Chapter Text
Nemophilist; (noun)
A haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude.
Shota scowled at the forest around him. He didn’t have a problem with nature, he did however have problems with forests full of skulls and warnings of unimaginable death and agony. He wouldn’t have to deal with this if Yagi would just deal with the fact that he may not be indestructible. All Pros have to retire at some point. Or they die. All Might is no different. But Yagi doesn’t seem to believe that.
And so Shota’s future coworker did some research. He had exhausted the routes of modern medicine and quirks. So he had tried something… new. And then he heard about this place. A forest, on the edge of Mustafu. Dark trees covered the land.
The rumours about it started years ago when some developers decided to try and cut down nearly half the forest to make room for more homes, stores, jobs, and more people. The day the lumbers were set to start work was when it happened. The first one swung his axe, to make the first cut in the first tree they would take down, one of many. The blade didn’t even make contact with the wood before vines shot up from the ground, pulling the weapon from the man's hand. The handle was snapped in half, and thrown back at the lumber. The next day they came back with chainsaws and tried again. Only to have a giant Venus fly trap sprout and eat the machines, spitting out the parts that were left. It went on like that, machines and quirked people coming in, trying to take down the trees and the plants protecting them. And every time something stopped them. Eventually, the developer called it and decided to build elsewhere.
Since then, people claim to see strange things, weird plants, and animals acting strangely, if they get too close. And on very rare occasions, only a handful of eyewitnesses claim this, you can sometimes see a figure moving through the trees.
Shota thinks that the whole idea is stupid. But Yagi is desperate, and Nezu orders him and Mic to go with them.
So it was the four of them. Shota, Hizashi, Yagi, and Nezu. Trudging through the dense forest, at 3 in the afternoon. He desperately wanted a nap, but he refused to let his guard down. The first human skull tipped them off that if they weren’t dealing with some magical creature, then they were at least dealing with someone they needed to take into custody.
“We’re close,” Nezu said out of the blue.
“How do you know?” Mic asked.
“The terrain is changing in a rather unnatural way.” He was right, the trees were beginning to thin out, and he recognized plants not native to the area.
Finally the group broke through, into a clearing. The first thing he noticed was the neat little garden of almost purely black plants. They each had a neat little wooden sign. Black Calla Lily, Black Magic Viola, Black Cherry Petunia, Black Coral Elephant Ear, Black Satin Dahlia, Black Magic Hollyhock, Ravens wing, Bat Orchid. Were all written in neat but cramped handwriting. His eyes were then drawn to a putrid looking, well he assumed it was a plant. It looked a bit like tentacles had burst up from the ground. When he got close enough, he could smell the putrid scent wafting off it.
“Ah, the Octopus Stinkhorn,” Nezu said from behind him. “That smell is the mushroom imitating the smell of rotting flesh, to attract flies, they will land and get stuck, thus allowing the mushroom to absorb the dead bugs.”
Mic looked about ready to throw up from the information, as did Yagi, however, Aizawa simply stared at the plant. They were dealing with one odd recluse. The clearing had a second garden, on the other side. This one is labelled with Potato, Tomato, Carrot, Onion, and Lettuce. The small cottage in the middle of the clearing looked like it had sprouted out of the ground, roots, trunks, and tree arms tangling together to make a surprisingly nice-looking little house.
The door to said little cottage burst open with a bang. The wind picked up and it seemed the sky turned dark. Shota couldn’t figure out any of the person's features, but they were on the shorter side with big hair.
“Who dares enter my forest?”
The voice of the person boomed ten times louder than a normal person. Shota grabbed his capture scarf, ready to apprehend the person, Mic readied his speaker as well. Yagi hung back. He couldn’t transform in front of this person.
Nezu, however, only chuckled at the display. “Midoriya-san, there is no need for such theatrics, we are only here to speak with you, and perhaps acquire your assistance.”
The wind slowed down, and the sky returned to its normal blue. With the light back to normal, he was able to get a better view of the person, of the boy.
Baby-faced and with large, curly green hair, stood a teen about the age of his first-year students. His face seemed to harden slightly at Nezu’s glib attitude toward him but still led them inside.
They all sat down at a circular table beside a large window looking out the back of the cabin, into the forest. Midoriya, as Nezu had called him, left to mill around the kitchenette. It gave Shota the chance to look closer at the home.
The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with books on all subjects. On medicine, anthropology, psychology, sociology, herbology, and many other subjects. Among the books were nicknacks. A collection of empty perfume bottles, made in the style of 1920’s perfume. Old-fashioned oil lamps and candles. Unfinished embroidery. Jars of things Shota would really rather not think about. Mirrors that Shota couldn’t seem to see himself in, almost like there was some sort of film over them. Threadbare stuffed animals and worn-out toys. Pushed into one corner was a clothing rack, of what he assumed were Midoriya’s clothes. He also saw two worn-out armchairs in another corner, overlooking the flower garden. Overall, the house gave Shota a strange sense of beauty and melancholy.
The roof was covered with leaves and fairy lights, and little dust particles floated around, giving the illusion of pixies in the air.
Midoriya came back and they all sat down. He set a delicate china teacup in front of each of them. Though he noticed they all looked to be from different sets, and some of them had chips of the paint scuffed.
Sniffing a little at the tea revealed a herbal blend that Shota had never smelt before, but could tell would be delicious. He sipped it only after Midoriya and Nezu did.
“Midoriya-san, we would- ”
“Call me Izuku. I have no interest in such formalities out here.” He cut the principal off.
He didn’t say it kindly like he was trying to make them comfortable with faux familiarity, but like he simply couldn’t be bothered with honorifics or last names.
“Izuku then.” Nezu sipped more at his tea and hummed at the taste. “We have come for your help. You see, a friend of ours is very injured and could use your help.”
Izuku hummed. “Has your friend tried seeing a doctor?”
“We wouldn’t be out here if that worked, we need your…” Shota trailed off, not sure what to call it.
“You can say it, Shota Aizawa.” The boy said, shocking him with the use of his given name. “Call it whatever you like, arcana, devil's work, witchcraft… Magic.”
“How ‘bout quirk?” Shota raised an eyebrow. That is what he suspects. That the magic bullshit is really just to scare people, with something they don’t understand. The boy was simply using his quirk, a powerful quirk, but a quirk nonetheless.
Izuku laughed out loud at that. A full boisterous laugh, and he felt the wind pick up as he chuckled. “No,” he said when he finally calmed down, “not a quirk. I have no quirk.”
Shota’s eyes widened. He could very easily be lying. But there was something in his eyes, resignation and almost pride. He didn’t think the greenette was lying, but then that meant Shota had to believe in magic.
Ugh
“Now, back to the matter at hand. Why in the world would I help you?” He gestured with his sky-blue tea cup at Nezu, urging him to continue.
“We can offer you anything you could possibly want. Money is no object.” Nezu wasn’t lying, they had the HPSC’s chequebook on hand. The corporation will do anything to have their favourite Pro up and running at his full strength.
Izuku snorted once again. “You have nothing I could ever want. I am entirely self-sustaining out here. And I have transcended the feeling of wanting anything.”
“Kami help us,” Mic whispered under his breath, already losing his patience. Mic isn’t a violent guy, but negotiations have never been his strong suit.
Izuku’s eyes darted over to the blond. “Your modern gods mean nothing in this part of the woods. Kami’s eyes do not peer into my place of sanctuary.” The boy scolded him.
Finally, All Might spoke up. “Please, my boy. This person is very sick, but also very important, they need to be healed or there could be catastrophic consequences.”
Izuku finally set his eyes on Yagi, still in his small might form, and toxic green bored into the deep ocean blue. He cocked his head to the side. “I felt it the second you walked in here. The souls in your head and the pain in your body. Sick is an understatement.”
He knew it was Yagi, just by looking at him. “May I see the injury?”
Yagi hesitated before nodding. He stood, as did Izuku. He pulled out a pair of dark grey gloves, made of cotton. They were stained with blood but looked well-cleaned and taken care of. Yagi lifted his shirt and held it with his chin, putting his arms back to give Izuku a clear view of the wound. He began to poke and prod the man, Yagi wincing at moments, though not seeming to be in any outright pain.
After a couple minutes of that, Izuku discarded his gloves and set them on the table. He and Yagi both took their seats again. The boy had a grim look on his face.
“There… is something I could do, but it would take time. Months of repeated work. You would need to come back.” He said.
“How often?” Yagi asked.
“Mmmm, twice a week?”
“I have things to do! I don’t have time to drive out here twice a week!” Yagi exclaimed. Shota sighed. Yagi wanted the easy way out. And Shota could understand it, but if they wanted to fix his injury they’d need to play by the boy’s rules.
“I have a suggestion.” Nezu cut in. The room focused on him. “What if you returned to UA with us? During the time you are there, you will go to classes with this year's 1A class. Once Yagi is cured, if you wish to return here, we will let you come back, however, if you wish to continue your studies, you can do so. In return for your service, we can name this forest protected land, you would never have to deal with anyone else trying to cut down your trees or build in your forest ever again.”
Izuku thought before sighing. “Fine, but where would I stay?”
Shota felt Nezu’s attention turn to him, and could already tell he was going to hate whatever was about to happen. “Shota, you have a spare bedroom in your dorm, do you not?”
Nezu obviously knew the answer. He wanted Shota to have the magic brat live with him. For what nefarious purpose, he had no idea, but it’s not like he could refuse the chimaera. “I do.”
“Perfect, Izuku will stay with you.” Nezu clapped his paws together. “Do you think you would be able to be ready to go now?”
Izuku sighed. “Give me 15 minutes.” He disappeared farther into the house, and Shota finally noticed the fact that on the outside, the cabin was tiny, but inside it seemed to grow double the size.
Exactly 15 minutes later, Izuku returned with a duffle bag and book bag thrown over each of his shoulders, along with an ornate box about the size of Shota’s hand. “Ready.”
The four of them left the forest, and Shota noticed that the winding paths and dense trees seemed to almost move for them, giving them a much clearer exit than they had entered. Finally, they broke through the tree line, where Shota had parked the van they had borrowed from the HPSC.
Izuku stopped at the tree standing at the farthest point of the forest, keeping his hand on the wood. Hesitantly stepping over the line of grass onto cool concrete, he took a deep breath and his hand left the wood. Shota noticed that the boy was barefoot, making a mental note to get him some goddamn shoes.
Fucking feral forest child.
They pilled in, with Izuku sitting in the very back, Mic and Yagi in the middle row, Shota driving, and Nezu sitting in shotgun.
It was a long drive back. With Nezu typing away on his laptop, Yagi and Mic chatting, and Izuku staring out the window, as the forest and grasslands slowly gave way to towns, then cities, then finally to Mustafu itself.
They went to Shota’s apartment first. He showed Izuku to the guest room that the boy would stay in.
“There’s not a lot in the fridge, so I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow. If you want anything specific, tell me. And while I’m out I’m gonna get you some shoes.” Shota said as Izuku set his bags down on the bed, and his box on the desk.
“Why? I’m perfectly fine without.” Izuku gestured to his feet, which were really proving Shota’s point, covered in dirt and calluses.
“Look, I know you’re fine without shoes, but it’s common courtesy, you need shoes. Anything specific you’d want?” He explained.
He thought for a moment before answering. “Red.”
“Red?”
“Just… Red.”
“...Alright. Red. I’ll let you get settled.” Shota closed the door and walked back out to the living room, where the others were waiting.
He settled down on the couch and glared at Nezu. “Why did you offer my apartment?”
The chimaera hummed, “Why not?”
Shota groaned, and Hizashi patted him on the shoulder.
Yagi was strangely quiet and finally, Shota turned to him and asked, “What?”
“I just… if this doesn’t work… then…”
“Hey, we’re doing what we can, and that’s all we can do. Let him try before we give up.” Hizashi said, grinning at the other blond.
“Yes, I suppose you are right.” Yagi smiled and glanced at the clock, “We should probably get out of your hair, it’s late and I’m sure you have a big day tomorrow.”
Shota’s colleagues left and he stood in his kitchen, nursing a mug of Irish coffee.
A big day indeed.