in it. He had to get rid of everything that reminded Izuku of him. Every gift, every piece of clothing, even his sleeping bag.

The door beside him opens. Izuku should run, or pretend he isn't pathetically sitting in this alley seeking shelter from the cold, cold rain, but he can't move. It's just too cold.

The best he can do is look away. Hopefully this person just ignores him and walks away. He can't take one more hit right now, even if it's just words.

He hears a gasp, a girl.

She walks toward him slowly.

"H-hey, are you alright?" she asks.

Izuku nods. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

She seems hesitant. "Do you wanna come inside?"

Izuku finally looks up at her. Nobody ever offers to help him. Nobody but… him.

The girl looks to be about seventeen, if Izuku were to guess. She has fox-like ears that twitch when he looks up. They're white, and blend into her matching curly hair. Her eyes are a golden brown, almost amber, and she has a beautiful white tail peeking out from behind her.

She looks kind.

"You don't want me to come inside," he says solemnly. He'd love to go inside, but he can't.

"I do," she assures. "You look cold."

"I'm quirkless," Izuku blurts, biting the bullet.

Her eyes widen for a moment. An agonizing, painful moment, before her expression softens. "Let's get you inside," she holds out a hand to Izuku.

Against his better judgment, Izuku accepts the hand, letting her take him inside the cafe and feed him a warm muffin and a cup of cocoa.

"How's it going, Izu?" Kit greets Izuku as he sits at the counter. She immediately turns around to fill a cup of coffee for him.

"It's going good," Izuku sing-songs. "I got a new sleeping bag!"

"What happened to the old one?" she sets the mug in front of Izuku and leans her elbows on the counter.

"I had to leave it somewhere," Izuku shrugs.

"Do I wanna know?"

"Probably not."

"You know my place is still available, if you need. It's still cold out," she looks at him worriedly.

"No thank you," Izuku politely declines. "I like the-,"

"Freedom," Kit interrupts with a sigh. "I know."

A man sits down at the other end of the counter and Kit walks away to tend to him.

Izuku turns his attention to the television hanging in the corner of the room. Kit tends to keep it on one of the many channels that primarily report on active hero duties.

The screen suddenly cuts from the street interview that was taking place, switching to a different live broadcast. The news anchor on screen keeps having to brush her hair out of her face, which is odd because even as Izuku double checks, it doesn't seem to be windy outside.

There isn't any audio, so Izuku only has poorly auto-generated subtitles and visuals to go on, but the moment he sees that oh-so-familiar explosion flash behind the reporter, he's on his feet.

"Kit, I gotta go, can you watch my bag?" Izuku calls down the counter.

"Yeah, just toss it over the counter!" Kit replies from where she's filling a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, I'll be back for it later!" Izuku calls, already running out the door.

He was able to see a street sign on the broadcast, and he takes off running in the direction he knows the street is in.

When he arrives, he joins the crowd of bystanders, shoving his way to the front.

There are heroes everywhere, all just standing around. There's fire, screaming, and… sludge?

Sludge with eyes. Eyes wide and angry.

But below those eyes, is a pair Izuku never thought he'd see again.

Red, panicked, furious.

Kachan's mouth and nose are both covered by the thick, green sludge. Mindless explosions pop from his hands as he claws and claws for air.

He's suffocating.

He's suffocating in front of this crowd of people, this crowd of heroes, and nobody's doing anything.

They're all standing around, intrigued as if they're just watching a movie while Kachan is dying.

It's only happened to Izuku a couple times before, but his legs move before he can think this through.

His hands automatically, instinctually, reach for his mask in his pocket, slipping it on as he runs.

He does the only thing he can think to do as he approaches the monster. He uses two fingers and a leap of faith to momentarily blind him, distracting him enough to get Kachan's mouth free.

Unfortunately for Deku, Kachan is so out of it that he just keeps setting off explosions, one after another. One of these explosions hits Deku's face, singeing his mask and burning his cheek.

Deku's distracted by the pain, and he's not fully sure what happens next.

All he knows is that suddenly, he and Kachan are flying through the air, a powerful whirlwind breaking the sludge monster into hundreds of little pieces, scattered around the alley.

Any questions he had as to how it happened are quickly answered by All Might's iconic slogan announcing that he is here. Here to save the day what would've been moments too late if Deku hadn't been here, too.

Kachan is coughing, gagging, spluttering on the ground next to Deku. The fan boy in Deku wants to turn around and gush over his idol saving him, but the hero vigilante inside of him can only focus on Kachan.

He crawls toward him, placing a hesitant hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Kachan looks up at him, anger in his eyes. He seems as though he's about to cuss Deku out for even insinuating that he could ever be anything but fan-fucking-tastic, but then his face drops.

He looks at Deku with confused recognition and something that Deku would almost call sadness if it weren't Kachan.

He realizes, moments too late that half of his mask has been burnt off.

Kachan can see his face.

"Deku?"

Izuku runs.

~

"You let him what?"

Shota sighs. "He wasn't actively committing any crime."

"You just said he knocked the guy out and tied him up," Tsukauchi argues.

"The guy had him pinned," Shota points out. "What Deku did could easily be written off as self defense."

"But what about next time?" Tsukauchi counters. "We both know why vigilantes can't be allowed to roam."

"I know, lack of proper training," Shota drawls, thoroughly annoyed with this conversion. "If I had taken him in at that time, it could've compromised any chance we'll have to arrest him in the future."

"You couldn't've-,"

Tsukauchi's retort is cut off by a knock on the door.

"What is it?" Tsukauchi calls in annoyance through the door.

The receptionist from earlier opens the door, an open laptop in hand. "I'm very sorry to interrupt, but I thought you'd both like to see this."

Tsukauchi sighs. "Come in."

The receptionist closes the door softly behind her, carrying an awkward, nervous energy as she walks to the desk and sets her laptop down so the two of them can see.

She presses play on the video, and the moment Aizawa catches sight of the kid he met the night before running into a fight not even the heroes around were willing to engage with, he has only one thought in his head.

Who the hell is this kid?

~

"You know I hate patching you up," Kit sighs, wetting a washcloth in the sink of the cafe's kitchen.

"But you do it anyway," Izuku teases.

"What else am I supposed to do?" she questions rhetorically. "Leave you on the street to get some nasty infection and die?"

She presses the cloth to Izuku's face, gently cleaning the burns.

"You saw something on the news, didn't you," she asks.

Izuku shrugs. "I saw a kid in trouble."

Kit levels him with her no-bullshit face. "I watched you run into that fight, that was not just some kid."

Izuku looks away from her, letting her clean his burn with alcohol while he avoids her eyes. He fidgets with a pocket on his pants.

"I-I knew him," he admits. Kit doesn't respond, leaving the silence for Izuku to fill. "We kinda grew up together, I guess."

"You guess?" she grabs a small packet of neosporin from the kitchen's safety kit, ripping it open and squeezing a bit onto her fingers.

"He wasn't- he wasn't nice to me."

"Because you're quirkless?" Kit guesses.

Izuku nods. "I haven't seen him in years."

"It sounds like that's probably for the best."

"He wasn't- he usually wasn't as bad as the others."

"The others?"

"Other kids in class. They were worse."

"How?"

"They'd tell me to kill myself basically daily," Izuku admits, smiling as though it's a good memory. "Kachan never- I thought Kachan would never say it."

Kit tosses the empty packet of ointment in the trash and looks him dead in the eyes. "Until he did?"

Izuku nods. "The last time I saw him."

"So why'd you save him?"

"Nobody else was going to," Izuku shrugs.

Kit places a bandage and takes a step back, leaning on the counter across from the one Izuku's sitting on.

"Have I ever told you about my sister?" she asks.

Izuku nods. "Yeah, she's quirkless. You said that's why you take care of me."

"She was quirkless," Kit sighs. She stares down at her feet for a moment, taking a deep breath. "She killed herself a year before I met you. She was thirteen."

Izuku's stomach sinks, thinking about what he himself almost did the day he met Kit.

"She was ruthlessly bullied," Kit continues. "She'd come home with cuts and bruises more often than not. The kids would pick on her simply because she was seen as fragile. It was like- like a sick game," Kit's face scrunches up in anger. "Like they wanted to see how much it took for her to finally shatter."

"She was depressed and lonely, but you'd never know by speaking to her. She was so bright, and- and full of life," Kit's voice breaks, her eyes filling with tears. "And sometimes when I look at you, Izu, I see her."

Izuku finds himself crying, silent tears filling his eyes and sliding down his face.

"Answer me honestly," she gives Izuku a sad, yet determined look. "Why did you save him?"

Izuku wipes the tears from his eyes. "I- there was a time that I loved him. He-he was the closest thing I had to a brother, he, uh, gave me the name Deku. I couldn't just let him die."

Kit looks Izuku up and down for a moment. She steps forward and drapes her arms over Izuku's shoulders, softly petting his hair.

"Okay," she whispers, accepting his answer. "He can live for now. But if I ever find out he's bothering you again, I'll kill him."

Izuku laughs through his tears, squeezing her shoulders tightly.

"My sister gave me my name," she sighs. "I wish she could've met you, Izu."

"Me too."

~

Deku's minding his business, watching the city from a rooftop in full vigilante gear, the next time he speaks to Eraserhead.

He's been much more active as a vigilante in the month since their last interaction. He's still gaining his footing as one.

He tries his best to stick to thefts, muggings, smaller altercations, but trouble seems to find him more often than not.

Drug dealers and gang members seem to always pop up out of nowhere. Deku sees it as good practice, and it's starting to really build him a reputation.

So he's seen the hero, of course. Their lines of work tend to lead to quite a few crossing paths, but Deku's usually pretty quick to bail once a fight is over.

Though, when the hero drops onto the roof beside Deku, he decides to hear him out this time. He still whirls around, knife in hand, though. He'd rather be safe than sorry. Sue him.

"Woah, easy kid," Eraserhead holds his hands in front of himself. "I'm not here to hurt you or arrest you or anything, you can put that away."

The deja vu from this exact situation in something Deku has to shrug off. Eraserhead doesn't know that they've met before. If he realizes, it might give Deku's identity away.

"I'll decide if and when I put my weapons away," Deku retorts with determination.

"Okay, that's fine, too," Eraserhead nods.

"How'd you find me?" Deku asks.

"If you don't want to be found, I'd recommend investing in a new backpack and shoes," Eraserhead jokes.

"Why are you here?" Deku inquires, ignoring the slightly insulting comment.

"I have a proposition for you."

Notes:

I'm not even exaggerating when I say I got so stir crazy within the first hour of ao3 being down yesterday that I sat down and wrote 6k words to cope... so here's 5k of them lol

If you read my last fic, you might have realized I suck at combat scenes and avoid them at all costs. With this fic, however, I won't be able to avoid them so I hope it's not that bad and I can learn to do better haha. Any tips aree always appreciated!!

Chapter 2: Call Me Next Time

Notes:

TW's:
discussions of self harm
discussions of suicide

"You asked him what?" Shota pulls the phone away from his ear, grimacing at Tsukauchi's loud voice yelling in his ear.

"It's not like I asked him to be my partner," Shota defends himself against the detective.

"You just said you asked him to work with you," Tsukauchi retorts.

Shota sighs, running a hand over his face. If he's being honest, he hasn't thought this through. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. When approaching the boy, he had planned on saying… something.

Okay, he had no idea what he was doing, but it wasn't this.

Goddammit, this kid's already got such a hold on Shota that he's making irrational decisions.

Hizashi, who's sitting on their bed watching Shota pace at the foot, gives him a meant-to-be-encouraging thumbs up.

Shota rolls his eyes at him fondly.

"Tsukauchi, this is a kid," Shota says sternly.

"He's also a criminal," Tsukauchi counters.

"We don't have any evidence of that," Shota points out. "Look, if he's working with me, it'll be much easier to catch him doing something we can lawfully arrest him for."

Tsukauchi seems to think about it for a moment, before relenting. "Fine, call me when you get an answer."

"I will," Shota pulls the phone away from his face and tosses it on the bed.

He turns toward his dresser, catching his husband's gaze through the mirror as he starts removing his capture weapon.

"You're not just trying to catch him, are you?" Hizashi asks.

"I am," Shota denies. He unzips his costume so he can step out of it, reaching for sweatpants and a t-shirt from the dresser drawer.

"Shota…," Hizashi looks at him with nothing but sympathy, it's annoying.

"He's a kid on the streets," Shota sighs. "I don't see a problem with wanting to keep an eye on him."

He drops into bed beside Hizashi, lying on his back with his hands linked together over his stomach. His husband lies on his side next to him, one hand propping him up and the other stroking Shota's hair.

Shota sighs. "I feel like I know him. We've only talked twice, but I just have this gut feeling…"

"So keep talking to him," Hizashi shrugs. "Like you said, he hasn't technically broken any laws that we know of, so I don't see the harm in getting to know him a bit."

Shota stares at his husband for a moment, making sure he's serious.

"Thanks, Zashi."

"Get some sleep, Sho."

~

"A hero," Kit gapes at Izuku, her chin resting on her broom handle as she pauses her cleaning to stare at Izuku in disbelief. "Like, a real, licensed hero?"

Izuku smiles, still in disbelief over the conversation that took place the night before.

"Did he actually say the word 'partner'?" Kit asks.

Izuku shakes his head, wiping some muffin crumbs from his lips. "He said 'work with me'," Izuku clarifies. "Whatever that means."

"D'you think he's just trying to capture you?" Kit suggests, resuming her sweeping.

"Maybe," Izuku shrugs. He takes another bite of the stale muffin Kit was able to save for him. "I don't think he can arrest me, though," he points out.

"Isn't vigilantism a crime?" Kit asks in confusion.

"Yeah," Izuku confirms. He looks over his shoulder to give her a devious smile. "But only if you use a quirk."

"What?"

"I read up on it before I ever did anything," Izuku shrugs. "The law defines vigilantism as 'the wrongful use of one's quirk to perform unlicensed law enforcement duties', or something like that."

"Okay, but what about assault?" Kit points out.

"It's not assault if they throw the first punch. After that, it's self defense."

"So you just make sure they hit first?" she assumes.

"Yup!" Izuku pops the 'p'. He turns away from Kit to sip on his coffee. "Usually," he quietly adds.

"Izuku!" Kit wacks him with the towel slung over her shoulder. "You can't get yourself in trouble!"

"I've been successfully cheating the system for almost four months now, have some faith," Izuku defends.

"I'll have faith when there isn't a sketchy hero following you around," she shrugs, moving further away from him as she sweeps the cafe floor.

Izuku drops his head into one of his hands. He picks at his muffin, listening to Kit hum to herself across the room.

She finishes sweeping around the same time as Izuku finishes eating. He follows her to the kitchen, silently adding his mug to her pile of dishes. He grabs a clean dish towel and sits on the counter beside the sink where Kit starts scrubbing dishes.

She hands him a cup, he dries it and sets it on the rack. She hands him another, and he does the same.

This is how it goes. Kit feeds him, and Izuku helps out a bit.

She keeps day-old muffins, bagels, sometimes even sandwiches in a basket under the register, just for him. She gives him coffee and on extra cold days, cocoa. She only works four days out of the week, but she always tells Izuku when she'll be back and gives him some extra food to hold him over.

She's tried to take him home with her on multiple occasions, but he always declines. He intrudes enough by taking the food she gives, he doesn't want to take any more.

She's also the only one who knows that he's Deku.

If he does ever happen to get caught and arrested, it wouldn't be hard for the cops to figure out if he's living with someone. The way things are now, it'd be easy for Izuku to say he's just a regular customer.

This way, they have plausible deniability.

"Are you gonna work with him?" Kit asks suddenly.

Izuku shrugs.

"Not immediately opposed," Kit observes aloud. "You trust him?"

Izuku shakes his head, brows scrunched in confusion. "I don't think I do."

"Well, that's at least better than how you are with literally everyone else," she sighs.

"About your sister," Izuku starts, ignoring how Kit tenses at the mere mention of the girl. They usually don't talk about her, but Izuku just can't stop thinking about it. "Did she ever reach out to you, before she… y'know?"

Kit seems to think for a moment. A moment so long that Izuku thinks she may be ignoring the question. But then she drops the dish she'd been scrubbing and braces her hands on the edge of the sink.

"No," Kit whispers. "But I kind of knew."

"What do you mean?" Izuku asks gently.

"She'd been cutting herself. I had seen it a couple times but I was too scared to mention it," Kit turns to Izuku, her eyes fixated on his bare wrists, scars out for the world to see.

"Like I've said, Izu," she looks back up at him. "I see her in you."

Izuku rubs at his wrists self consciously. "Sorry I mentioned it."

"Don't be," Kit shrugs, returning to the dishes. "But why did you?"

Izuku hesitates. He's told Kit so much. He's told her about his dad and Kachan and Auntie and his mom and he's even told her some stuff about him. But he's never told her what really happened the night they met.

"The night you found me in the alley," Izuku sighs. "Was the same night I met Eraserhead."

"I thought you met last month," Kit questions.

"Technically we did," Izuku shrugs. "Deku and Eraserhead met last month."

Kit seems to process this for a minute before gasping in shock. "Are you saying he knows what you look like?!"

Izuku nods. "And he knows my first name."

~

Shota impatiently waits for Deku on the same rooftop they'd spoken on the previous night.

"Sorry!" the kid's voice calls his attention to where he's landing on the roof behind Shota. "I lost track of time!"

"You're early," Shota deadpans.

"I am?" Deku holsters the grappling hook he used to pull himself onto the roof, laughing anxiously.

Shota looks the kid up and down. Just as he's seen him every other time before, the kid is dressed in what Shota assumes is his vigilante outfit. He's come to realize that Deku carries his yellow backpack everywhere. If it's not on him during a fight, it'll always be somewhere close by.

This, along with the sleeping bag slipped into the top of the backpack, is what lead Shota to the theory that the kid's homeless.

"Um, about your proposition?" Deku awkwardly interrupts Shota's thoughts. "What did you mean?"

The kid is different today than he was yesterday. The tension in his shoulders is there, but seems to be caused by typical teenage anxiety rather than the fear and distrust Shota observed the night before.

He still keeps his distance, though, and Shota can see his right hand hovering over his knives.

"I meant what I said," Shota shrugs, trying to keep the air as casual as possible. "Work with me."

"Why?" Deku asks. His eyes narrow and he steps forward slightly with one foot. He's losing his casual demeanor, and Shota can't quite figure out why.

"I find you interesting," Shota admits.

Deku doesn't reply, looking Shota up and down.

"Look, you can say no," Shota sighs. "I'm just asking that you patrol with me a couple nights a week."

"I-I don't understand," the shake of Deku's voice completely catches Shota off guard, though he tries not to show it. "Why me?" A-are you trying to- to arrest me or something?"

"No," Shota says simply. "I can't, anyway. But I bet you already knew that."

Deku's eyes widen and he turns his masked face away. Shota would bet money the kid is flushed red under the mask.

"You're smart, kid," Shota says. "You know what you're doing. This decision is up to you."

Deku's eyebrows knit together. "I still don't understand," he says quietly. He takes a deep breath which seems to settle his nerves a bit and he looks back up at Shota. "What's in it for me?"

Shota… hadn't thought about that. Honestly, he's pretty off his game right now, but he won't show it. He keeps his posture relaxed and his tone casual.

"I guess you could learn a few things," he shrugs.

"Wouldn't that be against the rules?" Deku questions.

"I didn't say I'd be teaching you," Shota counters. "But who knows what all you can learn by watching."

Deku seems to think for a couple moments. The casual, awkward demeanor from when he first got here has completely melted away. This is Deku, the version of the kid Shota's familiar with.

Deku doesn't stutter or fidget or show how nervous he is. Deku is a confident, snarky vigilante that knows more than he should for his assumed age.

Yet again, the vigilante has Shota utterly confused.

"Fine," Deku nods. "I'll do it."

"Good, 'cause my patrol was supposed to start five minutes ago," Shota nod. He slips his goggles on, walks to the edge of the roof, and without warning, uses his capture tape to hop to the next roof over.

He glances over his shoulder to make sure the kid's following. The kid looks stunned, but he pulls his grappling hook out, runs to the edge of the roof, and swings himself to the one Shota's on.

Shota suppresses the urge to smirk in unnecessary pride, and turns away to walk his way to the opposite end of the roof.

He turns back around, finding that Deku's following a couple steps behind, and calls over his shoulder. "Keep up."

He leaps.

~

Patrolling with Eraserhead has been simultaneously the best and worst part of Deku's days for weeks now.

The best because he's already been able to learn so much. He watches Eraser fight during their Thursday-Sunday night patrols and works on practicing what he's seen Monday-Wednesday.

It's been the worst because Eraserhead seems to be doing everything possible to keep Deku out of any fights.

Deku watches as Eraserhead drops between two men who'd previously been brawling. They're both very obviously drunk which makes it easy for Eraserhead to restrain the two of them before they can even get another hit in.

Deku lazily drops a couple feet away from him, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "Is this the part where I hide in the shadows until the cops take them away?"

Aizawa scoffs at him. "What, are you bored?"

Deku drops his head back on the concrete. "It's been weeks and I haven't done anything," he sighs. "So yes, I'm bored."

"You've helped out," Eraser shrugs. He wraps part of his scarf around one of the perp's mouths to prevent him from spouting any more obscenities toward the two of them.

"Yeah, I've tied a couple people up and thrown one or two punches," Deku drawls. "But you've done all of the exciting stuff."

"May I remind you who the actual hero is?" Eraser points out.

Deku scoffs. "I get it, you're so much better than me because you have a shiny little card in your wallet," he rolls his eyes.

"No, I'm better than you because I spent three years studying for this," Eraser counters, obviously annoyed.

"I'm about halfway there."

"And what do you study with? Drunks like these?" Eraser tugs on the binds to punctuate his statement. "Sorry, kid, but there's a lot more to heroism than knocking assholes on their asses."

Deku doesn't reply in fear of saying something he shouldn't.

Something about how he studies in the local library whenever he can. He takes every free self-defense class he can find in the area. How if he could've, he would've waited for high-school to study heroism like he'd always dreamt, but there are about a hundred reasons why he can't.

Cops show up a couple minutes later without any warning.

Deku goes to duck behind a dumpster, but someone grabs his arm.

He violently flinches away, painfully knocking his shoulder against the dumpster. The hand, which he now sees is Eraser's, pulls away with just about as much urgency as Deku had. They both take a couple large steps away from each other and Deku rubs his neck in nervous embarrassment.

"S-sorry," he stutters. He mentally kicks himself. He's Deku right now. Deku doesn't flinch and stutter, he's confident and strong. He rolls his shoulders and drops the hand on his neck back to his belt.

"It's alright, kid," Eraser assures. "I shouldn't've just grabbed you like that."

Deku shrugs. Eraser looks him up and down in confusion, and Deku has to look away, feeling exposed under his observant gaze.

He finds himself glancing at the cops loading the two drunks into their cars. There are two of them, along with a man in a suit and trench coat staring right at Deku. Deku's hand unconsciously curls around the handle of his grappling hook.

Eraserhead seems to follow Deku's gaze to the cop. "God dammit, I told him to be casual about this," he mutters under his breath.

Deku takes another step back, stance ready for both fight and flight, whichever is necessary.

Eraserhead turns back to Deku. "Look, kid-,"

"You're arresting me?" Deku acusses.

"No, I'm not," Eraserhead denies, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Then why would he need to 'act natural'?" Deku says through gritted teeth.

"Because I didn't want him to scare you," Eraserhead sighs. "Your warrant's been officially withdrawn."

Deku cocks his head to the side. "I had a warrant?"

Eraserhead raises a hand to rub at his forehead. "Yes, you did," he deadpans. "If you didn't know that, why the hell are you so skittish around cops?"

Deku shrugs, returning to an upright, less guarded position. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Eraserhead looks him up and down again, before nodding. "Fair point."

"Well, why's he staring at me?" Deku asks.

"Because he wants to arrest you," Eraserhead sighs. "But he can't."

"Why was my warrant withdrawn?"

"Lack of evidence," Eraserhead shrugs. "It took some convincing, but even the judge had to admit that we have nothing against you."

"'It took convincing'," Deku repeats. "From you?"

Eraserhead turns away, obviously avoiding the question and its implications. "All I'm saying is you don't have to hide from them."

Deku shrugs. "Yeah, whatever."

"I've gotta do something real fast, wait for me here," Eraserhead walks away.

And Deku does as told.

(And if he half ducks behind the dumpster anyway, that's nobody's business but his own.)

~

It's been a slow night, so Shota and Deku are taking a break on the rooftop they typically meet on.

Deku's strategically munching on a bagel he pulled out of his yellow bag. He rips off a piece and uses one hand to pull the mask away from his face while the other reaches inside to place the bit of bagel in his mouth.

"You can pull your mask up," Shota sighs. "There's not much to go on description-wise with just your mouth."

The kid thinks about it for a moment before giving in. He pulls up the bottom of his mask and folds it so it rests on his nose, leaving only his mouth visible. He drops his head back against the cement ledge behind him and bites into his bagel.

That was too easy. This kid won't let Shota within an arm's length away, and it only took two sentences to convince him to pull his mask up.

Now that he thinks of it, the kid's been off his game all night.

He's been slow to follow directions and clumsy with his grappling hook. It's August now, which means they've been working together for almost three months, and Shota's never seen the kid like this.

So, Shota waits for Deku to finish his bagel and then gives him another ten minutes to rest.

He stands, announcing that the need to get moving, but the kid doesn't move.

Shota's stomach sinks.

"Deku," he calls a bit louder, but he still doesn't do anything.

On the dark roof, Shota can barely make out the movement of the boy's chest, but he's grateful to find him taking even, steady breaths.

Shota usually doesn't break the boundary the kid has in place for how close he's allowed to get, but he'd consider this to be a special circumstance.

He slowly approaches, not surprised when he finds the kids eyes closed. Shota places a hesitant hand on his shoulder and shakes lightly, calling the boy's name.

Still nothing.

Next, he searches for any injuries. He quietly apologizes as he pulls the green hood of his sweatshirt off of Deku's head, using his fingers to carefully examine for any injuries through the mask. He can feel that the boy has a fever, but he doesn't find any obvious cuts or blood, so he moves on.

He quietly apologizes again and lifts the boy's raggedy green sweatshirt. It doesn't come up far before Shota finds the source of the boy's unconscious state.

"Shit," he mutters to himself as he removes a bloody, sloppily applied bandage to reveal a stab wound.

Deku winces, and startles awake. He uses lazy hands to try and push Shota away, but Shota grabs him by the wrists, easily haulting any movements that could aggravate the wound any further.

"No, no, please stop," the boy begs, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Deku, kid, look at me," Shota tries to keep his voice as calm and comforting as possible. "You need to stop moving, you've lost a lot of blood."

"Please let go, I don't want-," the boy's cut off by a cough.

"Kid, look at me," Shota says, keeping his voice calm.

It takes several more minutes of coaxing, but the boy runs out of energy quickly, finally opening his eyes to look back at Shota.

"Good," Shota nods. "When did you get stabbed?" he asks.

Deku's brain takes several moments to process what he's being asked. "Last night," he finally says.

"Dammit, okay," Shota mutters. "I need to take a look at it, which means I need to lift your sweatshirt, okay?"

Deku whines, but lazily nods his approval nonetheless.

Shota drops the boy's hands, which fall limply to his sides. He pulls the sweatshirt back up and pulls the old bandage completely off. The wound looks pretty infected and it's still sluggishly bleeding.

Shota doesn't have much on him for first aid, but he'd bet the kid has some in his bag.

Shota grabs the yellow bag and undoes the clasp, setting the sleeping bag to the side. He rummages through the contents; a plastic bag containing two more bagels, a couple knives and changes of clothes, and at the bottom, a first aid kit.

Shota pulls the kit out of the bag and opens it. It's a well-stocked kit, Shota's honestly surprised a kid on the streets has something like this.

Shota grabs the small bottle of alcohol and a wrap bandage, pushing the rest to the side.

Shota turns back to Deku. The kid is awake, but he's not… here. The look in his eye is similar to one Shota would expect from someone who's just been through a trauma. He's completely dissociated.

Shota hates it, but at least the kid isn't fighting him.

Shota opens the bottle of alcohol and hastily pours it onto the wound. He then opens the paper packaging containing the gauze wrap and begins winding it around the kid's waist.

He can't leave him out here, not like this.

Shota packs Deku's bag the way he found it. He turns to the boy, carefully pulls him into a sitting position away from the wall, and works the straps of the bag onto Deku's arms. He clasps the front buckle over the boy's chest and leans him back down.

Shota stands, stretches a bit, and pulls out his phone.

It rings for a moment before a tired, gentle voice speaks through the other end.

"Shota, what have you done now?" Chiyo asks.

"It's not me," Shots defends. "It's the kid I've been working with. He's in pretty rough shape. I'm bringing him to my apartment, could you meet us there?"

"You and your damn kids," Chiyo grumbles. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Chiyo," Shota sighs, ending the call.

He turns back around to find Deku unconscious again, his chin to his chest and breathing steady but shallow.

Shota kneels down and hoists the kid onto his back. It's awkward trying to get the limp boy positioned on his back, but once he does, Shota uses his capture weapon to make sure the boy isn't going anywhere and leaps onto the next rooftop, beginning his journey home.

~

Izuku blinks awake to find himself alone in a bed.

In a bed?

He sits up quickly, too quickly, and places his palm against his pounding head, grateful to find his mask still in it's place.

He looks around to find that his bag has been placed on a rocking chair in the corner of the room, and the curtains are cracked, revealing it's some time in the morning.

Izuku pulls the covers off of himself and takes inventory. He has his utility belt on, still supplied with three knives, duct tape, and his grappling hook. He still has his pants and sweatshirt on, but his shoes have been neatly discarded on the floor beside the bed.

He suddenly remembers how he got here, flashes of the past couple of days flashing in his memory.

He'd patrolled on his own Wednesday night, where he was stabbed by a mugger. The mugger got away and Deku was left to patch himself up.

The wound never fully stopped bleeding, but Deku didn't want to miss a patrol with Eraser, so he ignored it. He could feel himself becoming feverish about halfway through patrol, and he was grateful when Eraser proposed they take a break.

He ate his bagel to chase away the nausea he was feeling, and then everything got fuzzy for a while.

God, he's so stupid.

Izuku pulls his sweatshirt up, finding the stab wound to be replaced with a new scar, mixing with the ones lining his hips. He grimaces, realizing this has to be the work of a healing quirk, which confirms his theory that this must be Eraser's apartment.

Deku swings his legs over the side of the bed, making quick work of tying his shoes and grabbing his backpack. He walks toward the window and peeks out.

It's a far drop to the ground, at least six stories, so that won't be an option. He also can't recognize this area, which may also turn out to be an issue.

Izuku opens the window, not taking any more time to plan this out, and sits on the windowsill, his back facing outside.

He looks up to find he's only one story away from the roof. Perfect.

Izuku shoots his grappling hook upward to hook onto the edge of the roof, and lets it pull him up. He feels kind of bad, leaving without a thank you, but he's already risked enough by allowing this to happen.

He stands on the top of the roof and takes a long look around. He still doesn't recognize this area, but he recognizes a few buildings to the east. He goes with his gut and uses his grappling hook to head in that direction.

Once he gets to a building that's much shorter, he uses his hook to descend into a deserted alley. He removes his mask, belt, and sweatshirt. He replaces the latter with a t-shirt from his bag and tosses the three items inside the bag.

He ruffles his hair a bit, places the bag over his shoulders, and walks out onto the street.

Izuku looks around, trying to find a newspaper box or TV display to check what day it is. He passes by a red box with a fresh newspaper displayed on top, telling him it's Friday.

Good, he was only out for one night, and Kit works today.

Izuku waits by the box for a moment, waiting to find someone safe to ask for directions. He spots a woman walking in his direction holding a toddlers hand and decides she'd be okay to ask.

As she walks past, Izuku smiles at her.

"Ma'am?" he calls, gaining her attention. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I got off at the wrong stop, do you happen to know how to get to Sunrise Cafe from here?"

"Of course, if you just head straight down this street, turn right up there…" the woman instructs Izuku on how to get there. She asks Izuku if he'd like some cab fares since it's a pretty far walk, but he assures her he's fine and bids her farewell.

He walks quickly, planning to use what little money he has on him at the laundromat across the street from the cafe before Kit's shift starts.

When he gets there about twenty minutes later, Izuku immediately heads for the bathroom so he can change the rest of his clothes. Izuku tosses his clothes into one of the washing machines, drops his coin into the slot, and sits on the floor in front of the machine.

Izuku unzips his bag, taking inventory. He still has his remaining bagels of the four that Kit gave him on Tuesday. His stomach aches, as he's only had two bagels and some dumpster scraps in the past two days, so he pulls one out of the plastic bag, not minding that it's slightly stale.

Izuku sets the remaining bagel aside and grabs his first aid kit. He vaguely remembers Eraserhead digging through it last night, so he'd like to see what he needs to restock.

Surprisingly, anything Eraser used seems to have been replaced. Not only that, but there's been a pill bottle placed in an empty spot in the box. Izuku pulls the bottle out and examines it.

The label is still on, though the name has been crossed out with sharpie. Izuku can only assume the name underneath is Aizawa Shota. He finds it funny that Eraser thinks he doesn't know his name.

Below the name, Izuku reads that the medication is penicillin. He assumes it's for the blatantly obvious infection he contracted through his stab wound. He pockets a pill to take later.

He sets his first aid kit aside and digs through the rest of his bag. He has all of his spare knives, the few entertainment items he has (namely a deck of cards), and all of his clothes have already been put in the washer.

Eraser didn't take anything or even take Izuku's mask off as far as he knows.

But…

~

"Why?" is the first word out of Deku's mouth the next time Shota sees him. He didn't show up for patrols the night after the injury, and Shota hopes he was resting.

Zashi freaked out when they went to check and Deku was gone, but Shota assumed it would happen. That's why he left the antibiotics in the kid's first aid kit.

"Why what?" Shota questions. "Would you rather I left you here?"

Deku shrugs. "Wouldn't be surprised if you did," he mutters. Shota tucks that away into his growing list of concerning things he's said. "But that's not what I meant."

The kid brings a hand up to curl at the bottom of his mask, seemingly in a self-protecting manner. "You didn't remove my mask or my clothes or even my belt, and you let me keep my weapons."

"I figured if I did all that you'd stop showing up for these patrols," Shota shrugs. "Besides, there was no reason to remove the mask or clothes."

Deku's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, but he still nods in understanding.

After giving him an appropriate amount of time to respond and not receiving one, Shota moves on to the thing he needs to talk to Deku about.

Shota reaches into his pocket and pulls out the burner phone he got from the store yesterday. He holds it out in front of him so the kid can see what it is. Deku just looks even more confused.

"It's a burner phone," Shota explains. "It can't be tracked or anything, and I currently have a single phone number programmed into it; mine."

Deku hesitantly inches forward, just enough so he can reach out and take it.

"Next time something like that happens, call me, kid," Shota sighs.

The kid clicks the phone on, staring at the screen before glancing back up at Shota.

"Okay," he agrees. "I'll call you."

Chapter 3: I'd Know Those Eyes Anywhere

Notes:

TW's:
implied sexual assault
attempted kidnapping
thoughts of self harm
panic attack

Shota hates drunk people.

Okay scratch that. He hates drunk assholes. (He'd never admit it, but Hizashi and Nemuri are pretty fun drunks.)

He especially hates drunk assholes that leave the bar they got drunk in. Once they leave the bar, Shota can't morally ignore it when they start punching people, and trying to wrangle a dozen drunk guys is almost as annoying as trying to wrangle a dozen incompetent teenagers.

God, he should really quit his day job.

"Are we gonna do something?" Deku asks from beside Shota.

There's a brawl taking place in the alley below them. Maybe a dozen drunk men of all different sizes yelling, punching, and stumbling over each other.

Deku and Eraserhead heard the commotion from a block or two away and came to investigate. They arrived just in time to watch as the bar staff tossed the last brawlers out into the alley.

While Shota is very much not happy with having to interfere with this, the kid is practically vibrating with excitement next to him.

Shota sighs. "You're excited," he comments.

Deku nods quickly. "This many guys means I get to fight!"

Shota quite literally face palms at the kid's eagerness, rubbing his temples and taking an annoyed breath.

Shota watches the brawl for a couple more seconds before he gives Deku some quick instructions and drops down right in the center of the fight.

If there's one plus side to fighting a bunch of drunks, it's that Shota, being the sober one in the situation, is at even more of an advantage than usual. He follows his own silent plan, searching around for the two men he had spotted in the center of the fight.

They were the loudest and seemed to be much more aggressive than the other men, leading Shota to believe they're the initiators.

Bar fights typically start the same way; one guy pisses off another guy, they start fighting and bump into another guy, who joins them, and it's all up to the domino effect from there.

Shota drops to the ground to avoid a hit from one of the two men, swinging a leg out to trip him. He stands back up, immediately dodging a hit from the second man. He grabs his wrist, twists it, and uses a hand between his shoulder blades and a kick to the back of the knees to knock him to the ground.

With them both down, Shota looks around.

As he expected, quite a few of the drunks have already backed down, stumbling down the alley or standing back to watch. One of them, though, stumbles toward Shota.

"Yer' Eraser somethin', right?" he slurs. "Heard ya' got a partner, where's he at?"

Deku, smiling as if he's having the time of his life, appears behind the man right at that moment. He laughs, somewhat maniacal, and lands on the guy's shoulders, knocking him to the ground.

"I'm right here!"

~

"Can't you just do it for me," Deku whines, turning his clipboard toward Eraser.

"No," Eraser deadpans, much to Deku's disappointment. "It's your witness statement."

Deku groans. He stares down at the clipboard Eraser got from Tsukauchi for him in annoyance.

"If this is going to be a more long-term arrangement, we need rules," Tsukauchi says, arms crossed over his chest./p>

Deku groans in annoyance. He'd really rather be anywhere other than this diner right now, but Eraserhead said he had to attend this meeting if he wanted to continue working with him. And hey, he's also getting a free meal out of it. Bright sides.

"Rule number one, Deku can only engage in fights unless absolutely necessary," Tsukauchi starts. "If you do otherwise, you will be arrested on the spot. Rule two, you will no longer participate in any vigilante activities without Eraserhead. Rule three, you will be filling out witness reports after every fight you engage with."

Tsukauchi punctuates his statement by sliding a clipboard across the table. Deku only reaches for it once Tsukauchi retracts his own hand, and he scans over the page. It's a blank witness report; an example for when Deku has to fill one out.

"What do I put for my name?" Deku asks.

"It'd be ideal if you put your legal name," Eraserhead sighs. "But I don't expect you to do that."

"Just Deku works," Tsukauchi shrugs. "For now."

Deku ignores Tsukauchi's add on, dropping the clipboard back on the table. "About rules one and two," he sighs. "I'm sure you've both caught on to my… living situation."

"We have," Tsukauchi nods.

"So what if I run into trouble while I'm, I don't know, trying to find somewhere to sleep?" Deku inquires.

"There's a difference between finding trouble and trouble finding you," Eraserhead comments.

"Though we do encourage you to try to find help before taking a fight on by yourself," Tsukauchi adds, another thing he's said that Deku's going to ignore.

A waitress approaches with three plates of food atop a black tray. She gives Deku a questioning look as he pulls up the bottom of his mask, but doesn't say anything as she sets their plates down on the table.

"Before you eat," Tsukauchi leans forward once the waitress walks away. He lifts the witness report from the top of the clipboard, revealing a contract. "We need you to sign this."

"Why?" Deku asks. "Verbal contracts are binding by law."

"This is just a formality our higher-ups have asked us for," Tsukauchi shrugs.

"We're both risking our jobs here, kid," Eraserhead sighs. "And our bosses are trying to cover their asses."

Deku stares down at the paper, skimming over it. "You signed it as Eraserhead," he notes, staring at the lines that have Eraser's and Tsukauchi's signatures as responsible parties in case anything goes wrong.

"You're signing it as Deku," he shrugs.

"Fair point," Deku says, lifting the provided pen and putting it to the paper.

"What's the date?" Deku sighs, neatly printing his alias on the 'name' line.

"September seventeenth," Eraser sighs. "Do I need to get you a watch?" he says with sarcasm.

"Careful there, Eraser," Deku jokes. "Keep buying me shit and I might start calling you 'Dad'," Deku laughs.

"Don't do that," Eraserhead deadpans, eyeing Deku. Deku shifts uncomfortably.

Deku awkwardly clears his throat. "I won't," he mutters. "And no, you don't need to get me a watch. I don't want you spending any more money on me then you have."

"Kid," Eraser shakes his head in disapproval. "I've bought you a cheap burner phone and a couple meals, I can buy you a watch."

Deku glances at him, trying to figure out if he's being sarcastic or not. Ever the unreadable bastard, Deku can't tell.

He turns back to his paperwork and shrugs. "Do what you want, I guess. It's not my money," he says, giving permission. "Nothing too flashy, though. I'd rather not get mugged."

(A week later, Deku is tossed a simple black watch. Neither of them say anything more about it.)

~

"Are you two dressing up this year?" Nemuri asks, tossing a hershey kiss in her mouth. They're in the U.A teachers lounge, enjoying the peace of lunch period.

"No," Zashi answers. He writes a score at the top of one exam, flipping to the next one. "Sho works so I'll probably end up watching a movie by myself again."

"Shotaaa," Nemuri whines dramatically. "You worked last year! Don't you wanna see me in my sexy nurse costume?" she smirks at him.

"First, I see enough in your hero costume," he sighs, not looking up from his own grading. "And second, nobody else ever takes the night patrol on Halloween, somebody's gotta do it."

Nemuri hums. "Is your kid gonna be with you?" she asks.

Shota gives her an unamused look. "Yes, the kid will be with me," he confirms.

"You should bring him some candy," Hizashi suggests. Shota gives him a questioning look to which Zashi just shrugs. "He's a kid on the streets, how often do you think he gets treats like that?"

~

"Holy shit, Kit," Izuku gasps as Kit drops a large bag of candy she bought onto the counter in front of him.

"Cool, right?" she smiles. "It was on sale. Figured I could set up my phone projector and we could have a mini movie night!"

Izuku smiles. "That sounds awesome."

Not ten minutes later, they're in a back room of the closed cafe, Izuku's sleeping bag and a couple pillows creating a semi-comfortable spot for them on the floor. Kit has a spare table turned on its side, the white tabletop acting as a projector screen.

"Are there any horror movies you like?" Kit asks, scrolling through Netflix.

"I haven't seen a movie in years," Izuku replies. "So I don't know."

"Right, I should've guessed that," Kit says awkwardly. She scrolls down from the category she'd been skimming through, horror and thrillers, and begins scrolling through the children and family section. "What about a kids movie? There's this one with three witches…," she trails off a bit before cheering happily. "Hocus Pocus!"

Kit clicks on the movie, letting Izuku watch the short preview. The scene that plays seems to be of some sort of Halloween party. A woman with weird teeth and curly red hair is singing on stage. It's goofy, and it makes Izuku smile, which is enough incentive for Kit to press play.

Izuku uses his vigilante hoodie as a blanket of sorts and cuddles into Kit's side.

She's the only person Izuku feels safe with. The only person he'll touch and let touch him. Honestly, the only person Izuku will willingly let within three feet of him.

Well, other than Eraserhead.

He doesn't let Eraserhead close very often, and the man typically respects that silent boundary. But sometimes, when it's quiet and they're resting on a rooftop, Izuku will scoot a bit closer. Three feet becomes two and neither of them say anything about it.

But then there are days where not even Kit can enter Izuku's bubble of safety. Days when Izuku will jump at every little sound and movement. Days when Izuku has to force himself to go to the library or on a patrol (even if he's not supposed to) to distract himself from the phantom hands on his body.

But today isn't one of those days.

Today is a good day. And tomorrow will be, too. Because tomorrow is Halloween, and he's going to patrol with Eraser and he'll get to see all the kids out and about in their costumes, happy and clueless.

Izuku reaches into their pile of candy and grabs a random handful, picking through it and tossing the things he doesn't like into Kit's lap.

"You don't like almond joy's?" she asks, offended.

"Coconut feels weird on my teeth," Izuku shrugs.

"Oh, but you like jawbreakers," Kit accuses. "Those'll break your teeth. It's in the name."

"Not if you suck on 'em," Izuku shrugs, popping a red one into his mouth.

Kit jokingly scoffs at him, turning back to the TV. "I love this scene," she comments under her breath.

On screen, the witch trio Kit mentioned before are bowing to a man dressed in a devil costume. It's cringey and embarrassing, but Izuku finds himself smiling at the ridiculousness of it.

"We should do this more often," Izuku says quietly.

"It'd be easier if you'd come to my apartment," she sighs.

"You know I can't do that," Izuku replies.

Kit doesn't say anything about that, opting to agree to have more nights like this in the cafe.

~

"Shouldn't you be trick or treating?" Shota asks Deku on their Halloween patrol.

Deku leans back on his hands. They're both sitting on the roof of a condo, quietly observing the busy street below them.

There are hundreds of kids and parents gathered around a neighborhood Halloween party that spans at least two blocks. They've decided to watch this party specifically because it's taking place in a sketchier part of town. (And Shota was the only one willing to volunteer to patrol this area.)

"I think I might be too old to," Deku shrugs. "Plus, what would I go as, a vigilante?" he jokes.

"I suppose that's a good point," Shota sighs. He lets the silence linger for a moment, watching the children on the street below run around in their Party City hero costumes.

"I wanted to be All Might," Deku says suddenly, quietly. Shota doesn't say anything, hoping his silence will encourage Deku's rare moment of openness. "Well, I was All Might for every Halloween up until I was five."

Shota, hoping it'll encourage the boy more, unzips one of his pockets and pulls out a handful of candy. He sets it on the cement in the center of their 2 foot invisible bubble, one that continues to shrink as time goes on.

Deku eyes him warily before grabbing a hard candy and lifting his mask briefly to pop it into his mouth.

"I haven't trick or treated since then," Deku shrugs. "I didn't exactly have friends and my mom worked a lot, so I didn't have anyone to go with."

Shota doesn't say anything, not really knowing what to say.

From what the kid has eluded about his childhood in their months of working together, Shota has come to the conclusion that it wasn't anywhere close to ideal. The kid's instincts and guarded energy have always told Shota that he's been abused.

It's something Shota thought about when gathering missing person's reports.

There's currently a file in his computer dedicated to missing persons reports that he's spent months skimming through. Though he has filtered it down to adolescent boys that have been reported missing in the past five years, the reality is that thousands of children go missing in Japan every year.

It'd be easier if the filtering system was more updated and he could use what he knows about the kid's physical description to narrow it down, but as of right now, you can only really filter by sex, age, location, and year. He puts up with it, though, spending every minute he can skimming through the files in hopes that he can find a family member or anyone that can take the boy in.

So as much as he appreciates the boy opening up simply because it shows he trusts Shota, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't also motivated by the hope of finding Deku's family.

(He actively chooses to ignore the thought that if this kid was abused or neglected, chances are he wasn't reported.)

"Eraser," Deku calls quietly, gaining Shota's attention. Deku points toward a young boy in a Gang Orca costume holding a man's hand. "I've been watching that guy, I don't think he knows the kid."

Eraserhead immediately goes on guard, watching the child be led through the crowd of people on the street. "How do you know?"

"He came out of that alley," Deku points to an alley the man seems to be leading the child to. "He watched the crowd and waited for the kid's parents to look away."

Shota watches the man for only a couple more seconds before lifting himself into a crouch on the concrete ledge.

Deku follows his movements and Shota signals for him to join the crowd at the edge of that alley while Shota takes on the alley himself. "You get the kid, I'll get the man," he says simply.

Deku nods, confirming he understands, and they both leap off of the roof.

Shota stays in the shadows of the alley, keeping an eye on Deku, who lingers around the entrance.

Soon enough, the man, dressed in a black hoodie and loose fit jeans comes around the corner, still holding the child's hand. The kid looks to be a nine or ten year old boy, black hair, black eyes and short enough to be eye level with the man's stomach.

Deku ducks his head and follows the pair as they enter the alley. He excels at stealth, a skill Shota wishes he could see more of in his students, so the man doesn't notice him.

Waiting for the perfect moment, so the man is close enough to grab but too far to hit, Shota steps out from behind the dumpster, immediately sending his tape toward him.

To Shota's surprise, the guy dodges the tape, managing to keep a hold on the boy's hand.

"Ow!" the boy yelps, immediately trying to pull away from the creeps grip.

"Damn, I was so close, too," the guy sighs. His hood fell when he dodged, revealing his black hair and yellow eyes. He sighs and uses his teeth to remove the black leather glove from his free hand.

"No!" Deku yelps immediately. Shota takes the distraction Deku makes as he dives for the Gang Orca kid to restrain the guy's bare hand by the wrist.

Deku dives between the man and the child, placing himself between the two. He's crouched on the ground, knife out threateningly, and what Shota is surprised to recognize as tears in his eyes. The man hasn't let go of the boy's hand, but he studies Deku's masked face with amusement.

"I'd recognize those eyes anywhere," he smirks.

"Let the boy go," Deku seethes. It sounds like his teeth are grit and Shota realizes the kid is panting.

"Deku, you know him?" Shota questions.

"Deku," the man laughs. "That's what you're going by now?"

"Let him go, Tal," is all Deku replies with. His voice is becoming more and more urgent, his shoulders shaking around his increasingly urgent breaths.

The man, Tal, thinks for a moment before dropping the kid's hand. "Mickey'll be happier to hear I found his favorite pet, anways."

Deku visibly flinches at the name alone, but he's quick to turn to the kid and shoo him away. While he's turned away, though, Tal grabs Deku's hood, pulls him up, and wraps an arm around Deku's chest.

To Shota's surprise, Deku drops his knife, his arms falling limp at his sides. He stares right at Shota, panicked eyes wide and begging.

Shota levels the perp with a glare. "Let him go," he warns.

"Hey Deku," Tal continues to stare at Shota as he leans down to speak directly into Deku's ear. "Does your friend here know how much of a whore you are?"

Deku stiffens and looks away from Shota.

That's the last straw. Shota no longer cares about injuring this creep, and pulls harshly on the end of his capture scarf he's had around his wrist.

Both Tal and Deku fall to the ground, and the commotion of it alerts the crowd in the street.

"Somebody find a patrol cop!" Eraserhead yells. A couple people run off while others continue to crowd and watch.

He pulls Tal toward him, steps on his back, and pulls on the binding, effectively pinning him.

"A bit rough there, hero," Tal smirks.

"You'd be smart to shut the hell up," Shota bites.

"Don't," Deku gasps from several feet away. He's standing unsteadily from his knees, eyes darting around, unfocused and frenzied. "Don't let his hands touch you."

Shota takes the advice and wraps Tal's wrists without getting close to either hand, gloved or not.

Shota can't tell if it's just the stress of running into whoever this man is or if it's because of the forming crowd, but Deku is quick to pull himself up onto one of the surrounding rooftops, leaving Shota alone with the creep, crowd, and cops.

"Shame," Tal sighs. "Mickey would've loved to see him again."

Shota resists the urge to stomp on the dude's face. "Shut up."

~

Today is not a good day.

Today is a horrible day.

Today was fine, great even, until Izuku caught sight of those eyes.

Just like Tal said about Izuku, Izuku could recognize those eyes anywhere.

"What's a kid your age doing out here all alone?" a man with black hair and yellow eyes kneels in front of Izuku.

It's only been a week or two, but Izuku's starting to question his decision to run from social services. The cold late-February air alone has almost been enough to send Izuku crying to Auntie's door.

He's decided to stick it out, though. He's bothered Kachan enough.

"I'm writing," Izuku replies to the man in front of him.

"What'cha writing?" the man asks, leaning forward to peek over the edge of Izuku's journal.

"Quirk analysis," he shrugs.

"You're smart, aren't yah?" the man smiles.

Izuku shrugs again.

"How about I get you a cup of cocoa?" the man offers with a smile. "That ought'a warm you up."

Izuku looks up at him. "I don't know you," he says warily.

The man holds out a hand for Izuku to shake. "I'm Tal."

Izuku shakes the offered hand. "I'm Izuku."

Tal stands, pulling Izuku up with him. "So what'dya say to that cocoa?" he asks with a smile.

Izuku looks him up and down. He seems nice enough, so what's the harm? "I'd like that."

"Kid," Izuku will forever deny the little-girl-esque scream he lets out when Eraser drops onto the roof in front of him.

Izuku pushes himself into the concrete corner as close as he can, knees to his chest and hands around the knife he had half a mind to grab when making his retreat. His breathing is nowhere near normal, it's borderline painful, causing his head to feel light.

"Woah, hey," Eraser holds his hands up in front of him in a surrender position. "It's just me. Me and you. Breathe, kid."

Izuku tries to do as told and take a deep breath, but his mask covering his mouth and nose make him feel like he's suffocating. He needs to take it off, he needs it off.

But Eraser's here, and he can't see Izuku's face.

"I-I can't do it," Izuku shakes his head side to side. "I can't."

Phantom hands find their way to Izuku's hips, and he wants nothing more than to take this knife and cut them off. He squeezes his fists around the handle.

"Okay, kid," Eraser sits in front of Izuku, keeping double their usual distance between him. "How about we play a game?"

Izuku huffs a laugh the best he can through his heaving breaths. "Now?"

"Yes," Eraser says simply. "You're going to tell me something you can see."

Izuku dips his head back, the position feeling more exposed yet opening his airway just enough at the same time. "I can- the moon."

"Yeah, the moon's pretty bright tonight," Eraser comments. "Can you tell me something about the moon?"

Izuku blinks harshly, trying to get his thoughts to slow down and make sense through the haze of hands all over him.

"It's in the uh, the waxing crescent phase," Izuku says through his rushed breaths. "It's sup- supposed to bring uh, motivation and-and creativity."

Eraser hums in response. "You're smart, kid. Where'd you learn that?"

Izuku swallows thickly. "The library. Uh, there's not really much- much else for me to do."

"What's your favorite thing to read about?" Eraser asks.

"Quirks," Izuku answers without missing a beat. "A-analysis and stuff."

"Have you analyzed mine?" Izuku nods. "Tell me what you know."

"Accor- according to the UA website, y-you're quirk is called, uh, Eraser, which I assume is where you- you got your name," Izuku starts.

"Wait," Eraser interrupts. "UA website? Staff isn't listed there. Wait, how'd you know I work at UA?"

Izuku stares at him, his rapid breath pausing only to catch in his throat.

"Whatever, we'll come back to that," Eraser sighs. "Tell me more about my quirk."

Izuku hesitates. He didn't mean to say that he'd visited (hacked into) the UA website, and he's scared that if he continues, he'll say something else he shouldn't.

But he'd be lying if he said this wasn't helping distract him from the phantom hands all over his body, so he continues anyway.

"It's- um, it's used to temporarily disable an opponent's quirk. When you use your quirk, your eyes glow. I thought at first that that was why you have the goggles but since your hair also floats when it's activated I assume you have the goggles so your opponent can't tell who you're looking at. It only lasts as long as you don't blink, which is probably why you have chronic dry eye and carry eye drops in your utility belt. Your quirk also doesn't have a lot of potential when it comes to offense, but you make up for it with your hand-to-hand skills and your capture weapon. The weapon is made of carbon fibers and a special metal alloy and its design is unique to you, leading me to believe you contributed in designing it yourself," Izuku stops to take a breath, and then comes to the realization that he was rambling, something most people hate when he does. "Sorry," he says, just in case.

"What the hell, kid," Eraser sighs. The words themselves would usually have Izuku assuming he was angry, but the way he says them is both intrigued and fond, so Izuku looks back up at the hero. "How'd you figure all that out?"

Izuku shrugs. "Observing you, mostly."

"And you just keep all of that in your head?" Eraser questions.

Izuku swallows, his throat feeling dry. "Kinda," he says. "I have a notebook."

Eraser looks him up and down, and Izuku's afraid for a moment that he's angry, but then the man stands. "In your bag?"

Izuku nods.

"Show me," is all he says before he's swinging himself back across the street to the condo roof they'll find Izuku's bag on.

Izuku scrambles to his feet, almost nicking his cheek with his knife as he stands. He stares at the knife in his hand. The hands have faded. They aren't gone, but they're not as noticeable. He can put the knife away.

So he does, and he swings himself across to join Eraser on the condo roof.

"You really wanna see?" he asks nervously.

Eraser nods curtly, and Izuku feels himself positively light up.

Nobody ever wants to see his notebook!

He kneels beside his backpack and unclips it, letting his sleeping bag fall onto the roof's gravel.

"I used to do this all the time," Izuku explains. "I find quirks so interesting, I spent all my time as a kid studying them."

Izuku pulls the notebook from the zipped pocket at the very back of his bag. "I don't write about it very much anymore in case my notebook gets stolen but when I met you I just- I wanted to know more, and I wrote it all down so I wouldn't forget."

Izuku flips through the notebook and looks up at Eraser, who's hovering about four feet away, the bottom half of his face hidden in his scarf.

"You can- you can sit down," Izuku says, gesturing to a spot in front of himself.

Eraser nods and sits, now about two feet away from Izuku. "This okay?" he asks.

Izuku nods. He places the notebook between them, and Eraser slides it toward him a bit.

"How'd you find all of this information?" Eraser questions. "My name, age, and quirk aren't in any public records."

Izuku rubs the back of his neck nervously. "I kinda hacked into the UA website," he admits.

"How?" Eraser questions.

"I used a password cracker to log in as a student I saw during the sports festival. Once you get someone's name, it's easy to find just about anything you wanna know about them," Izuku shrugs.

"What the hell," Eraser mutters as he pulls the notebook toward himself. "How'd you even know I worked there?"

"You once mentioned to me that you taught kids my age, so I was kinda guessing. UA just happened to be my first guess," Izuku explains.

Eraser finishes skimming over the page and looks up at Izuku. "Are there any other quirks on here you'd be willing to show me?"

Izuku leans forward and takes the notebook. He skims through the book. "There're mostly just people I don't like in here," he says, quietly and mostly to himself. He stops on a page and looks up at Eraser. "I have Tal," he says. He places the notebook back where it was so Eraser can see.

"Secretes paralytic venom from his hands," the hero reads aloud. "That's why you dove for the kid when he took his glove off."

Izuku nods. "It's, uh, it's what he does."

"What he does?" Eraser repeats in question.

Izuku stays quiet for a moment. He stares down at the rough sketch he has of Tal on the page. "I don't usually talk about it."

"You don't have to," Eraser assures.

"Would it- do you think it'd help keep him locked up?" Izuku asks.

"Any information would, yes," Eraser nods.

Izuku fidgets with the laces on his shoes, resisting the urge to pull at the threads on the frayed ends. "His job is to take kids," Izuku says quietly, almost in a whisper. "He leads them away from their parents and uses his quirk to paralyze them. After that, he just looks like a dad carrying his sleeping kid."

Eraser seems to hesitate before asking his next question. "He did that to you?"

Izuku shakes his head. He doesn't say anything else and he's happy when Eraser takes that as a sign to change the subject.

Though the next subject is better, it's still a sensitive one.

"You should apply for UA," he says bluntly.

"I can't," Izuku sighs sadly.

"Why not?" Eraser questions. "You're smart, these analysts alone would be enough to make you a worthy candidate."

Izuku gives in and pulls on one of the threads. "There's something I've always wondered about your quirk," Izuku says. "Since you can't cancel mutant quirks, can you tell when you've successfully canceled one?"

"Yes," Eraser nods.

"Have you ever used it on me?" Izuku questions.

Eraser doesn't respond, but when Izuku looks up at the man, he finds red eyes and floating hair. The hero's face drops, confusion and realization flashing across his expression.

"I can tell you one thing, Eraser," Izuku sighs, standing from the ground and quickly placing his things back into his bag. "I'm not a mutant."

Izuku walks to the edge of the roof, unholstering his grappling hook. "I hope I'll see you tomorrow, but I'll understand if I don't."

Izuku leaves before he gets a reply.

Chapter 4: I Guess We All Have Masks

Notes:

TW's:
discussions of rape/forced prostitution
referenced suicidal ideation
non-graphic blood and injury

Shota doesn't want to have this conversation. Standing outside Tsukauchi's office, he knows he has to tell him.

Not only does he have reason to believe Deku has a history with the human trafficking ring that's been running rampid in this district and the ones surrounding it, he now knows that Deku is quirkless.

Quirkless.

It's an ugly word.

There was a time where instead of being quirkless, you'd just be normal. The ones with these genetic malformations they've grown to worship were the weird ones. The freaks.

But now, in their capitalistic, egoistic, superhuman society, it's considered a deformity to not have some sort of power.

Society has always run on power. Those with money are those with the power and therefore, they run everything. But now, with quirks, that power has become literal. They now live in a world where the majority of the population are born with power, and as generations go on, they get stronger and stronger.

When talking about the quirkless, people like to spout the 80% statistic (which is unreliable in the first place, as with every generation, quirks become more and more common) to say those without quirks aren't a minority, which is a lie.

They are a minority and it's common knowledge that they are treated as such.

Quirless people have a hard time getting jobs, housing, proper education, and are often turned away by businesses once they see the person's ID. Being required by law to have that red or green Q on your ID is very blatantly the government's form of encouraging discrimination, but honestly, there's nothing anyone can do about it.

The more sickening statistics when it comes to quirkless people are the things like homelessness, foster care, kidnapping, trafficking, suicide.

It's an ugly word, but not because being quirkless is wrong. It's ugly because of everything that comes with the label.

Shota takes a deep breath and knocks on Tsukauchi's door.

"Ah, good morning Aizawa, have a seat," Tsukauchi greets cheerfully, a stark contrast to today's discussion topics.

Shota sits in the seat he always does, and Tsukauchi waits for him to settle before speaking.

"I hear you made a revelation in Deku's case last night," he starts.

Shota nods. "He knew our kidnapper."

Tsukauchi looks down at one of the papers on his desk. "Tal Takagi," he confirms. "Twenty-nine years old, quirk: Krait. He shares the snake's paralytic venom, which he secretes through his fingertips, along with a couple physical features, namely his bright yellow eyes. We have reason to believe he's involved in the suspected trafficking ring that's popped up within the last couple of years."

"We're running off of the assumption Deku is a victim of the ring, correct?" Shota asks.

"Correct," Tsukauchi nods. "And this actually helps us with a couple things."

"Helps us?" Shota repeats. "A boy was most likely forced into a sex trafficking ring and you find that useful?"

Tsukauchi nods, fully serious. "It means we can find more information about Deku himself."

"You're not saying we're going to ask that creep about him, are you?" Shota asks warily.

"We already have," Tsukauchi reveals. He types and clicks on his computer for a moment before turning the screen so Shota can see it.

On screen, is security footage of the station's interrogation room. In the room, Tal is sitting, a smile on his face, cuffed to the table.

Tsukauchi presses play.

"I am required by law to inform you this interview is being recorded and will be filed as evidence in the ongoing investigation into the vigilante, Deku. This is a witness interview, however anything you say to incriminate yourself can and will be further investigated to pursue criminal charges. You do not need an attorney, but if you decide at any point that you want on, you may stop the interview and we will provide you with representation."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Tal rolls his eyes. "I volunteered to do this, so I volunteered to incriminate myself, or whatever."

Tsukauchi clears his throat. "Well, we'll get started, then. Tell me about Deku; how do you know him?"

"He used to work for me," Tal smirks.

"What kind of work did he do for you?"

"You could say it was… physical labor."

"I'm aware that you're allegedly involved in the trafficking ring that's been under investigation. Are you saying you used to be Deku's pimp?"

"Yes, and no. I was one of them."

"One of them?"

"I was the one that found him, so for the first couple months I was the one looking after him. But then, he became more high demand and the boss decided he should look after him, too."

"High demand?"

"We got a lot of requests for him specifically. He was nicknamed The Ragdoll. He fought it at first, but after I used my quirk on him a couple times, he stopped. He'd do this thing where he'd just… go limp. Customers loved it."

Tsukauchi doesn't say anything for several moments. "How uhm, how old was Deku when he worked for you?"

"Twelve, thirteen when he left."

"And did he get any sort of compensation for his… labor?"

"Yes, we'd buy him warm clothes and food. Sometimes, we'd let him sleep in the hotel rooms we use overnight."

"How old would he be now?"

"Fifteen, I think."

"And last question, what's Deku's name?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Why not?"

"'Cause this is fun, watchin' a teenager run circles around the police department.You-," Tal laughs. "You didn't even know how old he is!" Tal laughs loudly.

The video ends and Shota can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He knew, but he didn't want to believe it.

But so much makes sense now.

The kid's unusually large bubble, his reaction when Shota had to lift his shirt to look at the stab wound, and even his tendency to dissociate after larger fights.

It's because he was made into a child prostitute.

This is completely fucked.

"It is."

Oops. Shota hadn't realized he said that out loud.

"But good news," Tsukauchi says, pulling another file from underneath Tal's. "We have one less blank space on his file."

Shota takes the file and looks it over.

Name: "Deku"

Age: 15

Height: approx. 164-168 cm.

Weight: approx. 48-50 kg.

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: Unknown

Quirk: Unknown

"Actually," Shota sighs. "We've filled two spaces."

"What?" Tsukauchi questions.

"He's quirkless," Shota rubs his temple. "He told me last night."

Tsukauchi's quiet for a minute. A minute so long that Shota's leg starts bouncing at a rapid pace with a mix of irritation and anxiety.

"We need to sit down with him again," Tsukauchi finally says.

"Why?" Shota asks sitting forward in his seat.

"I was iffy on him working with you before, but now that we know he's quirkless?" Tsuklauchi shakes his head. "It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Shota repeats. "How is a kid with no power more dangerous than a kid with one?"

"It makes him a liability!" Tsukauchi argues. "If he gets injured on the job, it's on us, and he can't properly protect himself."

"What do you think he's been doing for months?" Shota counters. "Years, even."

"Aizawa, you know this changes things," Tsukauchi tries again.

"No, I know that it changes nothing," Shota stands from his chair. "What I know is that this kid has just started to trust me, and if we react negatively to this, we will never see him again. I'm not willing to risk that."

Without another word, Shota leaves the station, irritation coursing through his veins.

~

Izuku is dragging.

He didn't get any sleep last night. He spent most of the night wandering, too restless to settle down. Every sound from every alley, shop, and street he passed was enough to make him jump. Honestly, he didn't feel safe enough to settle.

So, he didn't sleep.

Kit isn't working for another two days, so Izuku heads to his second favorite place; the library.

He strolls in, waves hello to the lady at the front desk, and heads straight for the nook in the far corner.

He's been reading up more on laws and such since signing the contract with Eraser. He's come to the conclusion that if they wanted to charge Izuku with any criminal offense at this point in time, it'd probably be theft. (Or possibly some sort of cyber crime for hacking into the UA website, but Eraser looked more impressed than anything, so he's not too pressed about it.)

He hasn't said out right said it, but Eraserhead has probably caught on to Izuku's stealing.

He only ever steals from dumpsters, which in his opinion, is nothing more than using his (limited) resources wisely. But it is probably suspicious when the homeless kid you work with pulls a bottle of slightly-expired soda out of his backpack.

He doubts Eraser would let them charge him for something so petty, though, so Izuku tries not to stress about it.

Reading about the laws makes him feel better. Specifically because he's found there are quite a few loopholes through most of them since he doesn't possess a quirk.

What's scary, though, is when he hops on the computers and reads articles about other quirkless cases, he typically finds that they're given the highest possible sentence, which is why he has to be careful.

It's why he does what he's told, when he's told. If Eraserhead tells him to stand down, he does (reluctantly). If he tells him to fight, he fights (happily). If he tells him to rest… he doesn't.

That's the one thing he saves for when he's off duty. Izuku can rest. Izuku can sit on a bean bag in a corner of the library and settle down for a nap, just as he is right now.

Deku can't. Deku keeps him safe, and he can't do that if he's caught with his pants down.

So Izuku sleeps, because that's his job.

~

Shota waits nervously on their meeting rooftop. He paces, something he usually wouldn't do, as he waits to see that familiar green hoodie.

Shota hates questions, and he's found that with every answer he gets about Deku, he discovers more and more questions.

Who is this kid? Why is he doing this? Why was he homeless at twelve years old? Why does he seem to turn on a dime, one moment a witty vigilante and the next a scared, talkative kid?

And why is he late?

Shota pulls his phone out, impulsively calling the one person he can confide in about this. (Even if the confiding isn't very legal… or ethical.)

"Hello?" Hizashi answers the phone.

"He's not here," Shota whispers, irritation evident in his bitter tone.

"He's probably just running behind," Hizashi reasons.

"He's never running behind," Shota pinches the bridge of his nose. "What if he's not coming?"

"Sho, I know you're attached to this kid, but you've gotta chill, you're stressing yourself out," Hizashi says softly.

"I am not attached," Shota states.

"Sure you aren't," Hizashi says sarcastically. "Look, give it another ten minutes. If he doesn't show, then you can panic."

Shota thinks on that for a moment before shaking his head, though he knows his husband can't see him. "What if- what if he hurt himself. You saw his scars, and the way he was holding his knife, it was-,"

"I didn't," Shota turns around to find the boy has quietly pulled himself up onto the rooftop.

"He's here," Shota says simply before ending the call and pocketing his phone.

"S-sorry I'm late," Deku apologizes. "I uh, fell asleep and didn't notice un-until the library was closing."

The stutter. Shota looks the kid up and down.

He's got his vigilante outfit on, as usual, but he's hunched in on himself. His sleeves are pulled over his hands, leading Shota to an internal debate over whether the boy is nervous or cold, and his eyes are open and scared.

This isn't Deku.

But Shota leaves it alone, not wanting to scare him off. Instead, he offers the kid an out.

"Why don't we skip out on patrol tonight," he offers. The kid's in no state to patrol right now.

"What? You- you can't just do that, can you?" Deku asks, surprised.

"I can't," Shota pulls his phone out. "But I can ask someone to come do it for me."

"Oh, y-you don't have- won't you get in-,"

"Hey," Shota says to the person on the phone. "I need you to come work my shift. The kid and I are gonna take the night off."

"Shooo," Nemuri whines. "I hate the night shift!"

"You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," Shota says quieter.

Nemuri thinks for a moment before relenting. "Fine. But you owe me one," she says.

"Whatever, thanks, Nem," Shota hangs up the phone.

He looks back up at the kid. "Y-you really didn't have to-,"

"I should've called in earlier, anyway," Shota shrugs. "I'm running on a power nap and too much coffee."

"What do- do we do now?" Deku asks.

Shota thinks for a moment. The kid said he fell asleep in the library and came straight here, so… "Why don't we get something to eat?"

"You don't have to- have-," the kid grunts in frustration. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Shota questions.

"I'm not- I'm off my game and it's ruining your night."

Shota doesn't know what to say, to be honest. So he turns on his heel and walks to the edge of the roof instead. "Let's go grab something to eat."

~

Izuku is incredibly nervous, honestly.

He let Eraser order him a hot cocoa to warm him up, but then he wound up cupping his hands around the mug and letting the steam wash over his face. When Eraser asks him what he'd like to eat, he just says he'll have whatever the hero is having, so as to not be more of a bother than he already is.

When he woke up from his nap at the library, it was to the old lady that works the front desk softly shaking him awake. He got out of there quickly, only to find it was late, late enough that he probably should've been on the roof already.

As he'd ducked into a convenience store bathroom to change his clothes, he'd tried to put his metaphorical Deku mask on. As he jogged through the streets toward the building, he'd tried to put the metaphorical mask on. He'd even tried as he put his literal mask on.

And it didn't work.

That's how he wound up here, he supposes. Eraser probably took one look at him and decided he wasn't in the right headspace to patrol tonight. Or maybe he decided Izuku is a liability when he's like this.

Or maybe he'd already decided that, because now he knows Izuku is quirkless.

"What's on your mind, kid?" Eraser interrupts his thoughts.

Izuku shrugs and carefully lifts the glass to take a sip of his drink.

"I can tell you what I'm thinking about," Eraser offers. Izuku watches him roll the paper from his straw between his fingers. "You're different tonight. You were last night, too, actually. Care to explain?"

Izuku finally takes a sip of his cocoa, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. "I, uh, I couldn't find Deku tonight."

"You couldn't find… yourself?"

"No," Izuku shakes his head. "I couldn't- couldn't find my mask."

"You're gonna have to explain that one," Eraser sighs.

Izuku's eyes dart around as he tries to find an explanation, though it's futile because he's never actually said any of this out loud. He's totally winging this.

"I-I do this- this thing," Izuku starts gracefully. "I think of myself as two people: Deku and, well, me. Deku is like a mask, so I'm still me, b-but I'm confident and- and strong. Deku keeps me safe."

Eraser seems as though he's going to say something, but is interrupted by the waiter bringing their food. She places two plates on the table, each holding a burger and fries, and quickly leaves.

They eat in silence for several moments before Eraser finally says something.

"Why can't you find Deku?" he asks.

Izuku shrugs. "I think that maybe I'm too- too scared."

"What are you scared of?"

Izuku stares at the man in front of him. "I'm pretty sure you know."

Eraser nods. "Would it help if I tell you what I learned about you today?"

Izuku's heart skips. "Y-you talked to him?"

"Tsukauchi did."

"What do you- what do you know?"

Eraser sighs. "I know that you used to… work for Tal."

Izuku grits his teeth. Eraser probably thinks he's disgusting. He probably thinks he's dirty and weak and-

"Kid," Izuku doesn't look at him. "It wasn't your fault."

Izuku's eyes snap up to stare with confusion and surprise into dark, sympathetic ones.

"But I-," Izuku swallows, ignoring the tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes. "I didn't have to. I went with them because-,"

"'Cause you were scared," Eraser interrupts. "And alone and desperate and twelve. You were- you are a child. It's not your fault and it doesn't make me think any less of you."

Izuku stares down at the fry he's been playing with. "What, uh, what do you think of me?"

Eraser seems caught off guard by the question, though he answers seamlessly. "I think you're smart, brave, and a good kid. And actually, what I know now answers a big question for me."

"What question?" Izuku asks warily.

"Why you do this."

"Oh," Izuku says simply.

That's not the whole reason, he wants to say. You should know.

"Is that not it?" Eraser asks.

Izuku shrugs. "I mean, it is but it's not all. I made a promise."

"What kind of promise?" Eraser asks.

Izuku looks up at him. Studies his face. The hidden emotion in the creases of his eyes and the stoic way he tries to hold himself.

He was so different that night. The night they met, Eraser was almost… scared.

"I promised not to kill myself," Izuku whispers, not fully conscious of his words.

Eraser's eyes widen minutely and he sucks in a breath. And then he's stoic again, looking down at his food instead of up at Izuku.

"You have a mask, too," Izuku observes aloud.

Eraser glances up at him in question.

"You do," Izuku says. "You don't- you seem like you don't care but- but you do, don't you?"

"Elaborate?"

"You were talking to someone earlier," Izuku thinks hard about this. "You were worried I'd hurt myself, which shows that you care. But just now, when I told you about my promise, you didn't want to show what you thought of it. You have a mask."

"I guess I do," Eraser admits.

Izuku sighs and takes a bite off of a fry. "Maybe we all have masks."

"Maybe," Eraser repeats.

~

Shota is panicking.

He doesn't panic. He never panics.

But Deku just took a hit. A bad one. And now he's lying unconscious on the ground and Shota can't do anything about it because this beast of a human won't go down.

Shota internally wonders if mutants like these could even be classified as human. This guy is basically just a bear, the only human feature Shota can spot on him is his eyes, which is unsettling to say the least.

He used his giant bear paws to smack Deku across the head and out of the way, and now Shota is stuck trying to distract the bear-man from Deku while he waits on the police to come tase him or something.

He pulls himself up onto a fire escape, giving himself enough revelidge to jump back down, land on the bear-man's shoulders, and momentarily knock him to the ground.

Unfortunately, bear-man is quick to swat Shota away like a fly. His back hits the wall and he lands on his side next to Deku. Shota looks up at the bear to find him, claws out, swinging toward the two of them.

With the only thought in his head being "protect the kid", Shota turns his back to the claws and uses his body as a shield for Deku's unconscious form.

The claws rip through his costume, digging into his back and causing Shota to scream out in pain. There's another slash, and another, and then it stops.

Shota can hear his blood rushing in his ears. He realizes, belatedly, that he's coughed blood onto the kid's sweatshirt, new stains joining the ones previously dotting the sweatshirt.

Shota falls to his side, his adrenaline rapidly fading. He comes face to face with Deku, who has opened his eyes and is staring back at Shota, wide and panicked.

Just before Shota loses consciousness, he hears people calling their names and then Deku's gone.

~

When Shota wakes in the hospital, his first thought is that his back burns. He shifts in the bed, only for the bandages to pull at his wounds and cause him to hiss in pain.

"Sho?" Shota turns to find Hizashi at his bedside, quietly calling his name.

He grunts in acknowledgement and brings a hand up to rub at his eyes.

"Oh, here," Hizashi hands him his eye drops, which Shota gratefully uses.

"Where's the kid?" Shota croaks, suddenly remembering he wasn't the only one injured.

"I'll, uh, get you some water," Hizashi says instead of answering the question.

Shota watches his husband stand from his bedside chair and walk to the end of the bed to fill a cup with the pitcher of water at the end of the bed. He lets his husband stall by bringing the cup to him and help him sip some water, before repeating his question.

"He left," Hizashi sighs.

"The hospital?" Shota questions, hoping the kid at least got checked out.

"No," Hizashi shakes his head. "He left before anyone could even get close enough to make sure he was okay."

Shota sits up immediately, pulling the nasal respirator off his face. Hizashi pushes him back down, but Shota smacks his hand away. "He took a hit to the head, Zashi. He could be hurt."

"Okay, but what are you going to do about that?" Hizashi counters. "He could be anywhere in the city."

"Yeah, alone," Shota points out. He tries again to shrug Hizashi off, but he doesn't let up.

"Sho, you need to rest," Hizashi says softly. "You had bear claws in your back just a couple of hours ago. You can't help Deku if you don't take care of yourself first."

Shota groans in annoyance, but he drops his head back on the pillow, relenting. He runs a hand through his hair and lets Hizashi place the nasal respirator back on his face and loop it around his ears.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Hizashi says.

"You don't know that," Shota sighs.

"I know," Hizashi says honestly.

~

Izuku hasn't ever actually done this before, but it's for emergencies, and he'd classify this as an emergency.

He walked all the way to the cafe after watching Eraserhead get safely loaded into an ambulance from a nearby roof. He was too disoriented to trust his grappling hook skills, so he walks (stumbles) through the backstreets to the cafe.

Kit told him the pass code to the backdoor and security code a while ago, after he'd shown up injured one too many times. He pulls his backpack off and sets it on the one step to the door, sagging in the relief it brings his sore back. He kneels down, unzips it, and pulls out his notebook.

He opens the back cover, where he has the two codes written on the cardboard. They aren't labeled, just in case he ever loses the notebook, so he tries the top one on the door first, pleased to find it's the right one.

The little light flicks green and Izuku opens the door, dragging his bag by one strap. He immediately puts in the second code, the security code, less he gets caught.

He makes a b-line for the bathroom, locking himself inside. He flicks the light on, momentarily blinding himself, and leans on the sink. He pulls his mask off, only slightly surprised to find the back to be wet. He drops the mask on the floor and looks down at his hand. Sure enough, dark, red liquid paints his fingertips.

Izuku reaches back again and lightly sifts through his hair, wincing in pain when he finds the cut. It doesn't feel like it's very deep, but it's unsettling, to say the least. He took a hit so bad he was knocked unconscious for who knows how long and it cracked the back of his head open.

Not to mention waking to find Eraserhead on top of him, his face scrunched in pain as the bear-person-thing clawed at his back.

Izuku looks down at his sweatshirt where a new blood stain joins the one from the stab wound and a few more randomly scattered stains.

It makes his stomach turn.

Izuku pulls the sweatshirt off, discarding it beside his bag. Next, he turns the sink on, dipping his head inside. It stings when the warm water runs over the cut, so he makes quick work of rinsing the blood out of his hair and cleaning the cut so he can turn the water off.

He leaves his head hanging over the sink and blindly reaches for the paper towel dispenser. He uses handfuls of paper towels to sloppily dry his hair, and then uses them to sloppily wipe the blood that had seeped through his sweatshirt off of his chest.

He turns around and kneels in front of his bag, opening it again to dig out his safety kit. He grabs a wrap bandage and the bottle of pills he'd obtained from Eraserhead.

Back when he got the stab wound, he only took one pill a day for a few days until he decided he was well enough to hoard the rest of them. He drops a pill in his hand and turns back to the sink.

Izuku dips his head into the sink again to take the pill before standing up straight again.

There's not much he can do by himself for a cut on the back of his head, so he feels blindly, places the actual bandage part over the cut, and winds the rest of the gauze around his head, as neatly as he can.

Izuku grabs the one long-sleeve shirt he has out of his bag and puts it on. He makes sure any and all paper towels are placed in the trash can (he'll take it out in the morning) and tosses his sweatshirt into a corner with the mask.

Finally, Izuku unrolls his sleeping bag, places his backpack in place of a pillow. He flicks the light off, curls up inside the sleeping bag, and quickly falls asleep.

(Kit is very surprised to find him in the morning.)

~

Shota was very happy to see the kid the week after what he's now calling "the bear attack incident". There was a very obvious and new stain in his sweatshirt where Shota had bled on him. Although it was for the better, Shota feels bad about the stain.

Which brings him to where he is now, in the mall with Hizashi, looking for a new one to buy for Deku as a Christmas gift. (He'll swear up and down forever that it was Hizashi's idea.) (It wasn't.)

"I don't even know what size we need," Shota groans.

"Well, you said it's big on him, so I'd say a large should be alright," Hizashi says. He pulls out a dark green hoodie, almost identical to the one the kid wears.

"That should work," Shota mutters and takes the sweatshirt from Hizashi. He turns to walk to the register but catches sight of a window leading outside. "It's snowing," he observes.

"He'll be cold, won't he?" Hizashi sighs.

Shota whips around and his eyes search around the store. He finds what he needs and walks straight for them.

He winds up buying the sweatshirt, a pack of skin-tight thermal shirts, a pack of socks, and a pair of gloves.

"Better safe than sorry," he reasons as he pays.

Hizashi smiles knowingly.

Shota rolls his eyes.

~

Izuku doesn't typically do this, but if he's being honest, he's feeling homesick, and this helps.

He walks the dirt path through the woods he'd play in as a child, and he feels rather sad. It's been three years now, three Christmas's, and the loneliness has never fully gone away.

He has Kit and Eraser, but honestly, Izuku misses Friday night dinners with Auntie and going to school and… and his mom.

He feels guilty about it, especially since he's wearing the sweatshirt, one of the shirts, socks, and gloves that Eraser got him for Christmas.

But as much as his old life sucked, he misses it.

He misses pretending Kachan wasn't glaring holes through him while he told Auntie about his week. He misses learning with a group of kids rather than on his own, even if he got beat up quite regularly. And most of all, he misses his mom. The smell of her cooking, the excitement when they were actually home at the same time, the monthly movie nights when she'd always fall asleep halfway through.

He's thought about going to visit her, but that'd just make him more sad.

He's never really liked cemeteries.

Notes:

I'm so sorry this took so long. I had the next couple of chapters planned out but as I was writing this one, I realized I didn't like what I had planned and had to revise all of it.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, though, and aren't too mad about the wait!!

Chapter 5: I Hate That You Still Have Power

Notes:

TW's:
panic attack

"They seem promising," Hizashi comes to stand beside Shota, carrying his microphone with him.

"Maybe a few," Shota sighs. If he's being honest, most of these kids seem over confident. On the monitors, they can see the clean up robots perfecting the last few details of the entrance exam sight, the other half of the monitors showing the applicants preparing themselves just outside their respective gates.

"You weren't able to convince him?" Hizashi asks stupidly.

"If I had, he'd be here," Shota mutters.

The kid brought him to a beach, one that up until a couple of years ago, was typically referred to as a dump. The kid says this was his doing, and if Shota's being honest, he doesn't know if he believes that.

This place was covered in all sorts of junk. Stoves, fridges, cars, even rubble from battle clean-up. This kid, who implied he was only thirteen when he did this, couldn't have done it on his own.

"I did," Deku states. "Even if I wanted help, I didn't have anyone."

"Why'd you do it?" Shota asks.

"I wanted to be stronger," Deku sighs. "So I could help others."

"Apply to UA," Shota suggests (requests) for the second time. "You'll learn how to help."

"I already said I can't do that."

"You can," Shota corrects. "I double checked the other day. Nowhere in the rules does it say quirkless kids can't apply."

"What about homeless kids?" Deku says with a bite in his tone. "Or orphans? Former prostitutes? Vigilantes? Can they apply, too, Eraser?"

"Calm down," Shota quips. "Most of that doesn't really matter on an application. We could find you a home, you could put me down as a guardian-"

"Eraser," Deku interrupts. "UA was my dream and I gave it up a long time ago. Just leave it alone, please."

"Sho," Shota looks up to find Hizashi calling him over. "Look," he points to one of the monitors.

On the monitor, a kid with blonde spiky hair is exploding a robot. Shota realizes almost too quickly why Hizashi wanted him to see this.

"That's the sludge villain kid," Nemuri says in awe beside Shota.

Shota nods, having made the same observation. "How many points does he have?"

"More than enough," Nezu says from further down the row of monitors. "He'll make a promising student."

"Your kid saved him, right?" Nemuri asks.

"The kid did, yes," Shota corrects and confirms. "It was the only time he's been on the news."

"Do you think Deku knows him?" Hizashi asks.

"I don't know," Shota admits. "But I'd like to find out."

~

"Do you remember the sludge incident?" Eraser asks Deku during one of their next meetings.

And of course Deku remembers it. He could never forget it.

"Vaguely," he lies.

"Why'd you run into that fight? You don't usually work in the daylight," Eraser questions.

"Why do you wanna know?" Deku questions warily.

"The kid you saved," Eraser says. "He's in my class this year."

"He got into UA?!" Izuku gasps without thinking. His chest fills with pride and excitement at the reveal. "That's amazing!"

"So you do know him?" Eraser asks with a small smile.

"Oh," Izuku mentally kicks himself for being stupid enough to reveal something like that. If Eraser were to ask Kachan about him, Kachan would have no problem revealing who Izuku is and every other little detail about him. God, Izuku's so stupid.

"Calm down, kid," Eraser says softly.

"A-are you gonna ask him about me?"

"Yes," Eraser answers honestly.

Izuku bring his hands to his face, groaning in annoyance at himself.

"Why are you so protective of your identity, anyway?" Eraser asks. "You've told me you're an orphan and we both know I'm not getting anywhere with missing person's reports."

It's stupid, actually. Izuku's had all too many internal debates about it. Eraser's saved so many people, so many kids, that he probably doesn't even remember Izuku. But something about the mask, the safety behind his anonymity, makes Izuku feel like he's in control. He's in control of this one thing.

"I, uh," I've met you before. "I don't know."

"Well, how do you know him?" Eraser asks again.

Izuku hesitates, but decides Eraser's right. There's really no use in hiding his identity at this point.

"W-we, uh, grew up together," Izuku answers honestly.

Eraser hums in acknowledgement, and Izuku continues, feeling awkward in the silence.

"We wanted to- to grow up and become heroes together," Izuku says quietly. "But then I didn't get a quirk, so I couldn't realistically be a hero. After that, I was always kinda chasing after him. I was honestly really annoying."

"And if I asked him about you, what do you think he'd say?" Eraser asks.

Izuku thinks for a moment, his mind graciously offering up the memory of their last encounter.

"Pray that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof of the building!"

"He'd probably be surprised that I'm alive," Izuku shrugs. "Maybe annoyed, even."

"Annoyed?" Eraser repeats in question.

"Yeah," Izuku shrugs. "He'll probably say something like, 'that damn Deku will never leave me alone, will he?'," Izuku mimics Kachans voice the best he can.

"Deku," Eraser repeats. "He called you that?"

Izuku nods. "I-it's where I got the name, actually."

Eraser hums again, but this time, Izuku doesn't fill the silence.

~

"Kit," Izuku calls for her attention where she's changing out a coffee filter behind the counter he's sitting at.

"Yeah?" she calls back.

"What if I stopped wearing the mask?" Izuku questions.

Kit shoots him a look of question over her shoulder. "One second," she says, turning back to quickly finish her task.

She does so, and gives instructions to another server to handle a table that just came in before she turns back to Izuku. She rests her elbows on the counter in front of him to show he has her full attention.

"Why would you do that?" she asks.

Izuku shrugs. "I guess I don't see the point."

"You said you've met him before," she questions.

"I have," Izuku nods. "But that was years ago and in the middle of the night. The chances he even remembers meeting me are slim to none."

"I think you might just get the chance to test that theory," she says, nodding over Izuku's shoulder.

Confused, Izuku follows her eye. "Oh, shit," he quickly turns back to her, eyes wide and nervous.

"That's him, right?" she asks to confirms.

Izuku whines and nods.

Over his shoulder and just outside the cafe doors is none other than Shota Aizawa and a long haired blonde Izuku assumes is a friend or something.

Izuku puts his hands up to his face, half shielding himself. "Please, please, please, tell me he's not coming in," he pleads to Kit.

"Welcome to Sunrise Cafe, have a seat and I'll be with you in a moment," she straightens to call behind him. Izuku wants to bash his face into the counter.

He hears murmuring from the pair of men as they enter the cafe and sit at the counter just a couple of seats to Izuku's.

Kit takes Izuku's mug, fills it, and pats his head. "Stop looking so stressed and drink your coffee, you look suspicious."

Izuku takes Kit's advice. He picks up his mug, holding it with both hands, and takes a sip. He angles his body away from the two men, but he does chance a glance at them.

Eraser- or, Aizawa, he supposes- has his long hair pulled up into a sort of messy man bun. He's wearing a black, worn t-shirt that looks like it used to be a band tee, but the design is too faded for Izuku to figure what band it's for. He's also wearing gray sweatpants and tennis shoes.

The man with him, it only takes Izuku a moment to realize, is Present Mic, also known as Hizashi Yamada. He's got his iconic blonde hair pulled half up and has sunglasses rested on the top of his head. His outfit weirdly matches Aizawa's without actually matching. Yamada is wearing a black t-shirt, less worn and better fit than Aizawa's, and gray skinny jeans with rips in the knees.

The thing Izuku's eyes land on, though, are the rings hanging around each one of their necks.

Oh, they're married.

Yamada's eyes flick up to Izuku's, and Izuku flushes, quickly turning back to his coffee and taking another drink.

This is bad.

If either man realizes who Izuku is, he could lose this place. If they know where to find Izuku, he might not be able to come back here.

This is the closest thing he has to a home. Kit is the closest thing he has to a home.

Izuku stays put, paralyzed by his own, probably irrational, anxiety, until the men leave.

When Izuku hears the bell indicating the door has closed behind them, he physically deflates as though he'd been holding his breath.

"You good?" Kit asks, slightly laughing at him.

Izuku groans. "That was the longest fifteen minutes of my life."

Kit flicks the top of his head. "Don't be so dramatic, Izu."

Izuku lifts his head to glare at her. "I am not being dramatic."

"Okay, well stop whining," Kit corrects.

"I'll whine all I want," Izuku pouts. "That was miserable."

"I don't think they even noticed you," Kit assures.

"You think?"

"I'm pretty sure," Kit nods. She takes a rag from behind the counter and starts wiping it down. When she gets back to Izuku's spot, he lifts his now-empty mug so she can wipe under it. "They were nice," she comments as she continues to wipe the counter.

"They were?" Izuku asks. He feels a childish hopefulness peak through the anxiety in his chest, and he feels stupid for it.

"Yeah," Kit shrugs. "They called me by my name," she gestures to her name tag. "And tipped really well."

She drops the rag back where she got it from and walks back toward Izuku. She reaches into a pocket on her apron and pulls out a ¥1,000 bill.

"Woah," he breathes. He can't even remember that last time he had paper money in his possession. The only money he ever gets are coins people have dropped on sidewalks.

"Take it," she shrugs.

"No," he shakes his head.

"Take it," Kit repeats. She slides it closer to him. "If they knew who you were, I'm sure they'd want you to have it."

Izuku gives in and takes the money. He carefully folds it on its previous crease and pockets it.

"And about the mask," Kit says. "Do what makes you comfortable."

~

"Are you gonna tell Tukauchi?" Hizashi tosses a pillow at Shota, which is then discarded next to their other unnecessary ones on the floor.

"Tell him what?" Shota asks, feigning oblivion.

"About the boy," Hizashi states as though it's obvious, which it kind of is. "We both know that was him."

"No, we don't," Shota corrects. "We think it was him."

"My question still stands," Hizashi pulls back the covers for the two of them to climb into bed. "Are you gonna tell him?"

"No," Shota admits. "It wouldn't be fair to him."

"Fair to him?"

"You saw as much as I did how that barista was with him," Shota sighs. "He was so comfortable there, he let her touch him. It'd be like exposing where he lives."

"Do you think he does?" Hizashi asks. "Live there?"

"No," Shota shakes his head. "He's made it clear that he's on the streets."

"What if he's lying?" Hizashi suggests.

"He's not," Shota states confidently. "His instincts alone are enough to tell me he isn't lying."

Hizashi hums and he's silent for a moment. Then: "Did you really tell him he could put you down as a guardian?"

Shota throws a pillow at him.

"That's not only fraud, it's-"

"I'll smother you."

"Okay, okay, Mr. Denial. Ow! Stop with the pillows!"

~

As the weeks pass, Izuku grows more and more anxious. He starts to distance himself from Eraser a bit.

Not physically, that actually gets better. A two foot range has become their norm. (Unless he's having a bad day, but that doesn't count.) So does his stutter. He starts to find it easier to speak in fluid, full sentences around him.

It's more like the idea of Eraser that he's distancing himself from. The way he exclusively calls him 'kid' when it's obvious Deku has slipped or gone away. The way he carefully wraps Deku's wrist after he sprains it on a bad landing, telling him every step he's going through so it doesn't scare him. The way he protects Deku from bigger or stronger perps. (Even when he knows he can handle himself.)

He's trying to distance himself from the safe feeling he gets around Eraser, because Kachan could ruin everything.

And part of Izuku wouldn't blame him. Izuku, in the eyes of practically everyone, is useless, but he refused to believe it. He'd follow Kachan around for eight years, claiming they could still be heroes. They'd do it together.

And no matter how many times Kachan knocked him down, physically and emotionally, he always got up. He always brushed it off, called it tough love. Izuku likes to think he isn't a liar, but in truth, he is.

He'd lie when he said Kachan didn't mean the things he did. He lied when he said he'd get a quirk one day, if only he was patient. He lied when he said things would get better.

But he knew they wouldn't. He knew his lies were lies, even back then. He knows that none of those things are true, but honestly, it brings a sick sort of comfort to lie to himself.

There's a part of him, one that he can't help but identify as so obviously the Deku side of him, that's angry. Angry that he never did get a quirk. Angry that Kachan could never see Izuku as more than Deku. Angry that Kachan still has power over him after all this time.

So Deku sticks around, even when he's supposed to be off duty.

He sticks around because anger is a much stronger emotion than grief. He can use the anger, Deku's anger, to keep Aizawa away. Keep Izuku from getting hurt, because when it comes down to it, that's Deku's job.

Kit notices. Of course she notices. Deku doesn't like to let anyone touch him, including her. She notices how Deku sits in booths more often than the counter, where he can be more isolated. He notices how Deku talks less than Izuku normally would, focused on getting his end of the deal done, getting fed, and leaving.

And she mentions it, more than once, but Deku brushes her off.

Izuku screams that once Eraser and vigilantism are gone, she's all they'll (he'll?) have.

But Deku doesn't care. He's strong, he doesn't need anyone.

~

Somehow, to Shota's grief, it's already the second week of April; the start of the new school year.

His opinion on his new class is… undecided.

In his head, they've been split into three categories: Promising, has potential, not worth it. That last category holds only one student, who by the end of the first day he's already caught groping two female students and is promptly expelled.

Shota doesn't talk to Bakugou just yet. He'd like to take a couple days to observe the kids behavior before approaching him with a subject that seems to be quite sensitive.

He figures observing All Might's incredibly irresponsible training today will help him decide what to do.

With only nineteen students, their five groups of four turn into four groups of four and one of three. Much to Aizawa's dismay, the groups are being chosen by random pick, something Shota would never do with first years.

Majority of his students have little to no prior training, which means if a student like Shoji were to be assigned one of the smaller students as an opponent, both students would be at risk. Shoji would be at risk of injuring the other student and the other student could very well not know how to properly defend himself.

Shota physically cringes when he watches the students find the others who pulled the same numbers as then and Bakugou gathers in a group with Shinsou, Uraraka, and Iida.

He can't see this going anywhere good.

Iida and Bakugou end up on the villain team going against Uraraka and Shinsou as the heroes.

Shota watches the monitors closely as the separate teams whisper about a game plan. Well, as the hero team does. Bakugou turns his back to Iida, refusing to make a plan.

The moment the simulated battle begins, Bakugou is running off, leaving Iida with the faux bomb. Uraraka has already used her quirk to make her way up to one of the top floors, and Shinsou is cautiously entering the building from the ground floor.

Shota wishes he had audio with this, but he doesn't. Bakugou finds Shinsou all too quickly and immediately charges for him, gun (or hands) blazing.

Shinsou somehow manages to duck away from Bakugou's first blast, but he's not so lucky with the second. He's thrown into the concrete wall behind him by the explosion, and Shota's sense of dread makes itself known once again.

He turns to All Might, who's observing the monitors from beside him.

"You need to call it, All Might," he says, annoyed that this has even gotten to this point.

"Give them some more time, they could still bounce back!" All Might brushes him off.

"All Might, they could get seriously injured," Shota tries to reason.

On screen, Bakugou has finally gotten into character by giving what looks to be a stereotypical villain monologue as Shinsou struggles to regain his footing after the hit he took. Shota once again wishes he could hear anything the students are saying.

But he can't.

All Might finally calls an end to the match moments too late. Shinsou tries to make a run for it and Bakugou lifts one of his gauntlets toward him. Both All Might and Shota stand and start yelling into the mics for the in-ears, but Bakugou ignores them.

He loops his opposite pointer finger into the pin on the gauntlet and pulls.

The screen goes black.

~

Shota follows Shinsou, who's being carried on a stretcher by some of the clean up robots, all the way to the infirmary. He helps Shinsou onto the bed and stands aside as Recovery Girl checks him over.

She comes to the conclusion that he has a concussion and several burns on his back. Shota's grateful the kid had the mind to duck with his back to the blast when he realized he couldn't get away.

Just before Recovery Girl heals Shinsou, Shota steps in and asks if she can wait a moment. She takes the hint and steps out of the room, leaving Shota with Shinsou.

"That exercise was unfair," Shota starts by trying to find a common ground between them, and this feels like something they'll agree on.

"Every exercise I've done so far has been unfair," Shinsou drawls. "The entrance exam, your apprehension test, and now this. They've all been unfair towards quirks like mine."

Shota nods. "I agree."

"What did you want to talk about," Shinsou asks.

"I want to know what Bakugou was saying to you," Shota says.

"Why?"

"We have… a mutual friend," Shota struggles to find an acceptable answer for the student.

"Is your friend an ass, too?" Shinsou asks.

Shota shakes his head. "Was he being rude?"

Shinsou shrugs, then winces as the action pulls on the burns in his back. "I've heard it all before."

"Heard what?" Shota presses.

Shinsou stares at his lap. "He was boasting about how great he is and how superior his quirk is to mine. He said that in that fight, I might as well be quirkless."

"Why didn't you use your quirk against him?" Shota asks.

"I tried, but he'd already figured it out," Shinsou explains. "Everytime I tried speaking to him, he'd shut his mouth and make a point of not replying to me when he spoke again."

"Clever," Shota comments.

"Annoying," Shinsou corrects.

"You have a brilliant quirk, Shinsou," Shota feels the need to point out. "You just need to learn how to use it."

"I do know how to use it," Shinsou says defensively.

"You do," Shota nods. "But you need to learn how to use it in combat. Take me, for example. I have a good quirk, a very useful one, but I'd be useless in combat if I hadn't taken the time to hoan my hand to hand skills and learned how to use my gear."

"I don't have any gear," Shinsou points out.

Shota looks this kid up and down for a moment. He seems… tired. Obviously he's tired from his injuries, but he seems emotionally tired as well.

He seems as though he's giving this all he's got, but he keeps getting knocked back. With his quirk, that's probably been a theme his entire life. Shota knows how that feels first-hand.

"How'd you like to train with me," Shota offers. "Privately."

"Why?" Shinsou asks. He looks up at Shota with nothing short of hesitancy in his eyes.

"Because you're right. These tests and exercises aren't fair to you," Shota says. "Maybe I could help give you a better chance."

"Okay," is all Shinsou says in response.

~

De- Izuku gapes at the TV in the cafe corner. A weird sense of deja vu falls over him as he watches the footage taken from helicopters and news vans.

Footage of UA.

They were attacked.

He can't even read the details on the screen as his vision blurs with both tears and adrenaline. It said class 1-A. Eraser's class. Kachan's class.

Something enters Izuku's vision, and suddenly there are two soft hands cupping his cheeks, drawing his attention to amber eyes.

"Izu?" Kit calls his name. Her eyes are wide and concerned.

Izuku's stomach is in knots, his hands are clammy, and he can hear his rapid breathing in his ears.

Kit says something else, but Izuku doesn't quite hear it. The next thing he knows, there's an arm looped over his shoulder and he's being led to the back room.

He's gently pushed to sit on cold, tiled floor. Kit kneels in front of him and takes his hand. They've done this before, so Izuku's mind, as clouded and panicked as it is, knows to follow the breaths he feels under his hand when it's placed on her chest.

"Good, Zuku, just like that," she praises as his breathing slowly calms.

The deep, shuddering, forced breaths hurt Izuku's lungs, leading him to choke and cough a couple times. He continues though, knowing that this works and he'll feel better if he keeps at it.

And he does, but he also feels worse.

He drops his aching head back against the cabinet he's leaned on, using his free hand to rub at his aching chest. He lets Kit keep his other hand, which she pulls away from her chest and starts massaging, something that always calms him.

"What happened?" Kit asks quietly after a couple minutes.

Izuku swallows thickly and lifts his head to watch where their hands meet. "The news. U- UA was attacked."

"Your hero friend works there, right?" she asks, keeping her voice level and calm.

Izuku hums in affirmation, his throat feeling as though it's about to close around a sob again.

"Do you have any way to check up on him?" she asks.

Izuku shakes his head, but in the process, his eyes catch on his bag, which Kit must've dragged along behind them.

He reaches for it and slides it toward him, regretfully removing his other hand from Kit's gentle hold. He flips open the top and lets his sleeping bag fall to the side. He reaches for the back pocket, concealed by the fabric and only noticeable by the zipper. He unzips it, pushes past his notebook and pulls the phone Eraser gave him out of the bottom.

"Woah, where'd you get that?" Kit asks.

"Eraser gave it to me," Izuku shrugs. "It's a long story."

He holds the power button down and waits a dreadful amount of time for the phone to boot up. When it does, he slides it open and immediately clicks on the call app.

As Eraser said, the only number in here is his own.

He clicks call.

"What are you doing?" Kit whispers when he puts the phone to his ear.

"What does it look like? I'm calling him," he whispers back.

The phone rings and rings and rings, and finally:

"Eraserhead's phone, Mic speaking," Izuku's shoulders square tighter.

Eraser didn't answer. That means he's probably too hurt to answer.

"I've got to go," Kit whispers. She stands from her crouch, gives Izuku a thumbs up, and leaves.

"Hello?" Mic says. "Look, if this is some prank, I really don't have the time to-,"

"It's Deku," Izuku interrupts in a whisper.

Mic gasps audibly. "Holy crap," he breathes out. "Are you- Sho can't talk right now but- are you okay?"

"H-he can't talk?" Izuku repeats in question, his anxiety growing with each passing minute.

"He got hurt," Mic sighs.

"Th-that's why I called," Izuku swallows the lump in his throat. "I saw the news and- I don't know."

Mic seems to think for a moment. "Would you like to come see him?"

Izuku shakes his head rapidly, though the man on the other line can't see him. "I can't. Is he alright?"

"He will be," Mic answers honestly. "Are you okay?"

"When will he be able to talk?" Izuku avoids the question.

"In a couple of days, I think," Mic says.

"Okay," Izuku sighs.

"Are you okay?" Mic asks for the third time.

"I-," Izuku, embarrassingly, chokes on a sob.

"Woah, listener," Mic gasps as though he's speaking to a child. "What's wrong?"

Izuku covers his mouth and takes a couple deep breaths through his nose.

"Would it help if I told you what's wrong with him?" Mic offers.

Izuku nods and hums, indicating that yes, that would help a lot.

"Okay, well he took some bad hits to the head, but they've confirmed he just has a concussion. We'll have to wait for him to wake up before we can find out if there's any damage to his eyes. And one of his arms was badly injured," Mic runs through the several injuries Eraser sustained. "We have the best healers working on him, though. He'll be alright."

"P-promise?" Izuku finds himself whispering, his voice wet and thick.

"I promise, listener," Mic says. "Is there anything else you need? We could meet somewhere, if you're comfortable. I could get you some food and-,"

"You don't need to do that," Izuku assures.

"I want to," Mic states. "Honestly, it'd probably be best for me to take a step back as well."

Izuku thinks for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

~

Hizashi didn't really think this one through.

To be fair, though, Shota usually does all of his thinking for him.

He wasn't lying, though, when he told the kid it'd be good for him, too. Plus, it brings some peace to mind knowing that when Shota wakes up, Hizashi can update him on the kid. He'll want to know.

He enters the diner he convinced Deku to meet him at and scans the booths, finding said boy rather quickly. (The black ski mask does make him stand out quite a bit.)

Hizashi sits down across from Deku, knocking twice on the table to announce his presence. Deku startles and turns toward him. There are two full glasses of water on the table, one in front of the kid and one now in front of Hizashi.

"Hi," the kid says quietly.

"Hi," Hizashi echos. "It's nice to finally meet you. Sho- Eraserhead's said a lot about you."

The kid nods. He fists his hands together under the table and his leg is probably shaking, if the way his body is shaking is anything to go by.

"I didn't know what you'd want to drink so I got us water," he says quietly. "I hope that's alright."

"That's perfect," Hizashi assures.

"Are you guys married?" the boy asks in a blunt moment of courage.

"How'd you figure that?" Hizashi asks in shock.

"Y-you knew about his injuries," the kid explains, his voice sounding nervous and urgent. "I know you're also a pro, but- but they wouldn't tell just anyone."

"You're smart," Hizashi compliments. "But it's a secret."

"Oh, I know!" the boy nervously waves his hands in front of himself. "I-I wouldn't tell anyone! I was just wondering because Eraser is super private so a well known hero like you answering the phone was weird and- and the ring around your neck- he has the same one I uh, sorry."

Hizashi laughs. "Don't be sorry, little listener. I guess it's only fair that you know a secret of mine. I know a couple of yours."

"I guess so," the boy nervously rubs his neck.

Hizashi waves over the waitress and orders them both some food. If he's being honest, he's not sure he's eaten since his coffee this morning. He adds on two hot chocolates as an afterthought. Shota mentioned the kid likes it.

Deku's quiet, like something's on his mind, though he waits for their cocoa's to arrive before mentioning it, hoping the drink will help calm the boy.

"You okay?" he asks, trying to be casual.

Deku nods.

"It seems like something's bothering you," Hizashi points out.

"Um, do you know ab- about the students?" Deku asks.

"Like, how they're doing?" Hizashi asks.

Deku nods.

"There weren't any serious injuries among the students," Hizashi states. "Is this about Bakugou?"

Deku looks up with wide eyes.

"I told you, I know some of your secrets," Hizashi shrugs, giving a kind smile so the boy knows he means no malice behind the words. "Bakugou wasn't injured."

Deku lets out a visible breath he seems to have been holding. "So, everyone's okay?"

"Everyone's okay," Hizashi confirms.

Just then, as if on cue, their food arrives.

Deku looks hesitant to eat, which Hizashi can only assume is caused by the fact that he's paying, but he assures him it's alright.

"Eat your food before it gets cold, little listener."

Notes:

Honestly I'm really loving writing this haha I have this whole story set up in my head up to a certain point that shouldn't take place for a couple more chapters and I'm super excited haha

I hope everyone's enjoying this story as much as I am! Any comments are always appreciated! ^^

Chapter 6: I'm Not Your Problem Anymore

Notes:

TW's:
mentions of restraints
kidnapping
implied/referenced rape/forced prostitution

The first thing Shota thinks when he blinks awake to bright lights and sterile walls is that his head hurts.

Not just his head. His entire body hurts. He closes his eyes again almost immediately, hating how they feel dry despite his previous unconscious state.

He can hear Hizashi bustling about, probably cleaning something to keep himself busy, despite the fact that this is a hospital and there's basically nothing that hasn't already been scrubbed spotless.

Shota attempts to lift his head and find his husband, but it sends a sharp pain up through the back of his neck that spreads to his temples. He groans and drops his head back against the pillow.

Hizashi is at his side almost immediately, hands hovering over Shota's body like he doesn't exactly know what to do. "Shota?" he whispers, probably to avoid activating his quirk.

"Water," Shota croaks out through the dryness in his throat. Hizashi tilts the bed up using the buttons on the side, causing Shota to groan and wince more at his sore limbs and stiff muscles. He grabs a cup of water he had already placed on the bedside table and holds it up to Shota's lips, placing a gentle hand beneath his chin to help him tilt his head up and carefully sip.

Shota mutters a quiet "thanks" and drops his head back on the pillows, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

"How are the students?" he whispers.

"Thirteen got knocked around pretty bad, but they're alright now," Hizashi whispers. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes one of Shota's hands, drawing his attention to how they're both wrapped in casts.

"Any arrests?" he asks next.

"Several," Hizashi provides. "But the ring leaders got away."

Shota doesn't reply. He closes his eyes and wishes he had a free hand he could use to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You'll never guess who I met," Hizashi whispers.

Shota lifts his head to raise an eyebrow, confused at the excited, slightly mischievous look on his husband's face.

"I met Deku," Hizashi announces.

Shota chokes for a moment, mind reeling at the reveal. "You what?"

"He called from the burner phone you gave him," Hizashi explains. "He was worried about you, so I convinced him to have dinner with me."

"And he agreed, just like that?" Shota questions in disbelief.

"What can I say, I'm a trustworthy guy," Hizashi grins. Shota smirks at him fondly, though he feels like there's more to this story. "There's something else," Shota's instincts never fail him.

"What'd you do?" he asks.

"I didn't do anything!" Hizashi gasps. "Must you have such little faith?"

"Okay, so what did he do?" Shota corrects, rolling his eyes.

"He kinda, maybe, sorta figured out we're married," Hizashi says with hesitance.

Shota would facepalm if he could. "And how'd he do that?"

"He figured it out just by my ring and my possession of your phone," Hizashi explains. "You were right by saying he's super smart!"

"Or maybe you're just too obvious."

"I am not!"

Both of their heads swivel to the right (jarring Shota's sore neck painfully, but that's an afterthought) when Shota's phone begins to ring.

Hizashi jumps up to answer it. He puts the phone to his ear, and whispers a greeting.

"Hello? Oh, I have a surprise for you," he smiles big and wide, and puts the phone on speaker so Shota can hear who's on the other end.

"A surprise?" comes Deku's voice through the phone.

"Hey, kid," Shota croaks, an unconscious smile finding its way onto his face.

"Eraser!" the kid yelps, and Shota chuckles a bit, an image of the kid bouncing up and down in excitement filling his brain.

"He's been calling daily to check on you," Hizashi explains.

"I-I saw on the news that your class was, uh, attacked and I wanted to- to make sure you were ok," Deku explains further.

"How are you?" Shota asks.

"I'm good," Deku says simply. Then he adds: "A-A bit bored."

Shota laughs lightly. "I trust that you haven't been patrolling without me?"

"I haven't," Deku assures. "But… I got into a fight."

"A fight?"

"Some guy tried to steal my bag, it's not the first time."

"But you're okay, right?"

"Yeah," the kid assures. "Um, when will you be back?"

Shota looks up at Hizashi. "We're not sure yet," he says solemnly. "We still need to speak with the doctors and physical therapists, but now that he's awake and aware, the healers should be able to work much faster."

"O-okay," Deku sighs. "That's good."

"We'll be on TV next week, if all goes well," Hizashi adds. Shota is reminded of the sports festival and suddenly has an incredible urge to bash his skull in with his casts. "I signed us up to be commentators for the sports festival!"

"Really? That's next week?" the kid gasps.

"Unfortunately," Shota sighs.

"I'll, uh, try to watch, then," Deku declares.

There's a knock on the door and Hizashi holds a finger up to the nurse entering the room, telling her to give them a moment.

"We have to go, little listener," Hizashi says sadly.

"Oh," the kid sounds disappointed, but he doesn't argue it. "Okay."

"It's good to hear from you, kid," Shota says. "I'll be back out there as soon as I can be. Stay out of trouble."

"No promises," the kid giggles before hanging up.

He does that a lot. He doesn't say goodbye. As alarming as it is, Shota finds a bit of comfort in it.

He's never liked saying goodbye, either.

~

It takes some convincing, but Izuku manages to get Kit to give in and let him turn the volume up on one of the TV's to watch the sports festival.

He finds himself in a corner booth, neck craned up to watch the live footage on the small TV in the ceiling corner. Several people join him, mostly school children whose parents have stopped by for some coffee. Nobody really speaks to each other, they all just watch the first event, an obstacle course race, with stars in their eyes.

Izuku fits right in with the children, all the way down to his sitting position. He has his feet tucked under him, his shoes discarded on the floor, and he's bouncing lightly on the poorly cushioned seat.

Izuku feels as though hes being watched. He knows he probably isn't and one glance around the small cafe proves him wrong, as it's filled with their regulars. He has a notepad meant for waiters on the table in front of him, and he decides to focus on scribbling down notes about several quirks he sees.

He has a page dedicated to each interesting quirk, meaning he has to flip back and fourth between the pages as he takes his notes.

There are quite a few interesting quirks, so Izuku's given himself a limit of five to focus on, so as to not overwhelm himself too much.

The second page of the notepad is dedicated to Shoto Todoroki, who was introduced as Endeavor's son. He has a dual quirk; half of his body produces fire and half produces ice. Izuku writes down question after question: Is his hair naturally split or is it dyed for aesthetic purposes? Does his quirk cause any issues regarding his natural body temperature? If his right side is fireproof, how'd he get that nasty looking burn on his eye? Why doesn't he use his fire?

Next is Tenya Iida; brother to Ingenium. He has the same quirk as his brother, which manifests in engines on the back of his calves. Izuku wonders how fast he can run, what's his limit? Are the engines part of his body or have they been implanted? Can they be removed? Could he create a tornado if he were to run fast enough in a circle?

On the fourth page is Neito Monoma. Present Mic announces that his quirk is called Copy: he can copy anyone's quirk through skin-on-skin contact. How long can he copy the quirk for? Is he capable of copying more than one? If so, is there a limit to how many? What would happen if he were to try to steal a quirkless person's nonexistent quirk? Would he be able to feel it, like Eraser can, or would it just show as a dud?

Page five has two people on it, but their quirks are so similar that Izuku lets himself cheat and count them as one. Eijiro Kirishima: Hardening. He can harden his skin all over his body. Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu: Steel. He can turn all of his skin into steel. Have either of them found a weapon strong enough to penetrate their armor? Could Tetsutetsu have issues with anemia due to the means it takes for him to form his steel skin? Could their quirks defend against ones like Todoroki's or Kachan's? What the hell were his parents thinking when they named him Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu?

Lastly, Izuku has a question mark at the top of page six. There's a purple haired boy that hasn't been formally introduced yet, but he's caught Izuku's eye. He's hoping he makes it further so Izuku can get better notes on him other than "smart or asshole?".

And of course, page one is all about Kachan. It's amazing, watching Kachan like this again.

He feels like a little kid hiding behind the slides as Kachan stomps about, showing off his vibrant explosions and glowing under the praise he receives. Izuku would stand back and let Kachan have his moment while he took notes on him. He knows the ins and outs of the quirk, even after all these years. He's almost confident that he could use the quirk himself, given the chance.

Though, he's sure if that ever became possible, Kachan would kill him if he ever tried.

~

Several hours go by, and Izuku is pleased with the notes he's gotten.

The purple haired boy, who Izuku now knows as Hitoshi Shinsou, makes it past his first one-on-one battle after the cavalry round. He's eliminated during the next fight, though.

He has a brain washing quirk, though neither Mic or Eraser go too far in depth about it. Izuku will have to rewatch the match later on one of the library computers to be sure, but he thinks the quirk is activated through verbal response.

Shinsou spends his entire battle with some class B student trying to egg him on. The student refused to respond in any way at first, but eventually gave in. The moment he spoke, his arms went limp and he just walked out of bounds. It's incredibly interesting. Izuku likes studying more covert quirks due to the mystery, it's intriguing.

When Kachan's second match, after beating Kirishima, is announced, Izuku starts shaking with both anxiety and excitement.

He's going up with Ochako Uraraka, a girl from his class with a gravity-related quirk. The crowd seems to doubt her strength and abilities before the fight even starts. And yeah, Izuku can see how this fight is objectively unfair, but it'd also be unfair to remove any and all credit from the girl. They haven't seen her in action enough to pass the "frail little girl" stereotype on her yet. Izuku knows that Kachan won't.

Girl or guy, big or small, Kachan's never going to go easy on anyone. And Izuku is almost prideful to see him behave the same with this girl.

He goes all out, and so does she. It's a hard watch as the girl quickly grows fatigued. She's smart, though, and Izuku wishes he was there in person to watch as rubble slowly gathers in the sky, ready to be dropped at any moment.

He audibly cheers when it is, only to suck in a heavy breath when Kachan explodes the rubble before it can do any damage. He feels sorry for the girl, who collapses from exhaustion shortly after, but he finds himself quietly cheering anyway, his chest swelling with pride at his friend's- no, his bully's at Kachan's win.

Kachan's next battle isn't even a fourth of the time as that one. Almost immediately after the match is called to start and Kachan starts antagonizing his opponent, Shoto Todoroki collapses, unconscious with exhaustion. Kachan throws a fit, leaving Izuku to hide his laugh behind a hand as though Kachan could reach through the screen and strangle him for it. He feels a bit bad when Midnight uses her quirk to knock him unconscious as well, though it doesn't feel like he's in any trouble.

They're heroes, so he's safe.

Nevermind.

Izuku's blood goes cold when just over a half hour later, as they're revealing the winners, Kachan is raised on a platform to reveal they've chained him to a cement pole.

Like he's a fucking animal. A rabid dog.

And when All Might (who Izuku's almost too distraught to even fanboy over) removes the muzzle from Kachan's mouth, Kachan yells about how he doesn't want- doesn't deserve this medal.

And Izuku's breath leaves his lungs.

They're doing this because he doesn't want a medal?

Heroes have chained a fifteen year old boy to a platform on live television because he doesn't want to accept their stupid medal?

And the worst part: Eraser's letting it happen.

Izuku stands and leaves the cafe, not saying goodbye and leaving his stolen notepad behind.

He needs some fresh air.

~

Deku's angry.

It's their first patrol together since the USJ incident, and the kid's on-edge behavior has Shota feeling the same. He'd like to say it's more concern than anything else, concern for Shota's health, but it's not.

He's too quiet, cold, and brash for it to be concern.

It's raining, so Shota follows the boy as they leap through the city. He kid's not giving him any reprieve, swinging himself from rooftop to rooftop at a much quicker rate than usual.

He's not abiding by their contract either, apparently, because as they're jumping through rooftops, hoping they won't find anything, Deku suddenly leaps into a street below.

Shota follows quickly after. The kid seems to have seen a mugging taking place in the crowd, and he's already returned the woman's purse and is yelling at the mugger to "fuck off before I change my mind!".

Shota walks right up to Deku, gives the woman a kind smile, and leads the kid away using a slightly forceful hand on the dirty yellow backpack.

He leads a reluctant Deku down the street until he finds a clearing. A small, poorly lit park, a much more pleasant setting than a dirty alley or dark rooftop. He pushes the kid to sit on a bench, who complies and grumpily crosses his arms, refusing to make eye contact with Shota.

"What the hell, kid," Shota sighs. "You know you're not supposed to run into confrontation on your own, what was that?"

"Would you rather I waited for that woman to lose all of her belongings?" the kid bites back.

"Obviously not, but you could've at least spared me a glance," Shota argues. "I don't know if you're worried about my injuries or antsy after your week off, but you don't run this show, I do."

"Yeah, I'm starting to regret agreeing to that," Deku scoffs.

"Okay, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Shota questions, thoroughly annoyed with the kid's out of character behavior.

"I just didn't realize I was working with someone so- so prejudice," the kid declares, standing from the bench to begin pacing around. "You almost had me fooled, really. Congrats," he laughs breathless and humorless.

He spins around to face Eraser, his arms crossed over his chest with his fingers digging into the flesh through sweatshirt. "How long until you chain me up like a rabid dog, Eraser?" he asks, gritting his teeth and tilting head to stare back at Shota with squinted, angry eyes. "Or am I not dangerous enough for that? Y'know, 'cause I'm quirkless?"

Shota's breath leaves his chest. He hadn't even thought about how the kid must've felt watching his life-long friend be handled and treated like- like a problem.

"I wouldn't let that happen," Shota tries to assure, but the kid takes another step backward.

"Oh, so he's just not weak enough to deserve the protection, is that it?" he accuses.

"No, he is, I couldn't do anyth-,"

"But you could've," the kid's voice is suddenly thick with emotion, one he seems to be trying to swallow down and mask with anger. Mask with Deku. "I trusted you, Eraser. I trusted you to keep him and me safe."

"Deku, I-,"

Deku pulls his grappling hook from his utility belt. "I don't know why I bothered showing up tonight," Deku mutters. He shoots his hook up toward a nearby rooftop. Eraser follows this time.

He calls his name, tries to get his attention. He catches up to him and without thinking, grabs the kid's wrist.

Deku yells and yanks his arm away. He loses his footing and stumbles back onto a gravel-filled rooftop. Water splashes up beside him and he stares up at Eraser with nothing but betrayal.

"Don't touch me," he growls as he scrambles back up to his feet. "And stop following me, I'm not your problem anymore, Eraser. Goodbye."

Eraser doesn't follow, accepting his defeat, and sinks into a crouch on the roof, trying to catch his breath.

He doesn't finish his patrol, instead choosing to go home to the warmth of his husband. When Hizashi asks, he says the tear tracks on his face are nothing more than the rain.

~

Kit doesn't work for several more days. Izuku wants nothing more than to see her right now, hug her, feel her hands card through his hair.

She's all he has now. Now that he's left Eraser behind.

What's even worse about losing Eraser is that if Deku tries to continue his vigilantism, he'll be arrested as soon as possible. He'd be breaking his contract and he'd be treated like a criminal. He's sure they could find something to stick on him.

Deku finds an alley corner to settle down in shortly after leaving Eraser, and he doesn't really move for the next couple of days. He doesn't eat, mostly sleeps, and doesn't change his clothes at all.

He finally emerges from his cocoon after two days, only because he knows Kit will be around today. He lazily tosses his sleeping bag back at the top of his backpack and makes the short walk to the cafe, not looking up from his feet the whole way.

The cafe's still closed, but a couple knocks on the door have Kit letting him in. She tries to ruffle his hair, but Deku ducks away from it, muttering an excuse about him being gross.

She lets it go, and doesn't say anything as Deku ducks into the bathroom to change his clothes and take a sink-shower, something you learn to perfect as a homeless person.

Once he's in fresh clothes, he finds a spot in the kitchen to discard his bag, smiling at one of the cooks on his way.

Deku walks back to the main room in the cafe and grabs a rag and bottle of cleaning spray to join Kit in wiping down tables and seats. They don't speak, other than Kit thanking him when they finish, and she rewards him with a bagel and cup of coffee.

Deku, despite not having eaten for several days, doesn't touch the bagel. Instead, he downs the cup of coffee and lays his head down on the counter, this time letting Kit ruffle his hair for a moment before she's pulled away to deal with the first customer of the day.

The hours blur together as Deku sits there. He doesn't have much energy, despite being on his third cup of coffee before lunch rush has even begun. He sits and stirs his mug of coffee, not paying attention until there's a hauntingly familiar voice speaking to him from the stool beside him.

"Rough day, pretty boy?" the man places a hand on Izuku's thigh, and suddenly Deku is nowhere to be found. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, his entire body seized up in fear.

The man's hand runs up and down his thigh. Izuku stares at it in horror. "I can help with that, y'know," he offers. "We had such a good time during our last stress relieving session, didn't we?"

Izuku wants to shake his head, push the man away, scream and cry and beg Kit to send him away, but when Kit appears in front of them, ready to take the man's order, Izuku still can't move.

"I'll just take a coffee and a new bagel for my friend here," he picks up Izuku's untouched bagel and knocks it against the counter. "This one's a little stale."

"Do you know him, Izu?" Kit asks.

Izuku uses every last ounce of bravery he has in his body to lift his head, give a tearful smile, and nod. Kit, thankfully, doesn't take this at face value, eyeing them suspiciously as she grabs the coffee and bagel.

She leans on the counter in front of them and puts on her best smile. "So, how do you know each other?"

"Oh, Izuku here came to work with me a couple years ago," the man explains. "After his mother passed, he was just doing anything he could to survive."

Kit nods, having already heard a vague outline of this story. She catches on rather quickly, though she keeps it as casual as possible, probably trying to find a way out of this situation.

How dare he show up here, Izuku wants to scream. How dare he come into my one safe place and touch me like I still belong to him. How dare he talk to Kit and act like we're old friends. How dare he-

"Well, Izuku and I are gonna go for a walk, catch up a bit," the man announces. His hand moves from Izuku's thigh to Izuku's wrist as he tugs him off of the stool and starts pulling him out of here.

"Wait!" Kit calls after them. "Izuku was supposed to mop," she tries to think of an excuse in a haste, though it's useless.

"Oh, he can do that another time, can't you Izuku?" the man sneers down at him, his bright green eyes full of malice.

Izuku, purely out of fear, nods.

He finds his voice for one fateful moment as he turns back to Kit.

"When I get back, you still owe me that pack of new erasers, remember?"

She stares, confused, for a moment before her eyes widen and she nods.

Izuku hopes she got the message and knows what to do.

~

"Who's phone is that?" Edgeshot's voice wakes Shota from his half-asleep state on the floor of the classroom.

"Um, Sensai," Hagakure calls sheepishly. "I-I thinks it's Aizawa's."

Shota sits up and feels around in his pockets, finding that it is, in fact, his phone. It's an unknown number, which Shota would typically ignore, but something in his gut tells him he needs to take this call.

He answers, tells the person on the line that he needs a moment, and shimmers out of his sleeping bag, excusing himself to take the call.

"Hello, Eraserhead speaking," he drawls, the end of the statement getting caught in a yawn.

"Um, hi," a girl's voice sounds through the phone. "This is Kit from Sunrise Cafe, we met once before- god, I sound weird," she groans. She sounds panicked, her breaths quick and heavy and her voice sounding strained and shaky.

"Yeah, I remember," he admits. It was a very memorable coffee run.

"So, uh, Izu- Deku kind of hangs out here a lot," she starts to explain. "I give him food and stuff- he's kinda like my little brother, I guess. So I uh, know about you working with him."

"And where are you going with this?" Shota asks.

"He's gone," she blurts. "Someone took him- Mickey took him. He said to call you. Can- can you help?"

Mickey.

Shota recognizes that name.

"Shame, Mickey would've loved to see him again."

Shit.

Shota doesn't think any further, taking off in a run down the stairs. "Kit, I'll be there in ten minutes. Do you have any idea where he went?"

"No, Mickey said they were going on a walk to catch up or something."

"Dammit," Shota curses. "Okay, I need to make a few calls, I'll see you in a couple minutes."

"Okay, thank you Mr. Eraserhead."

Shota hangs up the phone and starts his car. He searches for Tsukauchi's contact as he's pulling out of the parking lot, relieved when he picks up after two rings.

"Detective Tsukauchi," he answers formally.

"Tukauchi, Deku's been kidnapped," Shota says simply.

"What?!" Tsukauchi sounds as though he's jumped up from his desk. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Shota nods. "I'm on my way to Sunrise Cafe. An employee called me to say that Deku spends a lot of time there and just a couple of minutes ago, a man took him."

"Are you sure he didn't just go for a walk?" Tsukauchi asks.

"I'm sure. The guys name is Mickey. Tal mentioned him as being some sort of boss of his."

"Oh, god…"

"What?"

"Tal was released on bail last week. It was posted anonymously."

"Shit," Shota curses. He steps further on the gas, going much faster than he should.

"I'll be at the cafe in five to ten minutes with some squad cars. You can begin a witness interview. We can't waste any time."

"Yeah, the more time we waste, the more likely he'll be gone for good this time."

"I'll see you soon, Aizawa," Tsukauchi's voice is solemn and nervous as he bids farewell, hanging up the phone.

Next, Shota calls Nezu. He briefs him on the situation and apologizes for leaving so abruptly, but Nezu assures him it's alright and he'll have someone cover his class for him.

And then Shota is pulling in across the street from the cafe. He jogs into the establishment and is greeted by the white-fox mutant, who looks almost as worried as Shota feels.

She explains quickly that they're trying to get customers out so they'll have more privacy, but it should be a couple minutes. He follows her to the counter, where he sits and she insists on making him a cup of coffee.

"Making food calms me," she says as she holds the mug up to the dispenser, visibly shaking.

"How'd you get my number?" Shota asks, wringing his hands restlessly in front of him.

"I used the phone you gave him," she says simply.

"Wait," Shots puts some pieces together. "He left his bag here?"

"Mhm," she nods as she places the coffee in front of Shota. "It's in the back."

"Can you-,"

"I'll go grab it."

Shota stands with his mug of coffee, obsessively checking his watch and watching the windows. The last customer leaves just as Kit is coming back it the familiar yellow bag. She detours on her way to him so she can flip the open sign around to say closed.

She walks past him to a corner booth and hastily opens the bag. She discards the sleeping bag on the bench and starts carefully pulling out other items. About halfway through, when she has all of his clothes and his utility belt placed on the table, Tsukauchi enters with three different cops. Shota and Kit pay no mind as the four newcomers come to stand behind them, continuing to unpack Deku's things.

A first aid kit, several knives, some old food, a deck of cards, and finally, his notebook.

Shota steps forward and takes it immediately.

"What is that?" Tsukauchi asks.

"It's his analysis journal," Shota explains. "He mainly writes about people he doesn't like… bingo," Shota reveals the page he was looking for, the name "Mickey" displayed in big, bold, letters across the top.

Reading the page, Shota's heart sinks.

Name: Unknown

Alias: Mickey

Age: mid 30's

Height: 190cm.

Weight: 102kg.

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Green

Nationality: American

Quirk: None

God dammit. This guy is huge, which would make his lack of quirk unimportant. He could easily overpower Deku with a flick to the forehead.

There's a drawing of the guy's face, a rather good one, and Tsukauchi takes pictures, sending out an alert to patrol cops to keep an eye out for him.

Kit is interviewed, though she sadly can't give them much more to go on.

She does give them one thing, though.

A name.

Izuku Midoriya.

~

Izuku doesn't know when he passed out, but he does know that this is a terrifyingly familiar situation.

He wakes up in a bed, a warm, comfortable bed. He relishes in the feeling for a moment, the soft pillows and clean sheets feeling nice on his sore joints.

But then he turns his head and finds his hair is wet. He opens his eyes and pulls the blanket off of his torso. He's only in boxers.

Someone bathed him and left him on the bed.

Izuku's skins crawls and his stomach lurches.

He's in a hotel. The kind that probably has a one-star online with reviews complaining about dirty showers, drug paraphernalia, and prostitutes lurking about.

Izuku hates hotels.

He sits up and looks around the room, surprised to find that he's alone. They usually don't leave him alone here.

He quickly hops out of bed and tip-toes to the bathroom. He keeps his eyes off of his bare body and immediately grabs for a robe.

He secures it over his body, takes a deep breath, and walks to the door.

The last time he ran…

"Tal, no I don't- I don't want it please, I'll be good, I promise!"

…he doesn't like to think about it.

He stares down at the door handle. One twisted lock, one push down on this handle, and he'll be free. Free before anything could happen. Free before anyone could touch him. Free before anyone could take anything more from him.

Izuku pushes the handle down and pulls the door open.

He peeks his head out into the hall. He looks left, right, and left again. It seems clear.

Izuku shoves his hands into the pockets of the robe and keeps his head low as he begins his careful walk down the hall. He uses the guide of the signs on the walls to figure out he's on the second floor and how to find the elevator.

With the help, he finds the elevator with ease, clicks on the down button, and waits anxiously.

The elevator dings and Izuku can feel it. He can taste it on his tongue.

Freedom. Mercy. It's right here.

"Izuku," the door opens, revealing Tal, who speaks to Izuku in a scolding manner. "What are you doing out of bed, silly? We have people coming for you in just a couple minutes!"

Izuku stares at Tal, wide eyed and heartbroken. Tal steps out of the elevator and throws an arm over his shoulder, leading him back down the hall.

"Now let's get you out of that robe and dry your hair, you wanna look nice for the customers, right?"

No, he thinks. No I don't.

Notes:

This chapter physically hurt me to write TT

If ur reading my other fic, you'll know that school starts for me on Tuesday. I'm trying to come up with a more strict uploading schedule so I don't stress myself out with my two fics and school. I'm meeting with my counselor tomorrow to work out my schedule and once I do that, I'll be able to make a decision. Hopefully by next update, I'll have made a decision haha.

As always, thanks for reading! Any and all comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

Chapter 7: A Promise I Made To You

Notes:

TW's:
kidnapping
heavily implied sexual assault
forced prostitution
suicidal thoughts
thoughts of self harm

I'm gonna be honest, this is a heavy one. As I said at the beginning of the fic, if you don't think you're in the right headspace to be reading this, please feel free to step away. Stay safe everyone!!

"Still nothing? No, it's alright, just keep looking," Tsukauchi places the phone back on the receiver, sighing heavily and leaning back in his chair.

"Which one was that?" Shota asks.

"The hotel on twenty-second," Tsukauchi informs. At Shota's disappointed sigh, Tsukauchi adds: "It's only the third one we've checked, and we have several people scanning camera footage just to be sure."

"It's already been six hours," Shota runs a hand through his hair. "It's almost dark. If they didn't take him to a hotel like they usually do with their victims, we could lose him."

"We'll find him, Aizawa," Tsukauchi assures.

"Yeah," Shota sighs, waving him off.

He feels as though it's already too late.

~

Izuku wishes he could sleep.

He wishes he could close his eyes and invite unconsciousness with open arms. Then, he could stop thinking about the hands on him just an hour ago. The whispering and groaning and-

Izuku wishes he could pull his hair, claw his fingernails into his arms, cut out any phantom feeling the hands have left, but he can't.

He can't do anything because he fought again, and he knows what happens when he fights, but he thought maybe, maybe, now that he has experience in fighting men so much bigger than him, he could do it. But he couldn't. He didn't have his knives, his grappling hook, shoes, clothes, nothing.

So, in the end, Tal took his hand and used a single touch to paralyze him. A single touch to make him submit. "Like the Ragdoll they're paying for," is what Tal said before sitting back to watch.

He always watched.

Like Izuku was an object put on display. An object to be auctioned and sold to the highest bidder. "Spend a night with the famous Ragdoll!"

Even now, Izuku is paralyzed by the venom, and Tal is just staring at him. Still limp on the bed, despite having been wiped down with a wet rag, he feels gross. Dirty. Numb.

Tal's been speaking to him for a while now, but Izuku's only been able to catch bits and pieces here and there, as his mind has been floating somewhere else.

He imagines he's in the cafe. He's with Kit on the floor of the kitchen, huddled up in a make-shift tent, watching a movie. She promised to have more movie nights with him, but it's been months and they haven't gotten around to it yet.

Maybe he'll ask her about it when he gets back.

If he gets back.

Izuku doesn't know if he wants to go back.

Of course, he wants out of here. God, he'd give anything to get out of here.

And that's just the thing, isn't it?

He'd give anything.

He'd give his life.

Izuku startles when the door to the room clicks open. He turns his head toward it, the only part of his body he can currently move, and none other than Mickey walks in.

"How'd he do?" Mickey's gruff voice sounds before he's even fully in the room.

"I had to use my venom," Tal gives as a reply.

Mickey tsk's and enters Izuku's view, strolling towards the bed. He crouches down beside the bed where Izuku's head is, leaning in close and giving him a disgusting pouty face. "Izuku, baby, you used to be such a good boy for us, what happened?"

Izuku doesn't answer. Instead, he turns his head away in an act of defiance.

Mickey doesn't take kindly to this and stands, leans onto the bed beside Izuku, and grabs him by the jaw. His eyes are dark, angry, and Izuku's breath stops in his throat.

"Here's how this is gonna go, you little shit," Mickey spits. "You're going to play nice and give the customers what they want. If you fight, we'll just keep using the venom on you. It won't make a difference to anyone but you, so it's your choice, you get it?"

Izuku just stares, wide eyed and scared, which seems to piss Mickey off even more. He squeezes Izuku's jaw tighter, fingertips digging into his bone.

"Answer me, bitch," he seethes, low and angry.

Izuku nods frantically as a whine makes itself known from deep in his throat. It's strangled and desperate, the only sound he can make.

Mickey's eyes narrow, and he nods. Mickey stands, grabs the blanket that's been so graciously tossed over Izuku, and in a terrifying moment, just holds onto it. Izuku fears Mickey's going to pull it down, take away the only thing hiding his vulnerability in this moment, but he doesn't. Mickey gently pulls the blanket up, tucking Izuku in. He even grabs a pillow from the top of the bed, carefully lifts Izuku's head, and places it under him.

If Izuku were still the person he was three years ago, he'd say that in soft, gentle moments like this, he knows Mickey cares.

But Izuku isn't the person he was all those years ago. He knows now that in these moments, Mickey wants to look like he cares, but he doesn't. He only wants one thing from Izuku, and he always takes it.

Mickey takes and takes and takes, not leaving behind any tape or glue for Izuku to put himself back together. Izuku walks around as a hollow shell of who he used to be.

And it's not just Mickey.

It's everyone.

Everyone takes and takes and takes.

Tal takes Izuku's autonomy every time he touches him, every time he sells him, every time he watches him.

Mom took his excitement every time she ignored his rambling, every time she ignored his bruises, every time she collapsed into bed before she could even mutter a greeting.

Kachan took his kindness every time he insulted him, every time he hit him, every time he called him Deku.

And Izuku, well he's weak.

So he gives and gives and gives, just hoping one day he'll give enough to be someone. To be something.

And then one day, the day Izuku decided he'd lost enough of himself and he wouldn't lose any more, someone gave.

Shota Aizawa, Eraserhead, found him and gave him a hand.

And later that night, Kit did the same.

He took their hands, one in each of his own, and let them pull him up.

That's why he needs to get out of here.

He needs to thank them for trying to patch up his wounds even when he knew they couldn't be repaired.

So he'll make it out of here.

Somehow.

~

"We think we've found them," an officer bursts through the door to inform Shota and Tsukauchi, who'd both been reading through reports surrounding the trafficking ring, hoping to find anything that could help him.

"Where?" Tsukauchi asks, waving the officer into the office.

The officer opens the door fully, revealing a laptop that's open to show some security footage.

"Well, first we found this, and I thought it looked like Tal, but I couldn't see Mickey or Deku in the frame," the officer explains, showing a paused screen of Tal at the front desk of a hotel, seemingly retrieving a key card.

"So I followed Tal around the hotel through the footage, and found this," the officer moves to the next photo.

Tal has let someone into the building, someone who fits Mickey's description. What makes Shota jump up from his seat and start yelling questions and orders, is what's in Mickey's arms.

He's carrying a child, green hair and pale skin giving away that it's Deku, unconscious on the guy's shoulder.

Shota is already rushing out of the station, having a brief description of where to find the hotel in mind. He uses his scarf to pull himself up onto a rooftop and heads in the general direction he needs.

He ignores how his mind screams that it's too late. It's almost midnight and Deku's been with this creep for ten hours and too much can happen in that amount of time.

No, Shota won't think about that. He'll think about how much won't happen because he's going to get to the kid and get him out of there before another sick bastard can touch him.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to get to the right part of town, and then it takes another ten for him to locate the hotel.

He drops from the roof to the sidewalk in front of the rundown establishment, and stomps inside, quite literally a man on a mission.

The clerk behind the desk looks mildly terrified as Shota approaches. He gives Shota a nervous smile and asks if he wants a room.

Shota pulls out his badge. "I need to look at your log books."

"O-oh, okay," the clerk nervously moves an opened bag of chips off of the book. He lifts it to the top of the counter for Shota. "That page has up until about four o'clock this afternoon."

Shota nods and uses a finger to scan down the page. He's looking for Mickey or Tal, but he finds a third name instead.

They put down Izuku for the name on the room.

Shota grits his teeth and shifts his eyes to look at the room number and check-in time.

207, 3:46pm.

Shota turns away and pulls his phone out, dialing Tsukauchi's number.

"Are you there?" Tsukauchi asks when he answers the phone.

"Yeah," Shota says. "I have a room number and check in time."

"Okay, wait for us, we're two minutes out," Tsukauchi orders before hanging up.

Shota grits his teeth and shoves his phone back into his pocket. He turns back to the clerk.

"Did you check in room 207?" he asks.

The clerk nods.

"How is it under this name? Didn't they show I.D?"

"Sometimes people give a spouse's name for the room instead of their own, I didn't feel the need to question it," the clerk shrugs.

Shota shakes his head disapproving and pinches his nose. "You're gonna have to be brought in for questioning," he states.

"O-okay," the clerk stutters. "Can I ask why?"

"No," Shota turns away from him once more.

He watches impatiently out the front windows as police sirens begin to sound at a distance. Tsukauchi pulls up in his black, unmarked car, followed by several patrol cars.

Tsukauchi and the other officers get out of their vehicles and rush into the building.

"Someone needs to stay with the clerk and get a statement," Shota says. He turns on his heel and walks to the stairwell, leading them to the room.

"They signed in using Deku's name," Shota informs. "They're in room 207."

And then they're standing in front of the door, silently preparing themselves to enter.

~

"You should be able to move, you shit, help me out here," Tal mutters as he forces one of Izuku's limp legs into a pant leg.

Izuku can move, he's been wiggling his fingers and toes to prove it to himself for a while, but his brain is so muddled he feels like he can't.

Mickey's behind him, holding him up against his chest. His arms are around Izuku as he buttons up the shirt that matches the pants, a pajama set. Apparently the next client gave them the clothes, Izuku assumes it's part of a fantasy of some sort.

That's why he won't help. Not only are his movements slow, jerky, and uncoordinated due to his muddy brain, but he's also still holding on to any bit of defiance he can give. If lying limp as Tal and Mickey try to dress him pisses them off, good.

Yeah, he'd prefer for the clothes to cover him sooner rather than later, but it's something he has to sacrifice, he supposes.

Mickey finishes buttoning the shirt and runs his hands over Izuku's chest, smoothing the fabric. "We'll make you into a good boy again, Izuku," he whispers. Izuku bites his tongue. "Maybe if you're good enough, I can take you home again. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Izuku nods softly. He wouldn't like that, but if he voices that, it'd be too far. Mickey would hurt him, and that, Izuku really wouldn't like.

"Good boy, Izuku," Mickey kisses Izuku's hair and smooths it down.

Izuku hates the feeling of Mickey's chest rising and falling against his back. The proximity, the hold, the fact that he can't see Mickey, it all makes Izuku want to puke.

Mickey suddenly places his hands on Izuku's hips and Izuku tries to jerk away, but Mickey squeezes, rendering his efforts useless.

"Calm down," Mickey orders. He wordlessly and effortlessly lifts Izuku's hips off the bed so Tal can slide the pants up and into place.

Mickey drops his hips back onto the bed and whispers skin-crawling praise into Izuku's ear.

Izuku completely checks out, then. He'd been hovering between conscious and not this whole time, and something about the hands and whispers and breathing tips him over.

He's only aware enough to notice when he's dropped back against the pillows, his limbs are carefully moved (they're posing him, just like he's on display, as he was thinking earlier), and he's tucked in.

He closes his eyes, imagining his mother has tucked him into his bed at home, his bright-colored All Might covers tickling his chin as his chest moves with his breaths. She smiles down at him and runs a hand through his hair.

It feels so real.

It feels like there really is a hand in his hair, a gentle, loving hand. Not a dirty, predatory hand.

Izuku chances opening his eyes for just a moment.

A smile.

A caring smile.

What's going on?

~

"He's re-," Tal's eyes widen in shock when he answers the door to find Shota instead of whoever he'd been expecting.

Shota shoves past him and into the hotel room, paying no mind to Tal's shouting as he stomps straight toward Mickey himself.

"Hey, you can't just-," Shota shoves Mickey face-first into a wall.

"You'd be best to shut your mouth before I shut it for you," he warns dangerously.

Tsukauchi walks into the room and hands Shota a pair of handcuffs, which he gratefully takes.

Shota handcuffs Mickey and lets Tsukauchi and one of the cops pat him down, turning his attention toward the kid, who seems to be unconscious on the bed.

At least, that's what Shota thinks at first. But then the kid's hand closes around the pillow beneath his head, a conscious movement.

"Can you get him out of here?" Shota requests toward Tsukauchi.

Tsukauchi looks past him toward the bed, a pained look finding its way to his face. "Yeah, we'll give you the room."

"But don't we need to start-,"

"We'll do it in a little bit," Tsukauchi interrupts the cop who'd tried to argue. "We're giving the victim space, now."

Two cops and Tsukauchi escort Mickey out of the room, leaving Shota alone with the kid.

Shota takes a deep breath and walks toward him. He stops three feet away, out of the kid's bubble.

"Deku?" he calls gently. The kid doesn't seem to hear him

Shota takes another step forward. "Kid?" nothing.

One step further. "Izuku?"

That does it. The kid squeezes his eyes shut, his browser knit together, and one of his hands finds its way to green hair, pulling at it.

Shota sits on the nightstand beside Izuku and looks down at him. He doesn't want him to hurt himself, so he instinctively reaches for the hand.

And then he stops.

"I'm gonna touch your hand, okay Izuku?" he whispers before pulling the hand out of his hair.

He then finds himself softly petting Izuku's hair as he waits for the kid to open his eyes.

When he does, it's hesitant. Half-lidded, scared eyes find their way to Shota and he smiles, hoping it's warm and comforting, something he isn't very good at.

"Hello," Shota whispers.

The kids eyes widen, though he still doesn't make any attempt to move.

"Eraser?" he asks quietly.

Shota nods. "I came to get you," he informs. The words "rescue" or "save" might just scare the boy further.

"Came to…," the kid trails off as he looks around the room. His eyes shoot back to Shota as he recognizes the hotel. "Tal and- and Mickey, they're- are they-,"

"They're gone," Shota shushes him quietly. "It's just us, it's okay."

Izuku wiggles his fingers and toes as though he's making sure he can. "I can- I can move."

Shota nods. "I can give you space, if you'd like."

The kid hurriedly shakes his head, panicked at the offer of Shota leaving.

"Okay, okay," Shota shushes. "I'm not going anywhere. Do you need help getting up?

Izuku thinks about this for a moment, wiggling his fingers once more. He shyly nods, and Shota assures that's okay and he can help.

He tells Izuku everywhere he's going to touch before he does it. He slides a hand under the kid and places it on his back, before gently pushing to help the kid sit up. Izuku is strangely limp and unsteady, confirming Shota's theory that Tal's used his venom.

He keeps a hand steady on Izuku's back as he pulls the comforter off of him, revealing his matching pajama set. It's an odd choice in clothing considering where they are and why they're here, but Shota doesn't comment, as he much prefers this over the alternative.

He helps the kid swing his legs over the side of the bed, places his hands beneath each of his armpits, and helps him stand.

Izuku grabs at Shota's sleeves and he realizes, belatedly, that he's begun shaking.

Shota gently pushes him to sit back down and takes the kids hands in his own. Shota squats down so he's eye-to-eye with him, and finds that Izuku's crying.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asks gently.

Izuku shakes his head.

"Did I do something?" Izuku shakes his head.

Shota waits patiently to see if the boy will speak on his own, and thankfully, he does.

"I-I want my- my mom," he sobs quietly.

Shota physically feels his heart shatter. The kid's mentioned a couple times that he's an orphan, so either that was a lie, or he's crying for someone that isn't around anymore.

"I'm gonna hug you, okay?" Shota asks for permission before sitting beside the boy, putting an arm around his shoulders, and pulling him into his chest as he cries.

"I may not be able to get your mom for you, but I've got you Izuku," he whispers quietly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm so sorry," the boy whispers.

"Sorry for what?"

"F-for saying goodbye, I-I didn't- I didn't mean it."

"You can always say goodbye," Shota assures, his brows knitting in confusion. "As long as you come back."

Izuku nods against Shota's chest. His crying quiets down and although his shoulders stop shaking, it's obvious he's still quietly weeping. Shota asks first before he loops an arm under the boys legs, keeps one around his back, and lifts him, carrying him from the room.

"Can we-,"

"Yes," Shota blankly answers the same cop from before, knowing he's all-too-eager to begin processing the room.

Shota carries Izuku down the stairs, through the lobby, and out the front doors of the hotel. He heads straight for the ambulance they'd called. The back of the truck is already propped open and ready for him, so he climbs right in and places a reluctant Izuku on the gurney.

Izuku doesn't want to let go of Shota, but Shota softly explains that they need to take him to the hospital to get checked out. Izuku agrees to this with one condition: Shota holds his hand.

So he does. He holds his hand the whole way, even after Izuku falls asleep.

~

Izuku woke up a while ago, he's not fully sure how long. He was careful to be quiet as a nurse came in and helped him sit the bed up a bit. She offered to turn the TV on for him, but Izuku just shook his head. He doesn't want to wake Eraser.

He's asleep in one of the chairs beside the hospital bed, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tipped back. He has piles of paperwork in his lap, probably about Izuku and Tal and Mickey.

Izuku feels bad at how exhausted the hero probably is, so he sits in the bed silently, watching the city through the window.

And then Eraser shifts in the seat. He lifts his head, pinches his nose, and looks up at Izuku, who stares back stupidly.

Eraser looks down at his watch and checks the time, then back up at Izuku.

"You should be asleep, kid," the last words trail off into a yawn.

Izuku shrugs. "I'm not tired."

Eraser sits up more in his seat, catching the papers before they can fall.

"What's that?" Izuku asks.

"Admittance stuff and incident reports," Eraser says dryly. He takes the stack and drops it on the small table beside the bed.

"How'd I get here?" Izuku then asks.

"You don't remember?"

"No," Izuku shakes his head. "Well, I remember being in the hotel and then I woke up here."

Eraser runs a hand over his face. "Your friend from the café, Kit, called me yesterday to say that Mickey took you. We put together a team of cops, myself, and Tsukauchi to find you."

"So you- you saved me?" Izuku asks to clarify.

"If you want to put it that way, yes," Eraser answers.

Izuku sighs and stares down at his hands for a moment. He wants to ask, now that Eraser's seen his face, If he remembers Izuku.

So he does.

"Eraser?"

"Call me Aizawa," Eraser- Aizawa corrects.

"Oh, um, Aizawa, do you remember how we met?" he asks without looking up.

"It was an attempted sexual assault, if I remember correctly," Aizawa says.

Izuku shakes his head. "That was the second time we met," he corrects. "We met once a year before that."

"Oh, sorry, I don't remember," Aizawa apologizes.

"No, it's okay, you save a lot of people, it makes sense that you wouldn't remember one," Izuku shrugs, though the revelation stings a bit.

"I saved you?" Aizawa repeats in question.

Izuku nods. "I uh, well," he stutters, not sure where to start with this story. When in doubt, start at the beginning.

"When I was twelve, my mom died. I was um, bandaging a burn in my bathroom when social services came to the door. I knew- I knew what happened to kids like me when they got thrown into the system, so when they sent me to pack my bag, I ran. I-I didn't know what else to do, and then I met Tal. He showed me how to find a good dumpster to dive in and bought me stuff to keep me warm. He was nice."

"Until he wasn't?" Aizawa assumes.

Izuku nods. "After a couple weeks, he took me to meet Mickey, and well, you know what happened after that, I suppose."

Aizawa listens intently as Izuku tells his story, which he appreciates. This is the first time he's given a cohesive timeline to anyone, including Kit. What little he told her usually took the form of short, whispered stories in the later hours at the cafe.

"I was with them for a year. They'd come find me a couple times a week, take me to a hotel, and- yeah. I got food, clothes, anything I wanted in return. They even let me spend the night in the hotels sometimes."

Izuku takes a moment to breathe before recalling the next part of his story. He squeezes his eyes shut and his arms come to hug around his torso, phantom hands just begging for his attention.

"And then Mickey touched me," he whispers. "He- he took me home and he-," Izuku swallows thickly. "He raped me."

Aizawa leans forward in his seat, like he wants to comfort Izuku, but he doesn't make any move to do so, which Izuku appreciates.

"And I left again. That night I'd decided that I was done. I was done with all of it, so I found my way to a rooftop on a quieter part of town, where there'd be less bystanders, took my shoes off, and sat on the edge," Izuku looks up to Aizawa. "That's when I met you."

"Your promise," Aizawa realizes, running a hand through his hair. "It was with me."

Izuku stares at the street below. The night breeze tostles his overgrown hair. He really should've cut it, but he never got around to it.

His sock-clad feet swing gently over the side of the building, his heels kicking the stone. Looking down, he can feel the adrenaline hit him, the only thing currently cutting through the overwhelming nothingness filling his core.

There's a man behind him, a hero. He said his name was Eraserhead, and Izuku, for some unknown reason, told him his own name.

The hero is trying to talk him out of this, but Izuku's having a hard time comprehending what he says.

Until something catches his attention.

"Izuku," the man calls. "Let's make a deal."

Izuku turns to look at him over his shoulder. "A deal?"

Eraserhead nods. "Don't kill yourself until you know how to save yourself."

"What good will that do if I'm gonna do it anyway?" Izuku argues.

"It will give you all the factors you need to make this decision."

"And what if I can't figure it out?

"Then you'll live."

Izuku looks back down at the street below for a moment. It's so inviting. So intoxicating.

But Eraserhead has a point.

Izuku doesn't have all the factors to make this decision. What if he doesn't want this? What if he's being impulsive and irrational? What if he changes his mind seconds too late?

He turns around and swings his legs over the side of the building, so they're now hovering over the roof. "So I learn how to save myself, then what?"

Eraserhead thinks about this for a moment. "Find me, and we'll talk about it."

"Okay," Izuku sighs. He hops off the ledge and sits on the ground to pull his shoes back on.

Eraserhead insists on following Izuku to the ground, so that walk down the stairs to the street.

Izuku decides, as he's bidding the hero farewell, that he knows where to start.

He'll start by saving others.

"I know now, Er- Aizawa," Izuku says quietly. "I know how to save myself. You said- you said we'd talk about it."

"So let's talk about it," Aizawa says.

"W-well um, I guess it's you," Izuku stutters quietly. "To save myself, all I need to do is ask you for help."

"We can get you help, I promise," Aizawa replies.

Izuku shakes his head. "But- but I don't- what if I don't want it?"

Aizawa doesn't reply, so Izuku explains further.

"I'm not sure I want to be saved, Eraser. I'm not sure- I don't think I can be."

It's quiet for a moment. Izuku stares out the window. The sun has started to rise, oranges and purples painting the early morning sky. It's so beautiful.

And suddenly Izuku's crying again.

He's suddenly hit with a vague memory of crying in Aizawa's arms in the hotel, and he wants that again.

So he reaches for him, and Aizawa meets him halfway.

He sits on the bed in front of Izuku and lets Izuku collapse face first into his chest. Steady arms come to wrap around Izuku's back, and Izuku quickly finds himself curled in the hero's lap.

He cries quietly as he clings to the front of Aizawa's costume, and he feels rather small. Aizawa rocks gently back and forth as he holds Izuku, and it makes Izuku feel like a child receiving a form of comfort he was never given.

"You'll be okay, kid," Aizawa says quietly. "We'll figure this out, you and me. I've got you."

"Thank you," Izuku whispers. "Thank you for saving me."

"Anytime, kid," Aizawa pets Izuku's hair. "Anytime."

Chapter 8: Izuku's Alive

Notes:

TW's:
discussions of non-consensual drug use
discussions of suicide and self harm
implied child abuse
suicide notes

"Good morning, Midoriya," a doctor happily strolls into the room. "I'm Dr. Oishi, I'll be your doctor during your stay here. How are you feeling?"

The doctor has long, black hair with bangs that frame her face nicely. Her eyes are wide and soft, despite their dark brown color. She's rather tall, though Izuku can't get an accurate idea of how tall she is because of the thick soles on her shoes.

Izuku shrugs in response to her question.

He doesn't feel great, honestly. His stomach and head hurt and his eyes are puffy and sore from crying. He's sitting on the bed, the thin hospital blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and his knees touching his chest.

He feels exposed, almost as he did at the hotel. He's acutely aware of the fact that someone changed his clothes last night, as when he woke around sunrise, he found himself to be dressed in a hospital gown and underwear he's never seen before.

The blanket helps with the feeling, though. He has it wrapped so tight it's pulling a bit on his I.V, but he doesn't really care.

The doctor continues smiling, despite Izuku's lack of response.

She turns toward Era- Aizawa. "Does he have a guardian I can speak with?"

Aizawa shakes his head. "We're working on putting him under mine and my husband's care."

"Alright, so I'll just speak with you for now, and if anything changes or falls through, we can relay the information to the appropriate people," she nods. "We ran a full blood panel when you were admitted last night and I'd like to read you some of those results."

She holds her tablet in front of her as she reads a few things off. "First of all, your iron and sugar levels are quite low, and we've noted that you appear to be pretty dehydrated. When was the last time you ate or drank anything?"

Izuku looks toward Aizawa. "When, uh, when did we have our fight?"

Aizawa sighs. "You haven't eaten anything since our fight?"

Izuku shrugs, not wanting to make him mad.

"That would've been three to four days ago," Aizawa relays to the doctor.

"Okay, we can get you some crackers for now and a menu for when the cafeteria opens," the doctor provides. "Next thing is your tox screen."

"It should be in the notes that a quirk-related venom is assumed to have been used on him," Aizawa provides.

The doctor nods. "Yes, we found traces of a paralytic venom in your blood," she confirms. "But we also found ketamine, a drug that's typically used as a sedative, especially in situations like yours. Did you happen to take any pills or drugs of any kind?"

Izuku's eyes widen and he shakes his head. He's never (voluntarily) done drugs of any kind.

"Do you remember your captors injecting you with anything?" she asks.

Izuku shakes his head no, but then he hesitates. "I-I don't remember, um, I don't remember getting to the uh, hotel so I guess I could've been drugged at- at some point."

The doctor nods again. "Okay, we'd also like to get a full-body x-ray," she notes.

"Why?" Aizawa asks.

"We noticed some misplacement in a couple of his fingers," she sets her tablet down and cautiously approaches him. "Can I see one of your hands?"

Izuku hesitates before nodding and carefully pulling his right hand out of his cocoon. She gently takes the hand, smiling kindly as she flips it to be palm up.

If Izuku felt exposed before, he feels utterly naked now. With his arm out like this, his scars are on display for everyone to see, along with a couple fresh ones from his dazed days in the rain.

She doesn't comment on it, though, and neither does Aizawa. What she does comment on, though, are Izuku's crooked pointer and pinky fingers.

She explains that Izuku's fingers show evidence of fractures or breaks that haven't been properly treated, leading the fingers to be crooked and misplaced.

"I-I usually buddy-tape them," Izuku states quietly in his own defense.

"Buddy taping is good for sprains and minor fractures, but breaks like these seem to have been usually need to be properly splinted," she explains. She gives Izuku's hand back to him, and he tucks it back into his cocoon. "We'd like to get the x-rays just to make sure he doesn't have any other unhealed breaks that could be causing long-term damage."

Izuku nods, along with Aizawa. Dr. Oishi explains a couple more things involving his treatment before she leaves.

A nurse comes in a couple minutes after she leaves, and places a paper, pen, and a couple packs of soup crackers on the table that hovers over the bed. She explains that Izuku needs to fill out the breakfast order menu before she comes by again in fifteen minutes, so the cafeteria can prepare a meal for him.

Izuku scoots the table closer to him and picks up the pen. He stares at the menu, completely overwhelmed. There are options for an entrèe, different drinks, sides, snacks, there's too much.

"You okay, kid?" Aizawa asks.

Izuku looks up from his menu and shrugs. "There's a lot."

Aizawa nods. "Can I come over there and help you?" he asks.

Izuku nods and Aizawa stands from his bedside chair to sit on the foot of Izuku's hospital bed. He turns the menu towards himself and gestures for Izuku to give him the pen.

"Okay, first, let's pick a drink," Aizawa starts. "There are different types of juices, some soft drinks, and some warm drinks. Which of those three sound good?"

"Um, juice, I guess," Izuku shrugs.

"Okay, there's grape, orange, apple, and cranberry," he reads off.

"Apple," Izuku chooses.

They continue like this throughout the rest of the menu, and manage to have it fully filled out by the time the nurse comes back. Aizawa returns to his seat and pulls a couple files off of his stack of papers.

"Did you pull my file, yet?" Izuku finds himself asking. Aizawa said they're working on fostering him, which he's mentally filing away to freak out about later, but that must mean they've pulled his file and confirmed his status as an orphan.

Aizawa nods and pulls a file from the bottom of his stack. Without Izuku having to ask, Aizawa hands him the file.

He opens it, and is immediately greeted by a picture of himself in elementary school. The last school photo taken before his mom died.

This part is his school file, listing things like his school, grade level, GPA, etc. Izuku flips past this one to find his disciplinary record. Several fights, cheating accusations, and claims of him being disruptive in class fill the two pages, front and back. Izuku is reminded of why he doesn't miss school.

He flips one more page. This is an incident report. It's from social services, describing how they went to Izuku's apartment to find him… gone? But he was there when they showed up? He only ran because they showed up?

"This isn't right," Izuku comments quietly.

"What isn't?" Aizawa asks.

"When the social workers got to the apartment, I was there," he explains. "I didn't leave until after they told me why they were there."

"I'm not surprised," Aizawa sighs. "I'm pretty sure half of that is bullshit, anyway."

"Like what?" Izuku asks.

"You're gonna tell me that you were really the kind of kid to get into fights once a week?" Aizawa points out.

Izuku shrugs.

"That file reeks of discrimination," Aizawa says. "There wasn't even a missing person's report filed, just the incident report."

Izuku nods, as he can see that.

"I have a question for you," Aizawa announces.

Izuku turns toward him, giving his attention.

"We found Hisashi Midoriya and called him, and he said he's never heard of you," Aizawa explains. Izuku's breath catches in his throat. "But then, we explained that your mother passed and we need someone to take care of you, and he said he knew she'd died, and hung up the phone. So my question is, do you know why he would say he didn't know you?"

Izuku shrugs. His head involuntarily twitches, as if to try to shake off the memory of what really happened. "He left when I was young, I barely knew him."

Aizawa doesn't seem to believe him, but he moves on.

"Who's number did you put down under Mitsuki Bakugou for your emergency contact, because that's not her number," Aizawa inquires.

Izuku turns back to the front page where his personal information is. Aizawa's right, this isn't Auntie's number, it's his mom's work phone number, at least one of them.

"How'd you know that?" Izuku asks.

"Katsuki Bakugou is my student, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot."

"So who's number is it? I called and it wouldn't connect."

"One of my mom's work phones."

"One of them?"

Izuku cocks his head in question. "Did they not tell you how she died?"

"Her file said she died of heart failure," Aizawa digs through his stacks of paperwork, pulling out a much thicker file.

"She was in her early thirties, people her age don't just drop dead from heart failure," Izuku drawls. "She had three jobs, she worked herself to death."

Aizawa flips through his paperwork a bit. "There's only one listed here, managing a grocery store?"

"Yeah, she wouldn't qualify for medical insurance if she listed all three on her government forms," Izuku explains. "It's fraud, I know, but there wasn't much she could do. She wanted us to live in a decent neighborhood and for me to go to a good school, so she did what she had to in order to support me."

Aizawa runs a hand through his hair and sits back in his seat. "You've never caught a break, have you, kid?"

Izuku shrugs.

"I have to ask," Aizawa starts. "Since you have her as an emergency contact, would you like me to call Mrs. Bakugou?"

Izuku hesitates. He's bothered Kachan enough, it might be best if he goes on thinking Izuku's dead.

But if he's being honest with himself, Izuku misses them. He misses his home away from home.

"I-,"

Izuku's interrupted by a knock on the door.

Another doctor peaks his head in. He smiles and enters the room, carrying a tray of food. He walks to Izuku's bed and places the tray on the little table.

"They were working on passing out food when I got here, thought I'd go ahead and bring yours to you," he explains. "I'm Dr. Mihara, I'm a psychologist that works here in the hospital, I've been asked to come speak with you."

Izuku nods. Aizawa starts getting up to leave, whispering something about giving Izuku space, but Izuku doesn't want him to leave. Just the thought makes him start to panic.

"No," Izuku stares at Aizawa with wide eyes, silently pleading for him to stay.

"You want me to stay?" Aizawa asks to clarify.

Izuku nods, and Aizawa sits back down.

Dr. Mihara takes a seat in one of the bedside chairs on Izuku's right, opposite of Aizawa.

"You're fifteen, correct?" Dr. Mihara asks, to which Izuku nods. "Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? What do you like to do?"

Izuku hugs the blanket to himself. "Um, I like quirk analysis, I guess."

"That's an interesting hobby," the psychologist comments. "It must be useful when it comes to your life as a vigilante."

Izuku nods.

"I have to ask some baseline questions, but if you struggle to answer any of these, let me know," Dr. Mihara warns. "Have you ever had any mental health treatment before?"

Izuku shakes his head.

"Have you ever been referred for mental health treatment?"

Izuku shakes his head.

"How many parents were in your household when you were growing up?"

"Uh, one, mostly. My dad left when I was seven."

"Do you remember what your relationship was like with him?"

Flashes of angry voices and fists enter Izuku's senses.

"Not really."

"What about your mom, what was your relationship like with her?"

"It was alright. She worked a lot so I didn't see her much."

"What was school like for you?"

"Not good."

"What made it 'not good'?"

"Um, my peers I guess."

"Bullying?"

Izuku nods.

"Are there any specific incidents from your childhood that you think about a lot or that seem to have affected you in specific ways?"

"Stupid Deku, you'll never be a hero!"

"I won't have a quirkless boy for a son."

"Take a swan dive off the roof of the building!"

"Your mother has passed away, it seems she was working too hard."

"I have someone who'd like to meet you."

"Izuku, baby, lie still, it's okay."

"What do you wanna know that for?" Deku asks.

"It just helps me to build an understanding of your mental health and how I can help you," the doctor explains.

Deku uncurls a bit from the cocoon he's created, sitting cross legged instead with the blanket still wrapped around his body. "Well, I don't wanna talk about it."

"That's okay," the doctor assures. "We can come back to that. How about you tell me about the relationships you have in your life right now."

"Well, I guess there's Kit. She works at a cafe and she gives me food and stuff," Deku explains.

The thought of food brings his attention to the tray in front of him. He reaches a hand out of his cocoon and gently scoots the tray towards him so he can start picking at his rice. "And there's Eraser. He's like a mentor or something. Kinda a colleague."

"Which one of them would you say you're closer to?" Dr. Mihara asks next.

"Probably Kit. She knows more about my past and stuff and I spend more time with her," Deku says, but then after thinking about it for a moment longer, he adds: "But Eraser knows some stuff that Kit doesn't, especially now."

"Could I interject for a moment?" Eraser suddenly asks.

Dr. Mihara turns to him. "What is it?"

"There's something about him that it'd probably be good for you to know," Eraser starts. "Izuku thinks of himself and Deku as different people, and right now, I believe we're talking to the 'Deku' version."

Deku glares at Eraser as the doctor turns back to him. "Could you elaborate on that, Izuku? Or wait- would you prefer I call you Deku right now?"

Deku shrugs. "I don't really care what you call me," he mutters. "And I'm not actually two people, I'm not crazy."

"Do you and Izuku ever talk to each other? Like you are different people?" the doctor asks.

Deku shakes his head.

"Do you both have different personality traits?"

Deku shrugs. "I guess so."

"You seem to have observed different traits," the doctor turns toward Eraser. "Do you mind explaining?"

Deku glares further at Eraser, hoping he'll take the hint to shut his mouth.

But the asshole doesn't.

"Izuku described Deku as a mask, like a different persona of himself that he slips on when he needs to. I've noticed that Deku is more extroverted, witty, mean at times, and more emotionally guarded. Izuku is shy, more physically guarded, and he has a stutter with people he doesn't feel comfortable with. He's also very easily excitable."

"A mask?" Dr. Mihara repeats. "Is this something you've done for a long time, or was there an event that caused you to start doing it."

Deku shrugs, stirring his food around as he feels uncomfortable with this topic.

"Do you experience any amnesia?" the doctor asks next.

Deku shrugs. "I mean, there are things that I don't remember and things that are fuzzy." He takes another bite of his rice.

"Does Izuku remember everything you remember?"

"I guess so. I'm not actually two people, so it's not like that."

"Okay, well what about times where you're physically present somewhere but it feels like you aren't mentally there? Some people describe it as feeling like you're outside your body, or watching a movie."

Deku pauses. "That's a real thing?"

"It's a very real thing. It's called dissociation," the doctor explains. "I'm assuming your reaction means you have experience with it?"

"I dunno, but I do this thing, when I'm Izuku, where I just kinda, check out."

"And what's that like?"

"It's like falling asleep, I guess. Kinda like pulling the curtains over reality so I don't know what's going on."

"Do you do this voluntarily?"

"Sometimes."

"What kinds of things trigger the dissociation?"

"Just stuff."

The doctor nods, and drops the topic. "Moving along, we have some heavier questions. Again, just let me know if something's too uncomfortable or if you don't want to answer it."

Deku nods.

"Have you ever harmed yourself on purpose?"

Deku levels the doctor with an "are you kidding me?" look. "You can see my whole arm. Do I really have to answer that for you?"

"It's impolite to assume," Dr. Mihara reasons.

"Whatever," Deku mutters.

"Well then, what methods of self harm do you typically use?" he asks next.

Deku shrugs. "Cutting mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Yeah, mostly."

"When was the first time you remember harming yourself?"

Deku shrugs.

"Is this a topic you're uncomfortable with?" the doctor asks.

Deku shrugs again. "I guess."

"That's alright," the doctor nods. "The next question I have here is about suicide. Have you ever thought about killing yourself, or wished you could go to sleep and not wake up again?"

Deku looks up at Eraser for a minute before turning away again and scoffing. "Every fucking day."

"Have you ever made an attempt on your life?"

"Yes."

"Do you currently plan on making an attempt on your life?"

Yes. "No."

"But you think about it daily?"

"I guess so."

"Do you feel like you are a danger to yourself?"

Yes. "No."

The doctor types a couple things on his laptop, and goes to stand. "Okay, I'm running out of time, so I'll be back later today to speak with you a bit more. If you need anything before then, just have a nurse page me."

Deku nods, watches Eraser shake the doctor's hand, and the doctor leaves.

"You shouldn't have said that," Deku mutters once the door closes.

"If we're talking about your mental health, that's something he'd want to know," Eraser explains.

"Yeah, but it's not your business, Eraser," Deku argues.

"I'm just looking out for you," Eraser defends.

"Yeah, well I've been fine on my own for years."

Eraser makes a dismissive gesture and turns back to his paperwork. Deku focuses on his food, content with ignoring the man for now.

~

"Eraser?" Shota looks up to find Kit standing in the doorway of the hospital room.

It's been a couple hours since Dr. Mihara did his mini-psych evaluation, and Izuku has since fallen asleep.

Shota stands to meet the girl in the doorway, leading her to the hall where they can talk without waking the boy.

"Call me Aizawa," he corrects once the door is cracked. (Not closed, the kid would freak out if he woke up alone and the door was closed.)

"How's he doing?" Kit asks with a bit of a quiver to her voice. She's scared, Shota figures.

"He's asleep right now and mostly physically fine. A psychologist came to talk to him a couple hours ago, and he kind of shut down after that," Shota gives a run down of what he knows.

"Okay," Kit whispers. She looks to the side and seems to remember why she's here, because she skips over to a chair against the opposing wall, retrieving Izuku's notorious yellow back. She brings it back to Shota and holds it out to him. "The police took his knives and belt and notebook, but his clothes and stuff are here. I thought he might want it, because of like, normalcy and stuff."

Shota pushes the bag back toward the girl's chest. "You give it to him," he says simply. "I bet he'd like to see you."

Kit studies Shota's face for a minute before cracking a small smile and glancing toward the door. "Um, let me know when he wakes up, then," she settles on. She turns to sit at the chairs she just retrieved the bag from, but Shota calls for her attention before she can get very far.

"What do you know about his relationship with Katsuki Bakugou?" Shota asks bluntly.

Kit's eyebrows furrow for a moment and she tips her head to the side. One of her fox-like ears twitch, showing her confusion. "Who?"

Shota sighs. "I should've guessed he wouldn't talk about it," he runs a hand over his face. "Nevermind, then."

Shota turns away, but this time Kit calls after him. "Er- Aizawa," Shota turns back to her. "Are you talking about the explosion kid?"

Shota nods.

"Oh, then yeah, I know about him," she announces. "Izu calls him Kachan."

"Kachan?" Shota repeats the childish name. It implies that Izuku saw the kid as a brother of sorts, which only serves to confuse Shota more.

"Yeah, I guess they had like a childhood friends thing going on," Kit shrugs. "I don't like him, though."

"Why not?"

"He… wasn't nice to Izu."

Shota kind of figured that out already.

"Oh, and he gave him the name Deku."

And yet again, Shota's left with more questions than answers.

~

Izuku wakes up abruptly. His whole body flinches as though he's had one of those falling-off-a-cliff dreams, and his eyes shoot open. His chest is heavy and heaving as though he's woken from a nightmare, but he doesn't remember if he had one.

He stays curled up on his side under the thin hospital blanket and takes a couple moments to close his eyes, breathe and catch his brain up to the current events.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds that he's facing the window and the blinds have been pulled shut, though the slivers of light indicate it's probably around noon.

"Izu?"

Kit?

Izuku sits up quickly, searching for white curly hair and amber eyes. He finds them in the chair Aizawa was previously occupying, kindness and concern seeping through the familiar eyes.

"What are- when did you get here?" Izuku asks. He pushes himself to sit up, fixing the blanket so it's secure around him.

"A while ago," she shrugs. "Aizawa told me to tell you that he'll be back later," Kit sits up and forward in her chair, reaching in between her feet. "I brought you something."

Kit pulls Izuku's bag into her lap and for some unknown, ridiculous reason, Izuku wants to cry. He waves her over as he reaches it, and gives her permission to sit at the foot of the bed.

Izuku sits criss-cross, and pulls the bag into his lap. He discards his sleeping back onto the bed and digs through the rest, taking inventory.

"The cops took your belt and weapons and stuff," Kit explains. "But your clothes and anything else you had should be in there."

Izuku deflates at the revelation, though he should've guessed they'd do that. He pulls out his hoodie, which was sitting on top. Underneath, all of his other clothes have been neatly folded and placed back into the bag as though they didn't want to disturb what they didn't have to.

Izuku keeps the hoodie in his lap and reaches for the back pocket, which is revealed to be empty. Izuku panics a bit. He roughly digs through the rest of his things; his clothes, safety kit, playing cards… it's not here.

"Where's my notebook?" he asks Kit.

"Oh, they took that, too," Kit explains calmly. "Aizawa said that you only write about people you don't like so they're looking into some of the other people in there."

Izuku brings his hands up to his hair and lets out a frustrated growl. "That's my journal, I have personal things in there, they have no right to-," he cuts himself off with another groan.

"Woah, Izu," Kit lets out a nervous laugh. "I'm sure they'll only document the things that are important."

"Everything's important!" Izuku argues. "It's- it's mine! They can't just take it!"

"Izu-,"

"I don't wanna talk about this anymore," Izuku pushes the bag away from him and curls up on the bed, holding his sweatshirt as though it were a beloved stuffed animal.

"You'll get it back soon, Izu," Kit tries to reason.

"It doesn't matter, they'll have already read it all by then," Izuku says with his face buried in his sweatshirt.

"What's so important about it? All I saw was your analysis, which is kind of insane by the way," Kit asks.

"Everything's in there," Izuku says vaguely.

Everything is in there. His analysis, the code to the cafe, his costume design for himself if he were to ever become a hero, his and his parents full names in case he was ever found dead or something, and even his notes.

Toward the end of the notebook, there are four notes. One to his mom, one to Kachan, one to Kit, and one to Eraser. Izuku tells himself that they only exist as a precaution, in case he ever wound up dead, but he knows what they are.

They're his suicide notes. They exist because Izuku isn't sure how long he will. They're his safety net, his security that if he were to ever actually do it, they'd all know it wasn't their fault and that he loved them.

If the cops find them, they'll be reading Izuku's most intimate, personal thoughts. He doesn't want that. Anything but that.

~

Shota isn't surprised when he's called to the station in light of the past twenty-four hours.

He left Kit with the kid, and he hopes the kid isn't too mad about that, but duty calls, you know?

Anyways, Shota arrives at the station and flashes his badge at the receptionist, before making his way down the hall to one of the conference rooms. Upon his entry, everyone turns to him and smiles, to which Shota nods back.

They have a whiteboard at the head of the table with pictures, copies of Izuku's journal, and mugshots pasted to the board.

Tsukauchi waves Shota to sit across him at the table, which Shota does. The notebook that's been the main focus of the investigation today is slid to Shota.

"I thought you'd want to see that," Tsukachi says simply, though there's a sad tone to his voice.

Confused, Shota pulls the notebook toward himself.

When he lays eyes on the page before him, he understands why Tsukauchi wanted him to see this.

Dear Eraserhead,

Hi! You don't actually know who I am, I guess, so I'll introduce myself. My name is Izuku Midoriya, but you know me as the vigilante Deku.

I have so much I need to say to you, but I'll try to keep it brief.

We met almost exactly two years ago, now. I was thirteen and having the worst day of my life, and you saved me. I was going to kill myself, and you told me that I needed to learn how to save myself before making such a rash decision, so I've been trying to!

I became a vigilante because I wanted to learn how to save others. It started small. I'd stumble upon muggings and assaults, and I'd do what I could to stop them. I took self-defense classes and cleaned Dagobah Beach to build muscle. I found my passion in saving others, a passion I had since lost.

But, it hasn't changed the way I feel about myself. I still feel hopeless and worthless. I still hurt myself because I can't find any other way to make the pain stop. I'm still not okay.

Which is why I have to apologize to you.

When you found me, I was just a sad, lonely kid on a rooftop, and you convinced me to stay. And now, if you're reading this, I've probably thrown that all away. So I'm sorry that I couldn't save myself, like you told me to.

I hope that you know you tried your best. There wasn't anything anyone could do. I'm sorry Eraser.

Goodbye,
Izuku "Deku" Midoriya

Shota doesn't know how to feel about this.

A pre-written suicide note? How is he supposed to feel about this?

Shota suddenly regrets leaving the hospital at all. He grits his teeth, biting back tears, and flips through the surrounding pages.

It seems Shota's note was the last one the kid wrote.

But in the pages before it are letters to Kit, Kachan, and Izuku's (dead) mom.

"I'm gonna get some air," Shota stands, turning to leave. "I might not be back," he warns.

Shota exits the building, gets in his car, and drives away.

He planned on driving straight to the hospital, but instead, he finds himself driving in a whole different direction. He's read the address on the student file enough to know it by heart.

He needs to talk to the Bakugou's.

~

"Katsuki, get down here right now!"

Katsuki groans at the sound of his mother's grating voice, but he knows better than to not listen, so he places his phone on his nightstand, shoves his hands in his pockets, and stomps down the stairs.

The first thing to come into view as he walks down the stairs is the living room couch. The couch that Katsuki's homeroom teacher is currently sitting on.

Katsuki tries not to show his surprise as he walks into the room. "What'dya want?"

"Katsuki, be nice," his mom scolds. "Come have a seat, your teacher wants to have a word with us."

A word? That's usually code for "you fucked up and now we're going to scold you about it for an hour" but Aizawa doesn't seem like that kind of guy.

Katsuki drops onto the couch next to his mom, facing the one Aizawa's sitting on, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"What did my rascal of a son do now?" his mom asks, to which Katsuki scoffs.

"Nothing that I'm sure of," Aizawa answers cryptically. "This is actually about another kid."

"Shouldn't you be talking to this other kids' parents instead, then?" his mom points out.

"Well, that isn't going to be possible at the moment," Aizawa teases around what seems to be an important detail.

"Okay, so what kid?" his mom asks.

"Izuku Midoriya," Katsuki whips his head towards his teacher.

"Deku's dead," he says on impulse.

"I think you know that isn't true, Katsuki," Aizawa says simply.

Green eyes, freckles, worried brows… it couldn't be.

"Izuku's alive?" his mom asks hopefully.

Aizawa nods.

"No," Katsuki shakes his head. "There's no way."

Aizawa pulls his phone out of his pocket, clicks a couple things, and turns it toward Katsuki. "Then let me ask you this," he presses play on a video. "Who's saving you in this video?"

It's the news footage from the sludge villain attack. Katsuki watches the video he's seen a million times before, slowly shaking his head back and forth at the information he already knows to be true.

"That wasn't- I was hallucinating or something, it couldn't have been-"

"It was," Aizawa nods. "Izuku Midoriya is currently being treated at the hospital, and we found his secondary emergency contact to be Mitsuki Bakugou, so I thought we could have a conversation."

"Little Izuku's alive," his mom repeats.

Aizawa nods.

"I didn't- He's alive?" Katsuki asks.

Aizawa nods.

Katsuki hears his pulse in his ears.

Selfishly, the only though in his head is:

Thank fuck I didn't kill him.

Notes:

I have two random things to say lol:

1. Sooo my username is named after Choi Odi, a hedgehog belonging to Choi Soobin, the leader of TXT. I found out this week that Odi died... and now I feel kinda weird abt the username. I talked to my family abt it and half of them said to change it and half said to keep it as tribute, and I think I'm gonna keep it lol, but thats my current moral dilemma

2. I am having some health issues currently and in light of that along with school, updates may slow down, especially on my other ongoing fic. I'll continue to try my best to get things out on time, though!!

Chapter 9: Bad On A Fundamental Level

Notes:

TW's:
mentioned sexual assault
slight panic attack
suicidal thoughts/behavior
bullying
graphic self harm

Ooook, this one is bad. If your triggered by self harm, I encourage you to skip to last scene. I put ~~~ to let you know that's the beginning of the scene. Stay safe everyone!

"C'mon, Izu, just help me pick something," Kit pleads with Izuku.

She wants him to pick out his dinner, but Izuku doesn't want to. He doesn't feel like eating. He didn't eat lunch for the very same reason.

"You dealt! That means it's my turn!" Izuku whines as Kit tries to take the ace from the discard pile, even though it isn't her turn.

"Fine, fine, take it-,"

A knock on the door startles them both, their heads whirling around to find who's interrupting their game.

It's Tsukauchi and a nurse. A nurse carrying a plastic bag, seemingly full of supplies.

Izuku tucks his knees into his chest.

"Good afternoon, Midoriya," Tsukauchi smiles. "It's nice to officially meet you, though I doubt any introductions are in order."

Izuku gives a small smile and a nod in response.

"So, I'm sorry to cut straight to the heavy stuff, but we've been canvassing the hotel room you were found in and have found evidence an assault took place while you were there," Izuku cringes and pulls the blanket tighter around himself.

Ever-present and ever-annoying hands wind over him. They grab his wrists, ankles, shoulders, hips- anywhere they're willing to. Because it doesn't matter what Izuku is willing to do, what Izuku is willing to give, they always take what they want.

Izuku digs his nails into his palms.

"This is nurse Takehiro," Tsukauchi gestures to the man beside him. "I've asked if he could perform an exam on you to gather evidence of the sexual assault."

"A rape kit," Izuku clarifies.

Tsukauchi nods. "It would be crucial to the prosecution of your captors."

"B-but it," Izuku's head jerks to the side as phantom breath makes itself known against his ear. "It wasn't- wasn't them."

"In that case, the evidence we gather can be used to find your assailant and prosecute them," Tsukauchi visibly fights to keep a gentle smile on his face.

"No," Izuku whispers.

"Midoriya, this could be what leads to you getting the justice you deserve," Tsukauchi tries to reason.

"I said no," Izuku says, louder this time. He punctuated his statement by slamming his fist against the mattress, causing no more than a quiet thud.

"Midoriya-,"

"No!" he yells it this time, desperate to be heard. "No, no, no! I get to say that, right? That's the whole point, isn't it?!"

Tsukauchi takes a step back, wide-eyed at his own realization. "Midoriya, I-,"

"I-I don't want justice," Izuku seethes. One of his hands snake up to tug on his ear, the phantom breathing getting worse by the second. "I just- I just want it to be over."

"It is over, Izu," Kit pipes up quietly. She stands, Izuku knows this because suddenly her chair is empty, and there's some loud altercation at the foot of the bed, but Izuku doesn't care.

He can't care, because he can't hear it.

He covers one ear, the one with the phantom breath, hoping it'll make it stop. And then he covers the other ear, to even things out.

He can hear his own breath, his heart, his crying. It's overwhelming.

Izuku doesn't want justice. He wants it to be over. He wants everything to be over, but it never is.

"You have to eat, Izu," Kit pleads once more.

Izuku stays hidden in his blanket, not paying her any mind.

He doesn't feel like eating. He doesn't feel like doing anything right now. He's content to stay hidden under here forever.

"What about a cup of coffee? Or cocoa?" Kit offers to no avail. "What if I got you something from the cafe?"

Izuku shifts to peek one eye at her.

She smiles pridefully, happy to have caught his attention. "I'm pretty sure it's b-shift in the kitchen, they make the blueberry muffins you like, the ones with the sugar crumble on top?"

Izuku stares at her for a moment before nodding.

"Do you want me to go now or wait until Aizawa gets back?"

"Wait 'til 'zawa gets back," Izuku mutters.

Kit smiles and nods. "Do you wanna play another game?" He shakes his head. "Want me to find something on the TV?" Izuku shrugs.

It isn't technically a no, so Kit takes the remote from the nightstand beside the bed and clicks the TV on, beginning to search for something to watch. She settles on some kids' movie, the kind that has dirty jokes thrown in every couple of minutes to keep parent's attention.

Izuku finds himself enjoying it much more than he anticipated he would. He even uncurls from his ball into a more comfortable position.

He lets himself get lost in the bright colors of the animation and the silliness of the concept. Like seriously, toys that walk and talk and feel? It's both laughable and intriguing.

The toys are trying to escape a daycare but an old teddy bear won't let them leave. There's a scene where the toys have all found themselves in an incinerator and Izuku finds himself tearing up. It's a kids movie, so he knows it's unlikely any of the toys will actually die (if they can die), but it's stressful not knowing how they'll escape.

Izuku cheers quietly when they make it out and joyfully smiles when the toys make it to their new home with a sweet little girl their previous owner seems to know.

And then the movie is over. Credits play and Izuku remembers where he is, wiping the smile off of his face.

The seat where Kit was previously now has a new occupant: Aizawa.

"Did you like the movie?" Aizawa looks up from his drastically smaller stack of paperwork to ask.

Izuku blushes and nods.

"Kit ran to get you a muffin, she should be back soon," Aizawa informs.

Izuku nods slowly, catching his brain back up to the present moment. "Where'd you go?"

"I went to speak with the Bakugou's," Aizawa says simply.

"What?" Izuku's eyes widen, his chest constricting at the mere thought of what Kachan would say if he knew Izuku was alive all this time.

Of course, he knows that Kachan should have at least an inkling, considering they've seen eachother since Izuku disappeared, but Izuku still wonders.

"Tsukauchi called me to the station to read something from your journal," Aizawa pauses, looking away and rubbing his chin in a self-soothing manner. He doesn't look at Izuku as he continues to explain. "He had me read a letter you'd written to me, and showed me that there were notes written to a few other people, including Bakugou. I went to speak with him because I wanted to understand, kid."

Izuku feels his breathing go sharp in his chest. Unsteady, ragged and shallow breaths heave through his mouth.

But he has to know. "What'd he say?"

"He was surprised," Aizawa answers honestly. "But I'm pretty sure he already knew you were alive."

"H-how?"

"The sludge villain incident. I showed him the video and he didn't seem shocked at all that you were the one to save him."

"He," Izuku swallows, trying to get control of his shaking voice. "He saw my- my face. B-burned my mask."

Aizawa hums and stands, walking toward the sink under the TV to presumably get Izuku a glass of water.

"Do I need to be worried about him?" Aizawa places the cup on the lap table for Izuku, who thankfully takes it, after cocking his head to the side in confusion. "If I let him see you, do you think he'll hurt you?"

Izuku lets out a nervous laugh. "Why- why would you think that?"

"Because he's a violent person," Aizawa says bluntly. "He seriously injured one of his classmates on only the second day of school, so unless he has a soft spot for you or something, I don't know how comfortable I am with-,"

"I wanna see him," Izuku blurts out. "He- he won't hurt me," he lies.

He knows that Kachan would hurt him. He's done it many times before, without any hesitation.

But Izuku wants to see him. He has to see him. He has to know.

~

Katsuki walks through the halls of the hospital, hands in his pockets and glaring holes through the floor. He uses his mom's feet in front of him as a guide, not wanting to raise his head at all.

When Aizawa showed up at Katsuki's house yesterday, it sent Katsuki into a spiral. He refused to leave his room the whole night (much to his mom's dismay) and read over his journal of notes over and over again.

There are three notebooks that Katsuki keeps hidden in a hole in his wall. (One he punched when Deku went missing. His mom doesn't know about it. He keeps it covered with a poster.) The hole is just big enough for him to roll the books up, place them inside, and let them flatten back out once they're in there. They've become pretty worn out due to this process, all of them now have creases down the center, but he'd rather that than anyone finding them.

One notebook is full of website addresses, copied down encounters and all sorts of evidence surrounding the vigilante referred to as Deku.

After the incident with the sludge villain, Katsuki had to know if he was right, if it really was Deku that he saw that day. Under those circumstances, he seriously pondered the idea that he'd been hallucinating due to lack of oxygen or just pure adrenaline, but he quickly discovered that was likely not the case.

Deku keeps a rather low profile, so he's not very well known. The only time he's ever made it into any news articles was when he saved Katsuki. (Who didn't need saving, by the way. He was doing just fine and could handle that motherfucker on his own.)

Since nobody's ever heard of the bastard, though, Katsuki has been stuck with chat rooms, vigilante archives, and sketchy websites to find any information about him.

He just had to know.

The moment he saw those green eyes, he had to know.

The second notebook is the one Katsuki destroyed the last time he saw Deku.

Deku had been going on and on about Katsuki's quirk that day, squealing like a bitch about how awesome and cool he is. Katsuki has typically never been one to shy away from praise, but when it came from shitty Deku, it was fucking annoying.

What had really pissed him off, though, was when Deku started rambling about his chances of still getting a quirk. He went on and on about statistics of kids not showing signs until they were a bit older and about quirks that are tricky to figure out and make people appear quirkless. He was twelve, for god's sake! How fucking stupid was he?

It pissed Katsuki off. Deku was always so full of brightness and positivity and it made Katsuki sick. No one is that fucking sappy all the time.

So when Katsuki burned him and threw his journal out the window and it still didn't stave his anger, he gave the lowest punch he could and told Deku to kill himself.

And Deku didn't show up to school the next day.

Or the next week.

Or the next month.

And nobody said anything.

There were no missing posters plastered on telephone poles and bulletin boards. There was no announcement to the students to keep an eye out for him. There wasn't even an announcement to say he was dead.

And then the flowers started piling up.

The nerd's desk was slowly covered in spider lilies, one by one. A symbol that someone had taken their own life. Katsuki asked his teacher one day if it was true, and all the teacher did was shrug. He fucking shrugged.

Katsuki had the notebook. He doesn't know why he took it, but when he walked past the pond in the front of the school and saw the nerd hadn't retrieved it, he took it. Part of him thought about how upset the nerd would be if he lost it for good. Katsuki doesn't know why he listened.

The notebook… It was filled with analysis, like it'd been labeled, but in the margins, there was so much more. Scribbled drawings of various weapons, bold words that he'd been called, drawings of the nerd himself, dead or bleeding.

It told Katsuki so much. Too much. It showed Katsuki that Deku really wasn't so sappy all the time. It showed Katsuki what he'd done, cemented his belief that he'd killed him.

He'd killed Deku.

But he hadn't.

Because Deku is right in front of him, wide, worried eyes and all.

He's older, obviously, but it still shocks Katsuki just how grown up he looks. His unruly hair is darker and longer, almost hanging over his eyes. He's lost the baby fat around his cheeks, making his face look rather sharp and hollow. His freckles stand out against his pale complexion. It's like seeing a ghost.

"Katsuki, don't just stand there!" the hag calls after Katuski lingers in the doorway a bit too long. Katsuki awkwardly clears his throat and steps into the room, dropping into the chair beside his mom.

"Don't try to touch him. In fact, stay at least a couple of feet away from him at all times, just to keep him comfortable."

Katsuki observes that both chairs are pulled away from the bed. To what Aizawa had said should be an appropriate amount of distance away from Deku.

Deku has an oversized, green sweatshirt on. Katsuki's seen it before in leaked photos of the vigilante. It looks new, though. It can't be more than a couple of months old. Deku gives both of them a nervous smile and fidgets with the sleeves.

"It's good to see you, Izuku," Katsuki's mom greets. She's also nervous, her back straight as she sits and her legs crossed in front of her. "How are you feeling?"

"Don't ask about what happened, it's still fresh and I don't want you to scare him."

"I-I'm okay," Deku shrugs and pauses. He looks down at his fists. "I-I missed you guys."

"We missed you, too, honey," the hag smiles.

She nudges Katsuki, like she wants him to say something.

"Yeah, good to see you, or whatever," Katsuki blurts out.

His hands are sweating. Why's he so nervous?

"He's a bit skittish, so keep your distance and don't make any sudden movements. That includes explosions, Katsuki."

Katsuki rubs his hands against his pants, trying to rid them of the destructive sweat.

"Um, I heard you got into UA," Deku pipes up. "I watched you on TV."

"So you saw him acting like a goddamn idiot?" the hag jokes. Katsuki glares at her.

"No! Kachan was awesome!" Izuku blurts out, a contrast to his quiet stutter from before.

But then he makes eye contact with Katsuki, a horrified look finding its way onto his pale face.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I-I meant to say, um, Ka-Katsuki," Deku flushes and looks down.

Katsuki's chest constricts strangely at the apology. Out of everything Deku's ever apologized to him for, he's never apologized for that stupid nickname. It was like the one thing he'd taken for himself, and now he's giving it up.

Katsuki can't let him give up. Not again.

"I don't care what you call me, nerd," he supplies. He doesn't miss the small smile Izuku gives at that, filling Katsuki's chest with pride.

"I was- I was kinda surprised they didn't cancel the festival after- after the attack," Deku comments.

"That lousy attempt? Those extras stood no chance against me," Katsuki brags, earning himself a kick to the ankle from his mom.

Deku frowns. "It didn't seem like just a lousy attempt," he whispers. "Er- 'zawa was really hurt."

"Are you close with Aizawa?" the hag asks.

Deku smiles and nods. "We work together, he teaches me stuff."

The hag nods. She suddenly looks very thoughtful and Katsuki dreads whatever sappy shit she's going to say next.

"Why didn't you come to us?" she asks. "If- if you had just said something, you know that Masaru and I would've…"

She trails off. Katsuki assumes it's because she knows the truth, and Deku knows it, too. The two of them didn't get along, and the hag, as much as she dislikes him, would always be forced to choose Katsuki over the nerd.

But Deku says something different.

"I-I didn't wanna be a bother," he whispers.

His mom sighs and opens her mouth to say something, but suddenly her phone starts ringing. "It's your father," she whispers to Katsuki. "I have to take this, you boys play nice."

Katsuki scoffs as Deku giggles at the familiar warning.

And then it's just the two of them, alone in the hospital room. It's silent, awkwardly so, until Deku speaks up once more.

"Was it better?" he says quietly, looking out the window and away from Katsuki.

"Huh?"

"When I was gone, was it- was it better?"

"Hah? What're you tryna get at?"

Deku looks at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Just- please answer the question, Kachan."

Katsuki rolls his eyes, though he's not trying to be unkind. Katsuki just doesn't do feelings. Never has, never will. His dad is a sensitive man, and he's seen where it's gotten him. Katsuki won't be like that.

Deku is begging him to, but Katsuki just can't.

"It was alright, I guess," Katsuki drawls. "Much easier to focus in class without your incessant muttering to distract me."

Katsuki wants to rip his tongue out, not just bite it. He wants to apologize, but he can't. He's left gobsmacked at the sight of the most sensitive person he's ever known staring stone-faced, even after what Katsuki just said.

"Oh," is all Deku says, turning away again to stare out the goddamn window.

Katsuki shifts uncomfortably. He wants to say something. He wants to apologize. He maybe even wants to escape out that fucking window. But he doesn't do anything. He doesn't say anything.

Because Katsuki is a coward, just like his dad, and he's an asshole, just like his mom.

"Would it have been better if I stayed gone?" Deku asks suddenly.

"What the fuck?"

"I-it's what you wanted, right?" Deku turns toward him once more, his empty eyes void of tears, despite the familiar quiver to his voice. "You wanted me gone, right?"

Katsuki can't do this. He can't handle Deku and his weird ass questions. He sounds fucking suicidal.

Oh god.

Katsuki needs out of here. He has to get out of here.

So, he stands abruptly and turns away. When he shoves his hands in his pockets, though, he remembers the one thing he brought along with him.

The third notebook.

He turns back around, drops the damn thing on the bedside table, and leaves.

~

"Whatcha got there?" Shota asks Izuku.

It's a notebook, it seems, which is odd because he hasn't been provided with one during his stay here in the hospital.

"Kachan gave it to me," the kid's voice is wobbly and he wipes his cheek with the back of his hand.

Shota steps forward so he can lean over the book and read what it says, worried it's something rude.

But it's not. It's analysis, like Izuku writes, but in a different handwriting.

"H-he rewrote it," Izuku explains breathlessly. "All of it, he- it was destroyed and he- why would he-?"

"Slow down, kid," Shota braces a hand on the boy's shoulder, thankful it isn't pushed away. "You're working yourself up. This was yours?"

"Yeah," Izuku sighs. He closes the journal to show off the front, where the title Hero Analysis for the Future No. 9 is carefully written. "I used to keep these, when I thought- when I wanted to be a hero. It- I was stupid," the kid breathlessly laughs.

"Not stupid," Shota corrects. He takes the notebook and sits on the edge of the bed, scrolling through the pages. "You're smart, kid. Give yourself some credit."

"Yeah, but I was naive," he elaborates. "I was convinced I'd be the first quirkless hero, it was childish."

"You may not be the first quirkless hero, but you're the first quirkless vigilante I've heard of," Shota points out.

Izuku shrugs.

"Kid, look at me," Shota requests.

The kid hesitates before looking up, his swollen, red eyes proving Shota's theory that he's been crying.

"Katsuki left in quite a hurry. Did something happen?"

Izuku frantically shakes his head. "He- he was nice."

Shota doubts that's the truth, but doesn't push. "Was it nice seeing them?"

Izuku nods. "It's weird, he looks so much older."

"He was probably thinking the same thing about you," Shota comments.

Izuku shrugs.

The kid is considerably closed off compared to how he's been with Shota since he found him. He won't say it, but something definitely happened while the Bakugou's were here.

"I never apologized," Shota blurts out. "For what happened."

Izuku looks confused but quickly seems to understand what Shota's referring to.

"I was trying to explain myself, but I understand that you were upset and had every right to be," Shota starts with. "I want you to know, though, that I was not made aware of the restraints until they raised his platform. I tried to get out there and do something, but they'd sealed the entrances and I couldn't get through. I apologized to Katsuki a couple days later, after everything had calmed down, and now I'm apologizing to you, because I failed you and your trust as well."

Izuku nods and pulls at his sleeves, a nervous tic of his. "It's okay," he whispers.

Realizing he isn't going to get anywhere with Izuku, Shota pats the kids shoulder and stands from the bed, returning the notebook to him and returning to his seat.

~

"Hi, honey," an elderly nurse enters the room, a sweet smile pulling at her face. "The doc wants another blood test, so I'm here to poke ya' if that's okay with you."

Izuku nods and she carefully approaches the bed. Izuku sits up as she places the blood draw kit on the table in front of him. She asks him to roll up his right sleeve, and he does, placing his arm on the table to help her. She places the ternoquite, finds a vein, and grabs a butterfly needle and alcohol wipe from the kit.

Izuku doesn't watch as she pokes him, the flow of blood into the tube usually makes him sick. Instead, he's focused on the tray compartment containing the butterfly needles.

Kachan confirmed it was better with him gone.

It makes Izuku's skin itch with the urge to tear himself apart. And yeah, the tiny needle won't do much, but they took his knives away and frankly, Izuku's going to lose his mind if he can't do something soon.

So, as Aizawa continues to focus on whatever he's typing on his laptop and the nurse turns away to remove her gloves and wash her hands, Izuku swipes one and shoves it into his sweatshirt pocket. And then he steals another, in case the first one breaks.

Neither person in the room notices and Izuku feels his chest swell with a sick sense of giddiness and pride. Almost excitement.

He knows he's messed up, and this just cements that more. He's excited to hurt himself. He doesn't know how much sicker he can get.

~~~

Tonight, Aizawa got what they called a 'parent cot' set up in the room so he could sleep better while staying with Izuku. Izuku waits for him to fall asleep so he can do what he needs to do.

Izuku tiptoes out of bed and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, something he's been told not to do. He sits on the cold tile floor and pulls his hospital gown up to reveal his scarred thighs.

He traces his fingers over the scars, chaotic lines cross hatched over the pale skin. He's never been very neat or meticulous about it. Usually when he hurts himself, it's during panic attacks and flashbacks when he has no mind to keep cuts from crossing or to place them in neat rows.

Tracing over the jagged skin and welting scars, Izuku stops on the most memorable scar.

It sits just below the hip, more thin than others. This scar was the first. Izuku's honestly surprised it hasn't faded yet.

Izuku doesn't know what to do.

Kachan has pushed him and kicked him and punched him before, but he's never burned him.

Until today.

Izuku has no idea what to do about the red welt forming on his side, just below his ribs. He's never treated more than a first degree oven burn before, and this looks more like a second degree (possibly chemical, does nitroglycerin fall into that category?) burn.

He pokes it, winces, and then just stares at it some more.

He eventually settles for slathering some Neosporin on it, taping a large gauze pad over it, and hoping for the best.

He keeps it covered for several days, pleased to find that it's begun healing quite nicely. It does form into a large blister, though, which becomes much more sensitive.

On day four of the healing process, Kachan and his sidekicks push Izuku down and kick him in the stomach, thankfully missing the burn. Kachan walks away and Izuku is left on the ground crying.

He pushes himself up enough to sit against the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest. Izuku cries uncontrollably, ever an angry crier and frustrated with himself.

He's bad, on a fundamental level. Even at ten years old, Izuku understands this. He understands that Kachan doesn't like him because of that. He understands that if he'd just shut up and keep his head down, Kachan wouldn't hurt him.

But Izuku is bad and stupid, so he never does.

Izuku's hands around his sides curl into his clothing, and in the process, rub painfully against the blister.

Izuku hisses and flinches away from his own hand.

And he stops crying.

The pain distracts him enough for Izuku to stop crying, so he does it again.

That night, after Izuku's helped his mom to bed and cleaned the apartment, he locks himself in the bathroom with a knife from the kitchen.

It's the first time he cuts into his own skin.

He quickly finds that it helps him breathe.

Izuku pulls one of the needles from his hoodie pocket and rips the sterile packet open. The needle is small and notably thin, but a test with his pointer finger proves it's sharp enough.

Izuku uses his left hand to pull his skin taught and uses the needle in his right hand to gently drag the needle across his skin. When it's done, he releases the skin and watches the blood seep from the thin cut with a sick fascination. The blood beads around the edges, and Izuku takes his thumb and smears it, almost hypnotized by the sight.

The relief that washes over him is so intense, Izuku is immediately brought to tears. He drops his head back against the wall behind him and blindy slices more at his skin recklessly as he quietly cries.

By the time he's done, the phantom hands are gone and Izuku is left feeling hollow on the bathroom floor. He pockets his needle and grabs paper towels from the dispenser on the wall above him to roughly clean his wounds. He tosses the paper in the trash and stands from the floor, his exhaustion suddenly hitting him like a freight train.

He flushes the toilet, a precaution in case Aizawa woke up at some point, washes the blood off of his hands, and leaves the bathroom.

Aizawa is still sound asleep, but the sight of him makes Izuku's stomach sink.

All Aizawa wants to do, all he's ever tried to do, is help Izuku, and Izuku continues to take that for granted.

Izuku's a fundamentally bad person, after all of these years, he still is. He's selfish, ungrateful, and fucking stupid.

Izuku crawls into the bed, pulls the thin hospital blanket over himself, and sleeps.

Chapter 10: You Saved Him

Notes:

TW's:
internalized victim blaming (like, blaming urself)
discussions of self harm

Hizashi, as he's asked Izuku to call him, shows up the next morning. He comes bearing gifts in the form of three coffees and a half-dozen donuts.

Izuku smiles and thanks him but only picks at a donut while he sips on his coffee. Both Hizashi and Aizawa ask what's wrong, but Izuku continues to insist he's fine, even if it's obviously not the truth.

Hizashi is confusing to Izuku. His presence here at the hospital and his willingness to deal with Izuku while Aizawa was injured don't make sense to Izuku. Why is he here? Is he here to support Aizawa? Is he concerned about Izuku? If so, why?

Scratch that, why is Aizawa here?

Sure, he's taken care of Izuku while they've been working together, but it was the heroic thing to do. Buying Izuku thermal wear just made sense. Aizawa wouldn't want him slowing them down simply because he was cold. But why is he here now?

Izuku wouldn't be surprised to hear that he's no longer allowed to be a vigilante, which is complete bullshit, but it also means he's no longer useful to Aizawa.

Both men being here doesn't make any sense to Izuku, but he's not complaining. He's always hated being lonely.

Dr. Oishi comes back to give them an update on the blood tests a little after nine. She explains that things are still a bit low, but the venom is completely out of his system, though the ketamine should take a bit longer.

"Radiology has been pretty busy, but we're going to have a nurse come by in a little bit to get you prepped for those x-rays," Dr. Oishi explains. "Would you like a sedative for the imaging? We typically don't give them for x-rays, but with such a severe touch aversion, it might just make things go a bit easier."

Izuku frantically shakes his head."I wanna know what's going on."

"You will, it won't put you to sleep," she explains. "It's just something to calm any nerves."

Izuku shakes his head again.

"Kid," Aizawa places a hand on the bed, not touching Izuku, but giving the illusion of it. "To my understanding, they're most likely going to have you lie down and they'll have to touch you to get the correct angles. The medication will do nothing but make that easier to deal with."

"It won't put me to sleep?" Dr. Oishi nods an affirmative. "Promise?" Izuku asks quite childishly.

"Promise," Dr. Oishi nods.

Izuku hesitates for only a moment more before agreeing.

After Dr. Oishi leaves, Izuku realizes one crucial detail; he can't bring the needles with him to the x-ray. He's read medical journals before, usually out of boredom, so he knows that metal shows up on x-rays, and it'd be quite suspicious if he just had two thin lines right around his stomach.

He looks around, trying to find a place to hide them, and quickly settles for the "in plain sight" strategy. Izuku slips open the nightstand, waits for Hizashi to laugh ridiculously loudly (Does he have issues controlling his quirk when he's excited? Izuku's hands itch with a need to write that down.), and drops the needles in without drawing too much attention.

Once he confirms neither of the men in the room noticed, Izuku settles back down to read another couple of pages in the journal.

He mentally takes note of every carefully hidden eraser mark and Kachan's typical blocky letters he seems to have tried avoiding.

This must have taken him a long time. This is the neatest Izuku has ever seen his handwriting and he knows that Kachan isn't the best artist. This is almost an exact replica of Izuku's original. He doubts Kachan even realizes how much it means to Izuku.

Izuku only has one thing left from his life before his mom's death; His backpack. Yeah, he still brands his red shoes, but these aren't the originals. This pair is the only thing Izuku kept from Mickey, only because he had to.

Being homeless during his early teen years has come with its fair share of difficulties (hence, his current residence at the hospital), but one he hadn't anticipated was how much he was growing. He grew out of his shoes within a couple of months on the streets, and the clothing he'd carelessly shoved in his bag on his way out the window became uncomfortably small not too long after.

He stopped growing so fast around the time he started cleaning the beach, and he doesn't think he's gotten any taller in a solid six months. It probably has something to do with his diet and activity level or some bullshit, but Izuku isn't complaining. Finding new clothes, not to mention new shoes, is harder than it sounds. So in his eyes, the longer he fits in what he has, the better.

So, all he has is his bag.

But this, even if it isn't the original notebook (maybe he'll ask Kachan for the original if he sees him again), is something from before. Something Izuku was interested in and had dedicated so much of his time to. This almost feels like a piece of himself.

Kachan even copied all of the notes that were about him. Izuku doesn't doubt that they annoyed him, but he did it anyway.

Why?

"Midoriya?"

Izuku's head snaps up from the page he'd been reading about one of Endeavor's sidekicks. A nurse is standing beside his bed, holding a glass of water and a pill cup. She offers it to Izuku and he hesitantly takes it, swallowing the pill easily.

She has a wheelchair with her, which is annoying because Izuku can walk, but she insists it's hospital policy, so he gives in when he realizes how sore he is from being so tense over the past two days.

Aizawa says he has to stay in the room and suddenly Izuku doesn't feel like cooperating. He stands from the chair and backs into the wall behind him, feeling childish as he says: "No, I'm not going alone."

"Woah, kid, calm down," Aizawa holds his hands up like he's approaching a scared animal and takes a step into Izuku's bubble. "I'll walk with you, ok? But I can't be in the room with you."

"No, you can't leave," Izuku pleads, internally cringing at his annoying and bratty behavior.

"I'm not, I'll just be outside the door," Aizawa assures.

This doesn't settle any of Izuku's nerves. As silly as it may seem, that's too far away. Izuku doesn't know any of these people. He's in a place he's never been before surrounded by strangers. He needs Aizawa.

"You'll be outside the door?" he tries to make that okay, even though it isn't. He already looks whiny and stupid, he doesn't want to be more of a bother than he is.

"Yeah, I will be," Aizawa confirms.

Izuku nods but doesn't move from the corner. He really, really doesn't want to do this.

Aizawa holds a hand out to Izuku silently urging him to take it. Slowly and hesitantly, Izuku does.

Aizawa leads him back to the chair and pushes him to sit, whispering to the nurse that he can push Izuku himself.

Izuku pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands, along with self-consciously pulling his gown as far as it can go down his legs. Not only is he not wearing pants, but he never properly cleaned his injuries from last night, meaning they're probably a mess of reds and browns at the moment.

The nurse leads them down the hall, to the elevator, and then down another hall until they get to a dark room with blue lights and an exam table.

Izuku isn't sure if it's the nerves or the mess kicking in, but suddenly he feels… light.

The weight on his chest (that he hadn't even noticed) lifts. His fingers and toes feel weightless and tingly. His head feels cloudy and fuzzy.

Izuku thinks maybe he's checking out- dissociating. Maybe it's a combination of all of the anxiety, fear, and the meds.

He doesn't care, though. It feels nice.

~

Shota waits anxiously for Izuku in the radiology hall. The kid has been quiet and on edge since yesterday. (Shota still doesn't believe that Bakugou didn't do anything) As he was being directed out the door, though, Shota ruffled the kid's hair and got nothing in response. It's worrying, though part of him does think that if the kid were to dissociate through this, it'd make it easier for all of them, as horrible and unhealthy as that is.

Shota's scrolling through his phone mindlessly when his husband's contact picture drops from the top of the screen, indicating that he's calling Shota.

Shota answers the phone.

"I need you to come back," Hizashi sounds nervous, though that's not uncommon for him.

"I can't leave him, Zashi," Shota argues.

"I need you to come tell me I'm wrong," Hizashi says cryptically.

"Wrong about what?"

"That- Just, come back, please," Zashi begs.

Curious and slightly worried, Shota stands. He pops his head into the imaging room to let the nurse know he might not be back by the time Izuku's done, and heads up to his husband.

When he gets back to the patient room, Hizashi immediately stands from a chair beside the bed and starts rapidly explaining himself.

"I was washing my hands and went to put the paper towels in the trash and I saw like brick red, so I investigated and- Sho," Hizashi gestures to the paper towels he's supposedly pulled out of the trash.

Shota feels his stomach clench around the realization and takes a step forward to get a proper look.

Blood. These paper towels are covered in dried blood. More concerningly, the blood has taken shape in lines. There's only one kind of injury that would explain the pattern, and injury his teenage self was all too familiar with.

"I'm wrong, right?" Zashi asks, though he knows he's right in his assumptions. "Please tell me I'm wrong, Sho."

"You know you're not," Shota states.

Shota starts pulling the blanket off of the bed and shaking it out. Nothing is hidden in there, so he reaches for the pillows, pulling the cases off and shaking those out.

"What are you doing?" Hizashi questions.

"I'm looking for what he could've used," Shota explains simply.

It may have been 15-20 ish years, but Shota still knows all of the hiding spots.

So, he checks the sheets where they curve around the bottom of the mattress, and then says fuck it, and pulls the whole sheet off. Still finding nothing, he moves to the bathroom itself, almost tripping on Hizashi, who's lying on his stomach on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Shota asks.

Hizashi flips over from where he was messing with something on the bottom of the bed and props himself up on an elbow, shrugging comically. "Helping."

Shota shakes his head with a humorous sigh and enters the bathroom. He runs his hands over the top of the paper towel dispenser, checks the railings along the wall, runs his hands over the top of the mirror. Just before he starts digging through the trash, he hears Hizashi call his name.

Shota reenters the room to find Hizashi standing beside the open nightstand.

Shota hadn't even thought to check there. It's too obvious.

…sneaky bastard.

Shota steps beside his husband to find what he's staring at.

A blood draw needle, one packaged and one blood stained.

"Should we put on gloves?" Hizashi asks.

"It's a bit late for that," Shota sighs as he reaches into the drawer and grabs the small items.

He drops them on the lap table next to the paper towels and drops onto the bed.

Shota knew about this. When he brought the kid to the apartment, he'd seen the lines scattered across his hips. When they ran into Tal, he'd seen the way Izuku held his knife close to his chest, his knuckles white with the grip. Hell, he'd seen the fresh scars when they got to the hospital.

He knew, but he hadn't thought… he thought it'd be safe here.

He thought maybe once the kid saw how Shota, Kit, Hizashi, and even the Bakugou's cared, he'd realize he didn't need to harm himself.

It's naive, especially coming from someone who has a history with this sort of thing.

Shota himself was a cutter all through his time at UA. He had notably low self esteem and didn't know how to deal with the pressure of having to prove himself to his classmates due to his "weak" quirk. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

It got particularly bad after Oboro's death, so bad he sought help for the first time. Hizashi had found out about it, and threatened to tell someone. Shota didn't talk to him for weeks.

One day during class, he bled through his pant leg. Not knowing what else to do, he told his home room teacher.

He didn't stop after that, though. It wasn't that easy. He saw a therapist for years and built up a whole catalog of better, healthier coping skills that he still uses to this day.

He should've known this would happen.

"You can't blame yourself, Sho," Hizashi whispers. He sits beside Shota on the bed and puts an arm around his shoulders.

"What do I do?" he whispers, mostly rhetorically.

"Well, we are going to start by talking to him, and then we'll figure out where to go from there," Hizashi reasons. He kisses Shota's hair and stands from the bed, telling Shota he's going to have someone call Dr. Mihara.

When Hizashi gets back, he has a medical waste bag, which he puts the paper towels in, leaving the needles on the table. Shota and Hizashi work together to quickly remake the bed for the kid as well.

Only a few minutes later, the kid is brought back by a nurse. He's pouting childishly, probably angry that Shota didn't stay like he promised to. He doesn't look up from the floor as he walks to the bed, meaning he misses the items on the table.

"How are you feeling, listener?" Hizashi asks.

Izuku draws his knees up to his chest, his primary position these days, and hugs his knees. "'m fine," he mumbles.

"We need to talk to you about something, kid," Shota informs once the nurse leaves.

"I don' wanna talk to you," he states.

"Well, you're going to," Shota says with a bit more sternness.

The tone causes Izuku to look up, his eyes widening as he takes in the incriminating items before him. He doesn't say anything, though he does rub one of his thighs, incriminating himself further under Shota's gaze.

"When did you do this?" Hizashi asks gently, shooting Shota a glare for his tone.

Izuku still doesn't say anything.

"Why?" Shota asks.

The kid just continues to stare at the needles, like he doesn't know what else to do. Shota can empathize with the feeling.

"Dr. Mihara should be here soon," Hizashi provides. "Would you like to wait to talk until he gets here?"

"I don't wanna talk," Izuku says simply.

"We have to talk about this, kid," Shota sighs.

"No, I-," the kid stops and licks his lips. "This has never happened before," he whispers.

The kid whispers something unintelligible, and Shota tries to get him to repeat it. He leans closer toward the boy, trying to hear, but the kid won't say anything further.

What he does do is odd. And worrying.

Izuku's head twitches to the side in the same manner as Shota's observed him doing when he's been uncomfortable over the past couple of days. The boy's fingers dig into his arms over his sweatshirt, and while his body is tense, his face is slack.

His eyes dart back and forth, like they're searching for something.

Shota's seen this look before, in colleagues and students alike. He knows what it means.

The kid is remembering something.

Something bad.

~

"What the fuck is this, Izuku?"

Mickey's bruising grip on Izuku's wrists pulls uncomfortably at his fresh cuts. He didn't think Mickey cared enough to say anything. He didn't think Mickey cared at all.

"Why would you do this? You know that the customers want you in perfect condition!"

Oh, right.

Mickey doesn't care. He just wants Izuku to be pretty. Cutting isn't pretty. Scars aren't, either.

"I'm sorry," Izuku whispers. His voice shakes and he tries to pull away from the strong hands holding him.

"I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation," Mickey seethes. His sickly green eyes seem to darken as he glares at Izuku. It makes his skin crawl uncomfortably.

Izuku tries again to pull his wrists away, even resorting to kicking the large man. Mickey releases one of Izuku's wrists, only to slap him across the face. Izuku yelps out in pain as Mickey grabs him by the hair to stare directly into his eyes.

"I said, I want an explanation," Mickey repeats. "Do I need to call Tal?"

Izuku's eyes widen. "No, no, don't, I'm sorry!"

"That's still not an explanation," Mickey warns.

"I don't know," Izuku sobs. "I don't know why I do it!"

Mickey yanks Izuku's hair once more. Izuku chokes on a cry, delving into nothing but sobs and apologies.

He's hysterical, resorting back to kicking Mickey, though he knows he's not supposed to. He's being manhandled, he faintly recognizes. Mickey isn't where he was before, meaning Izuku's just kicking the bed like an idiot.

Mickey's behind him, bear-hugging Izuku to his chest. He's whispering something and petting Izuku's hair. He's gentle.

Izuku hates when he's gentle, almost as much as he hates when he's mean.

Gentle Mickey tricks Izuku. He makes Izuku think he cares. That he cares in a way that nobody has ever really shown him.

Mickey holds him and rocks back and forth and doesn't make fun of him for crying. It just makes Izuku sob further, because he knows it's fake.

"Can you hear me, Izuku?"

That wasn't Mickey.

"What are you feeling right now?"

Scared. Izuku feels scared. And sad.

"Scared and sad, good, Izuku. Can you tell me what's happening?"

Izuku's crying. Mickey's hugging him.

"Why's he doing that?"

He saw Izuku's cuts.

"Hmm, is he being kind about it?"

Yes, but he wasn't a minute ago.

"Was he hurting you?"

Yes.

"Can you look at me Izuku? I won't hurt you."

Izuku blinks. Everything blurs. He's in a bed, but not the one he thought he was in. There's a pillow against his back, not a chest. He's actually wearing a shirt, a green sweatshirt with the sleeves pulled over his hands.

"Can you look at me, Izuku?"

Izuku follows the voice to find a doctor kneeling beside the bed. A hospital bed. He knows this doctor.

"You're doing so well, Izuku. Can you tell me what my name is?"

Izuku searches his brain for the name, but it's like wading through mud, so he takes much longer than he probably should to find the name. His eyes wander around, like he's actually looking for it, and somehow, it helps. The doctor is patient, and praises Izuku when he finally finds the name; Dr. Mihara.

"Can you tell me who those two are?" Dr. Mihara points to two men standing at the end of the bed.

Izuku recognizes Eraser immediately, and says as much. It takes him a bit longer to find the blonde's name, but his brain is booting back up, so he recognizes Mic within a couple of seconds.

"Do you know what just happened?" Dr. Mihara gently asks.

Izuku nods slowly. "I got lost."

He's not stupid. He knows what flashbacks are. He knows that the hands that wander her body fall into that category, along with moments like the one that just passed.

But Izuku prefers to say he simply got lost. It's true, he gets lost in his memories and forgets where he is.

He feels like if he were to call them flashbacks, it'd be like admitting he has something to be afraid of. It'd be admitting he's a victim.

And he is. He knows he is. Not only on an ethical or moral standard, but a legal one, too. Not only is prostitution illegal, but Izuku was 12-13 when he was involved, meaning he could not legally consent. That makes him a victim.

But he doesn't like to think of himself that way.

"Do you know why we're here?" Dr. Mihara asks.

Izuku nods. "I was taken."

"Yes, you were," the doctor confirms. "Do you remember what happened after you got your x-rays?"

Izuku has to think a bit longer on that one, but when he spots the needles on the table, it all clicks into place. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," Era- Aizawa says softly. "We're all just here to help you."

Izuku squints his eyes in confusion. "You aren't mad?"

"No, of course not," Hizashi smiles. "We're just worried."

Izuku still doesn't understand, but he doesn't say anything more about it.

"What happened with Bakugou yesterday?" Aizawa asks yet again. "You've been off since he was here."

"He didn't do anything, I already said that," Izuku grumbles.

"He must've said something," Aizawa pushes.

"I-I know you don't like him, but it wasn't him," Izuku argues.

It may not be the full truth, but Kachan was just being honest with him. He doesn't want to get Kachan in trouble for no reason.

"Did something else happen to provoke this reaction?" Dr. Mihara asks.

Izuku shrugs.

"Kid, we just want to understand," Aizawa pries.

"Would you rather just talk to me?" Dr. Mihara suggests.

Izuku shakes his head. "I-I don't know what to- what to say."

"Could you tell us why?" Hizashi prompts.

"It- it helps me breathe," Izuku says simply.

"And you couldn't breathe last night?" Aizawa asks.

Izuku shrugs and then corrects himself by nodding.

"Why?"

"I- uh," he hugs himself tighter. He's never said it out loud before. "I can feel them and- and it won't go away."

"You can feel what, kid?" Aizawa asks.

Izuku's eyes brim with tears once more. "Hands, everyone's- they're everywhere."

"Hallucinations?" Dr. Mihara asks.

"Memories," Izuku corrects, though he knows the doctor is correct.

He wishes Deku were here right now. Deku would be better at this. He's not weak like Izuku. Deku knows how to deny, deny, deny. Izuku just spews word vomit.

But Deku is scared of the hands. He's scared of Mickey and he's scared of the hands, so while the hands are around, Deku isn't.

"We can help with that, Izuku," the doctor gives him a look of nothing but sympathy. "There are medications we can try, ones for anxiety and hallucinations. You just have to let us try."

Izuku feels a few stray tears tumble down his cheeks, though he's too focused on the feeling squeezing his chest to care.

Hope. It's a powerful feeling, and it's one Izuku has long been alienated from.

But at the thought of the hands being gone, or even dulled, everything feels… easier. It feels like he may be able to breathe without help. It's one thing out of many that make Izuku feel hopeless, but maybe, just maybe, if he can chip away at those things, maybe Izuku can live.

The thought alone is enough to send Izuku reeling.

After the first sob wrenches its way out of Izuku's throat, it's impossible to stop the rest.

"It's okay, little listener!"

"I'm sorry, Izuku, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Can I touch you, kid?"

Izuku nods frantically, and feels the bed dip as Aizawa sits beside him. He drapes an arm over Izuku's shoulders and pulls him into his side. Izuku hides his face in the familiar black jumpsuit. He's come to find comfort in the smell of stale coffee that perpetually lingers in the fabric.

Aizawa's hugs make Izuku feel small. He holds Izuku as though he's delicate, and maybe he is. Scratch that, he is delicate. He's straddled the line between actively and passively suicidal for years now, so it's fair to assume that any one thing could push him over.

Nobody's ever treated Izuku like he was delicate without having some other motive. Aizawa doesn't seem to have any other reason but the fact that he cares.

Why does he care?

"You're a child, Izuku," someone else whispers- Hizashi? Had Izuku said that out loud? "Children deserve to be cared for."

There's a hand in Izuku's hair, but from Aizawa's position, Izuku knows it couldn't be his. He blinks his tears away enough to peek at who it is, not surprised to find that it's Hizashi.

"I can stop if it's too much," Hizashi seems to momentarily panic.

Izuku just cuddles back into Aizawa, and Hizashi leaves his hand where it is, softly playing with Izuku's overgrown, green curls.

Izuku calms quite a bit within a couple minutes, taking deep breaths to control his tears and thoughts. "I-I don't wanna stay here anymore," he whispers.

Aizawa hums under Izuku's ear. "Well, we still need to get a couple things sorted out, but once the doctors clear you, I don't see why we can't take you home."

"Home?" Izuku asks, sitting up to stare at the man.

"Sho told you we've been trying to foster you, didn't he?" Hizashi asks.

Izuku nods. "But I didn't- really? You want- you want me?"

Aizawa smiles gently and ruffles Izuku's hair. "Why else would we be here, kid?"

"I guess- I don't know," Izuku admits. "Obligation?"

"Believe me, kid," Aizawa sighs. "There's no obligation here. If the social workers had their way, you'd be shipped off to the dead-beat in America."

"You won't let them do that, will you?" Izuku minutely panics. His father wasn't exactly the kindest man.

"No, no honey, we won't," Hizashi assures.

Izuku whips his head around to stare at Hizashi with wide eyes. Something about the pet name makes Izuku feel even safer than before. Maybe it's because his mom used to call him that. Hell, she probably did it with a hand in his hair as well half the time.

Whatever it is, Izuku rather likes the feeling the name brings to his chest, and he settles back onto Aizawa's chest and closes his eyes.

"We will have to talk more about the cutting at some point," Aizawa whispers.

"I don't wanna," Izuku murmurs.

"We know, Izuku," Hizashi whispers. "We don't have to talk right now. Just at some point."

"You have to tell us when you're having urges, though," Aizawa says.

"I'll try," Izuku whispers.

"That's all we ask, kid."

~

Shortly after Izuku finally falls asleep, Dr. Mihara returns (having left during the commotion) and asks to speak with one of them.

The boy is passed out on Shota's chest, so Hizashi assures his husband he'll relay any information and follows the doctor out of the room.

The doctor leads Hizashi to some chairs in the hallway, and they sit beside each other to talk.

"I'm concerned about Izuku," Dr. Mihara starts. "He's incredibly closed off, but the little information I've been able to persuade out of him doesn't paint a pretty picture."

Hizashi sighs and fidgets a bit with a rip in his pants. "I haven't spent a lot of time with him, but from what Shota has told me and the files I've read, it's not good."

"Izuku seems to suffer from severe dissociation, so bad that he can sometimes be a completely different person. I wouldn't go as far as to say he has multiple personalities, but there is an obvious disconnect between Izuku and Deku," Dr. Mihara explains. "And with his self destructive behavior, I am obligated to suggest he be admitted to our psychiatric ward."

Shit. The poor boy wouldn't last a day in there. He's too fragile right now. He freaked out knowing that Shota would be on the other side of a door, Hizashi doesn't even want to imagine how abandoned he'd feel if they left him in a psych ward.

"But," Dr. Mihara interrupts Hizashi's thoughts. "Outside of obligation, my professional opinion is that that would be counterproductive. Possibly even harmful. Izuku has an attachment to your husband. He trusts him. Tearing him away from what seems to be one of his two trusted adults would only feed into Izuku's lack of self-worth. So instead, I am recommending that he sees a counselor daily until the counselor you find decides otherwise."

"So, we need to find him a counselor," Hizashi repeats. "That's it?"

Dr. Mihara nods. "I'd also recommend getting a lock box for any weapons and medications you have in the house, but I don't see why he can't go home, from a psychiatric standpoint."

Hizashi lets out a dramatic sigh of relief. "So, we can take him home?"

"Once medical signs off on it, yes," Dr. Mihara smiles kindly.

"Oh, thank you," Hizashi says breathlessly. He finds a smile pulling at his cheeks at the mere thought of it.

He stands and shakes the doctors hand before joining his husband back in the hospital room. He sits on the bed next to Izuku, careful that he isn't touching him, and resumes playing with the sleeping boy's hair.

He smiles at Shota, who gives him a curious look back.

"He said we can take him home," Hizashi whispers, his cheeks almost hurting from the uncontrollable smile plastered on his face.

"What?" Shota whispers back.

"He said that Izuku will need a daily counselor, but once medical signs off, we can take him home," Hizashi explains further.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Shota's eyes glaze over with tears, his arms tightening around the boy in his arms.

"You did it, Sho," Hizashi whispers. "Just like you said you would. You saved him."

Notes:

Thank you all so much for reading haha, I really appreciate ever kudo I get, and I read every comment. Comments r super motivating, but I have a hard time replying to them bc of my anxiety. I'm getting better about it though, I just wanted to throw that out there so u all know it's appreciated haha

Chapter 11: Childhood Nicknames

Notes:

No TW's

Izuku doesn't remember the last time he was in a car.

He hasn't really been able to afford the bus or a taxi, so he's typically stuck walking from place to place, no matter how far. Even before he was on the streets, he'd only ever taken the train places; His mom didn't own a car and he wasn't around the Bakugou's enough to wind up in theirs very often.

Aizawa's car is clean and smells like lingering coffee, much like the man himself. Hizashi has his phone connected to Bluetooth and is playing what he called his 'mellow playlist', which Izuku has observed is basically a playlist of calm and quiet music, much like what Kit would typically play in the cafe.

Izuku feels oddly numb. His limbs feels heavy and he can't bring himself to reply to any of Hizashi's ramblings. It's not like when he checks out, but it's almost like a midpoint between that and consciousness.

He's just floating.

This isn't the first time he's left his entire life behind. In fact, it's probably his third. He left behind his life with his mom when she died, he left behind his life with Tal and Mickey when he couldn't take it anymore, and now he's leaving behind Kit and vigilantism since he can't do that anymore.

Izuku hopes he can still see Kit sometimes. He doesn't think he'll make it very far without her; without his big sister.

They pull into a parking space outside of the familiar apartment complex and Izuku finally turns his head away from the window. Hizashi is smiling at him, bright but nervous. Izuku shifts uncomfortably.

"Well, this is it," Hizashi sighs. "I'll carry your bag for you."

Aizawa gets out of the car and opens the child-locked door for Izuku. Apparently, they're worried he'll run away. It's probably a fair concern, as Izuku's done it before, so he doesn't complain.

Izuku steps out of the car, letting Hizashi take his hospital bag but slinging his yellow backpack over his own shoulders. The building is taller from down here. It's located just outside of the city, and Izuku can actually see UA from here. It's… strange.

Izuku follows the two men through the front lobby and into the elevator. It's small, much smaller than Izuku is comfortable with, so he takes to squeezing himself into one of the corners and watching the small screen tell them what floor they're on.

They get off on the seventh floor, one away from the top.

Izuku follows Aizawa and Hizashi down the bland hall and then into one of the apartments.

It's clean, kept in pristine condition. The black hardwood floors and granite countertops make Izuku feel incredibly out of place. There's something about the color grading, though, that feels right for the couple.

There's an abundance of blacks and grays around the living room and kitchen, the two rooms Izuku can see. The walls are white and there's a gray carpet under the black coffee table. But the throw pillows on the couch are yellow, along with the placemats on the table and the lamp shades.

"I came by earlier to clean it up for you," Hizashi laughs nervously.

Izuku kneels down and unties his shoes, leaving them by the door respectfully.

"Would you like a tour?" Hizashi asks.

Izuku shrugs and smiles anxiously at him.

"I'm taking that as a yes," Hizashi waves a hand over his shoulder, indicating for Izuku to follow.

"I'm gonna make some coffee," Aizawa sighs, walking straight into the kitchen.

"Well," Hizashi starts, stepping further into the room. "This is the living room, which doubles as Shota's bedroom when he has patrols."

Izuku tries to giggle at the joke, but it falls flat.

"You're always welcome in here, we keep the remote on the TV stand," Hizashi points out. He turns around to face the kitchen. "You're welcome to any of the food at any time, we keep snacks in the cupboard above the coffee maker. If there's anything specific you want, don't be afraid to ask."

Hizashi then leads the way to the hall. "This is the guest bathroom, but I suppose that means it's yours now. There are some soaps in the shower and extra amenities under the sink."

It's a decent sized bathroom, though it doesn't have a tub, just a shower with sliding glass doors. Izuku doesn't need much, though. Anything is better than the poorly maintained showers at Dagobah Beach.

Hizashi leads Izuku to the next room over. He recognizes this room, and Hizashi seems to notice as much.

"This is the room you slept in after you were stabbed," Hizashi informs. "It's your room, now. You can unpack your bag if you'd like, the wardrobe has hangers and the drawers are empty."

Izuku nods, but hugs his bag to his chest. He just- he needs to hold onto this for a little longer.

This is a lot. It's too much. Izuku feels completely out of control. Don't get him wrong, he's elated at the thought of someone wanting him and he doesn't mean to take this for granted.

But Izuku has a room, a closet, a bed, even a bathroom. He's being taken in by one of the only people he can truly believe cares about him. He doesn't have to fight for a place to sleep and doesn't have to keep a knife in hand at all times.

But it doesn't feel like that.

After the tour, Izuku sits quietly at the kitchen island while Aizawa and Hizashi make sandwiches for lunch. He sips on the coffee Aizawa offered him while he waits.

He hasn't said anything since they left the hospital. Part of him just doesn't know what, if anything, to say. Another part of him is scared to say the wrong thing.

Another part of Izuku is scared that Hizashi and Aizawa will quickly realize that he's unlikable. Izuku wonders how they could want him when anyone else who's ever known him has quickly turned the other way.

Sure, there's Kit, but Izuku fears she only tolerates him out of an obligation she feels toward her sister. And yeah, Aizawa has been pretty fond of Deku for a while, but Deku is everything Izuku isn't, so he's afraid that Izuku will come up short.

He also can't help but feel as though he's intruding. This place is supposed to be home, and maybe one day, it will be. But for now, Izuku feels out of place. It's a feeling he's familiar with. though.

"You okay, kid?" Aizawa asks as he slides Izuku a plate with a sandwich on it.

Izuku nods and takes a bite of the food. His stomach aches but his tongue feels like sandpaper and he's left gagging around the food, though he tries not to show it.

"You don't have to eat that if you don't like it," Hizashi smiles nervously.

Izuku internally kicks himself. He's really fucking this up.

"Sorry," he whispers, dropping the sandwich back onto the plate. "I'm not very hungry."

"That's okay," Hizashi assures. "We can get you something a bit later, if you'd like."

Izuku shrugs his shoulders and picks at the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

"What's wrong, kid," Aizawa asks, leaning forward on the countertop so he's eye-to-eye with Izuku. "And don't say nothing."

Izuku shrugs and worries his lip. "I-I don't- are you sure?"

"Sure about what, listener?"

"A-about bringing me here?"

"Of course we are, kid," Aizawa assures. "We wouldn't have brought you here if we weren't sure."

That makes sense. Rationally, it does. But Izuku's been lied to before, and he's pretty good at ruining people's ideas of him, so he doesn't expect it to last long.

"We were actually going to let you settle in tonight, but it seems like you might need an extra push for that," Hizashi smiles. "Do you feel up for a mall trip?"

Izuku cocks his head to the side in question.

"Well, we wanted to get you some clothes and anything else u might need," Hizashi explains. "I actually made a list on my phone."

He opens his phone and drops it onto the counter in front of Izuku and lets him see the list. It's plain and simple, but there's obviously been some thought put into it.

"So, whatd'ya say?"

"Okay," Izuku whispers. It's better than doing nothing and wallowing in his thoughts.

~

Shota's worry for the kid only seems to grow by the day. He barely eats, he hardly sleeps, and he doesn't speak very much anymore.

The sleeping and speaking would be explainable if it were Deku around, but he's not. But what confuses Shota more is that this isn't the excitable kid he's come to know as Izuku, either. It's almost like he's caught in between himself and his persona. He has Izuku's mannerisms but Deku's stand-offish nature.

Then there's the eating. Shota doubts the kid would be intentionally starving himself for something like his looks or anything. He questions if the kid truly just doesn't have an appetite. It's obvious the boy's depressed and a lack of appetite is nowhere near uncommon. But, that just goes to show that Izuku's mental health is much worse than Shota anticipated.

Trying to get him to pick out anything in the mall is like trying to get a toddler to keep his shoes on. Izuku kind of just stares through everything, simply shrugging and nodding, but never saying no. He's nervous, but he isn't jittery or jumpy. He's out of it.

They settle on four shirts and three pairs of pants, though that's only half of what they were hoping to get. The kid doesn't seem to want new shoes, but his current ones are overly worn in and the laces are frayed. Shota and Hizashi try to find ones that look similar, as Izuku seems to have an attachment to them, and eventually settle for an almost identical pair from a more expensive brand so they'll hold up better.

Shota is pleased when Izuku gives in and eats some food from the food court, even if it's something as unhealthy as cinnamon pretzels. It makes the kid smile and fills his stomach, and that's all that matters.

By the time they get back to the apartment, Izuku seems thoroughly exhausted. Hizashi helps him unpack his things while Shota settles down in the living room. He's hoping that Hizashi's ever-present joyful energy will help the kid relax.

When Hizashi enters the living room without said kid, Shota gives him a questioning look.

"He's gonna take a quick shower and take a nap," Hizashi provides. He plops down on the couch beside Shota and clicks the TV on. "He's weird today, isn't he?"

"It's his first day out of the hospital, he's probably just trying to get used to how things are now," Shota shrugs.

"Did you talk to Hound Dog?" Hizashi asks.

Hizashi suggested asking Hound Dog to be Izuku's counselor shortly after it was recommended. Shota quickly reached out to Hound Dog over email, but isn't happy about the response he's received.

"He said he doesn't think he's qualified for the kind of treatment Izuku needs," Shota sighs. "He's just a school counselor, so he isn't certified in trauma or crisis treatment."

"Ah, that's unfortunate," Hizashi replies.

"I was thinking of asking Nezu to hire a real trauma counselor," Shota comments.

"Just for the kid? He doesn't have to do counseling at UA, y'know."

"I know, it'd just be easier with our schedules. And no, not just for the kid, all of those kids could use it," Shota adds that last part as an afterthought, though it's not untrue.

"That's a good point. Are you thinking of trying to enroll him at the school?"

"I don't know what else to do with him, honestly. We can't exactly take on the commute of sending him somewhere else, and I honestly don't think he'd do well in a normal highschool."

"Are you worried about bullying?"

"Yes," Shota laughs at the naivety of the question. "But not just that. You saw his reaction when we tried to send him off for the x-ray, what do you think he'd do if we sent him off to a school full of strangers while we're miles away?"

"But what course would he even be put in? Anything outside of the hero course would have the same effect- he'd never see either of us."

"There's an open seat in 1-A."

"You don't really wanna put him in the hero course? Talk about throwing a kid into the deep end."

"He has more hero experience than any of those kids. He may be small and quirkless, but I have no doubt he'd keep up with them just fine."

"What about Bakugou?"

Shota runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, that's gonna be a problem."

~

Katsuki likes to think he's a good liar, and not only that, he's good at spotting a liar. He also believes that omitting the truth is the same as lying.

So, while his teachers have been claiming Mic and Aizawa have been away with some personal business for the past week, he knows they're lying.

Well, he does have the advantage of knowledge, that knowledge being Aizawa being with Deku, but he'd still like to take the credit for spotting that lie, thank you very much.

When Aizawa walks back into class for first period, Katsuki's a bit confused. His mom hasn't updated him on Deku at all, and Katsuki assumes she'd be checking in. Did Aizawa leave him at the hospital?

"First things first," Aizawa starts, commanding everyone's attention to the front podium. "Bakugou, Hagakure, I need you two to scoot back one seat."

"Why?" Katsuki barks.

"Because I said so," Aizawa replies, which is incredibly annoying. "And we have someone joining us for class today."

The glare Aizawa gives him is enough to answer all of Katsuki's questions. "Why can't Invisi-Bitch take the seat behind me?"

"Bakugou," Aizawa Flashes his quirk at Katsuki. Joke on him, that shit doesn't scare him. "Do we need to have a conversation in the hall?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "It's just a goddamn seat," he mutters as he relents, taking his bag and moving back one seat. The last thing he needs right now is for Aizawa to call the hag because Katsuki's been running his mouth again.

Aizawa nods once Katsuki and Hagakure have taken their new seats, and moves on.

"We have a guest in class today. He's gonna be shadowing me for the next week, and if all goes well, he might be joining us for good," Aizawa turns toward the door and waves an arm, gesturing for someone to come in.

Sure enough, in walks none other than Deku, accompanied by Present Mic. Deku looks the same as he did at the hospital, all the way down to his green hoodie pulled over his hands. He has his arms crossed over his chest holding on to the opposing straps of his backpack. He hadn't realized when Deku was in the hospital bed, but now that he's standing at the front of the classroom, it's very obvious that he's notably small.

The backpack seems to be the same one Deku dragged around their entire childhood, even when it was way too big on him. The bright yellow has faded and it's worn out, but it's still the same.

Along with that, Deku's still wearing his infamous red shoes, but these are obviously new. Probably brand new, if Katsuki had to guess.

"Introduce yourself, kid," Aizawa whispers, though it can be heard throughout the entire silent classroom.

"Oh, uhm, I'm Izuku Midoriya, b-but most people call me, uh, Deku," Deku stutters out, quite literally shaking in his shoes.

"Deku… I've heard that name before," Mind Fuck comments from behind Katsuki.

Deku flushes bright red and glances between Katsuki and Aizawa. "W-well, it means um, useless and stuff. It's not a common word but- but you might've heard it somewhere before!"

"Useless? Why would you give yourself a name that means something like that?" Pink Cheeks pipes up.

"Oh! I didn't do it, it was uh," he glances anxiously at Katsuki. "A-a childhood friend."

"That's kinda rude," Racoon Eyes scrunches her nose in distaste.

"It- it wasn't like that!" Deku waves his hands in front of himself nervously. "We just had weird names for each other and- and mine kinda stuck!"

"Alright," Mic interrupts before they go any further. "Does anyone have any questions for Izuku, or are we good to move on?"

Glasses's hand shoots in the air, ramrod straight like always. "What is the purpose of him joining us? If he's becoming a student, why doesn't he wait until he actually is one? Or until his application is approved?"

"Midoriya's case is much different than any of yours. We are simply giving him a trial period to see if UA is the right fit for him," Aizawa explains.

"What's his quirk?" Dunce Face calls out.

Deku looks like he's going to cry simply at the mention of it, his lips quivering and everything. His shoulders pull tight and he subconscious puffs his chest a bit, like he's trying to appear tough.

"You don't have to-,"

"I'm quirkless," the nerd declares, cutting off Present Mic.

There's a quiet, collective gasp from around the classroom, silence falling like a blanket over their shock.

Deku stares wide-eyed, like that's something he wasn't supposed to say.

And yeah, it might've been. Deku has always been introduced as "this is Midoriya, he's quirkless," and "Midoriya here is quirkless,". It's something Deku has never really been able to say himself, as everyone always said it for him.

That must be embarrassing, Katsuki muses. Being introduced as your biggest fault instead of as a student, a son, or a person must be humiliating. It's the kind of thing Katsuki wouldn't have even thought about in previous years.

Since he saw Deku the day of the sludge attack, he's thought of things a bit differently. He's thought of Deku as a person, rather than an obstacle. It's insane what such a small shift in thought can change about your beliefs.

"Is that what you meant by his situation being different from ours?" Momo asks quietly.

"Partially," Aizawa nods. "I expect you all to treat Midoriya with the same amount of respect as you give the rest of your peers, despite his differences."

"Wait, but you want him to be in the hero course?" Tape Face asks from the back of the room. "Wouldn't general studies or something be better?"

Aizawa nods. "I can see why you'd think that, but I won't be answering that question. If Midoriya decides to give you more details, that's up to him. If I catch any of you pressuring him to say anything, though, I will expel you on the spot."

The class takes the threat for what it is, several "yes Sensei"'s sounding from around the room.

Katsuki, along with the rest of the class, would really fucking like to know what's happening. Deku in UA? Deku in 1-A?

What the fuck?

~

"Just use the code we came up with if you need out, okay?"

Izuku nods in response to Hizashi's offer, though he probably won't wind up using the code, anyways. Even if the idea of asking for any sort of accommodation alone didn't freak Izuku out, he doesn't want to quit this. He's quit his dreams enough, he's not going to give up when they're suddenly within arms reach, as impossible as that thought even seems.

The code, a raised hand with his thumb tucked to his palm, is something Hizashi and Aizawa helped Izuku come up with last night. None of them are fully sure if Izuku is ready for this, so it's basically their personal "SOS" sign.

When they proposed UA to him on day three of living in the apartment, Izuku was elated. He smiled cheek to cheek and rambled about everything he knew about UA.

But then the fear hit him.

UA is where dreams are crushed and dreams come true. UA is a school, with other students and teachers he's never met before. UA is where Kachan attends.

It's scary.

So they came up with the code.

Izuku doesn't know where he got the courage to announce his quirk status to this class of hero-to-be's, but somehow, he did. Izuku's proud of himself for it, even if he's pretty sure it was actually Deku that said it. Kachan looked pretty surprised, which made Izuku feel a bit better.

Aizawa has Izuku sit in the one free seat, though he's pretty sure it wasn't this seat until five minutes ago. It's close to the teacher's desk and, Izuku quickly realizes, Aizawa's napping spot as well. It makes Izuku feel safe, even with the nineteen pairs of eyes darting toward him.

The day starts with homeroom, which basically consists of Aizawa talking about the students upcoming internships for a half hour. It's interesting, but has no impact on Izuku, so he doesn't note anything down.

Then, they have math. It's here that it becomes obvious how far behind Izuku is, despite his efforts. He copies down exactly what Ectoplasm (Oh my god, I'm being taught by Ectoplasm!) writes on the board, but he doesn't understand half of it.

An hour later, the bell rings once more. Everyone starts packing their things, so Izuku checks his schedule. P.E. Izuku doesn't really want to do that.

"Hi!"

Izuku jumps in shock at the cheerful voice in front of his desk.

Close, too close.

Izuku shrinks back a bit. "Hi," he says, much quieter than the brunette girl had.

She's sort of plain looking, but in a cute way. Her brown hair has been cut in a rough A-line Bob, and her cheeks are the color of roses.

"I'm Ochako Uraraka, it's nice to meet you!" she offers Izuku a hand to shake.

He feels rude denying it, but Izuku doesn't think he could handle something like that right now. He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, glancing around at the growing crowd around his desk.

"I-it's super cool seeing so many heroes," he replies quietly.

"Yeah, it takes some getting used to," Uraraka laughs. "They're all super nice, though! Just like they are on TV!"

Izuku can't help but smile at her excitement. It's nice to see someone get as excited as him.

"Hello, Midoriya," a boy, tall and pristine looking, greets him. "I'm Tenya Iida, I'm the class president, so I should be able to answer any questions you have."

Izuku smiles and nods at him, and suddenly, he's being attacked with a dozen more introductions.

"I'm Tsuyu Asui!"

"Eijiro Kirishima!"

"Kyouka Jirou."

"This is Dark Shadow."

"Denki Kaminari!"

"Shut the fuck up," Izuku whips around to find Kachan standing by his shoulder, effectively shushing his classmates with a couple small explosions.

Izuku involuntarily shrinks away from Kachan, specifically his explosions. He's been on the receiving end of them about a dozen too many times and he'd rather not add to that.

"Leave the nerd alone, you're gonna be late to class," Kachan says simply, not even glancing at Izuku.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and shoves his way through the crowd around Izuku's seat, quickly making his way to the door.

"Bakugou! It is very un-hero-like to call people names!" Iida reprimands.

Kachan stops in his tracks with a scoff and glances at Izuku over his shoulder. "You don't care what I call you, do you Deku?"

"I don't care what you call me, nerd."

Izuku's eyes widen at the callback to their previous conversation, and he positively beams at Kachan.

"Of course not, Kachan!"

~

Shota is pleased to see Izuku mingling so well, and even more so to see his students being respectful towards the kid.

For P.E., he has Izuku sit with him and watch the class. He isn't enrolled in UA yet(they meet with Nezu in a few short hours), so Shota can't legally allow him to join them for now. Besides, they don't know just yet what accommodations the kid may need. Izuku is very much a 'see one, do one' type of learner, and he's been all too eager to begin filling his new notebooks, so the kid doesn't seem mad about it.

He watches the class, who are doing simple two-on-two sparring matches, with sparkling eyes. When he sees something he finds cool, he turns to Shota, asks for the person's name, and starts furiously scratching notes onto a fresh page.

"For Uraraka, has she tried using anti-nausea medication or tums? Or does she not react to any of those kinds of medications?" he asks after watching Uraraka take a break to lie on the ground in favor of keeping her breakfast down.

"I'm not quite sure," Shota admits. "You should ask her, maybe she could start keeping fast-acting capsules in her utility belt."

The kid hums in acknowledgement and turns the page, back to the one with Todoroki's name at the top.

"Does he have a hard time controlling his fire or something?" Izuku asks, a hand to his chin with a single finger tapping rhythmically against his lips.

"He says he doesn't like to use it," Shota shrugs. "Something about his father."

"Endeavor? Does he not like him?" Izuku questions quietly. He jots the hero's name down at the bottom of the page and circles it, question marks littering the surrounding area.

"You liking it here, kid?" Shota asks.

Izuku shrugs. "It's super cool and everyone's really nice."

"But?"

"I don't know," the kid sighs. "It's only been a couple hours."

Shota hums and nods in acknowledgement and lets the kid return to his excited writing.

After another half-hour or so, the first quitter shows up.

Shota tries not to be too hard on his students, despite his reputation. Every kid is different and every kid has different limits. Hitoshi Shinsou is one of the student's that has more limits than others.

Shinsou has a confident exterior, but it only takes a bit of observation to notice that's a guise. He knows that these other kids are physically stronger than him, so he tries his best to appear intimidating. It's the kind of tactic Shota himself attempted to use during his first year in UA. Shinsou's much better at it than Shota was, though.

He doesn't say anything as he approaches, hands in his pockets, and drops down next to Izuku.

They continue in silence for a minute before Izuku, surprisingly speaks up. It seems he finds confidence in his passions.

"Um, it's Shinsou, right?" the kid asks quietly.

Shinsou turns toward Izuku and nods. "Midoriya?"

Izuku nods. "Um, I was watching your fight and uh, could you answer a couple questions for me?"

Izuku fidgets with his sweatshirt, visibly nervous, almost scared.

Shinsou looks him up and down with suspicious, contemplative eyes. "I'll answer one."

Although Shota can't see him, he's sure Izuku lights up with excitement. He turns to his notebook and tells Shinsou he needs to pick one.

"Oh! Do people have to answer a question you ask, or do they just have to say something addressed to you for your quirk to activate?"

Shinsou smirks at him. "You noticed it's voice activated, that one usually takes people a while to figure out."

"I uh, I watched you in the sports festival," Izuku replies sheepishly.

"They just have to say anything addressed to me," Shinsou answers the question. "My turn to ask a question."

"Oh, okay!"

"Where do I actually know the name Deku from?" Shinsou asks, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Izuku whips around to stare at Shota with wide eyes. "What do I…?"

"Say whatever you want, kid. It's your story, not mine."

Izuku nods lightly and turns back to Shinsou. Shota practically holds his breath in anticipation of what the kid will say, but he doesn't show it, continuing to keep a watchful eye on his class and an open ear towards the conversation happening beside him.

"You can't tell anyone," the kid warns, voice as serious as Shota's ever heard it. "I am- was. I was a vigilante and I went by the name Deku."

"Ah," Shinsou sighs with recognition. "I've heard of you online."

"Where online? I've only ever been in the news once…," the kid trails off in confusion.

"I follow some vigilante blogs and chat rooms," Shota can feel Shinsou eye him, like he's saying something Shota shouldn't hear. "Vigilantism sometimes seems more attainable than heroism for me."

"Same," Izuku laughs breathlessly. "I honestly don't even know why I'm here."

"Me neither," Shinsou admits. "But I figure I might as well give it a shot, y'know? Maybe I can prove some people wrong."

"I suppose that's worth a try," Izuku sighs.

"Bakugou?"

Shota catches Izuku turning more to face Shinsou out of the corner of his eye. "What do you mean?"

"You wanna prove him wrong, right?" Shinsou clarifies. "Childhood nicknames?" he references Izuku's earlier explanation about the name.

"Oh," Izuku exhales. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I have some stuff to prove to him as well. Maybe we could help eachother out."

"Yeah, maybe."

Shota hides his smile in his scarf. Izuku just made a friend.

Notes:

Some fluff before we get back to the angst lmao consider it a palet cleanser

Also, I no longer have an update schedule. Life is not being nice to me rn so I'm trying jot to stress myself out more than necessary lol and I'm honestly not very great with deadlines and schedules.

I'm a chronic oversharer and a victim of the ao3 curse, so here's how my last week has gone:
I've had a headache for 3.5yrs and the neurologist ordered a lumbar puncture (a giant needle stabbed into my spine) to check for something that could be causing it. I got it done, everything went perfectly... until that night. I started having severe back pain and an excruciating headache. The next day, my mom called the doctor and he sent us for an emergency MRI. They found that I was leaking spinal fluid and I had to go straight to the ER. At the ER, they took a GIANT tube of my blood (like so much I passed out once I saw it lol) and then injected the blood into my spine to patch the hole. They sent me home and the next day I started having severe neck pain. They sent me back to the ER on Tuesday, and gave me muscle relaxers... and I'm fine now, I guess.
The text came up negative tho, so we still don't know why my head hurts lol

Anyways, thank you all for reading!! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!!

Chapter 12: I'm Not Used To This

Notes:

TW's:
implied self harm
panic attack

"Why do you wear your hero costumes to work?"

"It helps set an example for the students," Hizashi answers kindly.

It's probably the fiftieth question he's answered in the past five minutes, but he hasn't complained yet. So, Izuku keeps rambling, trying to distract himself from the current situation.

They're going to see principal Nezu. Izuku hates principals. They're never anything more than fake-niceties and empty promises, even if they're as cuddly looking as Nezu. Looks can be deceiving, and they're the last thing Izuku uses to decide who to trust.

They finally make it to the looming door, having traveled through the winding, maze-like hallways to get here. The door is navy blue with bold, golden letters printing out the title of the room's occupant.

"Come in," the painfully familiar voice of the Masegaki Primary principal calls through the door.

Izuku uses both of his small, shaking hands to turn the big knob, entering the room.

"Again, Midoriya? This is the second time I'm seeing you this week," the principal points out.

Izuku keeps his head down in shame, focusing on the carpet and its strange pattern.

"What are we going to do with you, boy?"

Izuku tries to pick out the different colors in the carpet. He thinks he sees gray, blue, and maybe some red? Possibly pink.

"I'm thinking we should add another week onto the detention we agreed upon on Monday, does that sound fair to you, Midoriya?"

Izuku nods, even though it isn't fair.

All he did was raise his hand in class. It's not Izuku's fault that Kachan found it annoying today and the only outlet he has for his anger is through his nitroglicerin-fueled fists. It's not Izuku's fault that what he can and can't do changes by the day. It's not Izuku's fault that he angers people by simply existing.

But he nods anyway, because he doesn't get a say in what's fair, even if the principal wants to pretend he does.

Izuku startles as a hand is placed on his shoulder. In response to his reaction, the hand quickly pulls away. Izuku looks over his shoulder to find the hand was Aizawa's, and he gives Izuku a sympathetic look.

"It's okay, kid," he nods toward the room. "You aren't in trouble."

Izuku flushes a bit and nods. He turns back to the room he's being invited into, finding both Nezu and Hizashi smiling at him. Izuku wrings his hands in front of himself and carefully steps into the room.

Unlike most offices Izuku's seen before, he can't spot a single certificate or diploma on the walls. Instead, there are posters, placed in neat rows on the wall behind Nezu where he sits at his desk. There are several heroes and sidekicks pictured, and Izuku quickly realizes they're all probably UA alumni.

The mouse-bear-rat-principal himself has his hands folded in front of himself where he sits in a chair that's comically big for him. There are three cushioned chairs in front of the desk, facing the principal, and Izuku opts for the one closest to the door.

Aizawa (thankfully) takes the seat beside Izuku, letting Hizashi take the one beside the window.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Izuku," principal Nezu smiles. "I've heard so much."

"All good things, I hope," Izuku huffs a nervous laugh, fidgeting in his seat.

"Well, nothing bad about you specifically," Nezu assures.

Though, that doesn't assure Izuku at all. If anything, it makes him feel even more tense and nervous.

What does he know? He obviously knows about Izuku's late night activities, but does he know who Izuku was before the vigilantism? What Izuku was? Does he know about Tal? About-

"I know as much as what's in your file," Nezu interrupts and answers Izuku's muttered questions.

Izuku's eyes shoot back to the desk, where Nezu has two separate files open. He picks one of them up.

"This is your vigilante file," Nezu explains. "It contains your contract, your incident reports, and anything else Tsukauchi and Aizawa gathered about you."

"This one," Nezu trades files. "Is your normal file. It has your incident report from social services along with the one from the most recent incident. It contains copies of everything from your school file, and other miscellaneous things."

Izuku feels his ears burn as he ducks his head down, muttering a quiet thanks through his embarrassment.

"From what I've read in there, I can see why Aizawa wants you here," Nezu comments. "You're smart."

Izuku shrugs.

"Here's my issue," Nezu leans forward a bit in his seat. "While I'd be happy to accept our first quirkless student, I do question the logistics of your physical training. It seems Aizawa and Yamada here believe you belong in the hero program, but I'm not too sure. Admittedly, our facility isn't equipped to train students like you."

"Students like me," Izuku repeats bitterly. He feels the familiar fogginess of Deku begin to wash over him, the urge to defend himself shaking his bones. "You mean weak students, right?"

Nezu grins at him, confusing Deku. "Not quite," he takes a sip of his tea. "I meant ones without notable physical abilities."

"I'd say my file should give you an impression of my notable physical abilities," Deku points out. "I know how to hold my own in a fight."

"Deku," Eraser quips from beside him. "Nobody's saying you're weak, we're saying you're at a disadvantage compared to your peers."

"Maybe physically, but I have a hell of a lot more experience than any of them," Deku argues.

"Yes, but Nezu is just trying to get an idea of what would be beneficial to you. Arguing will get you nowhere here, kid," Eraser calmly explains. "We're all trying to help you."

Deku huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, sitting back in his seat to glare at the principal.

"Why don't you explain how you acquired your current skills and we can go from there," Nezu smiles at him.

Deku shrugs. "I took self-defense classes around the city and stuff," he offers hesitantly.

"So would you say your fighting style is more defensive than offensive?" Nezu asks, pulling out a pad and pen to take some notes.

Deku shrugs, pauses, and then nods. "It should be though, right? Heroes are meant to help, not hurt."

"Yes," Eraser nods. "But you also have to be able to defend yourself and any civilians around. Sometimes tying someone up and calling it a day doesn't work. Do you remember the bear guy?"

Deku nods. "I was out for days with a concussion, of course I remember him."

"I don't have a quirk to enhance my physical abilities and I couldn't cancel his, so it became a waiting game. I had to protect you until the police arrived and sedated him," Eraser explains the purpose of this example. "God forbid you ever wind up in another situation like that, you need to be able to fight back, especially as a hero."

Hero.

For some reason, that wording strikes a chord with Deku. Why would they bring him here only to tell him that they don't know if he can even be trained? Being a hero has always been his dream, and just as he's finally begun giving up on it, it's being dangled in front of him, still just a bit out of reach.

Deku shrugs in response to Eraser's explanation, staring at the posters behind Nezu.

"What are you thinking about right now, listener?" Hizashi suddenly pipes up.

Deku gives the hero a questioning look, but he doesn't elaborate, so Deku just answers the question.

"What's the point?"

"The point of what?" Hizashi asks.

"Just- this. Why am I even here?"

"To figure things out," Hizashi shrugs. "So maybe you can join the hero program."

"Why?" Deku questions bitterly. "What? You think I'll be the first quirkless hero? Let's be realistic here."

"We are," Hizashi replies gently. "We're coming up with a plan so you can at least try. And if all else fails, you could always be a sidekick or a cop! There are plenty-,"

"No," Deku blurts, interrupting Hizashi.

A sidekick? A cop? That's not what Deku wants. He had one dream, and he almost lived it for a little while, but it's over. If he has to live with that, he will, but he's not going to play pretend like they want him too.

Without another word, Deku stands and walks out of the room.

~

Shota doesn't know what to do for the kid.

He doesn't want to be at UA, or at least as a hero student. For his own safety, he can't go to a public highschool. He can't just stay at home all day, because like it or not, Shota can't exactly trust him to be safe.

It's especially difficult considering how 1-A has been so accepting of him and his situation. Shota feels proud to see Izuku integrating so well with the class, and he doubts he'd be met with the same welcomeness anywhere else.

So, after a couple of exchanged emails between Shota and Nezu, it's decided that he will stay at UA under his own terms. Izuku will attend classes with 1-A but only be officially enrolled in their general studies classes. During trainings, Izuku will continue to act as Shota's shadow.

Shota hopes that the kid will quickly come to his senses and agree to find an alternative training plan to work with, but they have to work at his pace. The worst thing they could do right now is force Izuku to do something he doesn't want to, so they have to respect his boundaries.

At home, Izuku slowly starts warming up to the apartment. He tends to stick around the couple when they're in the common areas and hide in his room when they're not. He's surprisingly tidy for a teenage boy and offers to help anywhere he can.

Shota can't help but notice it's like Izuku is trying to earn his keep. It's unsettling, considering the boy's past, but Shota wants him to be comfortable. If doing the dishes after meals and folding laundry helps with that, Shota's not going to interfere.

"Can I help with that?" Izuku asks from his seat at the counter.

"Not today, kid," Shota answers, continuing to chop the vegetables Hizashi has offered him.

That's one thing they won't let Izuku help with; anything involving knives, scissors, or even the stove, depending on the day. They keep any sharps and medications in a lock box under the sink, something they invested in before even bringing Izuku home.

"I'm not gonna do anything," Izuku argues, his cheeks rosy and his lips in a pout. "I just wanna help."

"We know, listener," Hizashi smiles at him kindly. "How about you get me a cup of water?" he offers the kid a measuring cup, and he takes it reluctantly, dramatically rolling his eyes as he stands.

The kid fills the cup and dumps it in Hizashi's pot, where he's working on the base for the soup they're eating tonight.

Izuku sits back at the counter just as his phone buzzes, another thing they invested in upon the kid's arrival.

"Um, Kit wants to know if I- if I can see her this weekend," Izuku informs sheepishly.

"You can invite her over tomorrow," Hizashi smiles. "It'd be nice to have her around."

Izuku smiles wide and bright, practically bouncing in his seat as he replies to her message.

"She told us you two were friends and that you hung out at the cafe," Shota comments quietly. "How'd that happen?"

Izuku scratches the nape of his neck and shrugs. "I dunno, it just kind of did."

"She's a kind girl," Hizashi adds.

Shota hums. He's glad his husband caught on to what he was trying to get at, his comment spurring Izuku to elaborate more about their relationship.

"She gives me food and coffee," Izuku starts. "She patches me up after fights. I feel safe with her."

The kid lies his head on the counter, seemingly deciding if he wants to say anymore.

"She's like a sister," he comments with a small smile. "She takes care of me."

"I'm glad you've had someone like that," Hizashi smiles.

Shota hums in agreement as he dumps the chopped veggies into the pot of soup.

~

Izuku's so hungry.

It's been two weeks since he's eaten anything that was half-gone or expired, and the cold definitely isn't helping with the aching pit in his stomach. He lies on his side on the cold concrete, hugging his core and begging himself to just fall asleep. If he's asleep, he won't be able to think about how hungry he is.

He thinks about that kind girl he met, the one with the fox ears. She gave him food and cocoa and told him he could come find her if he needed anything, but he doesn't want to intrude.

Besides, he's already told himself he can't take any more handouts. Sooner or later, people always want payment, and Izuku doesn't have anything to give. He had his clothes, his shoes, his bag, and his notebook. He's started to collect some things he's found on the beach, but nothing of real value as scavengers have already emptied the dump of anything worth more than a penny.

He's thought about trying to get a job, but typically, he'd need his (non-existent) parents and school to sign off before anybody would even consider hiring him, not to mention his quirk status and age.

His stomach lurches again, the force of the growling and possible food poisoning making it impossible to fall asleep.

Izuku's desperate, so despite his brain screaming that this is a bad idea, he pushes himself to stand, blinking back to spots that cloud his vision, and starts stumbling his way to the cafe where he met the girl.

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to get there, his scrawny frame trembling in the cold.

The moment he steps into the cafe, everything instantly warms. The tables and booths are a warm brown color, complimented nicely by the orange floor tiles and bar stools set up at the counter. The whole place smells of coffee and fresh bread, and Izuku inhales it deeply, cherishing the way it feels in his lungs.

There's a different girl at the counter, but Izuku approaches anyway. What has he got to lose?

"I-is Kit here?" he asks timidly.

The teenaged barista nods and takes a step into the kitchen, calling for the fox hybrid. Izuku is filled with relief when the girl emerges, though it quickly fades, drowned by the anxiety that she'll turn him away.

She gives him a warm smile, though, and greets him kindly. "Ah, Izuku, right?"

Izuku nods. "I-I'm sorry to bother you, but-,"

"Nonsense, take a seat," she interrupts.

Izuku takes a seat in one of the bar stools, dropping his bag on the floor beside him.

Kit immediately grabs a mug and turns to him. "Coffee or cocoa?"

"I, uh, I don't have any money," Izuku admits.

"I know," she smiles. "Coffee or cocoa?"

Izuku hesitates. "W-won't you get in- in trouble?" He nervously glances at the other barista, who isn't paying them any mind.

"My grandma owns the place and I'm a manager," she shrugs. "Coffee or cocoa?"

Izuku hesitates for a second more before giving in.

"Cocoa."

Izuku is pulled out of his head as a finger pokes his cheek, causing him to reel back and giggle in embarrassment.

"I asked you a question," Kit sighs from beside Izuku, though not unkindly.

"Oh, sorry," he flushes, sitting up a bit from where he'd been leaning into her side.

"What's on your mind?" she asks.

Izuku pulls on the sleeves of his sweatshirt before looking back at her. "I just- thank you," he says quietly.

"You've said that enough, Izu," she ruffles his hair a bit.

"I-I know," he pouts. "But I don't think you know how much I mean it. You- I wouldn't be here if…,"

Kit's eyes melt into a look of sympathy and she drapes an arm over his shoulders to squeeze him tight. "You're welcome, Izu," she whispers.

Izuku curls into her and turns back to the TV, focusing back on the movie they'd been watching.

~

Shota wakes late Sunday night (or rather, Monday morning) to the sound of screaming.

Screaming?

Almost comically, he and Hizashi sit up in unison, quickly throwing their covers off and darting across the hall to Izuku's room.

Izuku is thrashing in his bed, muttering please and yelling out every couple of seconds. His face is sheer with sweat and tears, glistening in the moonlight let in by the open curtains.

Hizashi lingers in the doorway as Shota hesitantly steps into the room. He flips the light on and calls out to Izuku, that seemingly being enough to spur him awake.

Izuku sits up in bed and frantically kicks his legs in front of him, pushing himself back against the headboard. His eyes dart around the room, squinted against the assaulting light but still obviously lost and panicked.

Shota stays away, waiting for Izuku to catch his breath before calling out to him once more.

"Izuku?"

Green eyes land on his, but rather than seeming relieved like Shota had hoped, they instead widen in fear.

"I woke you," he whispers.

Shots nods. "Yes, but-,"

"I'm so sorry!" Izuku yells out, ducking his head into his knees and pulling his arms up to guard his head, thin fingers curling into his messy hair. "I-I'm sor- sorry," he sobs. "I didn't mean to- I'm so- please, I-," he cuts himself off with a hiccup and delves into incoherent mumbling.

"It's okay, kid," Shota assures, hoping he can hear him. "You're okay, you're safe, nobody's going to hurt you."

He repeats it like a mantra as the boy trembles, hoping to get through to him. Hizashi leaves at one point under the guise of making them some tea, leaving Shota and Izuku in the room.

Shota pulls the desk chair from the desk and sits, continuing to repeat quiet arranges in an attempt to ground Izuku to reality.

The kid stops crying eventually, lightly hiccuping and still curled up. His hands pull at his hair and Shota has to actively fight the urge to step forward and take his hands to stop him.

The kid falls silent for several moments as Shota repeats his mantra, taking heavy but shaky breaths. Finally, he lifts his head a bit to look at Shota.

"'m sorry," he says quietly.

Shota shakes his head. "You have nothing to apologize for, kid."

"I woke you up," he argues, voice still nothing more than a whisper. "'nd I'm being ri- ridiculous."

That doesn't sound like something the kid would say. He can be quite self depreciating at times, sure, but that sounds like something a parent would say when a child's throwing a tantrum-

Oh.

"I have some tea warmed up," Hizashi speaks quietly from the doorway. "Would you like to come out and give it a try? It can be quite calming."

Izuku glances between Hizashi and Shota before hesitantly nodding. Shota stands first, lingering with Hizashi in the doorway to wait for the kid. Izuku stands from the bed, quickly grabbing the throw blanket that's folded at the foot and shaking it out, pulling it around himself.

Hizashi leads the way down the hall, and Shota lets the kid follow him in an attempt to avoid him feeling trapped.

Hizashi leads the way to the living room, where he's left three mugs of what smells to be chamomile tea.

Izuku sits on the loveseat while Shota and Hizashi sit side by side on the couch. The boy takes the tea, curling up against the armrest of the couch and starts slowly sipping.

His eyes are red-rimmed from his crying, his lips swollen from biting them, and drying tear tracks form lines against his cheeks.

They let the silence linger. Shota hopes the kid will feel the need to fill it and will tell them what's wrong, which is thankfully, what happens.

"I didn't mean to freak out," he says quietly. "I'm just not used to- to any of this."

"We know, kid," Shota assures quietly.

"I don't have many nightmares," he admits. "I usually don't sleep well enough to enter the REM phase for long."

Izuku takes another sip of his tea, looking utterly exhausted. "I also don't dream about my- about my dad. I hardly even think about him."

Again, both Hizashi and Shota stay silent, spurring the kid to continue talking.

"I got my diagnoses when I was six," he explains quietly. "He didn't want me to see the doctor. He said my mom was paranoid for even thinking I could be- well, anyway, he left a year afterward, on my birthday. Let's just say he went out with a bang," the kid jokes lightly.

Shota feels his stomach sink, and judging by the hand clasping his, he isn't the only one.

This kid has never had anyone. A father that ran away when his kid wasn't what he thought he'd be, a mother who worked like a dog to make ends meet, evidently no friends at school, nobody.

It's no wonder he's so untrusting. It's no wonder he's so scared all the time. It's no wonder he's so… well, broken.

"It's okay, though," the kid says suddenly. "I wouldn't want him around anyways, he wasn't kind to anyone. I don't need that in my life."

And that's the kicker, isn't it?

As hopeless as this boy is, he does everything he can to appear nonchalant. He does everything he can to appear strong. He doesn't accept pity or appreciate concern.

He wants everyone to think he's fine.

Maybe it's because he's had no one? Maybe he's so used to nobody giving a shit, that when someone actually does, he can't handle it, so he does what he can to get them to stop.

"It doesn't have to be okay," Hizashi says quietly. "We don't mind if it bothers you, or if you're hurt, or anything of the sort."

"We want you to be okay," Shota finishes for him. "But not in a fake way, okay?"

Izuku stares between them, seemingly turning the words over in his head. "But, I don't- I don't wanna be a bother."

"You could never be a bother, Izuku," Shota assures quietly.

"We wouldn't be doing any of this if we thought we couldn't handle it," Hizashi points out. "You mean something to us, Izuku, whether you're okay or not."

Izuku's brows furrow in focused confusion. "I'm- okay," He nods, though it's clear he doesn't fully understand.

They leave it at that, though, as Izuku begins yawning, his eyes drooping as he begins falling asleep in his spot.

Shota places his tea on the coffee table and slowly, carefully, reaches forward to take Izuku's. "Let's get you back to bed, kid," he whispers.

Izuku nods and slowly stands, his blanket abandoned on the couch. Shota follows him back down the hall to his room, watches the kids curl back under his covers.

"G'night, 'zawa," he whispers.

Shota gives the kid a small smile. "Goodnight Izuku."

And he flicks off the light.

~

Izuku's second day at UA is almost as surreal as the first.

He's glad they started him on a Friday, giving him the full weekend to process this new development.

He thinks he's going to attempt to talk to Kachan today, possibly during lunch if Aizawa doesn't insist on him eating in the teacher's lounge again.

He wants to ask Kachan about the original copy of his analysis journal, and possibly make sure it's okay that he's here.

Of course, whether Kachan says it's okay or not won't change that Izuku's here, but it'll definitely impact how Izuku behaves.

If he's okay with this, then maybe Izuku could branch out a bit more. The class seems kind and mostly accepting of him, and it'd be nice to have friends for once in his life.

If Kachan isn't okay with it, then Izuku will keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and try to make it easier for Kachan to forget he's there. It's a sad existence, trying to be invisible, but Izuku did it all growing up. He's used to it.

He rather likes being back in school, though it bothers him that he's somehow so behind. He knew he'd be lacking in math, as it's hard to find good math textbooks in just a regular library. He's always excelled in science, due to his fascination with quirks and biology.

However, he wasn't expecting to be so far behind in English. He reads a lot of English books and prides himself on speaking it, but it turns out even I'd you can speak and read a language, you can still be lacking in understanding.

Hizashi is at the board teaching about different types of sentences, something Izuku hadn't ever thought about before. It's confusing, and Izuku furiously copies everything down to try to make sense of it later.

Lunch is directly after; their fourth hour.

Izuku slings his bags over his shoulders and watches with fascination as the class forms into two main groups, with a couple stragglers here and there.

Momo, Iida, Uraraka, and Tsuyu are chattering while a few others linger around them, listening in.

And then there's the group gathered around Kachan, consisting of Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero, with Jirou not very far off.

Kachan's always attracted groups of admirers, and it's funny to see how it hasn't changed. However, this group seems different than others he's had. They're not afraid of him.

Kirishima makes a joke, to which Kaminari laughs and adds onto it, which results in Kachan screaming in their faces, warning pops in his palms causing Izuku to involuntarily flinch back a bit. To contrast, Kaminari just continues laughing, placing a hand on Kachan's shoulder and calling him some nickname.

"Are you ready, kid?" Aizawa stands beside him to ask.

Izuku looks up at him, debating his answer for a moment, before opening his mouth to speak. "C-can I eat with everyone else?"

"Are you sure?" Aizawa looks a bit taken aback, though his pride is not easily covered.

Izuku nods. "I wanna- I wanna get to know my classmates."

Aizawa gives a small smile before hiding it in his scarf. "Go, kid," he says.

Izuku smiles and nods, taking a step forward to follow the two groups filing out of the room.

He internally debates for a moment trying to join a conversation, but he doesn't know how and he's never gotten good reactions when he's tried, to he lingers back.

"You can sit with me, if you want," Izuku startles as Shinsou walks up beside him.

He nods in acknowledgement. "I uh, I wanna talk to Kachan first, but I'd be happy to!"

"You want to talk to Bakugou?" a different voice comes from his left. "I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to talk to him."

Izuku turns his head to the left to find the voice belonging to Todoroki. Izuku suppresses the urge to gush and ask about his dad, remembering that Aizawa hinted at it being a tricky subject.

"I just need to ask him something," Izuku explains simply.

It's weird, having the two of them walk with him. They're both taller than him and have a similar, closed off demeanor.

Izuku shrugs it off and walks with them all the way to Lunch Rush.

It's loud in the crowded cafeteria, having all of the first years packed in here. Izuku breaks off from Shinsou and Todoroki as the pair walk to the line to get food. Izuku's more focused on finding Kachan.

He finds him with the same group as before, though Mina and Kaminari have joined the line for food.

Izuku feels stuck in place for a moment. Kachan won't want to talk to him. He said it himself, school was easier without Izuku around.

Maybe he'll blow up at Izuku. Maybe he'll literally just blow Izuku up.

But again, what does he have to lose?

Izuku forces his feet to work as he pushes through his anxiety and makes his way to the table. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he gets closer, and closer, and-

"Oh, hey Midoriya!" Kirishima greets with a smile.

Kachan looks up at him with his typical scowl.

Izuku swallows.

"H-hey Kirishima," he smiles. "Um, can I- can I talk to you, Kachan?"

Kachan doesn't say anything as he takes another bite of his food, obviously brought from home. Izuku fears he's just going to ignore him like so many times before, but then Kachan stands.

He still doesn't say anything as he walks away, but Izuku takes the hint to follow.

Kachan leads him back out to the hall and a bit further down, away from the cafeteria, where it's quieter.

"What'dya want, nerd," he grumbles as he leans against a wall and glares at Izuku.

Izuku belatedly realizes that Kachan's taller than him. Not by much, but it's a noticeable difference. It does absolutely nothing to calm Izuku's nerves.

"Um, I was just- just wondering if you have my notebook?" Izuku stutters out, his hands tightly gripping the straps of his bag. "S-since you copied it," he adds.

Kachan looks him up and down for a moment, studying him. "Yeah," he says simply. "Why?"

"I-I want it," Izuku states, though he had assumed it'd be obvious.

"Why would you want that thing? It's completely destroyed and fucking depressing," Kachan grumbles. "I wouldn't have gone through all of that effort if I was just going to give the damn thing back."

Izuku cocks his head to the side in confusion. "Why did you do that?" he asks without thinking.

Kachan shrugs, his cheeks turning pink.

It makes no sense. Kachan doing anything nice for Izuku makes no sense.

"Is it okay," Izuku blurts out. "Is it okay that I'm here?"

Kachan shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. "I don't fucking care whether you're here or not, shitty Deku."

That does nothing to help Izuku, and he just kind of stands there, staring at Kachan in confusion.

"Is that all you needed?" Kachan asks.

Izuku opens his mouth to deny it, but finds himself nodding instead.

Kachan says nothing as he walks past Izuku and goes back to his lunch.

After Izuku's taken a few moments to recover, he walks into the cafeteria once more, quickly spotting purple hair and making a b-line for their table, purposefully avoiding when looking at Kachan's table.

He sits at the table and lies his head on his arms.

"I guess that went about as well as expected?" Shinsou asks.

"I have more questions than answers," Izuku mumbles.

"What'd you expect?" Todoroki mutters quietly. "It's Bakugou."

Izuku nods, because that's the best explanation there is for any interactions with Kachan.

It's just Kachan. It's just how he is, and nothing will change that.

Except, it's starting to seem like something has.

Notes:

Writer's block has been kicking my ass lately lmao, sorry this took so long.

Chapter 13: Stop Letting People Take Shit From You

Notes:

TW's:
panic attack??
child abuse

UA is so different from any school Izuku's ever been to.

Students smile and wave at him when he enters the classroom, and some of them, namely Uraraka and Iida, crowd by his desk in the morning to chat until the bell rings.

Teachers smile at him and ask "How are you Midoriya?" and he responds "I'm alright, thanks for asking!" There's no ill will behind the interactions, nothing more than a simple and kind interaction that Izuku's otherwise never had the chance to be on the receiving end of.

After lunch on Monday, Todoroki and Shinsou tell him that he can sit with them everyday, if he'd like. Izuku promises he'll try, though he only sits with them once more that week.

On Friday, as he's eating lunch with Aizawa and Hizashi in the teacher's lounge, he's given some news he doesn't quite appreciate.

"We've found a counselor for you," Hizashi says casually. "He's willing to come to the school and speak with you during 1-A's physical training hour every day."

Izuku pushes his food around his plate, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the thought of therapy.

"Do I have to?" he asks quietly.

"Yes," Aizawa answers. "It's the only thing we know how to do for you right now."

Izuku feels heavy all of a sudden.

They want to help him. They want him to get better.

But who will that make him? Who is Izuku without his… problems? If he did get better, would he still be the same?

Would he lose Deku?

Izuku's gut twists more, becoming a bit of a cramping feeling that has him pushing his food away and dropping his head down on the table.

He can't lose Deku. He can't- it wouldn't be safe! Deku keeps him safe, and if he doesn't have his mask, he doesn't know if he'd be able to properly protect himself.

But they want Deku to go away, right? Hizashi and Aizawa look at him like there's something really, really wrong whenever Deku starts to slip into place. They think Deku's bad, don't they? Do they not realize that the kid they know, the one they grew to care about, isn't Izuku? At least, not fully?

Izuku knows Hizashi and Aizawa are speaking to him, soft and quiet as though he's a scared animal, but he doesn't care.

Izuku pushes himself away from the table and leaves, grabbing his yellow bag as an afterthought.

He walks out into the hallway, his steps hurried though he has no idea where to go.

He wants- he needs to hide.

He can't quite figure out why, but he just needs to feel safe.

He wants Deku.

Izuku quickly finds a janitor's closet that's been left cracked open, and with one glance around to make sure no one sees him, he slips inside. It's small and smells of cleaner, but Izuku manages to push himself into a corner between two of the metal shelving structures.

He hugs his bag to his chest and breathes, slow and deep, trying to think rationally.

They only want to help him, at least, that's what they say.

They want him to be safe, at least that's what they say.

They want Izuku to get better, at least that's what they say.

Izuku doesn't want to get better.

Well, that's not true.

He wants the hands to go away and stay gone, and thankfully, they haven't bothered him much in the past few days. He wants his anxiety to be subdued so he can maybe talk to people without sounding like an idiot.

But he doesn't want Deku to leave.

He always been there, his safety blanket. When kids at school got too mean, Deku would step in front of Izuku and take the beatings and burnings and every insult he was thrown.

Izuku would float, he'd watch from afar as Deku stood strong, taking everything he was given and then some.

Izuku doesn't think he can be a hero, but he definitely can't do it without Deku.

"Who the fuck's whining in here?"

Izuku startles at the sound of Kachan's voice, watching as the door is nudged open by his shoe. The light from the hallway casts down on Izuku, and he finds that he's frozen still, stuck staring up at Kachan as his expression seems to pass through all sorts of emotions before landing on distaste.

"Shoulda known it was you, shitty Deku," he mutters. Strangely, he squats down to Izuku's level, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. "Who're you hiding from?"

Izuku swallows thick around the lump in his throat. His mouth is dry and his cheeks are damp. He hadn't even noticed he was crying.

"'m not hiding," he lies.

"Then why the fuck are you in here?" Kachan asks.

He's strangely subdued. Usually, when he'd find Izuku crying, he'd yell on and on about how he's a baby and needs to grow up. But that's not what he's doing now. He's just staring at Izuku, his eyes squinted, curious, and analytical. It's unsettling.

Kachan scoffs upon Izuku's lack of answer and he places his hands on his knees as if he's going to stand. "I'll just send Aizawa your way, then."

Izuku's eyes widen, and he calls out for Kachan to wait. "Don't tell 'zawa," he pleads.

Kachan grins, small and unreadable. "So that's who you're hiding from," he nods. "What'd he do to finally get on your bad side?"

Izuku shrugs, but Kachan doesn't seem to like that response, leveling Izuku with a glare.

"He got me a counselor," Izuku whispers.

Kachan grimaces. "Fuckin' shrinks, they always want in your business."

"That's kind of they're job, Kachan," Izuku smiles lightly.

Kachan swats the air between them. "Whatever, it's still bullshit," Kachan looks him up and down once more. "If you're so sympathetic to them, why're you freaking out?"

Izuku hesitates, focusing on the way his backpack feels pressed against his chest, like a shield of sorts. He wishes Deku were here, he's a better shield.

Can Izuku even tell Kachan about Deku? Does Kachan already know? Would Kachan think he's weird, or crazy?

Who's he kidding? Of course Kachan will think that.

But Izuku impulsively decides to tell him anyway because, like it or not, Kachan is still one of the only people who know anything about Izuku. One of the only people that could even begin to understand.

"I think they're gonna try to get rid of- of Deku," he whispers.

"The fuck?" Kachan exclaims. "Since when do you talk in third person?"

"I don't," Izuku sighs. "When- when we were kids and you'd like, hurt me 'n stuff, I started doing this- this thing."

Kachan fully sits on the ground now, seeming equal parts confused and intrigued. He listens carefully as Izuku speaks, and Izuku ignores the neglected child inside of him that screams at the simple gesture.

"When I got- get scared, I pretend I'm not Izuku anymore. I float and let Deku take care of things," he explains calmly. "He's my- a mask, I guess. He protects me."

Kachan is quiet for a moment, staring holes through Izuku. Izuku shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling raw and exposed.

"So you think you're two people?" Kachan drawls slowly. "And you think the shrink is going to get rid of one of them- you- whatever."

Izuku nods, ignoring the need to correct Kachan because, no, he's not two people. It's not like that.

Kachan grabs his bag from where it'd been discarded by the door. He pulls something out and hands it to Izuku.

Upon taking the offered item, Izuku realizes it's his notebook, like he'd asked for.

Kachan abruptly stands and shoves his hands in his pockets, his bag slung over a shoulder.

"You've gotta stop letting people take shit from you," he says simply before turning on his heel and walking away.

Izukus left sitting there, bewildered by Kachan's odd behavior.

~

Shota wants to run after the kid, but Hizashi stops him before he can.

"He won't leave campus," he reasons. "He probably just needs some space."

"But what if he does leave," Shota counters.

"He won't," Hizashi assures. "He wouldn't leave you."

That's probably true, Shota knows this. He's been too scared to be away for long.

Shota thinks about the kid he met on the street.

Dirt stained clothes, tired, wild eyes, bruised skin. Izuku is so small, so young, too small and young. He's so scared and so closed off and Shota doesn't know what to do.

He's sick of this, the not knowing.

He's usually good at figuring things out, coming up with simple, easy solutions.

But nothing about this situation is simple or easy.

Izuku looked sick at the mention of his new counselor, going as far as to double over in what seemed to be a stomach ache.

But this is all they have. Well, this and whatever medications they can get recommended.

If Izuku won't talk to a counselor, if he won't try to get better, Shota's scared they're going to lose him.

They can lock up the knives and medications, put alarms on all of the windows and front door, and keep track of him 24/7, but there's never going to be a guarantee that the kid won't hurt himself. He found a way to do so while under observation in the hospital, for god's sake!

"He'll be okay," Hizashi whispers, having noticed Shota's stress.

"You don't know that," Shota whispers through gritted teeth. "You don't know anything. We don't know anything."

"I know," Hizashi takes Shota's hand, gently rubbing his thumbs over the tense muscles. "But I believe it, and you need to believe it, too."

Shota nods.

He can try to believe.

~

"How's Izuku doing?"

Katsuki pauses his rhythmic slices on the cutting board to peer at his mom over his shoulder. She has her back to him as she leans over the stove, gently stirring the food in her pan.

"He's fine," Katsuki grunts.

That's probably not the truth, but he says it anyway.

Deku thinks he's two people? It's fucking insane. He's insane.

Except, it only takes one Google search for Katsuki to realize it's probably his fault.

A disconnection from one's self is typically a result of persistent childhood abuse, according to the internet. Nothing was more persistent than Katsuki's bullying.

Thinking back, he knows why he did it, but he still can't understand how he justified anything to himself.

Deku was annoying, so he'd kick him. Deku was a crybaby, so he'd hit him. Deku was so hopeful, he always had stars in his eyes as he'd gush about how amazing Katsuki was and it just made him angry, so he'd burn Deku.

But why?

Katsuki can't stand himself. He can't stand thinking about that version of himself. He can't stand see how badly he'd fucked Deku up.

"You should invite him over," the hag sighs, her voice sweet and calm. It makes Katsuki nervous. He chops the carrots a bit faster.

"Why would I do that?" he grumbles.

"Because he was your friend," her voice lowers an octave and she speaks in a stern tone, like she's trying to convince Katsuki this is true.

"Only because you made him," Katsuki counters, despite his instincts telling him otherwise.

He watches out of the corner of his eye as the hag abandons the food on the stove, turning to look at him, hands on her hips.

"You better be kind to him, Katsuki," she warns. "Don't think I don't know how much of a shit you were to him back then."

Katsuki's blood runs cold. He keeps his eye on the task at hand, careful to cut the celery in even slices, the way his dad taught him.

"Are you listening to me?" she asks, though it comes out more as a demand. Listen to her, or else.

Katsuki nods.

"Do you know how many times I'd get calls from Inko saying that Izuku came home with burns in his uniform again?" she steps closer to Katsuki. He freezes in place. "Do you know how many times I paid for a new one, begging her not to tell the school because they'd kick your ass out?"

"No they wouldn't," Katsuki whispers.

"What did you say?" she asks, low and dangerous.

"I said," Katsuki sets his knife down. "No they wouldn't," he turns to look at her, his blood boiling, though he's not quite sure who or what he's angry at.

"They wouldn't have kicked me out," he all but yells. "Every time I got caught hitting the idiot, or kicking him, or burning him, you know who'd get in trouble? Him. They wouldn't have kicked him out because I wasn't the fucking problem, it was him and his whiny voice and-,"

His cheek burns. He's been slapped.

"I don't know where I went wrong raising you," she yells. "How could you talk about another human being like that, let alone to my fucking face? You're a goddamn asshole, Katsuki. You should've been kicked out of that school! How would you like me to call UA right now and tell them my useless son will always be a bully, never a fucking hero?"

Katsuki grits his teeth. "Do you even hear yourself right now?" he roars. "It's your fault I'm an asshole! It's your fault I'm like this! Maybe instead of hating me, you should look in the fucking mirror!"

He's slapped again, both his cheeks now burning.

"How dare you?!" she screams. She grips him by his hair, dragging him to the stairs and pushing him down, his shins hitting the wooden steps. "Get out of my sight!" she yells before stomping away.

Like the coward he is, Katsuki obeys. He scrambles up the stairs, runs down the hall, and slams his door shut. He paces in his room, his hands gripping his hair and his chest thundering and his thoughts racing and god, why is it so hot in here?

He lets his hands pop, trying to rid himself of the sweat pooling in his palms.

He needs to get out of here.

Katsuki looks to his window. It's cracked open, letting in the early summer heat.

Finding solace in the smell of the breeze, Katsuki climbs out of his window with practiced ease.

He doesn't return until both his parents are asleep.

~

"Knock knock," Hizashi says cheerfully as he actually knocks on the doorframe of Izuku's room.

Izuku's room.

It feels weird to say it. It's been so long since he's had a room.

They told him he could decorate it, that they'd buy any poster, light, or picture frame he wanted. Izuku only let them buy him one thing: an All Might lamp.

His bedroom at his old apartment, the one he shared with his mom, was covered in All Might merchandise. Thinking back, Izuku was a bit greedy. There's no way they could afford all of that, but he never stopped asking and his mom never stopped giving.

Maybe that's where Izuku got it from. His habit of giving giving giving-

"Can I come in?" Hizashi asks, interrupting Izuku's thoughts.

Izuku finds it to be a silly question as most people would take an open door to be an invitation, but nods nonetheless.

Hizashi enters the room slowly, a smile on his face and a big, black, plastic bag in his hand.

"What are you up to, listener?"

"Oh, uh, I'm trying to figure out my- my math," he admits sheepishly.

"Oh? I'm sure we could get Ectoplasm to give you some extra lessons, if you need," Hizashi offers. He sits at the foot of Izuku's bed, just beside the desk he's sitting at.

Izuku shakes his head. "N-no thanks, I wanna figure it out on my own!"

Hizashi shrugs. "If you say so." He pulls the plastic bag into his lap, reaching inside to start pulling some things out. "Tsukauchi came by with some of your things. I hope you understand that they had to keep your knives and grappling hook, but they've returned your-,"

Izuku launches forward and takes the bag from Hizashi. He drops to the ground and starts looking through it.

His belt, his old mask- the one Kachan burned, his notebook.

He drops everything and starts skimming through the notebook, making sure they didn't rip or tear anything out.

His skin crawls as he realizes that giving this back means they probably took pictures of every page. All of Izuku's notes and personal thoughts have been copied and are now sitting in a box in some police station, waiting to collect dust and be forgotten about.

But that's okay as long as-

It's gone.

Both of them, the two things he'd tucked in the middle of the book, where they should've been safe.

Izuku's eyes swim.

He grabs the bag again, searching inside for the two silly pieces of paper. He checks the notebook again. He looks around at the floor around him.

They're gone.

"What's gone?" Hizashi asks.

"My- it's- they took it!" Izuku yells, panic bubbling in his chest.

Aizawa appears in the doorway, hesitating for only a moment before entering without asking.

It's such a stupid rule they have. If they cared about Izuku's privacy, they wouldn't have let a group of strangers rummage through everything he had, taking what they deemed important and discarding what wasn't.

"What's missing, kid?" Aizawa asks.

"The- the sticky note," he gasps out. "And- and the- the money."

"Okay, well I can call Tsukauchi and see if he can find the note," Aizawa assures.

Hizashi's no longer on the bed, instead lingering the doorway, watching as Izuku begins to cry like a baby over a goddamn sticky note.

"B-but the money," Izuku mentions.

"We can give you some," Aizawa assures. "How much was it?"

Izuku shakes his head. "No, it- I don't want your money, I want my money!"

"Izuku," Aizawa calls quietly. "Look at me kid."

Izuku's so frustrated and upset he'd rather just stare at the ground and pretend he was alone, but he looks up at Aizawa anyways, because he's safe and he listens.

"What is so important about the sticky note and money?" he asks.

Izuku considers answering the question for a moment, before shaking his head and deciding against it. "Why'd you let them take my shit?" He says it quietly, though he can feel something loud and furious bubbling beneath the surface.

The world blurs, anger surging through his body, pushing Izuku out of the way.

"It's my shit," Deku snarls. "Nobody else's. Just because I was on the streets or a vigilante or forced into vile shit gives everyone the right to my private things?!"

"No, but you have to-,"

"Understand?" Deku stands from the floor, turning his glare on Hizashi. "I understand that you all want to make me feel comfortable, but news flash, if you're gonna go through my shit and paste it on to bulletin boards like I'm a problem to be solved, it doesn't matter if you knock on my door before entering."

He gathers his things and shoves them back into the plastic bag. Not wanting to look at it anymore, he shoves them into his wardrobe, where it'll stay hidden behind his clothes for the time being.

"If you cared about my privacy, you wouldn't be making me talk to a counselor," Deku spits lowly. "If you cared about my comfort, you wouldn't make me feel so fucking trapped by rigging every way out of this apartment."

His hands shake and he clenches them into fists. "If you cared about me, you wouldn't be dangling my dream in front of me every fucking day," he turns back to Eraser, who seems to just be content listening to Deku rant. It's irritating that he can just sit there and watch him, calm as can be.

"Do you know how angering it is to sit in a room full of kids that will one day live your dream and have to pretend you will, too?" he yells, feeling the words push themselves from his chest. "You don't care! You don't really care! I should've run from here when I had the chance!"

He stomps his foot like a child against the carpet, making a dull thudding sound. The urge to run or his something or hit someone is so overwhelming he feels like he's exploding.

He's not quite sure what sort of shit he spews next. His vision goes fuzzy, and suddenly it's like he's Izuku watching from behind a static screen.

But he isn't Izuku right now, is he? No, he's just so angry and hurt and confused that he can't control what he's doing.

He feels the hits he lands on the man that's never been anything but kind to him. He sees the red drip from his nose and he feels guilt stab in his chest. He feels arms loop around his, making him jerk back and fight against his human restraint. He feels himself fall to the floor. He feels a chest rising and falling against his back and is reminded of a different time.

And then he hears crying, belatedly realizing Deku's been scared away, leaving Izuku to sob on the floor of his room.

He mutters apologies, he chokes on his breath, he tries pulling away from whoever's holding him but it quickly turns futile.

Izuku gives up.

He slumps against the person behind him, his mind screaming that it's Mickey and he needs to get away, but he feels so fuzzy and exhausted and confused that all Izuku can do is weep.

After a few moments of stillness, the arms holding his let go, instead wrapping around his shoulders, holding him in a lose and gentle hug. One of the hands starts stroking his hair and Izuku swears he can hear whispering.

He latches onto the sound of their voice, trying to make out their words.

"Shh… okay, listener… sorry… Sho will… shh…"

Izuku lifts his head from where it'd been tucked to his chest and leans back, turning a bit to the side to find the person holding him.

Where he'd expected to see brown shaggy hair and scraggly stubble, he finds long, blonde hair and a gentle smile.

"You back with us, listener?" Hizashi whispers.

Izuku blinks at him for a moment before slowly nodding.

"Do you remember what happened?"

What you did?

The question is unspoken, but heard loud and clear.

Izuku's only response is to sob, apologies rushed and slurred on his tongue.

"Shh, it's okay, honey," Hizashi whispers.

Just then, Aizawa comes back into the room, an ice pack pressed against his face.

"You may be scrawny but you sure can punch, kid," he jokes lightly as he sits back on the edge of the bed.

He pulls the ice pack away for a moment and Izuku can see that his nose is bright pink and he has rolled up tissue stuffed inside one nostril.

Izuku's conflicted for a moment. Part of him wants to pull away from the comforting hug, push himself into the corner and stay far, far away from Aizawa because he hurt him and he's dangerous and-

He doesn't do that, though.

Instead, he gently pulls away from Hizashi, stumbles a bit as he stands, and drops onto the bed beside Aizawa.

He hesitates for only a moment before throwing himself onto him, hugging around his torso and burying his face in his chest.

Aizawa tenses up for a moment, and Izuku fears he's making him uncomfortable. But then, gentle arms wrap around Izuku's shoulders the best they can at the awkward angle.

Izuku sobs more apologies into Aizawa's chest. They're quiet and breathless and desperate as his energy drains from him.

He's pulled closer until he's practically in the man's lap, and Izuku is slowly lulled to sleep by gentle rocking, whispered words, and the exhaustion caused by his tears.

~

"It's starting to feel like everything we're doing is just making things worse," Hizashi whispers from beside Shota on the couch.

Shota can't help but agree with that sentiment.

They got the kid a counselor and that's just invading his privacy. They put alarms around the apartment to keep him from running and they're making him feel imprisoned. They're giving him a chance at his dream and they're being assholes by teasing him with his dream.

It's exhausting, honestly.

Shota never thought the kid was aggressive, which just adds to his helplessness around the topic.

He's unpredictable, especially when Deku's around.

Izuku complies out of a sick sort of fear that makes Shota feel like shit sometimes. He doesn't want the kid to be afraid of him, but he can't help but feel relief at his willingness to do as he's told.

On the other hand, Deku doesn't do anything he doesn't want to. He's rash and outspoken and quick to anger. It's a side of him Shota didn't really see a lot when they were patrolling together.

"Do you think he just has too much pent up energy?" Shota wonders aloud.

"I don't know, why?"

"Well, when I was patrolling with Deku, he was usually calm, but he'd get super glittery and excited when he got to fight," Shota explains. "Maybe he just needs an outlet."

"But he won't train with the class," Hizashi points out.

Shota thinks for a moment before he's suddenly hit with a realization, a promise he'd forgotten about.

"I told Shinsou I'd train him individually," Shota realizes.

~

Izuku drags his feet the whole way to his session. Apparently, Hound Dog has offered to loan his counseling office out for Izuku's sessions. (Who the hell put an emotionally unstable dog in charge of counseling??)

He purposefully walks slow, and Hizashi doesn't seem to mind, simply slowing his pace to match Izuku's.

They arrive seven minutes late. Hizashi knocks on the door and lets himself in, introducing himself and Izuku.

The therapist, a scrawny man with messy black hair and warm brown eyes, introduces himself as Karibu.

"But you can call me Doc, Karu, asshole, whatever you want," he says with a smile.

Izuku gives him a small smile in the name of being polite. He watches as Hizashi leaves, promising he or Aizawa will be back by the end of the session, and then Izuku is alone with this stranger.

Karibu asks him to take a seat, and Izuku gratefully sits on the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest. He can see the door from here, which makes him feel a bit better, but he's not sure is he'd be able to run if he had to.

"You're uncomfortable," Karibu observes.

Izuku shrugs.

"Could you tell me why?"

Izuku looks around the office a bit. on the desk, there's a plaque with an unfamiliar name on it, Izuku can only assume it's Hound Dog's civilian name. There are certificates behind the desk, which seems to be a staple for most teachers.

Theres a bookshelf beside the desk with various books, pictures, and toys. The room has all sorts of bright colors in the form of frames, chairs, toys, and the green couch Izuku is currently curled up on.

"Izuku?" Karibu asks for his attention once more.

"I don't- I don't like being al-alone with strangers," Izuku whispers to answer the counselor's previous question.

"Well, we won't be strangers for long," Karibu shrugs. "We'll be meeting for an hour at this time once a day until I feel you can handle fewer sessions."

Izuku drops his head to his knees, groaning at the thought of having to do this every day.

"Is there something I can do to help you feel more comfortable?" Karibu asks.

Izuku shrugs.

"Well then, I'll tell you a bit about me," he offers. "To help with the whole strangers thing."

Karibu tells Izuku that he's twenty-eight, he's been a crisis and trauma counselor for four years, he's from the suburbs surrounding Tokyo, and he's currently living about an hour away from UA.

"Why'd you take this job if you have an hour-long commute?" Izuku asks.

"Would you turn down a job that was personally offered to you by Nezu?" Karibu asks with a smile.

Izuku shakes his head. Although he supposes he has declined an offer from Nezu, he doesn't think he could or would ever do something like that again.

"Why don't you tell me just some basics about you?" Karibu tries.

Izuku hesitates for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

"I'm Izuku Midoriya…"

Notes:

the bakugou and mitsuki scene might seem a bit out of place rn, but I promise it'll be important later on lol I just gotta set some stuff up, yk lol

Chapter 14: The Secret Club Of The Broken

Summary:

TW's:
dissociation
self harm
discussions of bullying
discussions of abuse

True to his word, Hizashi picks Izuku up after the session.

The session itself was boring and nerve-wracking. After introductions, Izuku found himself reduced to hero facts rambles. Thinking about it now as he walks to the lunchroom with Hizashi, he's incredibly embarrassed. To his credit, though, Karibu did ask about his hobbies.

On the way to the lunchroom, Hizashi tries to get Izuku to talk about the session, but he's already decided not to talk about therapy. Yeah, it's petty, but if they're going to make him do this, he's going to get whatever (harmless) revenge he can.

They part ways at the door to the cafeteria, only after Hizashi has asked if he's alright at least twenty times. Izuku assures him there's no need to worry, and Hizashi finally accepts it.

Once Hizashi has disappeared down the hall, Izuku takes a deep breath and walks through the doors.

The cafeteria will never be any less nerve wracking than it was in middle school. There's not much of a difference, really. Kachan has his own little posse, Izuku sits in the back with the other loners, and everyone's always in their own world.

Izuku wishes he could be as relaxed as the other students in here. Some simply eat in silence, watching their friends chat and bicker. Others belly laugh, leading their friends to smack their backs as they choke on their food. Some even take naps using their backpacks as pillows.

Izuku watches it all, his shoulders pulled up to his ears as he carefully picks at his bento. Todoroki and Shinsou sit across from him, their backs to everything. They don't seem to mind this, which Izuku is envious of. If his back wasn't currently against the wall, he'd probably be having a full-on breakdown.

He can't help but notice that Shinsou keeps his body almost sideways in his chair. It's done in more of a casual manner, but if he were to shoot a glance to his right, he'd easily be able to see the whole room.

Todoroki, on the other hand, sits up straight, his feet on the ground and his elbows purposefully not on the table. It's like he's had proper table manners trained into him.

Izuku files both of these things into the ‘think about it later’ slot in his brain.

“Who are you interning with?” Todoroki asks Shinsou, breaking Izuku from his thoughts.

“Aizawa,” Shinsou says simply.

“What?!” Izuku blurts.

Shinsou glances up at him and shrugs. “Yeah, he wants to train me in hand-to-hand or something, the internship is just to get a kickstart in it.”

“That's- why?” Izuku doesn't mean to be rude, it just comes out like that.

Shinsou takes it in stride, though. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

He's never heard Aizawa even mention Shinsou, and he's offered to personally train him? Jealousy coils in his stomach, and he tries to squash it down. Aizawa is his own person, it's okay if he mentors other kids. He's literally a teacher! It's fine.

“What are you doing next week?” Shinsou redirects the conversation. “Since, I assume you aren't interning with anyone.”

“O-oh, I don't know, actually,” he scratches at the nape of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I probably just have the week off?”

“What about you?” Shinsou turns to Todoroki.

Todoroki politely waits until he finishes his bite to answer. “Oh, I actually haven't decided.”

“What? The deadlines in like, two hours,” Shinsou points out.

“Aren't you gonna go with your dad?” Izuku questions without thinking.

“What? No, I-”

BOOM-

Todoroki is cut off by the sound of an explosion sounding throughout the entire cafeteria. A collective (and slightly comedic) flinch from everyone in the room has the ear piercing chatter dimming for just a moment before it returns in full swing.

Everyone moves on, embarrassed giggles joining their conversations, but Izuku is stuck sitting ramrod straight, staring at the cause of the explosion.

Kachan is being held back by Kirishima in a similar manner as the one Hizashi used to restrain Izuku just two days ago. He's screaming, though it's muted through the crowd of students.

Does he still do that a lot? How is Kirishima still alive after grabbing Kachan like that? How could everyone just move on?

“Midoriya,” Izuku looks up to find both Shinsou and Todoroki eyeing him suspiciously. “You broke your chopsticks,” Shinsou nods to Izuku's clenched fist.

Looking down, Izuku finds that he has splinters of the thin wood digging into the palm of his hand, blood slowly beginning to drip on the table. Shinsou scrambles to gather all of their napkins and wipe up the blood as Todoroki, who is suddenly standing on Izuku's right, takes his hand in both of his own and pulls Izuku out of his seat.

Todoroki holds Izukus hand as they walk toward the bathroom, preventing Izuku from dripping all over the floor. Izuku's fist is still clenched, the wood still caught in his hand, but Izuku doesn't have enough control over himself to stop it.

When they get to the bathroom, Todoroki guides him to one of the sinks and finally looks up at Izuku.

“You need to open your fist,” he says simply in his usual deadpan.

Izuku nods minutely but doesn't make an effort to move. Todoroki eyes him with blatant confusion.

“Why aren't you stopping?” he asks. “Does it not hurt?”

Izuku stares at the blood dripping into the sink. It splashes orange as it hits the running water before swirling down the drain. It's oddly comforting.

Todoroki suddenly releases Izuku's hand. He watches as Todoroki moves to the next sink over and washes the blood off of his own hands. He dries his hands with some paper towels and returns to Izuku's side.

“I'm going to roll up your sleeve,” he informs.

Izuku tenses but lets it happen. He wants to squeeze his eyes shut as he watches Todoroki's face momentarily morph from confusion to pity to his typical deadpan. He doesn't say anything as he places four fingers to Izuku's inner wrist, but he can't look away from the blood. He doesn't want Todoroki to touch him, he doesn't want anyone to touch him, but he knows Todoroki is trying to help.

It's nice to be taken care of. It's a feeling Izuku's starting to understand better.

He doesn't quite know what Todoroki's doing, but he knows this must be his left hand because his fingers are warm. Come to think of it, they're getting increasingly warmer, so warm that Izuku's hand starts to relax, releasing the chopsticks.

The wood chatters in the sink, blood seeping at a quicker rate, and all Izuku can do is gape at Todoroki.

“How did you do that?” he whispers.

“Heat can help relax muscles,” he informs.

Todoroki is gentle as he picks the bigger splinters of wood from Izuku's palm and fingers. He rinses the blood away, completely silent as he inspects the small cuts.

“You should probably go see Recovery Girl,” he says.

“Why?”

“Because there are cuts in your hand.”

“No, I-,” Izuku flushes. “I mean, why are you helping me?”

Todoroki finally looks up at him, his heterochromatic eyes carefully blank before morphing into confusion. “I guess I don't know.”

Izuku hums and nods, accepting that answer. Todoroki wraps paper towels around Izuku's hand before releasing it. Izuku hugs the injured limb to his chest and backs away from Todoroki a bit, now that their closeness isn't necessary.

Todoroki doesn't seem to mind, instead leading the way to Recovery Girl's office.

They get there quickly, finding the nurse preoccupied with another student who seems to have gotten injured while training, if the blooming bruises on her fists and face are anything to go by.

She instructs the pair to wait a moment on one of the unoccupied cots, to which they comply. They sit side-by-side (with a bit of buffer space between them) on the neatly made hospital bed.

Izuku feels kind of awkward, honestly. He's not sure what happened back in the cafeteria, but he knows that he's not quite right at the moment. His brain is moving too slow and his limbs feel heavy.

“Oh, Midoriya!” Recovery Girl approaches them, the wrinkles around her eyes scrunching in a pleasant manner. “I heard I'd probably be seeing you!”

Izuku flushes, anxiously glancing at Todoroki. He doesn't seem to care that Recovery Girl basically just said she'd been warned about Izuku, but then again, Todoroki never seems to visibly care about anything.

“Is it your hand that's ailing you?” she asks, gesturing to the one held against Izuku's stomach. He nods and hesitantly offers the hand to her.

Her hands are gentle and cold as she carefully peels the paper towels away, clicking her tongue in disapproval as more of the hand is revealed.

“How did this happen?” she asks, reaching into the table beside her and pulling out tweezers, gauze, antiseptic, and q-tips.

“He was startled and broke his chopsticks,” Todoroki explains for him.

“You must be stronger than you look, son,” she comments.

She begins cleaning the wounds, using the tweezers to pick out bits of wood as she goes. Izuku hisses at the pain, but it's oddly grounding. He's suddenly hit with the urge to claw his fingers into the cuts and relish in the resulting pain. Like letting blood seep through his fingers will keep his feet on the ground.

“Alright, that should be it,” Recovery Girl announces, placing her tweezers back on the tray. “Normally, I wouldn't use my quirk on injuries like this, but since I assume this is your dominant hand, would you like me to?”

Izuku hesitates. He knows what her quirk is from his hero analysis, so he knows if she were to use her quirk, the cuts would be gone and he wouldn't be able to dig his nails into them like he wants to. But, she's right, this is his dominant hand. Having it all cut up would surely make it difficult to write.

“You- you can heal it,” he whispers.

She nods and turns his hand over, placing a kiss to the uninjured skin. The moment she lets go, Izuku pulls the hand back to himself, watching the wounds heal and create fresh, pink scars.

It suddenly hits him that he's had a similar quirk used on him before. When he got stabbed.

“Have you healed me before?” He asks quietly.

“Yes I have,” she stands from her stool and begins walking towards her desk. “I assumed Shota would've told you.”

“I guess I never gave him the chance,” Izuku whispers.

“Well, you boys are good to head back to class, unless you need something more?” she asks.

“No, no we're alright,” Izuku smiles at her.

He and Todoroki both stand, Todoroki leading the way out of the room. Izuku watches their feet as they walk, notably slowly. They're both silent, not knowing what to say until Todoroki seemingly decides to get an answer for what all just happened.

“Are you afraid of Bakugou?” he asks bluntly.

“I- No!” Izuku flushes, instinctually trying to keep up appearances. But then he realizes this is Todoroki, the boy who behaves like a trained soldier and has a burn over his left eye. He can be honest with him. “Well, I guess, I don't want to be.”

“I don't quite like him, either,” Todoroki admits. “He has a temper like my father's.”

Izuku hums in understanding, trying to hide how caught off guard he is by that uncharacteristically honest comment. “He's always been like that.”

They're silent for a moment again. Izuku thinks back to everything he knows about Todoroki, which is admittedly practically nothing. But for some reason, he and Shinsou have found themselves drawn to Izuku, despite their antisocial behavior.

“Have you ever heard of ‘The Secret Club of the Broken’?” he asks.

Todoroki glances at him, confusion peeking through his facade for a moment. “No?”

“Well, I don't- I guess it's not a real thing, I-I just heard about it once,” Izuku rushes to explain. “I-it's basically this- this theory that broken people can always spot another broken person and- and that we're naturally drawn to each other.”

“Are you saying that's why I helped you?” Todoroki asks. “‘Cause you think I'm broken?”

“Wha- No, no! Well, yeah but it's not like that!” Izuku cringes at himself. “There's obviously an-an issue with you and, uh, your father and you have the burn and-,”

“It isn't from my father,” Todoroki interrupts. He stops walking, and so does Izuku, turning to face him. “It's from my mother.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to-,”

“It's an understandable assumption,” he interrupts again. He brings a hand up to his face, his fingers lightly tracing over the mangled burn over his left eye. “She said my left side looked too much like him. I don't blame her for it. I will always blame him.”

The story Todoroki then goes on to tell is one that makes Izuku sick to his stomach. Forced marriage, treating children like failed experiments, physical and emotional abuse, even resulting in one child's death. And Todoroki tells it all to Izuku, simply because he asked.

Or maybe because they're both members of the secret club.

“So- so that's why you won't use your fire?” Izuku asks when Todoroki's story is over. “You don't want to be like him?”

“I don't want to let him win,” Todoroki corrects. “I want to become the best hero I can be without using his quirk.”

“Your quirk,” Izuku corrects.

“What?”

“It's your quirk,” he states simply. “In a biological sense, it's yours. Like, when a child inherits the same eyes as their mother, people may say they have they're mother's eyes, but when you really think about it, they're still their own eyes.”

“But I got it from him,” Todoroki argues.

“And I got my mom's overly-apologetic nature,” Izuku shrugs. “It's still my trait, even if I got it from her.”

Todoroki doesn't look convinced, staring at his hand which has been withdrawn from his face.

“What kind of hero would it make you if you didn't use every resource you have?” Izuku points out. “To be a hero is to give everything you have to ensure the safety of others. Learn how to use your quirk, Todoroki. All of it, not just half.”

Todoroki closes his hand into a tight fist and walks past Izuku without responding. Izuku fears he's pushed too hard, but Todoroki just calls over to tell him they're going to be late.

Did he push too far?

Even if he has, he'll never regret trying.

~

Shota is beyond exhausted.

His patrol was relatively boring up until the end, where he interfered in a drug deal, leading to multiple arrests. The slowness of the night up until then already had Shota dragging his feet, but then the spike and subsequent crash of adrenaline has his eyes drooping as he approaches the apartment door.

He walks into the comfort of his home, kicks off his boots, and stumbles to the kitchen. As usual, Hizashi has already prepared the coffee maker, so all Shota has to do is turn it on and wait as the kitchen fills with the mouth watering scent of fresh coffee.

He pours his first cup and downs it just as quickly before pouring a second one, actually taking the time to add in some sugar before sipping on it.

He carries his mug along with him as he trudges down the hallway. He peeks into Izuku's room for a moment careful to be completely silent as he knows the boy is a light sleeper. Izuku is curled up into a ball like a kitten in his bed. He snores lightly and hugs a throw pillow to his chest. Shota makes a mental note to find a stuffed animal for the kid.

He crosses the hall into his own room, carefully closing the door and turning on the nightstand lamp. Hizashi stirs and slowly wakes as Shota changes into a clean jumpsuit for class. It's early enough that the sun is starting to creep over the horizon, so no matter how tired he is, there's no point in trying to sleep.

After changing, he stares at the various items he pulled from his pockets and set on the dresser. His phone, wallet. keys, and a plastic evidence bag from Tsukauchi.

He picks the bag up and sits on the foot of the bed. He feels Hizashi sit up and crawl towards him, coming to sit with Shota so close they're thighs touch.

“What's that?” Hizashi asks, his voice this with sleep.

“The sticky note,” Shota sighs.

Hizashi seems confused only for a moment before realizing what Shota's saying. “What does it say?”

Shota turns the bag over to reveal the clear side. The loopy writing on the yellow sticky note is in full view and the pair share a sad sigh as they read it.

Izuku,
I won't be home tonight, I left dinner in the microwave. I love you!
-Mom

“That would explain his reaction,” Hizashi sighs.

“Jesus, this whole situation just keeps getting worse,” Shota pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don't know,” Hizashi shrugs. “I think it's actually kind of sweet.”

Shota gives him a questioning look and Hizashi just shrugs and stands, grabbing the mug from the dresser to sip on.

“It's like he's been trying to keep a piece of her with him.”

Shota nods and shrugs, staring back down at the note. It's simply heartbreaking, especially after seeing the breakdown Izuku had over it.

“He'll probably be up soon,” Hizashi sighs. “I'll go start some breakfast.”

Izuku, strangely, doesn't even have an alarm set on his phone. He always rises with the sun or a quiet call through the doorway. Shota figures it has to do with his hypervigilance due to living on the streets for so long.

Shota finishes getting dressed before heading out to join his husband in the kitchen.

Through his exhaustion, he's too late to dodge Izuku before he quite literally bumps into him. Izuku, also quite obviously half asleep, immediately jumps back into his bedroom, his tired eyes staring up at Shota in fear. Shota knows he's accidentally startled him, and the fearful look most likely doesn't mean Izuku is afraid of him specifically. so he just gives the kid a small smile and nod so as to not bring attention to his reaction and embarrass him.

He hears Izuku quickly dart across the hall to his bathroom behind him as Shota enters the kitchen. He sits at the counter and accepts a new mug of coffee from Hizashi, along with an apology for drinking all of his last one.

The sound of running water tells the pair that they have at least ten more minutes of privacy until Izuku joins them.

“Are you gonna give it to him now?” Hizashi asks.

“I don't know,” Shota shrugs. “If I give it to him now, it could throw his whole day off.”

“But if you wait, it could really upset him,” Hizashi sighs.

Shota rubs his tired eyes. He doesn't know how to go about this. He's been a teacher for years, but being a parent is brand new to him and he fears he's already fucked it up.

He knows the kid is strong, physically and mentally, but he's simultaneously made of glass that's ready to shatter. Some things require tip-toeing and some things don't. Shota's guessing on which is which so far have proven his intuition and understanding of the boy to be quite limited.

“Let's just give it to him now,” he settles on.

If it upsets Izuku too much, they could keep him in the teacher's lounge to rest or just keep him home. If they waited until after school, things could be much worse. It's obvious Izuku doesn't like lying or withholding any truths, so this route is best if they're going to maintain the trust they have with him now.

Izuku, as predicted, appears in the kitchen ten minutes later, a towel on his shoulders to prevent his hair from dripping onto his sweatshirt.

“Morning,” Shota whispers, gauging the kids mood.

“Morning,” Izuku whispers back. He notably takes the stool at the opposite end of the counter from Shota. He must be feeling more on edge this morning.

Hizashi turns around from the stove, pan in hand, and greets the kid with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

Izuku nods.

Hizashi eyes Shota as he dishes up the food. It's obvious the kid isn't having the best morning. Whether he's just having a hard time waking up or it's going to be one of his bad days is the real question.

They begin eating in silence, the room tense and slightly awkward as both Shota and Hizashi search for an opening to bring up the sticky note.

“I-is there something wrong?” the kid finally speaks up. His brows are pinched in anxiety as he pushes his food around on his plate.

Shota doesn't say anything but he reaches into his pocket and grabs the small evidence bag, placing it on the counter and sliding it over to Izuku.

The couple watch Izuku carefully as he pulls the sticky note closer to himself. He carefully opens the bag and pulls the note out. The corners appear to be worn from the years, curling up a bit. Shota absently wonders if the note even sticks anymore.

It's silent and tense in the kitchen as they all hold their breath, waiting for Izuku to say or do something, anything really.

And then finally,

“Thank you.”

It's broken and quiet. Izuku presses the sticky note flat against his chest, his head bowed and his tears falling into his eggs.

“You're welcome, kid,” Shota says quietly after waiting a moment for the kid to say something more.

Hizashi, sensing that they're being shut out once more, begins a new line of conversation. “Did everyone get their applications in?”

“Yeah, a couple of them cut it really close, though,” Shota replies. “Todoroki stopped me as I was packing up my office to hand his in.”

“Oh? I assumed he'd be one of the first to turn it in,” Hizashi comments. “It feels like a simple choice.”

“I don't know, he seemed hesitant to sign up with Endeavor,” Shota shrugs.

“Did he?” Izuku quietly asks. He hasn't moved from his previous position, but it's obvious he's listening intently.

“Yeah, he did,” Shota confirms.

Izuku nods. “That's good.”

After that, Izuku stands from his stool and leaves, his food hardly touched. Shota worries for a moment that he won't be leaving his room any time soon, but he emerges soon after, his backpack slung securely.over both of his shoulders.

With one last cup of coffee on board, the trio leave the apartment on time to get to UA with enough time for them all to comfortably lounge and prepare themselves for the day.

~

Today, Karibu tells Izuku about a show he's watching. One of the characters confessed her love to two separate guys and neither of them know she's two-timing them.

Izuku can't remember the last time he really got invested in a show or movie. He's sat with Hizashi while he watches crime shows and watched movies with Kit, but he finds those times are more about appreciating their company than watching the TV. He has tried scrolling through the channels to find something that interests him, but he doesn't know what he likes.

When he was little, he loved the All Might cartoons and live footage. He loved how he could always smile, even in the face of death.

Izuku tried to do that once. One of the many times he found himself contemplating his life, he tried to smile. He let the wind on the beach blow through his overgrown hair and swayed back and forth with the crashing waves, in spite of his aching muscles.

He sat there and breathed it all in and he smiled. It didn't help.

Maybe it's because he isn't All Might, or because his teeth were yellow and crooked rather than straight and perfect, or maybe it's because Izuku was never cut out to be a hero.

Whatever the case, Izuku accepted then, at thirteen years old, that he will never be like All Might. He's just not enough.

He tells this to Karibu. He's not sure if he can trust him yet, but if he keeps stacking all of his shit on top of the rest in his head, Izuku might actually explode.

“Do you find comfort in All Might's smile?” Karibu asks.

Izuku shrugs. “I suppose so. I've only really seen billboards of his face recently.”

“Maybe you could ask Aizawa to get you some posters for your room? Maybe it'll help you feel better,” Karibu suggests.

Izuku shrugs.

“Have you met him yet?”

“Huh?” Izuku looks up at him.

“All Might,” Karibu clarifies. “He's a teacher here. Did you not know that?”

Izuku gapes at him. No, he did not know that All Might worked here, how has nobody told him? That feels like something that should've found its way into a conversation at some point.

“I'm pretty sure he's teaching today,” Karibu says quietly as he pulls his laptop from the desk into his lap. He clicks a couple keys and smiles. “Yup, he's with your class in the gym right now. Would you like to go see?”

Izuku feels his breath catch in his chest, his eyes the size of saucers. He nods, fast and enthusiastic.

Karibu laughs at him, not unkindly, as he stands and stretches. He leads Izuku out of the room and through the hallways.

The walk is over in seconds, though it's probably more like ten minutes. Izuku is positively buzzing the whole way. He's on his way to meet his idol! The man he has always aspired to be! Holy shit!

Entering the gym, Izuku can immediately feel the familiar weight of Aizawa's eyes on him, but he doesn't pay any mind, his eyes searching for All Might.

Karibu leads him to Aizawa and he hears some exchanged words, but all is forgotten when he finally finds him.

All Might, standing tall with a hand over his mouth, obviously deep in though as he watches his students. Izuku is quite literally bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands excitedly clenching and unclenching around nothing at his sides.

“I didn't realize you were a fan, kid,” Aizawa comments from beside him.

Embarrassed, Izuku tried to reign himself in, his hands instead coming to wrap around his backpack straps.

Aizawa laughs lightly. “He'll be over here in a moment,” he informs. “He'll probably sign something for you if you'd like.”

Izuku lights up, practically a disco ball at this point, blinding everyone around with each rotation. He pulls his back off of his shoulders and crouches down, digging through it to find his notebook and a pen.

“Ah, you must be the new student! Izuku Midoriya, right?”

Izuku shoots upright and stares up at the man towering over him. He grins wildly up at All Might. He's just the same in person as he was all those years Izuku watched him on TV!

All Might holds out a gigantic hand for Izuku to shake, and he does so, though with some hesitation. The man's hand swallows his own in a firm and powerful grip.

“Are you going to be joining us?” he asks.

Izuku realizes he hasn't said anything yet and flushes. “Oh, um, no. I-I'm not-,” he cuts himself off before he says something weird or embarrassing.

“Are you not in the hero course?” All Might questions. Izuku watches Aizawa nudge the giant man in the side, and All Might's face morphs into one of regret. “Oh, right, you aren't training for now. I apologize, I forgot.”

So Aizawa's told all of the teachers. Or Nezu has. Any way, they all know that Izuku's a pathetic waste that shouldn't even be here.

“I'm sorry young man,” All Might quickly tries to backtrack. “Did you want a signature or something? Maybe a picture?”

All Might holds his hands in front of himself like he's trying to negotiate with a scared animal. It hits Izuku then that he probably doesn't have much experience with kids like him. He usually disappears quickly after fights, either to god-knows-where or to deal with the press. Does he even have a teaching certificate?

“Um, yeah,” Izuku takes mercy on him and offers his notebook, open to a blank page, and a pen.

All Might smiles and quickly signs the page, even going as far as to draw a small doodle of himself. Izuku thanks the man and closes the page, crouching down to put his stuff back into his bag.

All Might leaves rather quickly, as he does have a job to do, and Karibu leads Izuku back to Hound Dog's office.

They spend the rest of the session talking about All Might and the cartoons Izuku watched all growing up. Karibu helps Izuku find them on streaming. Izuku makes a note in his book to ask Hizashi to help him find them later. And possibly also ask for a frame for his autograph.

When the session is over, Aizawa picks him up this time. He asks for a moment alone with Karibu, and Izuku presses up against the door in an attempt to eavesdrop. He isn't able to hear much at all, but he does catch a couple things.

“... -with him next week, I'm hoping…”

“... -Might could be what he…”

“... -happiest I've ever seen him…”

“... -on it. We still need to…”

Aizawa glares at him when he opens the door, Izuku almost falling into him as he had been leaning against it. They both bid farewell to Karibu and Aizawa walks beside Izuku to the lunchroom.

~

Unlike the previous day, or even this morning, Izuku seems much more open to talking.

After school, he immediately asked Hizashi to help him with something, which is probably a first. After Shota had napped for a couple hours and felt well enough to function again, he discovered the thing Izuku needed help with was finding some cartoons on the TV.

The kid is sat on the couch, a pillow hugged to his chest, and every bit of his focus on the colorful animations. Shota realizes that Izuku may be fifteen, but his life and development practically paused at twelve, maybe even sooner. So while it may seem odd that he's so enamored with a children's show, it's understandable because he's still just a child

Shota joins his husband in the kitchen to find him already dishing up their food. He gives him a light peck on the cheek and nods to the living room, a silent question.

Hizashi shrugs. “He had me find it for him and he's been watching it since,” he explains. “I don't think I've ever seen him this relaxed for this long.”

“How did I not know he was a fan of All Might?” Shota wonders allowed.

“Did you ever ask him?”

“He always said his favorite hero was me,” Shota shrugs.

Hizashi laughs lightly before shoving two plates into Shota's hands for him to carry to the table. On his way through the livingroom, Shora regretfully interrupts the kid to tell him it's time to eat.

Izuku flushes and pauses his show. He shuffles into the kitchen and grabs the napkins and silverware, a chore they've officially designated his just so he can feel useful without doing too much.

Izuku eats his food with much more enthusiasm than any of his previous nights at this table, even finishing before Shota and Hizashi.

He sits silently for a moment before taking a deep breath, starting a conversation they all knew was going to happen at some point.

“I'm sorry for hitting you,” Izuku says, quiet but confident. “I don't- I don't know why I did that. It was dumb.”

“It's okay, kid,” Shota assures. “You know I get much worse than that on the job.”

Izuku nods and takes a sip of his water, visibly steeling himself. “She always wrote notes like that when she knew she wouldn't be home. I just happened to have that one in my pocket when I left.”

“May I ask a question?” Hizashi asks.

Izuku nods.

“Why was your money so important?”

Izuku shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his cheeks and ears flushing red. “W-well, uhm, do you remember when uh, you came to the cafe?”

Shota can't help but smirk at the memory. “Of course.”

“You- you gave Kit a-a tip? A big one,” Izuku explains. “She gave it to me, said that- that you'd want me to uh, have it.”

Hizashi laughs lightly. “So you kept it because it was from us.”

Izuku nods.

“That's how you figured we were married, isn't it?” Shota questions.

Izuku flushes even more. “Well, uh, yeah. Yeah,” he hesitates for a moment before hiding his face in his hands. “Did you know that was me?”

Shota chuckles a bit. “You were kind of obvious, kid.”

Izuku groans into his hands while Hizashi and Shota laugh a bit more.

“I should've listened to you about the bag and shoes!”

Notes:

OMG I FINALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER

I have have half of this written for weeks but then writers block and everything else got to me so it's just been sitting in my Google docs collecting dust. IM SO SORRY!!

In other news, IM EIGHTEEN!!! My bday was on Thanksgiving lol so I am now officially an adult. Shit sucks lmao. So enjoy the bit at the end where I project my own unwillingness to grow up on Izuku lmao.

As always, I appreciate every kudo and comment I get!! Love you all and thanks for reading!!

Chapter 15: The Comfort Of Danger

Notes:

TW's:
implied past sexual abuse
vomiting
suicidal thoughts
thoughts of self harm

By Friday, Izuku is feeling better than he has in a while.

He's been able to talk to Todoroki and Shinsou a bit more, though he did have to skip out on lunch with them on Wednesday because he wasn't feeling great. The two are quite understanding of Izuku's issues, never asking questions and accepting his half-truth excuses. He wonders if it's because they saw his mini-freakout on Monday.

Today, they were given a make-up day to catch up on any missing work before the internships. Izuku spent the whole morning working on his English. It's the easiest subject for him so he's been putting off his work so he can focus on other subjects, since he knew he'd be able to cram it if needed.

Around what would have normally been their P.E. hour, Hizashi had come to not-so-discreetly take Izuku to his session with Karibu.

Sessions had gone well all week, considering everything. He has yet to tell Karibu anything, really, but Karibu assures him it's fine and that they still need time to get to know each other.

He's never been in therapy before, never even spoken to a school counselor. He's seen it on TV, with long couches and doctors feverishly taking notes. Karibu isn't like that. With Karibu, it's just talking about anything and everything. Well, everything but what they're supposed to be talking about.

Today, they spoke about school. Karibu told him it's impressive that Izuku isn't too far behind, but Izuku argues the only reason he isn't is because he was bored while on the streets. He swears he's read at least half of the books in the city library, which is quite an impressive feat.

Karibu encourages Izuku to ask for help in math, but Izuku won't be doing that. Not only would that be asking anyone for help, but that'd be asking an adult for help. That's never gone well for him.

“Kachan hurt me! C-can you fix it?”

“Now Izuku, how many times have we told you not to bother the other boys?”

“I didn't! I-I just wanted to-,”

“Izuku, you have to learn to be quiet. Quit your crying and sit down.”

“But sir-,”

“Now, Izuku.”

The memory itself makes Izuku's chest ache. All he's ever wanted was for someone to help him.

But now they are and he doesn't know how to feel about it.

He knows, logically, that the locked up knives and alarm-rigged windows are just to keep him safe. But, after spending three years with only Kit genuinely caring about his safety, the sudden concern is jarring.

He fears that asking for more, even if it's just help with his math homework, Aizawa and Hizashi will decide he's not worth it all. Maybe they'll realize he's not worth it all.

Izuku would rather fail his math class than risk that.

“Izuku, we have something we need to speak with you about.”

Aizawa's serious tone breaks Izuku from his thoughts. He realizes he should probably be eating, but the prospect of his guardians needing to talk to him chases away any hunger he's feeling.

He simultaneously perks up and shrinks away. Apprehension paints his face as he warily sets his own fork, looking between Aizawa and Hizashi.

“You know internships start tomorrow,” Aizawa starts, to which Izuku nods. “You're going to be joining Shinsou and I for the week.”

If he hadn't already set it down, he'd probably have dropped his fork. His initial reaction is to refuse, say he doesn't want to, say they need to take a goddamn hint already, but he doesn't.

He has to stop pushing back against them. He has to stop being difficult. He has to stop risking the safety he's found here.

So he nods and blinks away the frustrated tears that try to prick at the corners of his eyes.

“How do you feel about that, listener?” Hizashi asks, gentle and hopeful.

“Um,” Izuku clears his throat when his voice comes out a bit too weak. “What- what does that m-mean?”

“I have written up a schedule for the week,” Aizawa states. He pulls his phone out, clicks a few things, and places the phone on the table between the three. “Saturday through Tuesday, we'll be training and sparring. I want to get a better gauge on both yours and Shinsou's abilities. Wednesday through Friday, you both will join me on my patrol, and Saturday, we will be debriefing.”

Suddenly, this isn't as scary. “I get to patrol?” Izuku asks excitedly. His mouth automatically curls into an excited smile, and he looks up at Aizawa hopefully.

Aizawa chuckles lightly. “Yeah, kid. You get to patrol.”

Izuku quite literally cheers. He loves patrolling. It makes him feel so free and he loves helping people. It also help him release some of his anxious energy and helps distract him from, well, everything.

But-

“I don't have a costume,” he realizes.

“That's being worked on right now,” Aizawa informs him. “I gave the support department a description of your vigilante costume and they're working on making something that seems suitable to you. If there's anything specific you'd like to add to it, just let me know asap.”

Izuku fidgets with his hands for a moment, nervous to ask his next question. He knows he's a flight risk and this might be too much to ask, but he needs it if he's going to patrol.

“C-can I um- can I have a grappling hook?” he asks quietly. “I-I know it's probably not possible because I- I could run away, but I won't! I promise! I just…,”

“I've already asked for one, kid,” Aizawa assures.

Izuku smiles and nods, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’.

“There's something else, too,” Hizashi speaks up.

Izuku's heart rate spikes once more in fear of what it could be.

“Typically, with internships, the students will be asked to stay at the hero's agency or base of work, just so they can get the full experience,” Hizashi explains. “But Shota's agency isn't well-suited for this. So, with permission, he's decided to have the two of you stay at the UA teacher's dorms for the week.”

“Oh,” Izuku sighs, relieved it wasn't anything bad. “That's- that's okay.”

“Karibu will also be visiting on Monday and Tuesday, just to keep things as consistent as possible,” Aizawa adds nonchalantly.

Izuku internally groans. He'd thought that if they were forcing him to do the internship, they'd at least let up on therapy.

It's alright, though. Izuku's found that he doesn't actually mind talking to the man. Whether he admits it or not, he does recognize that the man has helped him a bit. Specifically by encouraging him to indulge in his old hobbies, something that has brought him great comfort.

Another thing he won't admit aloud is that he's actually excited for this internship.

It's going to be a week of how things used to be.

(If only he knew how accurate that statement would be.)

~

Hitoshi never thought he'd make it this far.

That statement can, and does, mean a lot of things.

He never thought he'd make it into the top hero program in the country. He never thought Eraserhead himself would take a special interest in him. He never thought he'd be alive long enough to even see any of it happen.

If he's being honest, UA has been simultaneously as amazing as he thought it'd be and far worse than he thought it'd be.

Placing last in the quirk apprehension test on his first day? Not very amazing. Being blasted through a wall by a cocky asshole on his second day? Not very amazing. Being attacked by a mob of deranged villains on his third day? Not very amazing.

But hey, things have gone decently since then, so what the hell.

Now, he's walking up to the UA gate, as he always does, except it's Saturday and he's carrying a suitcase instead of his backpack.

He uses his student ID to buzz himself through the front gate and awkwardly lingers for a moment, completely lost. Aizawa pulled him aside after class yesterday to ask if 1) he needed a ride and 2) he could get his phone number. He said no to the ride, mostly because he didn't want to deal with the embarrassment of Aizawa seeing his junkyard of a house, but complied with giving him his number.

Last night, he was promptly added to a group chat with Aizawa and Midoriya and given instructions to meet them outside the teacher's dorms. Hitoshi didn't even know UA had teacher dorms.

So, standing at the entrance of the school, he pulls his phone out and pulls up the UA website. On the surface, the website is quite useless, only listing things such as the school motto and goals. But, once you log in, you get so much more.

There's a list of faculty, a list of classes and facilities, and a campus map.

Hitoshi stares at the map for a while, trying to get himself sorted, before striding down the path in what seems to be the direction of the teacher's dorms.

Embarrassingly, just as he's walking up, a black car drives past him and parks in the lot. Hitoshi clicks his phone off, not wanting the two new arrivals to see that he'd had to use a map, and waits for them to get out of the car.

Aizawa greets him with a curt nod and leads the way into the building. He buzzes himself into a small room, telling Hitoshi and Midoriya to wait for him, and emerges with three small envelopes. The kind the school nurse would give him when he lost a tooth at school when he was a kid.

“These are your key cards, don't let them leave your side,” he explains, handing one to each of the boys.

With that, he leads the way through the first floor, pointing things out as they go. There's a freshly stocked kitchen, a small gym room, a living room with a giant TV, and a storage closet with anything they may need. Heading up the stairs, they're greeted with a long hallway, numbered rooms on each side of the hall.

Aizawa instructs Hitoshi to take room 204 and Midoriya to take room 202, while he himself takes room 203, across the hall.

Hitoshi opens the small envelope, revealing what seems to be a hotel-like keycard. He hears a sharp intake of breath from Midoriya beside him and turns in curiosity.

Midoriya is staring at the card and the door, his eyes wide and… panicked?

Hitoshi turns to tell Aizawa something's wrong, but he's already in his room with the door slightly propped open. Midoriya seems to snap out of… whatever that was… and swipes his card, entering the room and immediately propping the door open with a chair.

Weird, Hitoshi thinks.

He shrugs it off and enters his own room to unpack.

They're given an hour to get their dorms sorted before Aizawa calls them down to the main level. He explains that they're headed over to Gym Gamma to begin sparring. Hitoshi is slightly dreading starting this soon, but he supposes he should get the most he can out of this week.

Upon entering the locker rooms, Hitoshi realizes he's never actually seen Midoriya in here. Has Midoriya ever trained with the class? He is part of the hero course, right?

Hitoshi starts changing into his PE uniform as he not-so-discreetly watches Aizawa hand Midoriya a fresh uniform. They exchange some whispered words, and Midoriya is seemingly assigned a locker before Aizawa leaves.

Hitoshi is tying his pants as Midoriya walks past, hugging the clothes to his chest and eyeing him nervously. He locks himself in one of the barely ever used stalls and presumably starts changing.

Hitoshi, having no real reason to stay, leaves the room, making sure to shut his locker a bit louder than he usually would so Midoriya knows he's leaving.

Aizawa is stretching when Hitoshi enters the gym, and he silently joins him, copying his movements. Aizawa eyes him with something unreadable, but stays silent for a moment as they stretch.

Then, after a moment:

“When Izuku comes out here, please be mindful of his feelings,” Aizawa says cryptically.

Hitoshi nods slowly, completely confused by what he could possibly mean, but then Midoriya comes through the door.

In the PE uniform, Midoriya's arms are on full display, something Hitoshi has yet to bear witness to. It's evident why Aizawa would be worried about Midoriya's feelings.

His arms are scarred in a way Hitoshi has never seen before. He's seen self harm, he's contemplated it himself, but Midoriya's arms are marred. Scars overlap, some obviously not self inflicted. On his upper left arm, there's a slash that looks like it could be from nothing but a knife and it's at an angle that shows he had not done it himself. On his inner wrists, there are ladders, lines of different widths and lengths piled on each other.

It's slightly nauseating, and makes Hitoshi's stomach twist.

He tried not to show it, though, as he just gives Midoriya a small nod in greeting and returns to his stretching. They do so silently, a bit of awkward tension in the air.

When Aizawa seems to decide they've stretched enough, he stands face to face with the two of them to give instructions.

“Today, I want you two to spar so I can get a gauge on where your hand-to-hand combat skills are,” he explains. “While I recognize your obvious difference in training and experience, I want you both to go all out for now and I will make adjustments if needed.”

Midoriya nods sharply and Hitoshi follows soot. They're then instructed to walk to the center of the mat and get ready to fight.

Curiously, while Hitoshi takes on a simple stance- hands fisted in front of himself, his dominant foot slightly forward- Midoriya takes a crouched stance, almost like he's about to run a race.

Hitoshi literally sees the moment Midoriya gets his head in the game.

The moment Aizawa says go, they both lunge at each other. Midoriya seems apprehensive to fight, but Hitoshi is determined to prove himself. So, while Midoriya is attempting to snake around him, Hitoshi jams his elbow into Midoriya's ribs and promptly pins him to the mat.

He can hear Aizawa counting down from ten as Midoriya struggles, looking almost fearful.

But then, something shifts.

Midoriya's eyes, once hesitant and nervous, harden, taking on a look of determination and anger.

It catches Hitoshi off guard, and he momentarily loosens his grip on Midoriya's wrists. Apparently, that moment had been long enough for Midoriya to flip their position, grip surprisingly strong and unwavering as Aizawa's count actually reaches zero.

Midoriya immediately gets off of Hitoshi, grinning proudly down at him. Hitoshi had expected Midoriya to be a good sport and help him up, but instead he walks over to Aizawa and gives a snarky remark about it being “too easy”.

It irritates Hitoshi and he grits his teeth as he stands.

“Shinsou, I saw you hesitate,” Aizawa criticizes. “One moment of pause can be the difference between life and death. Remember to stay focused.”

Hitoshi crosses his arms over his chest in annoyance and nods.

“And Deku,” Aizawa turns his attention to the other student. “Have some manners and help your opponent up next time.”

Hitoshi doesn't miss the way Aizawa's switched from Midoriya's given name to his nickname. Interesting.

“You never made me do that before,” Midoriya practically pouts.

“Well, Shinsou is not a drunk guy in an alley,” Aizawa drawls. “It's called good sportsmanship.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes and Aizawa shakes his head, almost fondly. This side of their dynamic is quite endearing, actually. It's a visible mix of partners, mentor-mentee, and almost father-son. It almost chases away Hitoshi's irritation with Midoriya.

Almost.

~

After the first match with Shinsou, things get more exciting.

Maybe it's because Deku accidentally offended him by not helping him up or something, but Shinsou puts up one hell of a fight.

They do a total of fifteen sparring matches, each one lasting longer than the one before, as they figure out more of each other's styles and skills. Deku walks out of it with some decent bruises and thirteen wins.

Both boys are exhausted and completely scarf down their food when they finally take a break for lunch. Shinsou seems to be in a sour mood, but Deku is quite elated.

He loves fighting. He loves feeling powerful, knocking guys way bigger than him on their asses. It's liberating and exhilarating.

Shinsou seems quite grumpy as Eraser debriefs them and gives criticism where it's needed. He tells Shinsou that he has slow reflexes and reaction times and that he needs to work on different kinds of restraints. Shinsou glares at the floor, leading Deku to believe he's just a sore loser.

Deku, on the other hand, is told that he tends to rely on cheap shots and lacks precision in his moves. He's probably referring to how Deku kneed Shinsou in the balls once and spit in his face twice. He doesn't really see the issue, because in all three occasions the so called “cheap shots” led to his victory, but he decides not to point that out as it would only serve to piss Eraser off.

After that, they're given the task of filling out fake incident reports for five different fake scenarios Eraser has typed up. Deku doesn't appreciate this task, as he thought he'd be rid of these stupid reports when he was banned from vigilantism, and he does not hesitate to voice this complaint.

“These are different from what you were filling out before,” Eraser points out. “Besides, incident reports, as tedious as they are, are an essential part of being a hero. They're often used as evidence to prosecute people and they also protect you against false claims.”

“Wait, sorry,” Shinsou interrupts. “You were filling out reports?”

Deku rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I made a deal with Eraser and his detective friend that said I had to.”

“Did they arrest you?” Shinsou asked, obviously genuinely curious.

Deku smiles mischievously, much to Eraser's obvious dismay. “Nope! Never committed a crime!”

“That we know of,” Eraser adds.

“But you were a vigilante,” Shinsou points out, speaking slowly through his confusion.

“That's the kicker,” Deku laughs. “You can't be a vigilante without a quirk.”

“No way,” Shinsou whispers.

“Yes way,” Deku nods. “I guess discrimination has its perks.”

“Probably the first time in history it's kept someone out of jail,” Shinsou nods.

Deku shrugs.

Unfortunately, his attempt at a distraction from their assignment ends there, and they are promptly told to return to their task.

They spend another hour like that before they return to the gym for some jujustu lessons, something Eraser says they could both benefit from. It's rather fun, actually, though it's less combative than Deku's usual style. That's kind of the whole point, though.

After dinner, they disperse around the building. Shinsou is quick to head up to his room, saying something about wanting alone time, but Izuku tries to stay in the living room as long as possible.

He spends hours just watching TV and texting Kit. Even Aizawa heads to bed, only to come downstairs an hour later, confiscate the remote, and tell Izuku to go to bed.

It's pitch black out, and a glance at his phone tells Izuku it's almost midnight. He enters the kitchen and gets himself a cup of water, his breath suddenly catching in his chest.

It's stupid, he knows, but he doesn't want to go to sleep.

He drags himself up the stairs at a snails pace, placing a hand on his chest as it begins to burn with anxiety. He steps up to the door, his hands shaking as he pulls out his card, and doesn't swipe it through the lock.

He feels so fucking stupid as he rests his forehead against the door, the cool wood a minute comfort. He knows he has to sleep. He knows Aizawa will be mad if he doesn't.

He contemplates sleeping on the couch, but he doesn't like the idea of sleeping in a public area and he'd rather avoid getting questions in the morning about why he didn't just sleep in the room he's been provided.

He takes a deep breath and swipes the card blindly before pushing the door open.

It's just a dorm, he tells himself. It's just a dorm and Aizawa's across the hall and the bad guys are locked away and nobody can hurt him here.

He tells himself all of this, but the room's resemblance to every shitty hotel he's ever been dragged to tells him otherwise.

He sits on the foot of the bed and stares at his unpacked bag. He spent an hour in here earlier trying to get himself to think rationally, so by the time Aizawa called them down for sparring, he'd gotten nothing done.

He feels naked in here, despite wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, so he tries to fix that. He grabs his token hoodie from his bag and hastily shoves it over his head. He then pulls the red comforter off of the bed and wraps it around his shoulders, the thick material acting as a shield.

The shitty part of it, though, is that it can only protect him from real hands. The hands that settle on Izuku's hips, shoulders, back, everything, aren't real. And as much as he knows this to be true, his brain like to lie to him.

He wants to cry as his brain begina to slow, the only thing entering his awareness the offending phantoms. These phantoms, well, they love to explore. It feels as though fingers trace every inch of him, everything he's trying so hard to hide.

He's going to vomit.

Izuku, dragging the thick blanket behind him, stumbles into the attached bathroom, one that's all too similar to the one he vaguely remembers being showered in just over a month ago.

Those memories are hazy, ones of Tal standing over Izuku as he bathes him head to toe, grumbling and complaining the entire time.

Izuku leans over the toilet and reaches, his stomach emptying itself in the toilet. He gags and gasps and sputters, the sour taste of bile mixed with his dinner filling his mouth, the stench filling his sinuses, tears filling his eyes.

He sobs as he continues to retch into the bowl. He hates that this is an issue.

In all reality, it's not really like a hotel room in here. The shaggy carpet is much more comfortable than a hotel's, the bed has red bedding rather than white or beige, and he actually trusts it to be clean. It doesn't smell like bleached dirt, more like lemon cleaner and paint.

But, after seeing the key card and familiar setup, all rationality left Izuku's head.

When he thinks he's done vomiting, as there's nothing left to come up and his stomach burns from the force of his retching, he uses some toilet paper to wipe the spit from his lips and flushes.

He uses the last bit of strength he finds in his uncoordinated limbs to reach up and lock the bathroom door. He lies down and pulls the comforter tighter around him. He uses his arm as a make-shift pillow, and closes his eyes. He keeps the light on, as he has a minor fear of the dark (something he refuses to mention to Aizawa), and tries to settle in for the night.

He sobs as the hands don't leave. Images flash in front of his closed eyes. Men and women, young and old leaning above him, breathing on him, touching him, taking him.

He was so goddamn stupid. He should have left, should have fought harder, should have died.

If he were dead, the hands couldn't get him. If he were dead, he wouldn't have to feel this shame. If he were dead, he wouldn't be a problem for anyone anymore.

It's quite inviting. He'd be at peace, for the first time in his memory.

Maybe he should've killed himself that day, after Mickey took too much and Izuku let him. Aizawa would've never had to deal with his vigilante bullshit and he'd still live happily alone with his husband without some stupid kid invading on their space.

If he had done it when Kachan told him to, the day he lost everything, he'd never have had to (not) cope with the losses. No homelessness or Mickey or vigilantism.

If he had died on that day, his seventh birthday, when his dad put him in the hospital, he'd hardly even have to mourn, as he hadn't experienced anything yet.

What does he have to mourn now? Who would mourn for him? Why?

Izuku contemplates. He debates creeping down to the kitchen, seeing if there are knives or pills or anything. His thigh and arms itch, the thought of slicing his skin open sending a surge of adrenaline through his whole body.

With a newfound courage, Izuku slowly rises off the floor and unlocks the door. He quietly steps back into the room, not looking towards the bed as he walks through the door into the hall.

He keeps his blanket pulled around his shoulders, dragging like a cape behind him. He thinks of when he was little, before his diagnoses, when his mom would endure in his hero fantasies. She'd help him tie blankets around his neck and they'd play hide-and-seek, except he'd be a hero and she'd be an injured civilian.

Guilt strikes his chest at the memory. He shouldn't be doing this. He can't imagine how long or hard his mother would cry if she knew what was happening right now. What he was doing.

He pushes it away. He's gotten this far, it'd be pointless to turn around now. Besides, What'd he do if he went back to his room now, sleep? Definitely not.

Izuku shuffles into the kitchen, grateful to find the light is still on and trying to avoid making any noise. His eyes scan the kitchen and he sees it.

His skin buzzes as he steps closer to the counter, towards the wooden knife block beside the stove.

He shouldn't be this excited. He's fucking insane. Why won't he just turn around and go to bed?

His hand has a mind of its own as he reaches forward and curls his fingers around the handle of the smallest, easiest to conceal, paring knife. He smiles down at it, holding the comfort of danger in his suddenly steady hands.

He shoves the small object in his pocket, pulls the blanket back around his shoulders, and turns to leave.

“What are you doing?”

Shit.

Notes:

This chapter was just setting up a lot haha, I'm hoping Hosu will be next chapter, but we'll see lol

Also, I got this chapter out so fast bc I accidentally took 2 of my adhd pills yesterday and literally couldn't focus on anything else lmaooo

Chapter 16: You Don't Have To Be Powerful

Notes:

TW's:
discussion of self harm
panic attack

Hitoshi doesn't sleep much.

He's not stupid, he knows how evident it is. When he was ten and his insomnia slowly started taking its hold on him, he'd stolen his mother's concealer to hide how sunken and dark his eyes had grown. By his second year of middle school, he gave up on it, though. He'd decided he should spend what little energy he had on things he actually cared about, and what people thought of him was not on that list.

He has a tendency to get himself in trouble late at night, though, as boredom takes over. Usually, it'd just be something simple, like sneaking out, though he's rarely ever caught doing that nowadays. Once, when he was twelve, he found a half-full bottle of booze and went home drunk. That is probably the worst trouble he's ever been in.

But tonight, he's not so much in trouble and more troubled.

He'd been scrolling on his phone, trying to tire his eyes out, when he heard it; sobbing and vomiting from Midoriya's room. He listened in to make sure he was alright, but then couldn't help his curiosity when he heard Midoriya leave his room.

And now he's in the kitchen doing… something?

“What are you doing?” Hitoshi asks into the silence of the kitchen.

Midoriya flinches and back up into the counter. His arms cross over his chest to pull on the blanket over his shoulders like it's a shield. “Wha- what are- wha-,” he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a groan of frustration.

His voice is shaky and his face is blotchy. He's clinging to the giant red blanket for dear life, his hands shaking in a white knuckle grip. There's something really wrong, something bothering him.

Although he's standing at least eight feet away, Hitoshi feels like he's a bit too close and steps back to casually lean against the doorway.

“I heard you,” he explains. “In your bathroom. Are you sick?”

Midoriya's eyes widen and he shakes his head rapidly. “I uh- dinner didn't uh, agree with me.”

Hitoshi narrows his eyes in suspicion at the obvious lie but nods nonetheless. Midoriya isn't the type of guy to lie without reason, so he doesn't push the subject.

“Can I come in and make some tea?” Hitoshi asks.

Midoriya tilts his head in confusion for a moment before nodding.

Hitoshi takes slow steps toward Midoriya, who side-steps cautiously away from Hitoshi so they're moving like animals cautiously circling each other. Midoriya doesn't take his eyes off of him and within seconds, they've actually switched spots in the kitchen, Midoriya in the doorway and Hitoshi at the stove.

He takes the kettle and fills it in the sink, then sorting through the cupboards to find tea bags while waiting for it to boil.

“I have insomnia,” he admits, just to break the silence. “Sometimes tea can help me sleep. It's not much, but it could help settle your stomach.”

As he stands at the stove, waiting for the water to boil, he takes a look around the area. When he walked into the kitchen, Midoriya had been standing where Hitoshi is now, thoroughly distracted by something.

There's nothing interesting around, just white cabinets and fancy black countertop, polished to get that real “rich people” look. Hitoshi almost doesn't want to touch anything in here, doesn't want to make it look dirty.

But, before he can think about it any further, the kettle begins to whistle and he has to take it off the stove before it wakes Aizawa. He grabs two mugs from the cupboard and rips open his tea bag.

“Chamomile or mint?” he asks Midoriya quietly.

“C-chamomile,” Midoriya whispers.

Hitoshi suppresses an annoyed groan when he finds the chamomile box to still be sealed. He doesn't want to hurt his nails, and is just kind of lazy, so he reaches for a knife.

This is when he finally realizes why Midoriya was in here.

The paring knife is gone.

They shouldn't have used any at dinner, they all had instant Ramen. There are no dishes in the sink, meaning whatever had been used should be in the drying rack beside the sink. From what Hitoshi can see, the knife isn't there.

Hitoshi grabs a different knife and peeks over his shoulder. He has to be careful about this. He doesn't know how stable Midoriya is and he doesn't know him well enough to know how he'd react to him raising this concern.

But he saw the scars on his arms. He heard him sobbing and gagging through the wall. He knows what Midoriya wants with that knife. He has to keep him from going to bed until he can get it away from him.

So, after mixing in their tea bags, he leads Midoriya to the couch. He sets Midoriya's tea on the coffee table and sits on the opposite side of the couch to give him space.

Midoriya eyes him warily but takes the unspoken invitation anyways. He settles on the couch with his blanket and pulls his arms out to take his tea in his hands.

Hitoshi lets the silence linger for a moment, not quite sure what to say. He's never been in a situation like this before. He's never had to approach a topic like this with anyone.

Well, he's never had to in person.

He's had plenty of online friends who struggle with self harm and all of this shit so he has talked about it before, but there's a huge difference between talking to people online and in real life. Online, you have time to think about what you're saying, time to proofread and rewrite stuff before it gets to the other person. Face to face, you don't have that, and Hitoshi's never been all that great with words.

Fuck it.

“Why were you crying?” Hitoshi questions. “I heard you and- I don't know. You don't have to tell me.”

“I'm sorry if I woke you.”

Hitoshi chuckles a bit, surprised and amused by the comment and obvious misdirection. “Insomnia, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Midoriya whispers.

“You might wanna get to bed, though,” Hitoshi comments.

Midoriya's eyes widen and his knuckles whiten around the mug in his hands. Hitoshi deduces that he doesn't want to go to bed, but why?

When in doubt, change the subject. “Is the tea helping?”

Midoriya hesitates before shrugging. “A little, I guess. Thank you.”

Hitoshi nods in response. He finished his tea and sets it on the coffee table, Midoriya following soon after. It's quiet for a long moment, so long that Hitoshi begins to fidget uncomfortably, not knowing what to do or say.

But then Midoriya clears his and speaks, quiet and hesitant into the room.

“Sometimes- sometimes things just get too much, you know?”

Hitishi nods, hoping his lack of response will inspire him to keep speaking.

“It's like sometimes when things get too much and my thoughts get too loud, my brain brings back every bad thing that's ever happened and- and I don't know how to- how I'm supposed to deal with that,” Midoriya finishes, his chin dropping to his chest.

Hitoshi follows his eyes to find that Midoriya's hands are in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, fidgeting with something.

“Is that why you…,” Hitoshi falters, not sure how to word it respectfully. “You know?”

“Cut myself?” Midoriya asks, his voice a bit muffled as his head is still down. “Sometimes, I guess.”

“I saw, you know,” Hitoshi blurts out. “The missing knife. Did you, uh..”

Midoriya huffs an emotionless laugh, sounding more like a tired sigh. His shoulders drop and he shakes his head a bit, almost disbelieving that this is happening. After a moment, Midoriya pulls the knife out of his front pocket and glances up at Hitoshi.

“I'm not crazy,” Midoriya turns the knife over in his hands, one of his thumbs running dangerously over the sharp side of the blade, as if testing it.

“I know,” Hitoshi's heart begins to thud threateningly, the weight of the situation and the responsibility he's just taken on becoming evident with the reveal of the knife.

“It just helps, you know?”

Hitishi nods.

He's not sure why, but in that quiet living room that both of them admittedly look out of place in, Midoriya spills his innermost thoughts to Hitoshi.

“It used to be different. I didn't need it like I do now,” the words are rushed, like he's trying to defend himself, as if he's done something wrong. “It's just, it's the only way I can make everything go away. When I cut, the world goes quiet and for a moment, I can breathe.”

Hitoshi swallows thickly, blinking dumbly at Midoriya. He doesn't know what to say.

“Midoriya-,”

“No,” Midoriya interrupts, his face scrunching in frustrated. “I know what you're gonna say and yes, I've tried breathing exercises and meditation and fucking yoga. It doesn't help. This helps. This- I need it.”

Hitoshi's quiet, watching as Midoriya pants, his shoulders shaking and his hands squeezing around the knife, one hand around the blade itself.

“With this, for once, I'm strong enough- powerful enough to make it stop,” Midoriya whispers.

“You don't have to be powerful,” Hitoshi says softly.

Midoriya's head snaps up to stare wide-eyed at Hitoshi. His eyes are shiny, brimming with tears. Hitoshi swallows again, going back to fidgeting with the throw pillow in his lap.

“You don't,” he shrugs. “Hurting yourself doesn't make you powerful, nor does it make you weak, but you have strength without it. You're strong and smart and that’s a power in itself, I guess. You were born with nothing and you turned that into something. You rose above those circumstances and became a hero in your own way.”

Midoriya sits with Hitoshi's words for a moment, silent tears dripping from his eyes to his hands, still gripping the knife.

“I was selfish,” he admits, confusing Hitoshi. “I wasn't a vigilante for the right reasons.”

“What do you mean?”

“I did it because I made a promise with Eraserhead. I did it so I wouldn't kill myself.”

Hitoshi sucks in a breath at the admission, his breath catching a bit in his throat.

“I didn't know how to save myself, so I started saving others.”

“And you did,” Hitoshi adds. “You helped lots of people and your intentions were much more noble than most heroes.”

Midoriya shrugs.

“Seriously,” Hitoshi presses. “Lots of heroes are just in it for money and fame and recognition, even some vigilantes are, too. When you break it down, you were just trying to save a kid, and that's noble, even if the kid was you.”

Midoriya sniffs loudly and wipes his cheeks with his sleeves. “You think so?” he asks shakily.

Hitoshi nods.

Midoriya runs his thumb over the blade once more before quickly placing it on the cushion between them. He quickly folds his hands in front of himself, like he's holding himself back from grabbing it again.

Hitoshi lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and takes the knife, feeling triumphant. He leaves Midoriya for only a moment so he can put it back where it goes before joining him once more on the couch.

“I don't know about you, but I don't really feel like going to bed now,” Hutoshi sighs casually. He takes the remote from the coffee table and tosses it to Midoriya, sinking back into the couch.

Midoriya fumbles for a moment before clicking the TV on. He goes straight to Disney+, to Hitoshi's surprise, and asks for permission three times before turning on an older animated movie.

Hitoshi honestly didn't know what he expected Midoriya to play, but it wasn't this. He doesn't say anything or complain, though, as it seems to bring some much needed comfort to the other boy.

About halfway through the movie, once both boys are properly curled up on the couch and beginning to doze off, Midoriya whispers quietly and tiredly into the room.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

~

“You look tired,” Aizawa comments bluntly as the three of them walk through the halls Tuesday afternoon.

Izuku rubs his fist into one of his eyes, shrugging in response.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” he presses.

Yes, is what Izuku should say. He'd gotten away with sleeping on the couch Saturday night, but Sunday and last night were spent in the bathtub of his dorm, the various blankets and pillows he'd gathered creating a sort of nest around him. It isn't the most comfortable and his back is a bit sore from it, but he's not one to complain. He's slept in much worse places.

He was surprised when Shinsou hadn't gone running to Aizawa after what happened, but he's nonetheless grateful. He'd rather not have any more interventions if he can help it.

“Kid?”

“Oh, sorry,” Izuku laughs nervously. “No, I'm- I'm sleeping fine!”

Aizawa gives him a questioning look but doesn't push it. They continue walking down the hallways of UA and Izuku has to bite his tongue to avoid asking a hundred questions about where they're going.

His unasked questions are quickly answered when they walk up to the support department.

His costume. They're picking up his costume.

Izuku immediately perks up, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as they walk into the room. Powerloader and a pink haired girl are in the room, fussing with a costume on a mannequin.

Aizawa knocks on the open door to gain their attention and Izuku is immediately stepping backwards out the room as the girl runs up to him.

“You're Midoriya, right? I'm Hatsume!” she announces, taking a single step backwards when she seems to realize she's invading his space. “I didn't have much time to work on your suit but I just know you're gonna love it!”

She reaches to take Izuku by the wrist, but he flinches quite violently away, giving her an embarrassed smile. She shrugs and turns away, bounding over to the suit itself. Izuku follows her, listening intently to what she says.

“The whole suit is fire and water proof and made of a lightweight material to make movement easier,” she explains. “I heard you like grappling hooks so I tried to keep that in mind when picking out the material.”

Izuku runs his fingers over the sleeve. The fabric feels relatively lightweight, as she was saying, and the sleeves have a mesh-like quality to them. There's only one shoulder pad, though, which is strange.

“Recovery Girl said your right shoulder and both hands are prone to injury so I made sure to put some extra support in those areas.”

“Prone to injury?” Izuku repeats quietly.

“The x-rays they did at the hospital showed some scarring in your shoulder which I assume is from the grappling hook,” Aizawa explains. “Have you ever injured or dislocated your shoulder?”

Izuku flushes and nods. “Uh, yeah, wh-when I was first learning to uh, use the hook I got hurt a lot.”

“The extra support around the shoulder should help prevent that from happening again,” Hatune boasts excitedly.

Izuku remembers the times he had to pop his own shoulder back into place with disdain, rolling the shoulder uncomfortably at the memory.

“Moving along,” Hatsume smiles. “The utility belt has been fully stocked with a grappling hook, first aid kit, pepper spray, a few small knives,” Izuku ignores the way Shinsou stiffens beside him at the mention of knives. “..and it's fully adjustable.”

Izuku takes a deep breath, swallowing his nerves, and smiles.

He's designed his hero costume on paper for as long as he can remember. He's considered all sorts of different themes, colors, and styles.

He has to admit, this isn't at all how he'd imagined his costume. It's a one peice that zips up in the front, a velcro cover crossing over the chest to conceal the zipper. The suit is a dark forest green color with black accents and there seems to be a hood hanging off the back.

Hatsume excitedly hands Izuku a small box which he opens to reveal a pair of black gloves with the same green color highlighting the extra padding on his knuckles. They're made of a stretchy fabric so when Izuku slips one on to test out, it hugs his skin, making them non-restricting and giving him full range of movement.

“We need you to try on the suit so we can make some adjustments to the sizing,” Powerloader informs him. “You too, Shinsou.”

Hatsume carefully unzips the costume and pulls it off of the mannequin before draping it over Izuku's outstretched arms. Shinsou waves Izuku to follow, also having a costume draped over his arm. Izuku glances nervously at Aizawa before following.

~

Shota's admittedly nervous for tonight.

After trying on and adjusting the costumes, both boys were given some time on Ground Beta to practice freely and get used to their costumes. Izuku spent most of that time swinging between the faux buildings, getting a feel for his new hook and new costume.

When they made it back to the dorms, Shota instructed both boys to nap and relax before they head out at seven-thirty. Shinsou was quick to make himself some tea and head off to bed, but Izuku planted himself on the couch and hasn't gotten up since. With only an hour until they have to leave, Shota decides to get him up so he can eat before they go.

“Izuku, come eat something with me,” he calls gently.

Izuku blinks up at him slowly, half asleep, before pushing himself up off of the couch. He follows Shota to the kitchen and sits in one of the chairs at the island, using one hand to prop his head up.

Shota puts a pan on the stove to reheat some leftover curry from the previous night. “You gonna be awake enough for tonight?” he asks.

Izuku yawns and nods. “Yeah, I just need a couple minutes to wake up.”

“Bet you're regretting skipping out on that nap by now, aren't you?”

Izuku shrugs.

“Hey, why don't you go get Shinsou up so we can all eat together,” Shota suggests.

Izuku does so without complaint, and returns only a few minutes later, a sleepy Shinsou following behind him. They both sit at the counter, taking on the same position as Izuku had before while they wait for their food.

Shota leaves them be until the food is fully heated up and he dishes it out.

“While you two eat, I need to set some ground rules,” he announces, leaning on a counter across from the boys. They both look up at him, giving their attention, so he continues. “First of all, we are not looking for a fight and if we find one, I will handle it. Second, you both need to stay close the whole time. You are my responsibility and I don't want any incidents. Lastly, if you, for any reason, feel like you need a break or can't go on, I need you to tell me. This is a big step and it's alright if we don't get it right the first time. Got it?”

Shinsou and Izuku nod curtly in agreement. They finish their food quickly before Shota sends them off to change back into their costumes.

They head out just on time, all of them much more awake than previously. Izuku fidgets in his seat as they drive, obviously excited, though he pouts as they drive past Shota's usual district.

“Where're we going?” he asks, sounding like a kid that's upset they didn't get to stop at McDonald's.

“A calmer district over by Hosu,” Shota informs. “I don't plan on taking you back into such a high-crime area without proper training.”

Izuku huffs and pouts, earning a laugh from Shinsou in the backseat.

“Wow, such a bummer, Deku won't get to show me his moves,” Shinsou mocks.

Izuku turns and glares at him, a smile fighting its way onto his face.

Patrol starts off well. Shota begins by leading the boys through alleys and explaining the type of things they'll be looking for- muggings, drug deals, altercations, etc.

Deku, obviously, picks it up immediately, and Shinsou seems to understand it all shortly after.

They then begin traveling by rooftop, sticking to shorter, closer together buildings. The handicap caused by Shinsou's limited mobility quickly becomes evident. While Deku and Shota can swing themselves across to the next roof, he has to jump.

Granted, he's well aware of his disadvantage and doesn't take any jump he fully confident he can land. Shota appreciates his caution, as it's something that his students don't often have and it often leads to unnecessary and preventable injuries.

They quickly fall into a rhythm and Shota takes the opportunity presented by the peaceful night to let the boys experiment a little as they glide along.

It's looking like it's going to be as easy of a night as he hoped, much to Shota's relief.

That is until an explosion from the heart of the city catches his attention.

~

This is bad.

This is really bad.

Stay here, that's what Eraser said to do. Stay here and wait for him.

But the city is on fire, the city Eraser ran directly into.

People are screaming everywhere, citizens running past on the streets below. Mothers carry their children, husbands hurriedly push their wives along, cars honk at the people in the streets blocking their way out.

It's chaos, and Deku is meant to just stay here and watch.

His fingers itch to grab his grappling hook, to run after Eraser, to do something, but he doesn't. Shinsou would be left here all alone and that wouldn't be fair to him. So, Deku stays, opting to take slow and easy routes with Shinsou to get closer to the fight.

They both know they should've stayed put, but they've silently and mutually agreed that they can't, not while people are being hurt.

So they leap from rooftop to rooftop, giving instructions to people below and keeping an eye out for any injured.

That's when they stumble upon a scene they never could have expected; Iida, lying conscious but still on the ground, a pro in similar condition not too far away.

Deku’s about to call down to him when Shinsou grabs his arm, causing Deku to jerk back and meet his wide, terrified eyes. He points to the alley below, directly at none other then Stain the Hero Killer.

Fuck.

Deku will be the first to admit that he doesnt pay too much attention to the news, but it has more to so with his previois lack of resources than a lack of interest. One thing he has paid attention to is the so-called vigilante killing in the name of the “greater good”.

He doesn't even want to call Stain a vigilante. His extremist views may be correct for the most part and he may have good intentions, but he goes about it all wrong. Senselessly killing people- killing heroes- is something Izuku can't get behind or support.

They watch silently in horror as Stain places a foot on Iida's head, lifts his sword, and stabs his shoulder. Deku cringes in disgust as Stain lifts the sword to his mouth and fucking licks it, all the while ranting on in some villain monologue.

Stain looks like he's going to attack once more, but is interrupted by Shinsou's voice.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” he yells.

“Who- what-?” Deku panics as Stain spots them, their eyes meeting for just a moment, only for his eyes to go blank as he goes completely still.

Right, Shinsou's quirk, how could he have forgotten?

“Hurry, unarm him! I don't know how long I can hold him, he's really fighting me,” Shinsou groans, raising a hand to his forehead as he makes a b-line for the fire escape.

Deku doesn't hesitate any further as he shoots his hook at the opposite roof and quickly lowers himself to the ground.

He starts by taking the smaller knives from Stain's belt and tossing them toward the opposite wall of the alley. He then reaches for the rusty, chipped sword in his hand.

“Careful, he can break free if you-,”

What happens next is too much and too fast for anyone to really comprehend.

While trying to pry the sword from Stains fingers, Deku accidentally elbows his chest. Stain immediately breaks out of Shinsou's hold, and in one quick swipe of his sword, Stain manages to cut Deku and Shinsou, who had been running towards them. And then, before either of them can even think to stop him, Stain kicks Deku away and licks the blood from his blade.

Izuku's head hits the wall of the alley with a resounding crack before lulling forward like a ragdoll's.

His head swims and his heart pounds and he can't move.

He can't-

No, this can't be happening.

Everything's so loud- who's that yelling his name?- and his brain won't work. All he knows is he's in pain and he can't move.

Izuku's breathing picks up considerably, only causing his thoughts to blur more. He has no idea what's going on, where he is, why he can't move.

He's reminded of those hotels. Those evenings and nights that were spent floating and in pain. He knows that if he fights, he won't be able to move.

Did he fight this time? Did he do something wrong? Is Tal here? Mickey?

Maybe Eraserhead's here. Maybe he's the one calling for him. Will he help? He helped before.

He carried Izuku away from it all, gave him a home and gave him a chance. Did he mess that up? Is that why he's here?

If he messed that up then Eraserhead wouldn't save him this time, would he? He'd just leave Izuku here, wouldn't he?

His limbs are so heavy and he's so tired and scared that after a few moments, when he finds the strength, he pulls his knees to his chest, hiding his head in his arms.

“Midoriya!”

No, be quiet, leave me alone.

“You have to move, goddammit, do something!”

Izuku whines. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to do anything. Why would they want him to do anything?

His entire body itches with anticipation and pain. No, not pain, more like something uncomfortable, something wrong.

He knows this feeling, he thinks. It's the feeling that creeps in on him when he's scared.

Why is he scared?

“Deku, for the love of god!”

Izuku finally lifts his head just a bit to peak at the scene in front of him.

A boy- no, Iida, one of the boys from UA, is lying limp on the ground, sobbing as a sword is dug into his back.

Deku doesn't think, he just moves.

With a few quick motions and a couple of fresh cuts, he's got Stain away from Iida. They're in a standoff, of sorts. Stain has his one big, and frankly disgusting, sword while Izuku has a freshly sharpened, clean knife in each hand, raised in form of a threat.

His head is still spinning, but the adrenaline pumping through him is keeping Deku on his feet.

He uses the standoff to take in his surroundings. Iida's bleeding significantly, the pro hero is still unconscious, and Shinsou is paralyzed only a couple feet away.

Deku makes the first move.

He drops into a squat and swings a leg at Stains ankles, using all of his strength to keep steady and knock him on his ass. It's a move he picked up from watching Eraser. It feels good to finally have an opportunity to properly use it.

With Stain on the ground, he steps on the hand holding the sword and tries to think of what to do next.

“Shinsou, can you move?” he calls.

“Not really,” he calls back.

“Shit,” Deku curses.

He looks around for something, anything he can use to tie this guy up. While he's distracted, though, Stain takes advantage of Deku’s bleeding, and licks up a drop of blood from the ground.

Within seconds, their position has been switched, Deku lying limp on the concrete with Stain above him, laughing with sickening pride.

He feels the claws of his earlier fear close around his throat, making his breath constrict once more. Stain is speaking above him, his nasty breath wafting into Deku's face.

“You're a wry one, aren't you?” he asks, the tip of his sword poking under Deku's chin. “I didn't think you'd get back up.”

Deku glares at him, holding strong and keeping himself from floating away, despite his fear. There are too many people depending on him in this moment. He has to stay here, he can't float.

“You've surprised me,” Stain admits. “What's your quirk? I haven't seen you use one.”

“Don't got one,” Deku grits out.

Stains eyes widen comically before his face settles into an amused smirk. “Totally defenseless, what're you doin’ out here like that?”

“Same as everyone else,” Deku says cryptically.

Stain scoffs at the non-answer. He goes to say something more. but before he gets the chance to…

“Get the hell away from my kid!”

Suddenly Stain is gone, no longer on top of Deku, and instead fighting Eraserhead just a few feet away. Deku scrambles to his feet, not hesitating to reach for his knives again.

Eraser and Stain are fighting at a distance from each other, Eraser staying back to avoid the sword and Stain keeping away to avoid the capture weapon.

Deku does the only thing he can think of to stop this fight.

He lunges forward and digs one knife into each of Stain's upper arms. Stain screams in pain and drops his sword. Deku steps back and let's Eraser do his thing, wrapping the capture scarf around him and effectively restraining the villain.

"Kid," Eraser gasps, stepping around Stain to rush to him.

Izuku pants, staring up at his mentor, who takes him by the shoulders, inspecting him. His head swims, almost knocking him off of his feet and making him gag. His head hurts and he's bleeding all over.

He remembers hitting his head, which is probably why he's not feeling too hot. He raises a hand to the back of his head, finding the hair there to be wet and sticky with blood.

"I don't feel good," he whispers.

His vision fades and he feels himself being lowered to the ground. People are yelling and someone's telling him to stay awake but Izuku's so tired.

He closes his eyes and promptly blacks out.

Notes:

heyyy

I really need to get better about uploading lol I'm sorry this took so long!!

Hope you all enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always appreciated and motivating!!

Chapter 17: Family

Notes:

CW's:
flashback/panic attack
restraints

Izuku doesn't know what's going on.

He blinks his eyes open and all he can see through the blurry haze over his vision is the movement all around him. There are hands over his ears holding his head still, though he doesn't think he'd be able to hear anything even if they weren't there.

He thinks he's crying, if the heaving of his chest is anything to go by. His head fucking hurts and he doesn't know where he is and there are so many people touching him so all he can do is sob.

His entire body shakes and seizes with every gasp and cry that leaves his lips. He tries to move his head but it's stuck still between strong, steady hands. So, he kicks his feet and hits his hands against the ground, but those are quickly held down as well.

He doesn't know why or how or when, but quickly after that, the world fades to black.

~

A loud beeping stirs Izuku awake.

He feels groggy and slow, the light above him blinding and the machines in the room buzzing loudly. His mouth tastes stale, his throat slightly scratchy. He can make out several- no, two figures standing above him.

He blinks away some of the bleariness in his vision and is met with a kind smile from a woman he doesn't know. Part of him has half a mind to set off alarms in the deep crevices of his mind, but he can't find it in himself to do anything about that in this moment.

He turns to the other figure, relieved to see a familiar face. Aizawa stares down at him, his brows scrunched together and his frowning lips moving around words Izuku can't hear.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head a few times, as though that'll help his situation at all. Surprisingly, it does.

“-ku, can you hear me?”

Izuku nods with a whine. God, his head hurts.

“How are you feeling?” the lady asks. Izuku takes a shot in the dark and guesses she's a nurse, judging from her scrubs and kind face.

“Tired,” Izuku groans. His voice is scratchy. Without him asking, the nurse is quick to bring him a glass of water, which Aizawa helps him take appropriate sips of.

“Yeah, you're going to be quite groggy for a while. We had to administer a sedative in the field because you were fighting the paramedics,” the nurse explains. She starts examining him, shining lights in his eyes and such. The lights make his eyes hurt and he tries to shy away, but she cups his face and smiles at him, preventing him from moving any further.

“Do you remember what happened?” Aizawa asks.

Izuku hums an affirmative, which seems to relieve the two adults above him.

“How's Shinsou?” he asks, his speech slightly slurred with drowsiness. “‘nd Iida?”

“Shinsou luckily only had a superficial cut on his arm, he's already been cleared,” Aizawa explains. “Iida, however, is currently in surgery for the injuries he obtained. He got the worst of it, but you scared us all for a minute there, kid.”

“Iida’ll be okay, though, right?” Izuku questions, his worry spiking.

“Yes, he'll be fine,” Aizawa nods. One of his hands come to rest on the top of Izuku's head, gently petting through the hair that isn't bandaged. “I need you to worry about yourself right now, kid. Does anything hurt?”

“Just my head,” he shrugs. “I hit it hard.”

Aizawa smirks a bit at him. “Yeah, yeah you did.”

“I can call the doctors and see if we can get you a stronger painkiller,” the nurse offers.

She takes a few more moments to copy down the numbers on the monitors to her clipboard before taking her leave, leaving Izuku and Aizawa alone in the room.

“Do you wanna sit up a bit?” Aizawa asks.

Izuku nods and Aizawa presses a button on the side of the bed to slowly lift him into a sitting position. The change makes his neck ache along with his head. He groans a bit but makes no further complaint as the nurse is already trying to get him meds.

Aizawa helps him sip more water, though Izuku's sure he could hold the cup by himself now, and they settle into a slightly awkward silence. Izuku crosses his legs in front of him and plays with the hem of the blanket that's been placed over him.

A peak outside the window reveals that it's just past dawn, the sun creeping over the horizon of the city.

Izuku wonders what sort of drug they gave him, as it's made him feel much more at ease with this whole situation. The last time he was in the hospital, it was a much scarier experience for him. Maybe that had more to do with what had landed him here than any drug, but he still finds it interesting that he feels so calm and collected.

“Hizashi should be here soon,” Aizawa speaks up suddenly from beside the bed. “He's got your hoodie and a change of clothes with him.”

Izuku nods slowly.

If he's being honest, he thought he'd be in more trouble than it seems he is. Maybe that was also the drug preventing him from picking up on things he normally would be.

“Am I in trouble?” he decides to ask. He looks out the window as he says it, not wanting to see Aizawa's face if he is.

“No,” Aizawa assures. “But we need to have a conversation about the decisions you made tonight.”

Oh. That was a new one.

He's gotten the whole “I'm not angry, I'm disappointed” speech from adults before, but “we need to have a conversation” was something he'd never heard before.

“Will I be punished?” he asks.

“We aren't sure yet,” Aizawa replies.

That kicks something loose inside of Izuku, a panic that had been buried beneath the medicine.

He doesn't want Aizawa to be mad at him and he definitely doesn't want to be punished by him. Aizawa is safe. If there's anything Izuku knows, it's that. He doesn't expect Aizawa to punish him because all he's ever known are punishments that hurt and he knows- well, he thinks he knows that Aizawa would never hurt him.

“I'm sorry,” is all he can think to say. Maybe if he apologizes enough, it'll make things better.

“Don't worry about it, kid,” Aizawa replies. “Just rest up until Hizashi gets here.”

Izuku is handed a remote to the TV and after a moment of contemplation, wondering if he should say anything more, he accepts it and flips to his favorite channel.

~

There are things about Izuku that Shota knows…

(Izuku Midoriya was born on July 14, 2*** to Inko and Hisashi Midoriya. He was diagnosed as quirkless when he was six, spurring Hisashi to leave on Izuku's seventh birthday. According to Izuku's medical records, he was admitted to the hospital later that night with broken ribs and burns.

Izuku's school records paint a picture of a troubled kid who often provoked other students, got into fights, and cheated on his assignments. Shota feels it's safe to assume that most, if not all of these claims are false.

When he was twelve, Izuku's mother collapsed at work, later passing away in the hospital of a heart attack. Social Services claims they were never able to locate Izuku, however, they never reported him as missing. Izuku had run from them and taken to living on the streets, convinced his life would be easier that way.

Izuku quickly became a target of the local trafficking ring and was quickly forced into sex work. It's believed Izuku was consistently victimized for a year before escaping.

About a year later, he would make his debut as the vigilante Deku.)

… and things he doesn't.

(After being admitted to the hospital, Inko Midoriya claimed Izuku had fallen down the stairs, an obvious lie. The burns on the boy's torso were never explained and the presumed abuse was never further investigated.

Izuku's schools, elementary and middle, refused to give Shota access to Katsuki Bakugou's records when Shota began investigating the false claims made against Izuku. Shota was, however, able to obtain them from Nezu. As he expected, despite being named as a participating party in many of the claims made against Izuku, no fights or bullying were ever reported in Bakugou's records.

Social Services have refused to comment on the boy they claimed wasn't home when they showed up suddenly appearing years later with claims that he had, in fact, opened the door for them when they arrived.

Most other victims of Tal and Mickey's “business” they have spoken to had simply gotten “too old” for them. These victims were never younger than seventeen. How was thirteen-year-old Izuku able to escape?

How much of this has to do with Izuku's quirkless status?)

The most important thing he's learned in his research of Izuku's past is that this kid needs a goddamn break. He deserves to lie on the living room couch and watch cartoons for hours. He deserves to have friends, like the ones he's observed him making at school. He deserves to break down and let himself be built back up again.

So he finds it incredibly difficult to have to scold him.

It isn't the first time he's done so, god knows Deku got plenty of scoldings from Eraserhead while working as a vigilante.

But this time is different.

This time, Shota is not only Izuku's mentor, but he's his guardian. (Father.) This time, he knows of the horrors this kid has had to face. This time, he knows that if Izuku had not defied him, a child, his student, would have died.

But Izuku has to understand what could have happened. He has to understand that he's incredibly lucky Shota had heard Shinsou’s yelling. He has to understand he could have died.

There’s no guide book on how to say any of this to a child. God, Shota would pay anything to get one.

So, when Hizashi shows up with Izuku’s clothes, they let him put his hoodie on and get comfortable before they start.

Well, Hizashi starts, and what he says takes Shota completely off guard.

“Izuku, I wanna tell you about someone we used to know,” Hizashi starts, his brows furrowed in grief. His hands are clasped together in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees. “His name was Oboro Shirakumo.”

Shota sighs deeply at the mere mention of the name. He knows where this is going.

“We were best friends, the three of us,” Hizashi starts. “He was so bright and laid back and kind to everyone and everything. It was his biggest fault, actually.”

Izuku listens intently, his eyes focused on Hizashi.

“One day, when we were just a bit older than you are now, we were caught up in a villain attack during a work study. As students, when things got bad, we were ordered to retreat. Oboro wouldn't. He wanted to help with the rescue efforts. We left him behind.”

Hizashi gets a bit choked up, one of his hands coming to cover his mouth. Shota places a hand on his husband's shoulder and takes over, telling the rest of the story.

“After the fight, Hizashi and I split up to try to find him and, well, I did,” Shota clears his throat. “He'd been crushed beneath the rubble of a collapsing building and died.”

It will never not hurt to say it aloud. Shota feels his throat squeeze around the grief swelling in his chest. He turns to Hizashi, who is wiping his tears.

“The reason I wanted to tell you this,” Hizashi sniffles, his voice coming out stronger than before. “Is that we don't want you to end up like him. When you are told to stay back, you stay back. When you are told to retreat, you retreat. You will be a hero, we'll make sure of it, but you aren't one right now. You have to be able to listen to orders from your teachers and mentors, or you will not be allowed to patrol again for a very long time.”

Izuku nods and sniffles, his eyes glossy with tears. “‘m sorry.”

“It's alright, kid,” Shota assures. “We're just happy you're okay.”

“I'm sorry about your friend,” Izuku whispers.

“It was a long time ago,” Hizashi shrugs. “It's alright.”

~

Officially, the hero killer Stain has been captured by Endeavor, the second hero on scene. The police offered to put Shota's name on the case but he declined the offer, not interested in the publicity of such a thing. Izuku, Shinsou, and Iida have all been sworn to secrecy and let off with a slap on the wrist.

Shinsou is sent back home the morning after the incident while Iida will be in the hospital for another few days recovering from his injuries and the surgeries.

Izuku is released from the hospital on Friday morning after being cleared from observation for his concussion. They're given a prescription for pain medication and sent on their way.

Shota and Hizashi agree to stop by the teacher's dorms first to grab their things before taking Izuku home to rest. The kid is a bit loopy from the pain meds but overall seems fine.

That is, until they get to the dorms.

Standing in front of Izuku's room, Shota pulls the keycard from his pocket to let them in. He swipes the card, pushes the door open, and turns to the kid.

His heart drops.

Izuku's eyes are blown wide, his mouth hung open slightly and his lips trembling. His breaths are shallow and his hands are fisting the hem of his hoodie.

“Kid?” Shota tries. He gets no reaction. “Izuku?” he reaches toward the kid.

Izuku out right screams, scrambling away from Shota. His back hits the wall and he crumbles to the ground. He looks at the dorm, his eyes wide as saucers, and mumbles incoherently. The only things Shota can make out are the words “no”, “why”, and “please”.

Hizashi comes running out of Shota's dorm where he'd been packing his things. “What's wrong?!”

“I don't know,” Shota replies quickly. He crouches a couple feet away from Izuku, but Izuku pays him no mind. His hands are fisted in his sweatshirt over his chest and he seems to be completely out of it.

“What did you do?” Hizashi asks.

“Nothing, I just opened the… door,” Shota looks down at the keycard in his hand. “Fuck.”

He stands and turns back to the dorm. Standing in the doorway looking in, he realizes what triggered Izuku's groggy, muddled mind into this episode.

It resembles a hotel room.

Vaguely, that is, but once you see it, it's undeniable.

“Sho! Shit,” Shota turns around to find Hizashi trying to pry Izuku’s hands off of his own arms. Izuku’s fingernails are digging into the scarred flesh so hard that there are pinpricks of blood glitter across the fresh wounds.

Hizashi tries to get closer to Izuku to stop him but his feet kick Hizashi away. The boy screams at any attempt either of them make to get closer.

The last straw, the thing that makes Shota say ‘fuck it’ and help Hizashi restrain the kid, is when he starts throwing his head back against the wall behind him.

Due to the kid's concussion, it scares the both of them enough that their instincts kick in and they move with a practiced fluidity to restrain him.

Hizashi reaches for the kid's shoulders to pull him away from the wall while Shota wrestles with his legs until he can grab the boy's ankles and hold them still.

Within a minute, they effectively get Izuku wrestled into a secure and safe hold. His back is against Hizashi's chest, his arms pinned back where Hizashi's are looped through his elbows, and his legs are pinned to the ground by Shota's hands on his knees.

Izuku openly sobs. He begs for the couple to let go. He apologizes for nothing, he didn't do anything wrong. He struggles in their hold. He tries to kick and punch and scream for help.

It hurts.

Hizashi is quietly crying, trying to whisper assurances in Izuku’s ear though neither of them can be sure he even hears them.

Shota has to look away and bite his lip to keep his emotions at bay. He hates seeing them cry, either of them, and seeing them both with tear stained faces makes Shota sick to his stomach.

Izuku slowly stops fighting, clearly exhausted, and lets himself go limp. He wails, broken and openly. Hizashi starts rocking him back and forth, continuing to whisper in his ear.

At some point, however many minutes later, Izuku stops crying. Well, the tears still fall and he sniffles a bit, but the wailing stops and it seems he's able to hear Hizashi a bit. He turns his head and nuzzles his cheek into the man's shoulder, reaching for some sort of comfort.

“Little listener, can you hear me?” Hizashi tries.

Izuku hums quietly and nods.

Hizashi smiles a bit with relief. “If we let go, can you stay calm and not hurt yourself?”

Another hum and nod.

Shota sighs and lets go of Izuku's legs as Hizashi lets go of his arms. They both wait to see what he'll do, letting him take the reigns on the situation and decide what he's comfortable with.

To their surprise, he doesn't scramble away from them like Shota had expected him to. Instead, he turns and hides his face fully in Hizashi's shoulder, his arms looped around the man's neck. Hizashi slowly wraps his arms around Izuku in return, giving him time and space to push him away, but quickly finds himself being koala hugged by the teenager.

Shota waits for Hizashi to nod his okay before standing from the floor and heading into Izuku's room to gather his things.

The first thing Shota notices is that the bed has been stripped down to the sheet, all the pillows and blankets nowhere in sight. The next thing he sees is the kids things dumped on the ground.

He crouches and hastily shoves the clothes and amenities into the yellow bag.

He looks around the room in search of the missing bedding and shrugs it off, heading into the bathroom for his toothbrush and soaps instead.

He finds the bedding there, too.

The bathtub has been filled with it. The comforter is folded in half, it seems, and lines the bottom and sides of the tub. There are two pillows at each end and the throw blanket has been left on the floor.

“Sho,” Shota turns around upon hearing his husband's whisper to find him in the doorway, kid in his arms. “Woah,” he says, looking at the state of the bathroom.

“Is he asleep?” Shota whispers.

“Almost,” Hizashi confirms. “Do you think he's been sleeping in here all week?”

Shota shrugs. “I assume so. How did I not notice?”

Hizashi shakes his head. “That's not what we should be worrying about right now.”

Shota nods and starts gathering the kid's things from the bathroom.

“I'm gonna take him down to the car,” Hizashi whispers. “We'll talk more at home.”

Shota nods and lets them leave.

It hurts to know the kid was hiding his discomfort with the room this whole week. He'd thought they'd gotten to a point that they could talk about these things, but he was evidently wrong.

How do you gain the trust of a traumatized teenager that refuses to talk to you? How do you let them know they can tell you?

Shota grabs the last of Izuku's things, zips the bag, and leaves.

~

They don't talk about it.

Izuku doesn't quite remember his freak out earlier, but he knows that it was bad enough they had to call Recovery Girl once they got home. She checked him over and gave him a neuro exam. Apparently he hit his head.

Hizashi helped him clean up his arms and bandage them while Aizawa made food. He has angry red scratches lining both of his arms, some bleeding and some beginning to bruise.

He feels bad.

He hasn't spoken much since waking up in the car. He's apologized and continues to. He doesn't know what else to do.

He feels hollow yet heavy. His chest aches vaguely and his limbs feel numb.

They won't leave him alone, too.

Hizashi keeps asking "are you okay, Izuku?”, “do you need anything Izuku?”, “what happened, Izuku?”. Don't get him wrong, he thinks it's sweet. He appreciates having someone care enough to check on him, but he just doesn't have the energy to reciprocate. Hizashi gets one word answers and doesn't push any further.

Aizawa doesn't speak to him much. He's there, of course, and he makes sure Izuku's comfortable. His cartoons are on when Izuku finally emerges from his room, his favorite throw blanket has been freshly washed and is warm from the dryer, and he quickly places a fresh cup of cocoa on the coffee table for him.

Izuku knows Aizawa is a man of few words, especially when it comes to comforting someone, so he assumes this is his own way of showing he cares.

It feels nice. Foreign, but nice.

Later in the evening, when the smell of curry is starting to waft in from the kitchen accompanied by Hizashi’s humming, Kit calls.

Izuku hasn't heard from her for a week and they haven't seen each other in about two. He excitedly answers.

“Izu?”

“Hi.”

“You idiot, I heard you landed yourself in the hospital again!”

“Yeah, they don't do nearly as good a job of patching me up than you do, though.”

“Liar.”

Izuku huffs a quiet laugh.

“Can I come see you? Are you home?”

“Yeah, I'm home. Uh, let me ask.”

Izuku presses the phone to his shoulder and stands from the couch, quietly padding into the kitchen. Hizashi has his back turned where he's stirring something over the stove. Aizawa is leaning against the counter, sipping from a mug as per usual.

Aizawa looks up at Izuku as he enters, an eyebrow quirked in a silent question.

“Um, can Kit come over?” he asks, his voice admittedly timid.

Aizawa and Hizashi share a look for a moment before Aizawa sighs. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?” Izuku asks, not unkindly. He carefully keeps his voice void of any sort of complaint, just pure questioning.

“You need rest, kid,” Aizawa explains. “You've had a rough week.”

Izuku wants to argue that he's been resting all day, but instead he turns away, not leaving the kitchen, and lifts the phone back to his ear.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, it's okay!” Kit assures. “I work tomorrow, maybe you guys could swing by the cafe?”

Izuku turns around and asks. The same look is exchanged between the two men before Aizawa gives a simple nod.

“Yeah, that works!” he relays.

“Okay, cool! See you tomorrow, Izu!”

Izuku hangs up the phone and starts setting the table without being asked. It's his task, so he never complains.

They sit down for dinner not five minutes later. Izuku isn't very hungry, but he eats anyway. He's honestly disappointed he can't see Kit tonight. He would've liked to get a hug from her or to watch a movie or something. No matter how safe he feels with Aizawa, Kit will always be his big sister and he feels much more comfortable with her.

After dinner, which is spent in relative silence, Izuku helps with dishes. Just like with Kit at the cafe, Aizawa washed them and Izuku dries them before placing them on the drying rack. It's familiar and Izuku works with practiced fluidity.

He's almost looking forward to spending the night alone in his room with the quiet and his journal, but then Hizashi and Aizawa direct him to the living room.

Apparently, they need to talk.

About what, Izuku's not sure. There are about a million things they could want to say to him, things he's been avoiding.

“Do you not trust us?”

And that would be one of them.

“What-? No, I do!”

It's not that Izuku doesn't trust them, he does. Well, he thinks he does. He trusts Aizawa, at least, and he mostly trusts Hizashi as an extension of Aizawa, but he will admit that his soft approach to every conversation is quite comforting and an easy way to break down Izuku's walls.

It's just- well, Izuku doesn't trust the power they have over him. He's not stupid, he knows that since he's still legally a child there's always going to be someone that has power over him, at least for the next two years, but he feels so trapped here.

“Then why didn't you say anything about the dorm?” Aizawa asks.

Izuku doesn't know what to say and he can't tell yet if he's in trouble or not, so he takes a safe approach and shrugs his shoulders.

“Izuku, we just want to-,”

“Help,” Izuku finishes for him, thoroughly annoyed with how much he's heard that recently. “I know.”

“Then why won't you let us?” Hizashi asks.

“Because,” Izuku lowers his voice to a whisper, not wanting to hurt their feelings but knowing he has to say this. “You're making it worse.”

“What was that?” Hizashi asks, leaning forward.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut, his annoyance thrumming under his skin. “You're making it worse!” he yells.

He stands from his seat and begins pacing, completely losing his control and yelling at the couple.

“I don't- I don't know what you want from me! You both are so sad and stressed and you tip-toe around me like I'm some wild animal!”

“Kid-,”

Izuku pays no mind to the interruption. “Which is fitting because I'm literally trapped in this fucking apartment! And I-I know it's for my safety or something and I'm like, a flight risk, but I just-,”

“Kid,”

“I don't know what you want me to do! Tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it, I just want you to trust me and to stop being so sad and-,”

“Kid!” Aizawa yells it this time, effectively shutting Izuku up. Izuku stumbles back a bit, his mouth snapped shut and his shoulders drawing up to his ears.

Aizawa seems to immediately realize what he's done and sighs. “Kid,” he says, much calmer and infinitely more gentle. “We don't need anything from you.”

“But-,”

“No ‘but’s,” Hizashi interrupts. “All we need you to do is put in the work to help yourself and communicate.”

Izuku doesn't know what to say, so he just stares between them.

“It seems we all need to work on communicating if this is going to work,” Aizawa points out. “Sit back down, kid.”

Izuku does so, warily. He's a bit lost, but they don't seem mad.

“It seems we've been going about this all wrong,” Hizashi sighs. “We've been taking actions to help you without actually asking if these things are what you need and trusting that you'll come to us if you need help.”

“But trust is earned and being vulnerable takes a lot of it,” Aizawa continues. “So we, as a family, need to come up with a system that will work for all of us.”

Izuku's heart stop in his chest, his stomach fluttering with anxiety. He looks between the two men before him, who are staring back like they want him to give some sort of input.

But he's stuck on the phrasing Aizawa used.

“As a… family?” he repeats in a whisper.

Aizawa looks confused for a moment while Hizashi splits into a grin.

“Yes, a family! What else would we be?” he asks playfully.

“Oh,” Izuku breathes.

Family. He could really get used to that.

“Is that okay with you?” Aizawa asks.

Izuku nods furiously, reminding himself of his headache. He doesn't care, though. He's too happy to.

“Does that make you like…,”

“Your dads?” Hizashi guesses. He laughs a little, eyeing his husband next to him. “I guess it does, doesn't it?”

Aizawa grunts, but he doesn't have his scarf to hide his face in so his grin is on full display.

Izuku smiles. “I haven't been someone's kid for a while,” he sighs, though it comes out as more of a laugh than anything.

“Oh, you've been Shota's kid for at least a year now,” Hizashi laughs. But you're our kid, now. Hope he doesn't mind sharing!”

Aizawa smacks his arm and Izuku would dare to say he has a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Get away from my kid!”

“You did say that, didn't you?” Izuku realizes. “To Stain.”

“I suppose I did,” Aizawa admits. “But we should get back to the conversation at hand.”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpypants,” Hizashi teases.

The conversation circles back around to how they can help each other, but the whole time all Izuku can think about are those words.

His smile doesn't leave even through the difficult conversation.

Our kid.

Our kid.

Our kid.

Notes:

I'm sorry this took so long!! T_T

I'm gonna be completely honest, I've been rly depressed recently and lost all motivation to do literally anything. I had half of this chapter in my Google docs forever and just never went back.

I'm also not rly happy with how this chapter turned out but oh well I guess. I've already rewritten it a couple times and I guess this is the best it's gonna get lol.

!!UPDATE 6/3/2024!!
THIS WORK IS NOT ABANDONED!!!
I have been going through a LOT the last couple of months and my writing has, sadly, been made one of my last priorities. I am back on my feet now and hoping I can get a new chapter out within the next or so. I'm so sorry for the wait, thank you for your patience!!

Chapter 18: To Be Held

Notes:

CW's:
panic attack
minor self harm
brief discussions of abuse (mostly implied)

Kit's Cafe is as warm and bright as it's always been.

Izuku can't believe it's been a month since he was last here. He shudders thinking about how that specific visit turned out.

Everything's changed since then.

He's no longer homeless. He's no longer parentless. He's no longer a vigilante. He's no longer alone.

He focuses back on the colors, the oranges, reds, and yellows really help the cafe live up to its official name; the Sunrise Cafe.

When Izuku first began coming here, the colors overwhelmed him. The bright warmth was jarring compared to how he'd lived his whole life. Dark alleys and dingy hotel rooms, the black couch he'd spend his loneliest nights on with only the television for company, and his father's dark hair and suits. The only bright things he'd ever known were fire and blood.

He supposes that's why he's grown to be comforted by the dark. While it was lonely and frightening, he had found a solemn safety in it.

But, the cafe changed that.

It quickly became the highlight of Izuku's life, along with Kit, who resembled a white angel, his angel, having come to save him from the dark, gruesome reality of his world. Along with his training and vigilantism, coming here gave him something to look forward to. Honestly, it saved his life more times than he could count.

Izuku nurses his hot cocoa while watching Kit buzz about. The lunch rush has arrived, so she's quite busy. With only two waiters on staff, they're drowning.

Usually, when the cafe got like this, Izuku would start serving people. Kit wouldn't let him take orders or handle bills, but it's the small things that helps. He could take the plates from the cook line, deliver them to tables, and bus tables once they were vacated. That was his contribution.

He feels antsy just sitting here watching. Kit banned him from helping because of his concussion. He tried to argue that it wasn't that serious (it was) but she wouldn't budge.

Hizashi and Aizawa left him here with Kit while they ran some errands. That was two hours ago. He doesn't like the thoughts trying to creep up on him, telling him that they left him here for good.

They left him here because he's caused too much trouble, he's taken too much of their time and money, he's become too much of a burden-

He sips his cocoa.

He focuses on the chocolate and cream, the way it feels on his tongue and teeth. The way it smells, the warmth seeping from the mug to his hands. Senses can help ground a person to reality, at least that's what Karibu said.

Suddenly, his phone buzzes on the counter beside him. Izuku picks it up to find a text from Hizashi.

Hizashi Yamada: We r going to be about another hour. R u ok staying with Kit? Or should we come pick u up?

Izuku sighs in relief.

Izuku Midoriya: I'm okay staying here!

“Got an order wrong,” Kit sets a plate in front of Izuku. “Eat up!”

Izuku pushes the plate back towards her. “No, I can't.”

“Why not?” she asks, wiping down the counter with a cloth.

“I don't need it anymore,” he explains. He could only justify taking Kit's offerings when he absolutely needed it, when he hadn't eaten for days and his head felt light.

“You do, it's lunchtime,” she brushes him off. “It'll just get thrown away otherwise.”

Izuku tries to argue, but Kit just walks away. He stares at the sandwich in front of him and debates with himself.

If he eats it, then Aizawa and Hizashi don't have to spend money on him for lunch. If he doesn't eat it, it'll get thrown away, wasted. If he does, then he's greedy, taking free handouts where they aren't needed. If he doesn't, it could possibly feed someone on the street through dumpster diving.

He settles on eating half of it. That way he doesn't look too greedy and gluttonous while still looking thankful.

Just as Izuku is wrapping the other half of the sandwich, preparing to throw it away but keep it clean in case someone finds it, something brushes against his arm. Someone brushes against his arm.

“Rough day, pretty boy?”

Izuku jumps up, phantom hands immediately swarming his body. He stares at the woman on the stool next to his, who gives him a confused look. With no composure or sense of social edicate left in his body, Izuku promptly grabs his phone and runs to the back of the cafe.

He stumbles into the bathroom and locks the door behind him. Alone, behind a locked door, he’s safe.

Pacing the length of the small, single person bathroom, he bites his lip and digs his nails into his scalp, trying to chase away the flashback looming over him. Hands travel all over his body, head to toe.

It's so stupid. He feels ridiculous.

Someone brushed against his shoulder and now he's crying like a baby. What's wrong with him? God, he should never leave the house again. He's just embarrassing himself.

No wonder Aizawa left him here, pawning him on Kit yet again, making him her problem instead of his. That's all Izuku's ever been. A problem. The fragile little quirkless boy that gets himself into too much trouble. Who starts fights he can't finish, cheats and steals and lies. He's no good.

No good, no good, no good.

With a gasp, he keels over the sink, fumbling for the faucet. The glorious sound of running water fills his ears and Izuku wastes no time before cupping his hands beneath the stream and throwing the water back on his face.

The shock of the cold sensation pauses his gasping breaths long enough for him to ground himself just a bit. He splashes his face a few more times, and while he can breathe again, he still feels gross. Wrong. Dirty.

Dirty.

Izuku hurriedly reaches for the soap dispenser, pumping soap on his hands and frantically scrubbing at them beneath the water. He continues doing so, pump after pump of soap, scrubbing and rinsing, until his hands are red and raw. He even pushes up his sleeves and begins scrubbing at his wrists.

That is, until a knock on the door snaps him back into reality.

“Izu,” Kit calls through the door. “You’ve been in there for a while, are you alright?”

Izuku hiccups and slaps a hand over his mouth as a result. He stares at himself and his hand in the mirror.

“Izu?”

“I’ll uh, I’ll be out soon!” he calls back, hoping for his dignity’s sake that Kit will ignore the way his voice shakes as he says it. He looks down at his hands and wrists, rubbed red and raw, and scoffs. He’s so overdramatic.

He turns the water off and dries his hands with some paper towel, cringing at the slight pain caused by the paper against his sensitive skin. He takes one last deep breath, pulls his sleeves down to hide the damage, and leaves the restroom.

He heads back to the lobby and sits back down at the front bar. The woman from before is already gone. Izuku checks his phone and finds that twenty minutes have passed. No wonder Kit was worried.

His cocoa is cold, so he takes it to the back sink, smiling at the dishwasher as he sets it down. Then, he discards the second half of his sandwich in the trash, making sure it's wrapped well in its paper just in case.

He just has to wait another thirty or so minutes and Hizashi and Aizawa will be back.

They will come back.

He wrings his sore hands and waits.

~

Hizashi watches Izuku through the rear view mirror from the passenger's seat. It's not a very long drive back to the apartment, but Izuku seems to have already found it in himself to completely zone out with his temple pressed against the glass.

He's a little jittery with excitement, in all honesty. The gifts they bought at the mall today are all in the backseat, just waiting to be wrapped and given to the boy.

Izuku's birthday is in just three days, so Shota and Hizashi took the opportunity granted by Kit's impromptu hangout to go on a mini shopping spree for him. They want Izuku to feel loved and special on his special day, something they assume hasn't happened for at least several years.

Izuku hasn't even mentioned his birthday, which makes them wonder if he even knows that they know when it is. He wonders if Izuku even realizes it's so soon.

They get to the apartment and leave the bags from their shopping spree in the car to avoid Izuku peeking at them. Izuku heads straight to his room when they get there, and Hizashi and Shota let him, assuming he's a bit overstimulated from the day.

They settle on the couch and lounge around for a while, planning to spend the rest of their day off in peace.

That is, until Shota gets a notification on his phone and runs a hand down his face.

“I completely forgot,” he groans. “Izuku's appointment with his new psychiatrist is tomorrow morning.”

“Shit, what time?” Hizashi asks.

“9:30,” Shota responds. “I haven't even called out of work.”

“I can take him,” Hizashi offers.

“Do you think he'd be okay with that?”

Hizashi shrugs and stands. “I'll go ask.”

He walks down the hall and knocks on Izuku's doorframe. The door is open, and the kid is sitting at his desk reading something, but it's only respectful to announce his presence in some way.

Izuku waves him in and turns sideways in his chair to face Hizashi.

“We completely forgot to tell you, but we got you in to see a psychiatrist in the morning,” Hizashi explains. “Sho hasn't called out of work yet, and before he does, I was wondering if you'd be alright with me taking you instead?”

Izuku seems to think about it for a moment. “I think so.”

“Sounds like a plan, then!” Hizashi smiles and gives him a thumbs up. He's just about to leave when he catches sight of what Izuku’s reading through.

It's a notebook, one in very poor condition. He's never seen it before.

He takes a couple steps into the room. “Whatcha got there?” he asks.

Izuku quickly turns back around in his chair and slams the book shut, like he doesn't want Hizashi to see. “Oh, i-it's just an old notebook, Kachan uh, he gave it back to me.”

“Gave it back?” Hizashi questions. It's obvious Izuku is protective of this and he should just leave it, but he can't deny his curiosity.

“Well, uh, yeah,” Izuku shrugs. “I-it was mine in uh, middle school. He just returned it.”

“Is it the same one he fixed for you?” Hizashi hadn't really been there for that conversation, but he had heard about the mysterious notebook from Shota.

Izuku nods. From what Hizashi can see, this notebook in front of him is burnt and waterlogged. It's a wonder he can even read it. He pushes his curiosity aside and bids his farewell, sensing Izuku’s discomfort around the subject.

“He said I can take him,” Hizashi informs his husband once back in the living room.

“Did he seem nervous at all about the appointment? I feel bad not giving him much notice.”

“He was pretty distracted by that notebook of his,” HIzashi shrugs.

“Figures, that kid always seems to have his head shoved in that thing.”

Hizashi nods, neglecting to mention it was not the notebook Shota seems to be referring to. It seems like a private matter. He doesn’t want to push any boundaries.

~

“In your own words, Izuku, what would you say brought you in today?”

The question from the psychiatrist has Izuku immediately turning to Hizashi, sitting in the chair beside him. The question is too broad for him to answer.

The room, Izuku finds, is quite suffocating. It's set up like a simple exam room- an exam table, a desk for the doctor, and two chairs against the wall, which Izuku and Hizashi sit in now. It makes him nervous, fidgety.

Hizashi gives him an encouraging look, though Izuku doesn't find it to be very effective.

“I-I don't know, um, I guess everything?” Izuku answers.

“Okay, how about I ask you some more specific questions and we start from there,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Miyana, a middle aged man with no tells to his quirk. It's distracting Izuku because he wants to know, but he knows this is a serious manner and he can't go all “nerdy” right now.

“How often would you say you experience feelings of anxiety?” the doctor asks.

Izuku shrugs. “I guess, uh, constantly?”

“What would you rate your average anxiety level on a scale from 1-10?”

He thinks about that for only a moment before deciding on five. The doctor notes it down on the notepad he has in hand.

“And what about depression? How often do you experience that?”

“Constantly,” Izuku says again. He's embarrassed, being so honest, but Hizashi told him in the car to try his best to be, as they are only trying to help him.

He rates his depression a five out of ten on average as well.

“Okay, what about suicidal thoughts or wishing you could go to sleep and not wake up again?”

Izuku shrugs.

“You can be honest here,” the doctor assures. “Nobody here is going to judge you and you aren’t in any trouble.”

The thing is, Izuku doesn't want to be honest about that. If he were to say that those thoughts are almost constantly running through his head, he'd lose all freedoms. He already has so little, he doesn't want to be put on suicide watch.

He also doesn't want pity. He doesn't want Hizashi and Aizawa to check in on him every second of the day, to tell him constantly that they care and don't want him to die. He knows. Well, he thinks he knows. It's hard to convince himself that those things are true, but that's beside the point.

The doctor just smiles and notes down his lack of an answer. He turns to Hizashi. “Do you have precautions set up at home to keep him safe?”

Izuku shifts uncomfortably, annoyance flooding him at the question.

“Yes,” Hizashi nods. “All sharps and medications are locked up and we have alarms set up on every window and door.”

That peaks the doctor's interest. “Would you consider him a flight risk?”

Izuku rolls his eyes, feeling the rage of Deku quickly flood his senses.

“Considering his history, yes we do.”

The doctor nods and turns his attention back to Deku. “Would you disagree with that?”

Deku shrugs, neither confirming nor denying. “It’s annoying.”

“How so?” the doctor pries.

Deku scoffs and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Would you appreciate being caged like an animal?”

“This is an ongoing disagreement we’ve been having,” Hizashi notes aloud.

“Let me ask you this, Izuku,” the doctor leans forward in his seat, initiating eye-contact. “Does the feeling of being trapped trigger your anxiety?”

Deku shrugs, though it does. It very much does. He spent a year being locked in hotel rooms, forced to do heinous things. He hasn't done well with being locked up ever since.

Not to mention the fact that he spent two years after that completely on his own (minus Kit). He had all the freedom in the world. Could do what he wanted and say what he wanted and nobody cared.

Don’t get him wrong, he appreciates having people who care now, but it's suffocating. He feels on edge at all times, scared that one wrong move will ruin everything.

“Izuku?”

Deku instinctually glares at the doctor before realizing he didn't answer the question.

“I don't,” he admits through gritted teeth.

He doesn't know how to cope with his anxiety- with anything, really- if it isn't harming himself or others, and he can't tell the doctor that. They'd lock him up and throw away the key.

“Is he seeing a therapist?” Dr. Miyana asks Hizashi.

“Yes, he sees one almost daily,” Hizashi confirms.

“That's good. How would you say those sessions are going, Izuku?” the doctor asks.

Deku shrugs. “Fine, I guess.”

“Alright,” he notes something down again.

That stupid notepad is going to drive Deku insane. He wants- needs to know what's being written about him, what's going to be recorded in his charts forever. He's probably telling lies, saying Deku’s being defiant or belligerent. He's not. He simply doesn't enjoy having people in his business.

Once people know things about you- personal things, thoughts, feelings, pains- they can and will use them against you. He feels weak for opening up to Eraser as much as he has and blames that for all of the limits and safeguards that have been put up around him.

Part of him- the angry, hurt part of Deku- wishes he never agreed to work with Eraser. Wishes he could still be on the streets, enjoying his freedom and being useful to his community.

A deeper part of him- the child he is and used to be- wishes to be back home with his mom. Wishes none of this ever happened. Wishes to be held and coddled and told everything is alright, it was just a bad dream, and the monsters will go away soon.

“Okay,” the doctor clears his throat and sits up once more.

He turns toward his computer and reads silently off of the screen for a moment. Deku can't even see what's written there. He digs his fingernails into his palms.

“From the notes Dr. Mihara left me- the psychiatrist you saw at the hospital- he suggested focusing on treating your anxiety and post-traumatic-stress first, and I'd agree. Is that okay with you, Izuku?”

Deku shrugs, but then nods. He remembers the relief that flooded his body when Dr. Mihara told him about medication and how it could help him. He needs this.

“Okay, well I think I'm going to start you on a medication called propranolol. It's not typically the first medication I'd try with a patient, but after observing you here today, I think it may be more in line with what you're looking for.”

“Observing me?” Deku pushes, hoping to get some explanation as to what the hell the doctor has been writing about him.

Dr. Miyana nods. “Through your behavior in the last twenty minutes, I've noticed that you are hyper-aware of your surroundings, jumpy, and become stand-offish when you feel threatened. I think your PTSD is keeping you in fight-or-flight, limiting your ability to relax and be in the moment.

Propranolol is a medication type called Beta Blockers. What they do is they dampen hormones like adrenaline, which is keeping you in fight-or-flight, in hopes of lowering your anxiety symptoms.”

“But I'm training to be a hero,” Deku argues, and then promptly shuts his mouth.

That's the first time he's said it out loud. He's barely acknowledged it. He's training to be a hero, his life-long dream.

Dr. Miyana hums. “You'll still be able to produce adrenaline when needed,” he assures, catching on to Deku's question. “It will just be less of a constant thing.”

“This sounds perfect, listener,” Hizashi smiles at him. “What do you think?”

Deku bites his lip, glancing between the men. His heart hammers in his chest as the pressure to make a decision sets in, and through that hammering, he comes to a decision.

“Fine.”

~

Here's the thing about school:

Izuku doesn't actually hate it.

He's always found himself with conflicting feelings about it, but he'd always come to the conclusion that he rather likes learning. He likes knowing how things work and behave with one another, whether it be words, people, chemicals, it's all always fascinated him.

He knows it makes him a nerd, like Kachan has always said, but he doesn't care. Nerds like him run the world. He sees it as a positive.

Where the conflict comes in is with the other kids.

Peers, obviously, we're never kind to Izuku, and even if they tried to be, they were quickly turned on as well and quickly convinced away from him instead. Kachan made sure of it.

So he finds it weird when Kachan keeps glancing at him from across the cafeteria while Izuku eats his lunch with Todoroki and Shinsou once again.

If this were four years ago, Kachan would be stomping over right this moment and throwing insults at the other two, trying to scare them away from Izuku.

But he doesn't.

He just glares.

Izuku turns back to his food, shuddering at the feeling of eyes on him.

“So you two caught Stain, not Endeavor?” Todoroki asks.

“We- we weren't supposed to t-tell anyone about that,” Izuku hisses through his teeth toward Shinsou.

“I feel like he had the right to know, his dad is the one taking all the credit,” Shinsou shrugs. “And if anything, you're the one that really caught him. You should be shouting from the rooftops right now!”

“We can't,” Izuku reiterates. “We signed an- an agreement. Plus, it was really Aizawa that- that caught him, not me.”

“You put up a good fight, though,” Shinsou takes another bite of his food, leveling Izuku with a look that tells him he can't deny that fact.

Izuku just shrugs, not wanting to argue about it. “How was your uh, internship, Todoroki?”

Todoroki shrugs. He doesn't seem to be in a very good mood, which could mean something went wrong during his internship, or he's just having a bad day. Izuku can't tell.

He feels kind of guilty thinking about it. He knew that Endeavor wasn't kind to him, yet he still pushed Todoroki to train with him. It may be what's best for his career, but that doesn't mean it's what's best for Todoroki.

If Izuku were in the same situation with his father, he doesn't know what he'd do. Yes, his father wasn't kind either, but he doesn't have the insight that maturity brings to such a situation. It was over with by the time he was seven. He doesn't know how it would've effected him if the abuse had continued.

Todoroki is like a puzzle to Izuku. He's heard that he and Shinsou both declared early on that they didn't want friends, yet here they are, eating lunch with Izuku every day. Todoroki is quiet and speaks in a monotonous tone, like he doesn't know how to properly express himself. Izuku can only assume this is a result of his trauma.

Todoroki knows how to care for people, though. He may not think he does, but through what Izuku's experienced and observed, he's actually quite knowledgeable on the subject. He knows when and how to be gentle and seems to have a grasp on how to put it into use.

Izuku learns a lot through observation. He learns about quirks and how they work, he learns about human behavior and how to mimic what seems acceptable. He learns when to fight and when to run.

So he watches Todoroki and Shinsou when they're unaware.

He knows that Shinsou bites his cheeks when he's nervous and Todoroki fidgets with his pockets. He knows that Todoroki values eye contact when engaging with people and tends to mirror their mannerisms. Shinsou doesn't care for such things, instead shrugging most people off without a glance in their direction.

It's how Izuku comes to the conclusion that he can call the pair his friends. They both go out of their way to interact with him, which is a first, and listen carefully when he speaks.

It's something he hadn't experienced much.

He appreciates it. He appreciates them.

~

Izuku fidgets in his usual couch seat in Karibu's office.

Karibu asked about what happened during the internship. Izuku has yet to answer.

Something's been on his mind since the fight against Stain, only becoming more of a persistent thought after his panic attack yesterday:

How can he be a hero if he can't touch people?

During the fight with Stain, it wasn't really touch that triggered him, more so the feeling of being paralyzed, but his point still stands. While paralyzation is something he doesn't expect to face too frequently, touch is something he can't avoid.

Deku is better about it. He can knock a perp out and tie them up without blinking an eye, but the consequences of which are something Izuku has to deal with when he surfaces again.

It always makes the phantom hands worse.

How can he be a hero and work to help people day in and out if he can't touch them?

He's watched Eraserhead comfort victims while waiting for backup. He's experienced it himself.

Izuku can't do that. He can't offer a hug or a hand up. He can only give a nervous smile and a rude step backwards.

These thoughts are what leads Izuku to do something he's never done before; open up to Karibu.

“I don't like being touched,” he blurts, completely diverting from Karibu's question.

“I've heard,” Karibu nods without missing a beat, showing no signs of being caught off and by the confession.

“I- it makes my skin itch. I can- I can feel the- the hands,” Izuku continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his heart pounds and his brain screams at him to stop.

Karibu hums. “And how do you deal with that? With the hands?”

Izuku bites his lip. “I cut myself,” he whispers.

After a pause of what seems to be consideration, Karibu continues his questioning. “And touching people makes it worse?”

Izuku nods.

“Is there anyone in your life that you are okay with touching you?” the counselor asks.

Izuku nods.

“Who?”

“Uhm, Kit and Aizawa,” he whispers. “Sometimes Hizashi.”

“People you trust,” Karibu states.

Izuku nods.

“Izuku, I think we can both guess why you're so touch-adverse,” Karibu states. Izuku nods, because that much is obvious. “I want to propose a possible solution.”

Izuku nods, agreeing to listen.

“You see touch as bad, it sets off the danger alarms in your head. This is not your fault, it is simply due to the alley of the shit other people have put you through,” Karibu explains. “But I want you to try to challenge those feelings. I want you to attempt and rewire your senses and let yourself view touch as the positive thing it can be.”

Izuku looks up at him. His first instinct is to ask the counselor if he's joking, because he has to be, right? Rewire his senses? View touch as a positive thing?

It sounds impossible.

The thing that caused this in the first place was touch being used to hurt him. People take what they want, touch what they want, and Izuku has never really gotten a say in it.

He can't change that.

Can he?

“I see you're confused,” Karibu observes.

“It sounds impossible,” Izuku admits.

“It does,” the counselor nods. “But it is possible, and it starts with you taking charge.”

“How?”

“Well, I assume I don't have to explain consent to you,” Karibu assumes correctly. “But that's where it starts. If someone tries to hug you or touch you when you don't want it, you say no. You say you don't like it.”

“That's never gotten me very far,” Izuku grumbles.

“No, it hasn't. But, you have people in your life now that you know you can trust, and part of building that trust is knowing they wouldn't do anything to you that you don't want.”

“I-I guess,” Izuku shrugs.

“So I want you to prove to yourself that they will respect your boundaries. I want you to test it and let them prove that you can trust them,” Karibu explains.

“But- but what about like, rewiring my senses, like- like you were uh, saying?” Izuku asks, still utterly confused.

“That's step two,” Karibu smiles. “I want you to take control. Ask for the comfort you need. You don't have to do it verbally, just, you know, go in for a hug every once in a while. Or even just sit down on the couch next to Aizawa. Enjoy his company, his presence. And let yourself learn that touch can bring that comfort and safety you need, because it can.”

“What of I can't do it?”

“That why I'm asking you to try. You can always come back to me in a couple days and say it didn't work, and we'll come up with another plan you're more comfortable with. I just want you to give this one a shot.”

Tell someone no and expect them to listen? Hug someone out of his own volition? He's done those things when he's been upset and quite dissociated, but can he really do that otherwise?

Can he really view touch as something positive? Can he really go back to how it felt in his mother's arms after a bad day at school? Where it felt like nothing and no one could ever hurt him as long as he was being held?

He wants to. God, he really wants to.

“I can try.”

Notes:

IM SO SORRY!!!!!

Life has really gone to shit and then come out of it since I last uploaded a chapter for this fic. I went to the mental hospital and then got kicked out of my house for a month and then I was allowed back in my house and I got a job and I graduated high-school and found out I need reconstructive surgery on both of my feet and HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

But, I'm back now and I'm finally ready to continue this fic.

I apologize so very much for the wait and I hope you all enjoy this new chapter. Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for reading!!

Chapter 19: Reaching Out (Give and Recieve)

Notes:

TW's:
implied sexual assault
panic attack
mentioned self harm

“Midoriya!”

Izuku's head shoots up at the call of his name. He tilts his head in question at the brunette girl happily skipping up to his desk. He believes she said her name is Uraraka.

He doesn't know much about her other than her quirk, the ability to remove gravity from specific objects with a simple five-fonger touch, but he's seen her interact with their classmates and she seems quite bubbly and sweet.

“Are you coming with us after school?” she asks, rocking back and forth on her feet with her hands behind her back.

“A-after school?” Izuku questions. Did the class have plans? Would he even be invited?

“Yeah! We're all going to the mall to gather things we might need for the training camp!” she explains.

Training camp? Izuku will admit, he usually doesn't pay attention to class announcements, assuming most of them don't apply to him as he isn't a real hero student, but he feels that Aizawa would've mentioned a training camp.

“Oh um, I-I'm not sure,” Izuku stutters out as a reply.

Uraraka shrugs. “Well, we'd like to have you there,” she says simply before smilimg and walking away.

Izuku doesn't really believe that. Nobody ever likes to have him anywhere, much less his peers. But, he's rather interested in the training camp she was talking about. Why hadn't he heard about it yet?

“You coming with us?” Izuku looks up to find Shinsou and Todoroki standing by his desk. It's lunchtime, so they're probably asking if Izuku will be eating in the cafeteria today.

“No, I-I need to talk to Aizawa,” he dismisses.

Izuku quickly gathers his things and makes for the teacher's lounge. He knocks on the door before opening it. He's been told he's welcome to just come in, but he thinks it's only respectful to announce his presence nonetheless.

Hizashi smiles at him when he enters, sitting up from where he'd been half-laying on the couch.

“Eating with us today?” he asks.

Izuku smiles shyly and nods. He takes a quick glance around the room, looking for Aizawa. His office door is cracked open, and Hizashi nods at him to confirm Aizawa's inside.

Izuku quickly and quietly makes his way over. He peers inside to find Aizawa on his couch, zipped up in his yellow sleeping bag.

Izuku feels bad waking him, but Aizawa notices his presence immediately and sits up, the sleeping bag falling down as he does so.

“Izuku, why aren't you at lunch with your friends?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“Fr- I don't-,” Izuku shakes his head, that isn't the point. “What's the training camp?”

“I've been talking about it in class for a week now,” Aizawa states.

“Sorry,” Izuku looks down in shame. “I-I'm not really a hero student so I assumed most of the announcements didn't apply to me?”

Aizawa sighs, and Izuku worries he's angered him. The hero unzips his sleeping bag and steps out of it. He motions for Izuku to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk, which he does, while Aizawa takes the seat behind the desk.

“First of all,” Aizawa starts. “You are a real hero student, and you are welcome to train with the class whenever you feel ready, we'd just have to adjust your schedule with Karibu first.”

Izuku nods, shrinking back in his seat in embarrassment. He knows he's in the hero course, somehow, but he's just assumed he isn't on the same level as the rest.

“Secondly, the training camp is next week, the first week of summer break. Hizashi has to stay behind, but Vlad King and I will be chaperones along with a few other heroes. You are set to come along with us.”

“Oh, okay,” Izuku nods. “Where- where will it be?”

“I can't tell you that,” Aizawa sighs. “None of the students are allowed to know for security reasons.”

“Security reasons…,” Izuku mutters. “That means you don't want the students to tell anyone where they're going, probably to prevent something like the USJ incident, which means…,” Izuku gasps. “You think there's an informant in UA.”

“Izuku,” Aizawa says, warning. “You know I can't talk about these things.”

Izuku vigorously nods, trying to hide his proud smile.

He asks his next question to change the subject.

“Apparently the class is going to the mall after school,” he wrings his hands nervously. “Can- can I go with?”

“The whole class?” Aizawa questions.

“I think so,” Izuku shrugs, nervous that Aizawa will say no.

He's not fully sure why he wants to go so bad. Maybe it's because Izuku has never been asked to hang out or go anywhere with people his own age. He wants to take every opportunity he get and run with it.

“I'll come along,” Aizawa settles on. “As a chaperone. After the USJ, I don't think it's a good idea for all of you to go out together without supervision.”

Izuku gets the hint Aizawa’s giving him. He'll be there for Izuku as well.

~

As he predicted, the class isn't very happy when Shota informs them he'll be chaperoning their trip to the mall. They all smile and nod, but exchange annoyed glances that they seem to think Shota can't see, despite standing right in front of them.

Getting last minute approval to use one of the buses and wrangling all 19 of them (Bakugou, unsurprisingly, did not want to go) into it was also not fairly pleasant, but hey, they all arrived safely to the mall where they've now scattered to find what they want and need.

Shota tries to follow Izuku as much as he can, while also being subtle about it. He's not sure if the kid wants people knowing about their relation to one another and he also wants to give him a bit of freedom during this activity, so he lingers behind.

He subtly gave the kid some money when they arrived, telling him to buy whatever he wants with it and just ask if he needs more. Izuku looked kind of overwhelmed at the prospect, but he took the money nonetheless so Shota considers that a victory.

At some point, while answering some questions from Iida about what will and will not be provided at the camp, he loses track of Izuku. He tries not to worry, he trusts the kid not to run as they've had some good weeks and he seems to be opening up to him more.

But, about twenty minutes later, he receives a phone call.

“Izuku?”

He hears gasping and shaky breaths.

“Izuku, what's wrong?” he whispers in a panic.

“I- I can't- I- help,” Izuku's quiet, panicked plea has Shota scanning the mall with focused eyes.

“Where are you?” he asks.

Izuku just gasps and sobs for a few too many moments before stammering out, “The- the bathroom. Family bathroom.”

“Okay, I'll be right there,” Shota assures. He speed walks as subtly as he can towards the nearest bathrooms. He last saw Izuku near this area, so he's hoping the one he finds is the right one.

When Shota gets to the door, he tries the handle, unsurprised to find it locked. Izuku lets out a startled gasp in his ear, confirming this is the right restroom.

“Izuku, can you unlock the door for me please?” he asks, as gently as he can.

He hears some movement both in his ear and through the door and the lock clicks. He gives the kid a couple of seconds to get away from the door and walks in, making a point of locking it behind himself.

Izuku is curled up against the wall, hands gripping the opposing sleeves of his hoodie. Shota sits down, reverting back to the unspoken ‘three foot’ rule they had going just months before.

He doesn't say anything. He wants Izuku to take the reins on this one. He hopes that given Shota's presence and the quiet, safe room they're in, Izuku will be more open to verbalizing what he needs.

So they sit there for a while, Shota only speaking to remind the kid to breathe every now and then. Izuku seems to be clawing at his arms over his clothing, restraining himself from actually clawing his skin.

To his surprise, after probably ten minutes, Izuku takes a couple stuttered, deep breaths, and scoots himself closer to Shota. Shota doesn't move a muscle, he doesn't want to scare the boy.

There's a quiet understanding between them of what this means. Izuku is trying to reach for comfort. Shota is honored to be the one he's reaching for.

Though, he could've never anticipated what Izuku says when he finally speaks.

“Can- pl-please-,” he hiccups. “Hold me, please hold me,” he ends in a new bout of painful sounding sobs, hiding his face in his knees.

Shota sucks in a shocked breath and looks the kid up and down. He looks worse for wear and Shota doesn't want to risk making it worse. Judging by the extent of the panic attack the kid is having, his twitchiness, and the seemingly conscious attempts to not injure himself, he can conclude that Izuku is having a flashback of sorts, most likely tactile. Asking to be touched in a moment like this is odd and it makes Shota admittedly nervous.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Just do it!” Izuku shouts at him. “Please,” he whispers, quiet, small.

Shota hesitantly closes the space between them and wraps a gentle arm loosely around Izuku’s shoulders. The kid stiffens beneath him and Shota freezes, thoroughly confused and concerned.

He's never been one for physical affection, more than likely to shy away from it at all times, so this is frighteningly new territory.

But, Izuku takes a deep breath, turns toward him, and shoves his face into Shota's chest.

Something odd, almost parental, kicks in then, and Shota finds himself wrapping both arms around the boy, squeezing gently, and rocking them back and forth. He whispers assurances and sweet nothings on instinct, and surprisingly, Izuku begins to melt against him.

The boy goes almost limp against him, his breathing slows, and his sobs turn into quiet hiccups. He nuzzles his head into Shota like a stray kitten that hasn't known comfort like this before.

They stay there for a long time, long enough that his phone begins buzzing in his pocket, no doubt his students wondering where he's run off to, but Shota ignores it, instead focusing on the kid, his kid, and the current unknown crisis he's facing.

He swears if someone has done anything to upset the child in his arms to this extent, it'll be the last thing they'll ever do.

~

“Izuku, honey,” Izuku turns around in his desk chair towards Hizashi, who's currently standing in his doorway with a gentle smile on his face. “Could you come out for a moment, we'd like to have a talk with you.”

Izuku has no doubt what they want to talk about. This is one of the things they discussed last week when deciding how they can help each other. When big incidents happen, they need to sit down and have a discussion.

So, Izuku agrees and stands from his desk.

He enters the livingroom to find Aizawa sipping on a cup of coffee, as per usual, with two other mugs waiting on the table in front of him. Izuku sits on the chair across from the couch while Hizashi elects to sit with his husband. Hizashi takes one mug and Izuku takes the other, thankful to find it’s coffee as well.

“So, Izuku, due to the plan we came up with last week, we need to have a conversation about what happened at the mall yesterday,” Hizashi starts. “Would you like to tell us what happened?”

Izuku stares down at his mug. He pulls his legs onto the chair to cross them and tries not to hunch over too much as he takes a deep breath and speaks.

Izuku walks through the mall, feeling free as ever as he's not being chaperoned one on one for once. He feels the money in his pocket. He should probably find a camping store or something and find something relevant to the trip.

But, he passes by a hero merchandise store, and finds himself wandering in.

As he could expect, there are more than plenty items pertaining to All Might and the rest of the top ten heroes, but he finds himself attracted to the back of the store where there's a display of merchandise for much smaller heroes.

He finds a Present Mic statue, about the size of a typical bobble head, and he checks the price. It's rather cheap, considering. He has enough money.

He wishes he could find one of Eraser as well, but despite his best efforts, he unsurprisingly comes up empty handed. He's about to take the Present Mic figurine to the counter when he realizes he should probably ask first. This isn't exactly what Aizawa had in mind when he gave Izuku the money.

So, he turns on his heel and goes to find the teacher, only to bump into someone on the way out of the store.

He falls to the ground, internally cursing himself for letting his guard down and being so stupid. The person, a man, offers Izuku a hand up, and despite his instincts, he takes it, not wanting to appear any ruder than this has already made him out to be.

He's gently pulled to his feet and the man starts to apologize-

-only to stop halfway through and wipe his hand on his shirt like it's been contaminated.

Izuku, confused, looks up at the man's face, and his heart plummets.

“God, it's you,” the man grunts, his face twisting in disgust. He spits at Izuku, gross and full of disdain. “It's a wonder that a disgusting piece of vermon like you hadn't killed itself yet.”

And he walks away.

And Izuku stays there, stunned.

And then he runs, wanting to hide and cry and wipe himself clean, but he'll never be clean, because he's disgusting vermon, just like that man said and-

“Izuku, breathe,” Aizawa interrupts.

Izuku does just that. He sips his coffee and closes his eyes, focusing on his senses.

“Honey, did you know this man?” Hizashi asks.

“Yes.”

“Was he one of, you know,” Hizashi can't seem to get the words out.

“Yes,” Izuku confirms.

“That's horrible!” Hizashi exclaims. “I'm so, so sorry that happened! I can't believe- that's disgusting!”

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut, his chest squeezing at the wording.

“No, honey,” Hizashi corrects. “You aren't disgusting, that man is. He- All of the people who ever had the nerve to hurt you are disgusting, and I can't believe they just walk around like they're perfectly normal!”

“Kid, I tried to keep an eye on you while we were there, but I got distracted,” Aizawa explains. “I apologize.”

“It's not your fault,” Izuku whispers.

“And it's not yours either,” Aizawa states matter-of-factly.

“Okay,” Izuku replies.

It's quiet for a minute, and Izuku knows that they want to know more, but they won't ask. He doesn't want them to ask. But, he takes it upon himself to give them what they want.

“He was a regular,” he starts. “I don't know his name or really anything about him, but I saw him every other Tuesday for a year.

He's married. He always took his wedding ring off and set it on the nightstand. He told Tal once that his wife thought he worked late on Tuesdays, but obviously, he didn't.”

Izuku takes another sip, another deep breath, and answers a question he knows everyone's had for a while now.

“The last time I saw him was last month,” he tells them. “When I- y'know…”

Hizashi gasps and Aizawa sighs. Izuku can't bring himself to look at them. He can't even imagine how disgusted they are, how disturbed they are, how much they pity him. He doesn't want to see it.

“I don't want you to take this the wrong way, kid,” Aizawa starts after a moment. “I appreciate you feeling like you could reach out to me for comfort, and I will always be happy to give it, but I have to ask; In a moment like that, where you were obviously having a tactile flashback, why would you ask me to hold you?”

Izuku looks away, his face heating up in embarrassment. He fidgets with his mug a bit before setting it down to fidget with his sleeves instead.

“It's something that Karibu suggested,” he explains. “Well, not exactly what he suggested, but- well, he-he said that I- my brain has been taught to view touch as bad and- and I can't handle it. And like, I don't want it to get in the way of my training or my- my future, I guess. So, he told me to work on rewiring my brain to view it as good, that it can be good.”

Izuku pulls at his collar, starting to sweat from nerves.

“When I saw him, that- that man, I could feel him. Everywhere. And it only ever goes away when I- I hurt myself. So I thought maybe I could replace the bad touch with good touch and it'd go away.”

“And did it?” Hizashi asks hopefully.

Izuku flushes and nods. “It- it did,” his voice squeezes as he begins to choke up. “It really did.”

“I'm proud of you, Izuku,” Aizawa says.

When Izuku looks up at him, he finds Aizawa's eyes to be full of fondness, of compassion, all for Izuku. All for his kid.

Izuku lets out a half-laugh, half-sob.

“We both are,” Hizashi nods. “Not only for reaching out in such a vulnerable way, but also for calling Shota and letting him be there with you and for you in such a hard moment. That means so much to us.”

“Well, uh,” Izuku clears his throat, fighting tears. “Thank you for being there and for helping.”

~

Now this is what Deku needed.

He runs through the forest with his classmates, all contributing to taking down the faux monsters in their way. They all laugh and run, some fall over and catch up. It's fun. It's exhilarating. Deku feels more like part of the class than he ever has.

He will admit, when the mudslide initially threw them down the hill, he was nervous. His peers have their quirks to help assist them, to give them a leg up. Deku doesn't have that. He has no gear either, so he's nowhere on the same level as them.

But, he's one hell of a fighter and if there's one thing he really knows how to do, it's run.

Kachan let's off booming explosions, Kaminari electrocutes a monster, Asui swings from the trees by her tongue. It's a race yet a joint effort.

Izuku trips a couple times, scraping up his knees and palms, but eventually gets into the swing of it, timing his jumps and dodges perfectly.

They arrive at the camp just as the sun is setting. The Wild Pussycats, Vlad King, and Aizawa have dinner prepared for them when they arrive and everyone is quick to dive into their meal after the hours they just spent running and fighting.

Deku sits with Shinsou and Todoroki as usual, and they talk quietly about their expectations for the camp.

Deku is pumped full of adrenaline and glee. He spouts about how excited he is and shares ideas with the two about what they could be doing. Apparently, it's going to be more individualized training compared to what the class has been doing. Izuku guesses that's why Aizawa had him bring his grappling hook while the other student didn't get to bring along any support items.

He's almost completely relaxed here, far away from the city and the people that hurt him (minus one) and all of his problems. It feels like he just ran away from everything and has been transported to a different time when he could be carefree.

He notices a small, grumpy looking kid eating with the heroes and that spikes his interest. Is he one of the Pussycat's son's? Why would they bring him here? It's strange.

But, Deku returns to his food and decides to ask about it later.

~

The training is brutal.

Everything hurts, but in a good way. A way that shows him his work is going to pay off. Izuku spent the day running, weight training with rocks and such, and even got to use his grappling hook to work on his speed with it.

Aizawa suggested getting a second one once they get back to UA to increase his mobility and decrease his risk of falling between latches. Izuku notes down every bit of advice and criticism he receives throughout the day, taking it all into consideration.

After training, he takes a much-needed shower (he refuses to use the hot springs with everyone else for obvious reasons) and heads outside to help with dinner.

As they're finishing up, Izuku's attention is caught by one of the Wild Pussycats, Mandalay, calling the kid from before, Kota, for dinner. He looks over to find that Kota is walking off into the forest.

Mandalay doesn't seem to notice, presumably deeming that Kota has run off to hide somewhere, so Izuku quickly fixes a plate and follows after the boy.

He can't quite see him, but he takes the same path he saw Kota take to find that he's standing just outside a cave on the edge of the mountain.

“Mandalay was uh, calling for you,” Izuku awkwardly starts, catching the boys attention. “You- you haven't had dinner, so I thought that I'd uh, bring you some.”

“What? How'd you find this place?” The kid yells, hands balled into little fists and teeth bared.

“Oh, I- uh, sorry. I saw you run off and followed the path,” Izuku explains.

“Whatever, I'm not hungry. Get lost and forget about my secret hiding place,” Kota dismisses.

“This is your secret hiding place?”

Izuku looks around toward the cave and out at the camp. He can see the lights past the crowd of trees. It's a pretty view, much different from the light-polluted ones he used to admire from rooftops.

Up here, he can see the stars and the moon clearly, like he could just reach out and touch them. It's peaceful.

“It's pretty cool,” he comments.

“I don't care what you think, just forget about it!” he yells. “Spending your entire life trying to improve your quirk,” he mutters with distain. “All you wanna do is show off! Get lost!”

Izuku looks down at the curry in his hands. Does this kid hate heroes? But why? Or is it the quirks themselves?

“I don't-,” Izuku clears his throat, trying to sound more confident. “I don't even have a quirk.”

Kota chuckles at that. “Yeah, right, you don't. Everyone here's so crazy. Calling eachother hero and villain and then killing eachother over it? Always showing off their quirks. If they hadn't been showing off, they'd still be here. Idiots.”

“Who?” Izuku asks.

Kota flushes and turns away. “It's none of your business. We're done here, go back to the camp with the other losers!”

It really is the quirks, then. Kota despises quirks and the society they've created. Izuku could say he knows how that feels.

“I wasn't lying,” Izuku states. “I never inherited a quirk from my parents. It's hereditary and it's rare, but it happens.”

He kicks the dirt on the ground nervously. “I always admired heroes and wanted to be one. Everyone said it was hopeless for someone like me, someone without a quirk. So I tried to use telekinesis like my mom and breathe fire like my dad, but it was no use.”

Izuku looks back down at the lights shining from the camp. “There are lots of different ways to view quirks and how they contribute to our lives and society. They're easy to hate with all of the conflict and tragedy they bring. But, they're they're all around us and it doesn’t look like they’re going away anytime soon. If you reject them completely and show disdain towards anybody weilding one, life's just going to be even more difficult than it already is.”

“Would you just leave me alone already?” Kota snaps. “Go away!”

Izuku flushes and shrinks into himself. “R-right, sorry. I tend to ramble on sometimes. I'll- I'll just leave this curry with you, in case you change your mind.”

Izuku sets the curry down and walks away.

He hopes he got through to Kota. He's too young to hold such resentment towards the world and it'll only make him miserable.

Izuku knows first-hand what that's like.

~

The following day is just as exhausting as the one before. To make matters worse, they don't even get to relax after dinner as the Wild Pussycats have a game prepared for them.

All of class A gather outside an entrance to the forest. They are informed that class B is already inside, hiding along the path they need to take, with the intent of scaring them.

It's relatively dark out and it's quiet out here besides their chatter. Izuku will admit he's a bit nervous. He hopes whoever is in there doesn't grab him or anything because Izuku would most likely cry and that's embarrassing. Even worse, Deku could knock someone on their ass and get him in trouble.

They are to pair up randomly by choosing numbers from a hat, and due to there being an odd number of classmates since those who failed their practical exams aren't allowed to participate, someone will end up alone.

And after choosing their numbers, Izuku figures it's just his luck that it's him.

“Did you not get a partner?” Izuku turns to find Todoroki staring back at him in confusion.

Izuku rubs his neck nervously. “Well, uh, there's only fifteen of us so it- it had to be someone.”

“You could probably join Bakugou and I if you'd like,” Todoroki offers.

“You're paired with Kachan?” Izuku splutters.

“Yeah, and what about it?” Kachan asks accusingly, walking up behind Todoroki.

“Oh, uh, nothing!” Izuku waves his hands nervously. “It's just an odd pairing, that all.”

Kachan clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“So, do you want to join us?” Todoroki asks.

“Um, is that okay?” Izuku asks Kachan.

Kachan just shrugs, which us as close to a yes Izuku's going to get, so he nods and agrees to join the pair.

When they enter the forest, it's a bit eery. They aren't given flashlights or anything, so they just have to let their eyes adjust to the dark.

The first scare happens not very far in. Someone in the bush next to them pushes their arms through the leaves and yells. While it does startle Izuku a bit, he actually finds it quite amusing as Todoroki and Kachan both freeze and make the same scared face.

Izuku laughs at them, earning some curses from Kachan in return. To avoid further retaliation, he lets himself fall behind the two a bit.

Following Kachan through the woods brings out a sort of nostalgic feeling. He used to spend all of his days chasing after Kachan and his friends, trying to join their games as they marched through the woods.

“Isn't this a little familiar, Kachan?” he asks, mostly because he's in a good mood and the silence is beginning to make him uncomfortable.

“The fuck do you mean?” he grumbles back.

“Y'know, me dragging behind you as you march through the woods?” he elaborates. “Like when we were kids!”

“Yeah, well, we aren't kids anymore,” Kachan states in quite a muted response. “So stop following me around you little shit.”

Izuku gets the message and speeds up a bit to fall back into place next to Todoroki.

“How long have you two known eachother?” Todoroki asks.

When Kachan shows no signs he's going to answer, Izuku does instead. “Since we were born, basically.”

Todoroki looks between them suspiciously. “Are you guys brothers or something?”

“What? No! How could you even think I'm related to him?” Kachan questions, obviously offended by the accusation.

Izuku laughs. “No, our parents were friends in college and basically raised us like cousins,” Izuku explains. “Besides, we look nothing alike.”

Todoroki nods, though he still doesn't look convinced.

The conversation is officially halted at the next scare, which comes from Izuku's side of the path and causes him to jerk to the side and into Todoroki who falls into Bakugou, who is immediately pissed off.

They all start arguing about who pushed who and who's fault it was, several obscenities being thrown by Kachan, and they get quite distracted.

That is, until a voice enters all of their heads.

Mandalay's voice being broadcasted to them throigh her quirk.

“Two villians just attacked us, it's possible there are more coming. Everyone head back to camp immediately. We'll regroup there. Do not engage any enemies.”

The three of them only spend a moment staring at eachother before they notice it. The smell of smoke. From all around.

Izuku frantically looks in all directions and he can't find where it's coming from, but it's creeping on them fast. The forest is on fire.

His first thought is Aizawa, but then he remembers he's teaching a remedial class in the building. He should be relatively safe for now.

Then he thinks of Kachan, but he's standing right in front of Izuku, also trying to locate the source of the smoke.

Then, he thinks of Kota, as he is the most vulnerable here. He's pretty sure he saw him right after dinner… headed into the forest.

Without another thought, Deku turns and runs.

Notes:

Today I concurred my writers block with the power of adhd meds and caffeine, applause anyone?

I'm so excited to write the next chapter as it was one of the plots I was most excited for when writing this fic hahaha

Also, I realized I never see anyone including the Kota plot line when rewriting the training camp in fics so I had to go back and watch the episode to figure out how the hell to write Kota lmao

Anyways, as always, I hope u all enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading!!