Euphoric Healing

by rdillard1

Summary:

Izuku was kidnapped when he was 7 by a group of villains. Since then, he has been kidnapped by other villains because of his healing quirk. He finds himself having escaped the League only to end up in Overhaul's clutches. How will he escape? Who will he meet along the way?

Or

Izuku has a healing quirk that kind of makes him high when he uses it too much. Villains want him to use his quirk. He has been used for ten years and is at the end of his rope. Follow his story as he endures his time with Overhaul and eventually is rescued! Trying not to spoil too much, but I swear this is a good fic and you should read it!!

Notes:

I will try my best to edit this to perfection, but I will likely not have as much motivation later as I do now. Sorry. Ignore the mistakes and enjoy.

I also want to preface this by saying I change around the timeline a little bit, but most of the events stay the same. I just pushed back the events a little bit, as in the League and Overhaul don't really get ramped up until a year later. But it won't really effect much. Hang in there with me.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

One of his teachers way back when had once told him there was no such thing as bad luck, of getting the short end of the stick. Maybe at one time, he’d bought into that. “There is no such thing as bad luck, just a bad day. It all ends eventually!” his teacher had told the class enthusiastically. 

 

What a load of shit. All Izuku had was bad luck. And no, it never ended. It was a continuing cycle, and it had started the day he got his quirk. 

 

Izuku opened his eyes and was unsurprised to find himself in his cell. His room , as Shigaraki called it. The teen liked to wake up with a sliver of hope on occasion. One day, maybe he’d wake up and not be held by the League. 

 

Like he said, short stick. 

 

He’d been there for a while—in the League’s clutches—but his journey to that point had started long before he’d unfortunately met the volatile guy who led the new villain group. 

 

If only he’d been more careful when he was younger. If only he or his mother had known how terrible it was to be able to heal. And yeah, he knew how that sounded. He knew how terrible it was to wish he couldn’t fix what was broken. But it had only brought him more issues than it had solutions. He liked his quirk, but he recognized there were a few…downsides. 

 

He hadn’t been shy about using his quirk when he’d first discovered it. He was noticed pretty quickly, especially when he’d been a passionate six-year-old who only wanted to prove that he was useful, shouting to the world that he would be the best healer there was. How stupid could he have been? His classmates had loved his quirk and never failed to spread the word around like candy. As a kid, he’d revelled in the attention. For one blissful time in his life, he’d been on top of the world. Untouchable with a perfect future ahead. 

 

The Midoriyas had been so naive. They hadn’t expected the worst to come and destroy their lives. They hadn’t thought anything negative could come from a healing quirk. How could such a quirk end in bloodshed? 

 

They had been so, so wrong. 

 

When Izuku was seven, a group of men broke into their apartment and held them hostage. He guessed that was the right way to put it, though they hadn’t been held for long. As soon as they’d confirmed Izuku did indeed have a healing quirk, the men killed his mom and knocked him out. 

 

To that day, he’d never forgotten the look in his mom’s eyes, the sound her body made against the floor. There were some things not even time could erase. 

 

He didn’t know what the group of villains who had first kidnapped him were called. It didn’t really matter. Since he was seven, he had been passed around to whatever villains could get ahold of him, stealing him from each other like a game of capture the flag. News spread fast in the Underground. He’d been told the Underground was buzzing with the knowledge that a healer was out there, simply waiting for the taking. Since that knowledge was spread, Izuku was considered a hot commodity. 

 

Each time he was kidnapped, pulled into the circle of a new villain or criminal organization, he was considered an asset. That was, after he was broken in. Once he was trained, once he learned what he could and couldn’t do, when he learned the consequences of his stubborn and insolent actions, they used him however they saw fit. 

 

He’d fought much harder at first. When he was younger, he’d tried escaping at every chance. He’d refused to use his quirk. He would try to fight his captors. But after a while, after years and years and years, it became easier to give in almost immediately. It was easier than enduring whatever torture they wanted to put him through. After all, the end result was the same, so why not cut to the chase? Though even when he didn’t fight, a lot of them still liked to make sure he was aware of what they could do to him if he did decide to rebel. 

 

There were some ways he managed to stay safe, or as safe as he could be. No one but him knew what his quirk truly did. He’d been smart enough to hide it, and since then, he’d continued to hide it. All the villains knew was that he could heal. All they knew was that he would become incapacitated if they pushed him to heal more than a few people at a time. They also thought his quirk relied on physical touch, as most healing quirks did. He hadn’t told them that; it was something they assumed, and he hadn’t corrected them.

 

The truth was his quirk was possibly one of the most powerful healing quirks in the world. Not that he really knew what healing quirks were out there—he wasn’t given any information and certainly wasn’t allowed to do any research. It was a guess, really. His quirk allowed him to heal anyone nearby without touching them. It wasn’t an instantaneous healing, though it did speed up the process extremely quickly and typically healed minor to moderate injuries in one session, as long as he was actively using his quirk. He’d played around with it a few times and knew he could control the healing speed. Not that he healed the villains quickly. It was a small action fueled by spite, but no one really knew about it but him. 

 

His healing also didn’t take away energy from the person he was using it on, but if he healed them too quickly, it often overwhelmed their brain and they tended to pass out. However, that wasn’t to say his quirk didn’t have any side effects. It did, but it was he who paid the price. He didn’t know why, exactly, but whenever he healed someone, he experienced a sort of euphoric feeling. Probably some sort of chemical imbalance, if he were to guess. The more he used his quirk, the more that feeling grew. When he used his quirk on a few people, all he felt was…good. There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. He felt happy and at peace. However, if he pushed himself and used his quirk on more than a few people—another reason he had lied to the villains and continued to lie to them about his capabilities—it was as if he were high. It came on slowly, but it had ended up causing hallucinations, brain fog, and a frantic delirium that endangered everyone, including himself. 

 

It had only happened a few times, mostly while he was alone and testing out the limits of his quirk in secret. During those few times, he sort of remembered what he had done, how it felt, but…there was a fogginess to the memories that he didn’t particularly like. He assumed that if he used it for too long, his quirk could potentially cause him to go insane. That was ignoring the physical side effects. Increased heart rate, hyperventilating, and an increase to his body temperature, among other things. As he had said, nothing good. 

 

So, he lied, limiting what he was forced to do so he could stay of sound mind. 

 

Izuku had been told what his quirk looked like by a villain years ago. While healing, he was able to see golden threads spreading out from him, almost like a spider weaving a web. What he couldn’t see were his eyes. When he activated his quirk, the same gold of the threads around him illuminated his eyes. It unnerved some people. Most, actually. As soon as he’d found that out, he’d begun using it to his advantage. 

 

He sat up, pushing his back against the cold wall. Home sweet home. What a joke. He’d been with the League for the past six months, enough time to hate their guts. All of them, but especially Shigaraki. The ass hat only served to piss him off. The two butted heads daily. At first, Izuku had refused to heal him. That hadn’t ended well. Now, he healed him as slowly as he could, going as far as pressing his hands into whatever injury the villain had gained just to make it hurt worse. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could do. 

 

Stretching, Izuku knew that day was going to be a rough one. He could feel the simmering anger just below the surface, waiting for something to cast out a spark and turn it into an inferno. That was another thing he’d noticed the last few years. He’d begun going through phases, like every kid turning into a teenager did. Though, his were much more volatile. His environment didn’t help. There were times he was stubborn and a royal pain in the ass, making everyone around him curse at his existence. Sometimes he couldn’t help but cry at every little inconvenience or pain. Sometimes he became despondent to the point of nearly starving himself, all because the thought of moving or having a single coherent thought was too much. Then there were times when he became angry. Not a typical anger that made someone stomp their feet and curl their fists. No, his anger was the kind that you could feel, that made the temperature in the room rise and dreaded the moment it exploded. The ones who kidnapped him had no idea which Izuku they were getting, or how long those phases lasted. He didn’t know either. Their solution was usually pain. Sometimes that snapped him out of it. 

 

That day, he anticipated the beginnings of that kind of anger. It was its own sort of relief, though he knew clashing with Shigaraki was going to be messy. The guy couldn’t kill him, but he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him. 

 

Along with the anger was that itching in the back of his mind, the kind that set him on edge and made his muscles tense. It didn’t happen often, but he hadn’t experienced that feeling for the past year or so. He was long overdue, in his opinion. That feeling made him want to run. It made him start planning an escape, which he would attempt to execute and likely fail. It had never ended in success, and he didn’t anticipate his next attempt to be any different. 

 

Once, he’d managed to get out to the street. Once. He remembered it well. He also remembered waking up after a week because they’d beaten him so badly. 

 

Eventually, a man Izuku knew as Dabi opened his door and grunted for him to follow. Izuku got to his feet slowly and walked out into the hall. “Shigaraki or the Doctor?” Izuku asked. 

 

Dabi glanced over at him, towering over the younger teen. Izuku had experienced a growth spurt within the last year, but he wasn’t near Dabi’s height. “The Doctor.” That was it, that was all he supplied. Izuku huffed a sigh. He didn’t know why he expected Dabi to be anything but what he’d been the entire time Izuku had known him. Aloof. Disgruntled. Kind of terrible to look at. 

 

It wasn’t anything new for him to go help the Doctor whenever there were no League members in need of healing. Izuku would rather heal them than go to the Doctor’s lab, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter. 

 

The Doctor was a sick man. Izuku didn’t know his true name, only his alias. The Doctor. What a dumbass title. But despite that, the man was an evil genius. He made leaps and bounds in medicine and was willing to do what no one else was. Izuku wasn’t praising him, but he recognized the facts. 

 

The nomu themselves were medical mysteries. Izuku had been by the man’s side during the first few weeks he’d been there, healing those awful creatures after whatever surgeries the Doctor performed on them. He tried to block them out of his memory. Since then, the Doctor had moved on to a different project. Sort of. Before, he’d been using the bodies and genes of several people to create nomus. Now, he wanted to take it one step further and isolate the quirk of a person and create a single body with multiple abilities. The perfect weapon. 

 

He hadn’t succeeded in the least, but he continued to try. Izuku hated him for it. 

 

Down they went, aiming for the basement. Dabi didn’t go into the lab, halting at the bottom of the stairs. “He’s waiting for you,” the fire user said before turning and walking away. Izuku sighed and continued his trek into the lab. 

 

The lab always smelled of antiseptic and blood. It was a horrible mix. As Izuku walked in, he easily spotted the Doctor and his current victims. Two men. Two women. When they’d first arrived, they hadn’t had any visible signs of quirks. Now, though, they all had some sort of mutation the Doctor had forced upon them. All surgical, of course. Izuku had been there during the surgery, healing them as the man worked. The woman closest to him had lizard skin from her elbows down with larger-than-normal hands that ended in wickedly long and sharp claws. She’d had beautiful hands when Izuku first saw her. 

 

He tried not to look at them for long. He was just as stuck as they were, even if he wasn’t strapped down to a lab table or chained to the wall. 

 

“Ah, Izuku! Great, now we can start.” The Doctor clapped once, excitedly, and moved around the lab table with one of the men currently lying atop its sterile surface. He was thankfully unconscious, a mask pressed over his face as it fed him oxygen and kept him sedated.

 

That single clap set Izuku on edge. He clenched his fists and willed away the walls of rage pressing in around him. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice. He readied his tools and instructed Izuku to heal the man as he worked. “We’re moving on to stage two today. Isn’t it exciting?” the Doctor asked. 

 

Izuku glared at him. “Oh yeah, torturing people is thrilling.” 

 

“Don’t be so dramatic. This isn’t torture. I’m making them better. Without my help, they would be nothing but cogs in a machine until the day they died. Before, they were expendable. Now, they’re invaluable.”

 

He was a sick bastard and deserved to die. Izuku eyed the scalpel in his hand. 

 

Izuku couldn’t look at the man as the Doctor began cutting into him. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder and angled himself toward the other wall. It was all he could do not to run away at the sound of whatever the hell the Doctor was doing. He slowly healed the man, but not even that small rush of warmth from his quirk could still his fried nerves. 

 

Unfortunately for everyone, Izuku was one wrong move away from snapping. With his eyes away from the table, he naturally ended up facing the other victims. The man and one of the women were unconscious from whatever the Doctor had been doing to them. But one woman was groggily awake, and of course her eyes found Izuku. 

 

For one moment, there was a silent connection between them. Then her face changed. 

 

“Help me, please.” Her voice was soft at first, slow and hardly audible to Izuku across the room. “Please, stop this.” 

 

He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw tightly. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. His lack of response only seemed to give her more energy. “You have to help us. Please! Stop him!” 

 

There was a buzzing under his skin. The golden threads coming out of him and touching the man he was healing began to twitch. “Stop it,” he whispered under his breath. “I don’t have a choice.” 

 

The woman sobbed miserably. Her chin hit her chest and she heaved a few more breaths before looking up at him again. Tears streamed down her face, and in that moment Izuku could tell something had changed inside of her. Something had snapped. 

 

He knew that look. He wore it occasionally. She’d lost all hope. 

 

“Kill us. Please. End this.” She began repeating herself, again and again until her voice was piercing. The Doctor was still working, but he was muttering about distractions. “Kill us! Please, kill me!” She was shouting now, struggling against the chains.

 

It was too much. The threads around him twitched angrily, jerking rapidly. It was too much. She was too loud, too aggressive. He was already on edge, but her voice, her begging , was the last straw. 

 

“Be silent!” the Doctor shouted back, slamming his scalpel down on the tray beside him. “I’m working!” 

 

Izuku stumbled away from the man on the table. His hands shook and his breath sawed in and out unevenly. Too much. Too much. Too much . His back hit the wall and he curled his arms around himself. “Stop it. Just shut up.” He closed his eyes and tried to take in a few calming breaths. He couldn’t let that anger out yet. He couldn’t let things spiral. He would be punished for it later. It would only end in pain. 

 

“Kill me!” 

 

“Shut up!” he shouted, eyes snapping open. 

 

Just like that, the wave of rage he’d been holding back was released in an instant. It was a different feeling than when he used his quirk, though it was…nice. No, not nice. It was a relief. Like letting out a breath he’d been holding. 

 

The Doctor was shouting at the woman, gloves bloody, but his words didn’t register in Izuku’s ears. There was a high-pitched ringing that filled his head. Izuku pushed off from the wall and moved without thinking. He grabbed the Doctor’s scalpel and surged forward. He wasn’t under the influence of his quirk, but he felt about as unstable as if he were. 

 

The scalpel cut through the Doctor’s throat quickly. Izuku could only stare at the man as he dropped to his knees, blood spraying with every heartbeat until there was nothing left. The Doctor fell at his feet, blood spreading out in a massive puddle. 

 

There was a golden haze in his vision, and Izuku was aware he had activated his quirk. Those golden threads spread out slowly, floating through the air. The woman went slack against the wall as soon as his quirk touched her. It took hardly a thought for her to collapse against the wall, unconscious. 

 

Izuku didn’t know what made him move, to act in the way he did. Maybe it was the slight high he was feeling, healing everyone in the room with him in an instant. Maybe it was the years and years of wishing and hoping and praying for an escape. He didn’t know, and he likely would never know. With the scalpel still in hand, he went over to the man on the table and quickly cut his throat. The man died without knowing it. 

 

He approached the other three against the wall. One by one, he gave them release, ending their suffering. The woman who had begged him for death was the last, and he crouched in front of her after the deed was done. The scalpel fell to the floor with a clang. 

 

He didn’t know how long he remained crouched there, staring at the woman with wide, glowing eyes. He only looked away when he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, leading to the lab. 

 

Time to get moving. Apparently, he was going to try and escape that day. What could he say, he liked to be spontaneous. 

 

Shigaraki was the first to enter the lab, Dabi, Toga, and Spinner behind him. They all froze as soon as they took in the scene. As they took in Izuku. He took a moment to look down at himself, covered in blood from the Doctor. It did not look good. He was the first to act. His quirk flared. He threw out his hands and speared his quirk straight into the new arrivals. 

 

Something he’d figured out over time was that his quirk didn’t just heal surface wounds. He was able to heal on a molecular level. Every single person had damage inside. Cells were damaged, atrophied, or dying. Every person had internal injuries that were so small they weren’t even aware of them. They weren’t fatal or a hindrance in any way, but they existed. When Izuku healed all of that quickly, it overwhelmed the person he was healing. He saved it for only the most dire circumstances because it took a major toll on him. 

 

Shigaraki collapsed first, smashing his face against the floor. The man didn’t pass out completely, but he wasn’t able to rise. Dabi and Toga passed out behind him, dropping to the floor like bags of rocks. They were both completely unconscious. Spinner held onto consciousness the longest, though in the end, he too was unable to cope with the level of healing Izuku forced onto them. 

 

Izuku let out a small laugh. He was doing it. He was escaping. It was hard to believe he’d made it that far, but he didn’t care to think about it too much. He practically floated across the room. Without realizing it, he’d picked up the scalpel again. “You know, I’ve wanted to kill you since the day I met you,” he said, smiling. “You’ve made my life a living hell. You and everyone like you.” Izuku shrugged. “But I don’t have everyone else. I only have you.” 

 

Shigaraki stared up at him, having rolled over onto his back. He couldn’t manage to rise, eyes half-lidded. He was as weak as a kitten. “You wouldn’t dare. Master will—” 

 

“Kill me? He won’t kill me. He can’t afford to kill me, not with my quirk as valuable as it is.” Another laugh. “In fact, I’m not the one who is expendable. You are .” 

 

Shigaraki cursed at him, trying to reach out and touch him, to use his quirk and disintegrate the healer, but Izuku dodged his hand. Without warning, he drove the scalpel into Shigaraki’s chest. The villain gasped and let out a whine that had Izuku breathing out in joy. He watched the light go out of Shigaraki’s eyes. 

 

Only when he was sure the villain was dead did he get up and stumble out of the lab and up the stairs. No one was around to stop him. Not Kirogiri. Not Master . No one. He made it to the front door of the bar and threw it open. He knew he should have felt regret for killing the Doctor’s victims. Not so much for killing The Doctor or Shigaraki. Maybe his remorse was dulled because of the effects of his quirk, but he didn’t think so. Despite that floating, foggy feeling he was enjoying, he knew killing those people had been a mercy. 

 

It was night outside. He stood there stumped for a moment. He’d thought it was morning, but apparently not. It was cool outside, the street silent. He breathed in the fresh air, relishing in it. It had been so long since he’d been outside. His pale skin was a testament to that. Clearly it had just rained; there were puddles standing in the dips in the road and sidewalks. 

 

“I’m…out?” he whispered to himself, disbelieving. He took hesitant steps into the street, quickly gaining speed. “I’m out. I’m out!” 

 

He made it ten more steps before light flooded the street. He shielded his eyes and stopped. What the—

 

“Is that him?” a strange voice asked, echoing off the nearby buildings. 

 

“It is.” 

 

Izuku managed to blink away some of the spots the unexpected light had caused, though he could barely make out the silhouettes lining the street in front of him, blocking his way. One man stepped forward, and Izuku latched onto him. He wore a…bird mask? That couldn’t be right. 

 

Izuku slumped his shoulders and ran his hands through his hair. That couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be seeing dozens of people blocking his way, blocking his one path to freedom. “No!” he shouted, swaying. “Not today!” 

 

“Is he…okay?” someone asked. No one answered. Well, if they did, Izuku didn’t hear them. 

 

“He’s the healer we’re here for. Secure him.” 

 

Several people came forward. Izuku sagged where he stood. There were too many people for him to fight, to knock out with his quirk. He would go half-insane by the time they were all out. And he was so tired. So tired of constantly fighting and enduring. 

 

It wasn’t his first kidnapping. It had happened so many times. Whatever villain group was standing there, they were not the first to seek him. Izuku looked to the sky and sighed. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” 

 

He didn’t see the man who knocked him out.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Summary:

Izuku with Overhaul

Notes:

I never know what to put for the chapter summary. Sorry not sorry.

As soon as Izuku opened his eyes, he knew his life had taken a turn. The room he found himself in was similar to his cell with the League. A bare mattress he found himself lying on. A bucket in the corner for…well, he wasn’t ready to acknowledge that just yet. A single lightbulb hanging above him. And that was it. No windows. Nothing but cold concrete floor beneath his bare feet. 

 

That was another thing that immediately pissed him off. They had taken his shoes, leaving him in a pair of cargo pants and a plain black shirt. Someone had changed his blood-stained clothes. It unnerved him. 

 

He sat up on the mattress and winced. It was thin—he could feel the floor underneath the thin piece of crap. “Focus, Izuku,” he told himself. Though it wasn’t as if he could really do anything. 

 

There was a loud metal grinding at the door and then it swung open. Izuku stood, preparing himself for the worst. The first meeting of his new captors was always terrible. And lo and behold, there stood the man in the bird mask who had stood out front on the dark street. 

 

The man’s eyes scanned Izuku. While most of his face wasn’t visible, it was clear the man did not like Izuku. Disgust, that was the emotion Izuku was able to see at the corner of his eyes. “Finally, you’re awake,” the man said. 

 

Izuku lifted a brow. “Yeah?” The man took another step inside, the heavy metal door shutting the two of them in the small space. “Nice place you got here. Thanks for giving me the suite.” 

 

The man’s expression didn’t change. He simply stared at Izuku, long enough for the tension to grow nearly unbearable. Finally, the man said, “You can call me Overhaul. I run the Shie Hassaikai.” 

 

He waited, as if Izuku would suddenly know who he was. Izuku did not. He shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t know what that is.” 

 

The man narrowed his eyes. “The Shie Hassaikai is a Yakuza organization. We are one of the most powerful in this area, growing more powerful by the day. We were about to enter into an agreement with the League, actually. But then I heard about you.” Izuku did not like the way the man’s eyes took him in, as if he was his next meal and he was trying to decide what to eat first. “I didn’t like the League, especially Shigaraki. He was too ambitious for his current power level. He needed to be taken down a few pegs. But I guess you already took care of that, didn’t you?” 

 

Izuku’s fists curled at his sides. Of course he remembered killing Shigaraki, though it was shrouded in a golden haze. He remembered it, but it felt like it happened a while ago rather than the night before. Well, he was assuming it was the night before. He didn’t actually know how long he’d been unconscious. 

 

“Sorry to take that away from you.” Again, Izuku shrugged. 

 

Overhaul took another step forward. Izuku pressed himself back against the wall, unable to go any further. He didn’t want to be any closer to that man than he had to be. “I was planning on going in and killing every one of them. And then when they were dead, we would take you. But you made it easy. You came to us.” The man tilted his head, thinking. “Unfortunately, we didn’t find anyone else in there. But with Shigaraki dead, the rats scattered. I don’t anticipate them becoming an issue.” 

 

Izuku guessed the three others he took down woke up shortly after he’d downed them and scattered to the wind. Without Shigaraki leading the League, they were directionless. Even Izuku had seen that. They weren’t leaders. They didn’t have their own goals. Well, maybe Dabi did, but that man was more than a little unhinged. 

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, little healer. What’s your name?” 

 

Yeah, no. “Why would I tell you that?” Izuku asked indignantly. 

 

Overhaul entered his space, taking several steps forward until he stood at the edge of the bare mattress. The man leaked wrath. Izuku flinched against the wall. “I’ve heard you can be stubborn at first. You need to be broken in, trained. I didn’t want to start this way, but you’re forcing my hand.” 

 

The man took off his glove and reached out. Izuku couldn’t move as Overhaul lightly touched his forehead. For a moment, he didn’t understand what he was doing. And then—

 

Agony. Every cell was on fire. No, not on fire. Ripping apart. Tearing to shreds. He was no longer Izuku. He wasn’t anything but pain. There was no beginning or ending to his life. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t have any air in his lungs. 

 

It was hell. He had gone to hell. 

 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on his side on the mattress. He took in a gasping breath, entire body shuddering. He turned his head as much as he could, still remembering that awful, soul-tearing agony. Overhaul stood in the open doorway, speaking with a man with white hair and a long white coat. The spoke quietly, but Izuku still caught a few words. 

 

“—can’t handle the experiment. Her body breaks down too easily.” 

 

Overhaul listened to the other man, glaring with every word. “Pause the collection process for now. Once we have our healer up and running, we can resume progress.” As if feeling eyes on him, the man turned to Izuku. 

 

“Leave us,” Overhaul told the other man, already moving closer to Izuku. The teen didn’t think he would be able to stand if he wanted to, so he did his best to sit up, pushing himself into the corner. Not that that saved him before. “I won’t waste my time. Are you ready to cooperate?” 

 

“What the hell was that? What did you do to me?” 

 

Overhaul hummed lightly. “My quirk. It allows me to disassemble and reassemble matter as I see fit. What you experienced was both of those processes. Understand, I can do that as many times as I wish. Now, I won’t ask you again. Your name, what is it?” 

 

Izuku thought about not telling him, but he didn’t think he could endure that pain many more times. It was…awful. “Izuku. My name is Izuku.” He swallowed hard and looked away. Some things weren’t worth the fight. 

 

“Izuku. You are going to be our new healer.” Of course, Izuku knew that. Why else would he have been kidnapped? But the man wasn’t done. Overhaul towered over him, casting a harsh shadow across the mattress. Even before the man spoke, Izuku’s stomach fell and he did his best to ignore the fluttering in his chest. He hated the first days. 

 

“But before we get started, you’re going to learn exactly how far my patience extends. Your actions have consequences. I hope you know, everything I do is for the better of society as a whole. Take comfort in that.” 

 

Izuku closed his eyes and braced himself for what the man could do. 

 

XXX

 

It took two weeks for Overhaul to ‘train’ him. Or, he estimated it was two weeks. He lost a lot of time between the man’s punishments. And by punishments, Izuku meant Overhaul beat the shit out of him or used his quirk to inflict maximum pain on a whim. Honestly, he preferred the former over the latter. 

 

Those sessions with Overhaul taught him many things. What he realized early on was Overhaul didn’t tolerate any sort of disobedience. He didn’t tolerate Izuku talking back. He didn’t tolerate attitude or dismissal or anything less than complete submission. He made that abundantly clear. 

 

Eventually, he deemed Izuku ready. Whether it was his quirk actually teaching Izuku lessons or the teen became too tired to fight it, the end result was the same. Izuku did as he was told when he was told. He answered Overhaul when the man asked a question. Luckily, though, it was only Overhaul he was afraid of. Everyone else, he was free to be as much of a pain in the ass as he desired. 

 

As everyone always did, Overhaul asked about his quirk. Izuku gave his usual response, lying through his teeth. It was a weapon he didn’t want to disclose yet. One day, he might need his secrets. So with that knowledge, Overhaul sent him to work in the infirmary. 

 

It wasn’t bad. Relatively, he guessed. After the initial integration into the Shie Hassaikai, after Overhaul’s ‘training’—he still shivered at the memory of the man’s fist colliding with his jaw, rattling his bones, and those pale yellow eyes filled with cold detachment—he came to Izuku’s room and told him it was time to get to work. That led to the two of them walking down a series of long, winding hallways to the infirmary. 

 

As it turned out, the Shie Hassaikai didn’t have a trained doctor on hand, though Overhaul explained they occasionally hired one in dire circumstances. The man Izuku met in the infirmary was introduced as Guage. Apparently, his quirk allowed him to assess the state of a person’s body in an instant. He could recognize injuries and illnesses. He couldn’t heal them by any means, but at least he knew what the problem was. Now, though, they had Izuku. 

 

“Gauge is in charge of the infirmary. That doesn’t change with you here. He is in charge of you, and I am in charge of him. Everything he tells you to do, you do it without hesitation. Act as if it is me in here with you.” Overhaul glared down at Izuku. “I expect nothing less than complete obedience. You understand what awaits you if you fall short.” 

 

Of course Izuku did. Fearing some sort of physical punishment if he didn’t let Overhaul know he did indeed understand, the teen nodded and bowed his head in submission. “I will.” It made him grit his teeth, but only for a moment. He didn’t have much pride left after all those years. It had been stripped away, just like everything else had been taken. Thought, every so often, what he did have left reared its head. 

 

Overhaul left the two of them together. Gauge simply turned away from Izuku and went back to his desk, leaving him standing in the center of the infirmary without a hint of what he was expected to do. 

 

Izuku approached the man where he sat hunched over his desk, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Gauge snapped at him, “Speak only when spoken to. Sit there until I need you.” The man pointed to a chair against the wall. 

 

Well, it was going to be a long stay in the Yakuza. Izuku sighed and took a seat. 

 

It was five hours later that someone entered the infirmary with a meal for Izuku. The man who carried his meal tray walked over, handed him the tray, and left without a word. Which left him to eat in silence. And then more silence. Waiting and waiting and waiting. 

 

It was an hour later that the door to the infirmary flew open under a sharp kick and a small crowd rushed inside. “The healer! Where is he?” one of the men shouted, eyes quickly finding Izuku. “You!” 

 

Gauge was already striding over to the three wounded Yakuza members who slumped to the floor, bleeding from different wounds. Gauge’s eyes flashed white and veins of white climbed up his hands and arms, stopping at his jaw. Then it disappeared and he turned to Izuku. “Heal him first,” the man instructed, pointing to the man in front of him. 

 

Izuku moved. While everything else was new, the healing was not. He leaned back into it with relief. For once in the last two weeks, he found his footing. He marched over to the man Gauge indicated while Gauge and the others got the other wounded men onto infirmary beds. Izuku ignored them. 

 

The man in front of him wasn’t wearing that damn bird mask everyone seemed to own. He was pale and sweating, holding his bleeding abdomen. Aw, Izuku saw the problem. “Stay still,” he told him. “Lie back.” 

 

He set his hands on the man’s abdomen and activated his quirk. Gold light floated over the man, and in an instant, he began to calm down. His breathing slowed to a normal rate and he relaxed against the floor. “Thank you,” the man gasped. 

 

That floored Izuku, enough that his quirk flickered before surging again. The man…thank him? No one he healed ever thanked him. To them, it was an expectation, a universal truth that he would heal them. 

 

Izuku glanced over toward the other men waiting for him to heal them. They were injured enough for him to speed up the healing process on the man he was currently working on—he didn’t know what the punishment would be if he let someone die under his watch, but he didn’t want to find out. 

 

By the time he was done healing the first man, he had to hide his smile. As it was, there was a wonderful thrum under his skin, just enough to take the edge off of his fear but not enough to cloud his mind. It was fantastic. 

 

Healing all three men took a few hours, only because he took his time. Before, when he’d been with other villain groups, he’d used those healing sessions to practice and experiment with his quirk. No one knew about it, just him. He did the same while with the Shie Hassaikai. While healing the men, he focused on speeding up and slowing down the healing, training himself to heal certain parts while ignoring others completely. It was challenging, but it certainly made the time go by faster. 

 

Once he was done, he stood back and let Gauge use his quirk on them. Only when the man announced they were healed and could leave did Izuku go sit back down. Eventually, Gauge went back to his desk, but he did occasionally glance over at the healer. 

 

It was after an hour of silence that the man spoke. “Your quirk is powerful. I doubted it at first, but I see why so many people want to get their hands on it.” 

 

“Oh, yeah, it’s great. Especially the part where I’ll never be free and have to bow to the whim of whoever kidnaps me. Oh, and the part where I never feel safe.” 

 

Gauge stared at him for a long moment. His face never flinched. He didn’t look at Izuku with pity. Eventually, he looked away and they fell back into that mind-numbing silence. Thankfully, Izuku was still riding the effects of his quirk. 

 

XXX

 

Things went on like that for three months. Each day, a few Yakuza members would come in requesting healing. Sometimes they came in with minor injuries he healed in half an hour; others with injuries that took hours and most of his concentration. He made sure to limit his healing to a handful of people each day, as he’d told Overhaul he could manage. Maintaining the lie wasn’t all that difficult—he’d been doing it for years. 

 

Each day, he sat in his place against the wall, watching Gauge do whatever the hell Gauge did at his desk. As instructed, he never initiated conversation, and even when the man spoke to him, Izuku didn’t provide more than a few words in reply. The man was his keeper—he recognized what sort of relationship they had. However, Gauge was also the one to send people away when they came in for stupid injuries. He was the one who decided what needed healing and what they needed to suck up. It was strange, but also…nice. It kept him from constantly using his quirk. Having that reprieve was wonderful. Shigaraki and the Doctor had used him until he became useless, or nearly. 

 

Those three months were pretty good. Compared to his previous situations. He should have known his luck would change. 

 

One day, Overhaul entered the infirmary and came straight to Izuku. The teen’s heart had clenched painfully. Izuku hadn’t seen Overhaul since his first few weeks there. Everyone was better than Overhaul. The man had instilled a guttural, horrible fear inside, and he couldn’t escape it. 

 

“Follow me,” he commanded, and left the infirmary. Izuku didn’t hesitate, though he couldn’t help the racing thoughts that came with the action. He’s going to hurt you. Run. Run away. Don’t let him catch you. Don’t let him touch you. Izuku swallowed and pushed them aside. 

 

Overhaul didn’t say another word until he pushed open a door and gestured for Izuku to enter. “Unfortunately for both of us, you have your limits. I’m working on eliminating those,” he said, and Izuku assumed that was the only explanation he was going to get. Because the man had brought him to a lab. Oh, yes, he recognized a lab when he saw one. After so long of standing by the Doctor’s side, he knew what he was seeing. Surgical table, medical equipment, lab equipment. The more he looked around, the more he saw. Compared to the Doctor’s work space, though, it was…minimalist. Unsophisticated. He kept that thought to himself. He also noticed two masked individuals standing in the back, speaking in low voices as they discussed something on the computer screen. They glanced up as the two new arrivals stepped in, but quickly went back to work.

 

“Lie down.” Overhaul pointed to the surgical table. Izuku only hesitated for a second, forcing his legs to move. He most certainly did not want to lie down. But failing to do so would be worse than whatever they had planned. With Overhaul behind him, he was almost grateful to put some space between them. 

 

As Izuku slowly laid down, wincing at the biting cold metal, Overhaul came forward. “Unlike other groups, both villains and other Yakuza organizations, I strive to improve society, not rule it. With your quirk, we’re one step closer to that goal. For now, I want to overcome your weakness and have healing available anytime, not just when you’re able.” 

 

He flinched when the man quickly strapped him down, leather straps coming over his wrists, ankles, and chest. Thankfully, he was able to move his head. Though, he knew if he fought in any way, the villain wouldn’t hesitate to secure him even further. 

 

“We’re close to being able to isolate quirks. We have another subject we’re working on, and if we’re successful in isolating yours, the barriers we’ve come against will fall away. The first step is you .” 

 

Izuku’s mouth went dry. He wanted to ask questions, to beg the man not to do whatever it was he planned on doing, but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t have done him any good even if he was able to. 

 

“Until further notice, this lab is your new home. The infirmary will survive without you for a while.” 

 

He could only sigh against the table. His new home. Yay. 

 

XXX

 

One thing Izuku appreciated about the League, particularly Master— or as Izuku knew him, All For One—was that no one had been permitted to harm him in any permanent way. That also meant the Doctor hadn’t been allowed to experiment on him, though the man had voiced that urge on several occasions. It was also another reason All For One had never taken his quirk, as the man explained to him. Izuku couldn’t heal himself, so taking his quirk didn’t do the man any good. Only once had he had Izuku attempt to heal him, and that had ended in Izuku collapsing to the floor with blood flowing freely from his nose and on the verge of passing out. His wounds had been too much. Anyway, with the League, Izuku hadn’t become an experiment. He’d been many things, but never an experiment. 

 

With Overhaul, he was exactly that. He was a specimen to be studied. He was a subject to be poked and prodded and maneuvered exactly how the man wished. He didn’t know how long he was brought back and forth from his room to the lab, but he suspected it was a long time. The days began to run together. 

 

At first, it had started with the Twins taking blood and hair samples, things that were noninvasive. Oh, yeah. The Twins. That was what he’d named the two Yakuza members who were always in the lab when he arrived. It was only ever those two and Overhaul. The two men didn’t look anything alike, but they also hadn’t introduced themselves before diving in and taking what they wanted. So he’d named them. Anyway, it had started small but quickly became more painful and extensive. Bone marrow was extracted on several occasions. They scanned him in about every way possible, throwing around radiation like it was confetti. There was even a strip of skin they'd cut out of him, right there along his upper arm. He didn't know what they'd needed it for, but the area had finally begun to heal after far too many weeks. 

 

Sometimes, however, they would knock him out before doing whatever it was they did. It wasn’t uncommon for Izuku to go into the lab and wake up in his room. He never knew what day it was or how much time had passed. Sometimes he knew what they had done, but it was more common for him to be completely unaware. Since arriving in the lab for the first time, he’d gained plenty of scars, up and down his arms, his chest, his stomach. On and on. His spine hurt sometimes—he didn’t want to know what Overhaul had done to him there, what he’d taken or injected. 

 

He didn’t want to know any of it. Overhaul and the Twins never supplied answers. 

 

It didn’t take long for him to begin going through his typical phases. He guessed it was an unconscious action, a way to help him remember what it was to be alive. Or maybe it was a horrible defense mechanism created by the fracturing of his brain after all that time. It was anyone’s guess. 

 

The first time he became angry and tried to kill the Twins, he hadn’t cared about what Overhaul would do. All he’d wanted to do was rip out their throats and watch them bleed out. He’d made it one step off the table before Overhaul was on him. It wasn’t the last time Izuku tried something like that, but he always remembered the pain that came from the man’s quirk. But when he was in that headspace, overwhelmed by those emotions, he simply didn’t care. During that period of time, he’d been sedated, though not heavily enough to completely knock him out. A shame, really. 

 

The angry phase was followed by uncontrolled sadness. He distantly wondered how he wasn’t always dehydrated when all he could manage to do was cry. Weep, really. Full body convulsions that desperately tried to force out every bit of pain and sorrow he carried. That phase was much less uncontrollable. Overhaul and the Twins were able to work around his tears, hardly seeming to notice them. 

 

Despondency seemed to piss off Overhaul the most, which was strange. Izuku had seen irritation on his face when the teen had attacked anyone who came near him. Yet when he was blank, unresponsive to any outside stimuli, Overhaul became angry. It was like he wanted Izuku to react. Sometimes the man tried to rip Izuku out of those phases, though he was pretty set in his ways. Pain worked sometimes, but not always. Especially not when he grew numb and cold. That phase relied on Izuku to come out of it. 

 

On those days, when his emotions were too much for him, not even Overhaul’s quirk was able to reach him. 

 

He didn’t know how long they had been testing on him, taking and taking and taking from his body, but their frustration only grew by the day. Until finally Overhaul told him it was over. For now, he made sure to add.

 

“We have better uses for you. We’ll have to make due with what we have,” Overhaul ground out, glaring at Izuku that morning while he remained seated on the mattress on the floor. 

 

With unimpressed eyes, Izuku let out a small sigh of relief. “Thanks,” he responded, deadpan. Their testing hadn’t resulted in anything. He didn’t know if he was relieved or pissed about it. 

 

He was sent back to the infirmary. Gauge didn’t greet him and he certainly didn’t act as if they were friends. In an instant, the two went back to their routine. Silence and healing. Izuku didn’t realize how much he’d missed that while in the lab. 

 

For a while, the two went through the motions together. The infirmary was his home again. Until one day when Overhaul came for him again. He nearly cried when the man stepped through the door and told the teen to follow him. 

 

That was the day he met Eri. 

 

Izuku found himself standing in the lab once more, but that time it wasn’t him who was lying on the table. It was a little girl, her body so frail and small. He hardly heard Overhaul as the man gave Izuku her name. Eri. Her name was Eri. 

 

He’d been told about another subject in the compound, experimented on just as Izuku had been experimented on. But he would have never guessed it was a child. She couldn’t even be as old as he was when he was kidnapped. Overhaul didn’t explain why she was there, and Izuku knew he couldn’t ask. 

 

“You’ll heal her each day. Now.” Overhaul pinned him with an expectant glare. 

 

Izuku moved forward on shaking legs. He didn’t think he could blink, not as his eyes took in every inch of her. She wore a small night gown, a thin, well-worn piece of clothing that he knew would do nothing to ward off the cold from the table. As he came forward, the little girl flinched, following him with the most vivid ruby eyes he’d ever seen. There was a twinge in the back of his brain—there was something familiar about that color, but he couldn’t remember what. 

 

“Hi, Eri,” he said quietly. Overhaul hadn’t moved from behind him. “My name is Izuku. I’m going to touch you, okay?” He noticed many, many scars along her arms and legs. There were fresh wounds, too, gaping and bleeding. For a moment, he was tempted to turn around and claw out Overhaul’s eyes. But…Eri. He didn’t want her to see that. 

 

The girl was clearly terrified, and she stiffened when he put a hand on her lower leg. His quirk flared to life. She watched the threads extend from his hand, relaxing a fraction as he began healing her. 

 

“While we were unable to isolate your quirk, hers is much more compliant. With your quirk, we will be able to get more out of her.” Overhaul’s voice floated over Izuku’s shoulder, winding around his brain and forcing him to imagine the man reassembling her as he had done to Izuku dozens of times. 

 

With that thought stuck behind his eyelids, Izuku turned, glowing eyes pinned on the man. “You deserve to rot in hell.” While he didn’t want Eri to have to witness anything more than she had to, he also knew he couldn’t stop himself from trying to kill the man. 

 

Obviously, he didn’t get far. Maybe if he had wrapped his quirk around the man, healing him as fast as he could to drop him…Izuku didn’t even know if that would do it. Overhaul seemed larger than life. No quirk would be able to tear him down. But he didn’t think that rationally in the moment. He couldn’t. All he could think about was how Overhaul had hurt Eri, had forced her through the same hell he’d somehow gotten used to. 

 

Izuku woke up on the floor, Overhaul’s hand on his throat. He recognized the buzzing pain all over his body as the effect from the man’s quirk. So he’d disassembled him in an instant. That made sense. The man’s hand tightened around his throat and he gasped out a breath. “You little shit,” the man hissed. “You’re a disease. Disgusting.” 

 

The man continued to speak as he began raining down blows on Izuku. All the teen could do was curl up on his side and attempt to protect his most vulnerable areas. Blood filled his nose and mouth. His lungs spasmed with each blow.

 

He didn’t realize the man had stopped until Izuku opened his eyes and took in a full breath for the first time in what felt like hours. Overhaul no longer stood over him, though he was only a few paces away. Izuku managed to lift his head enough to see what the man was doing. 

 

Eri was sobbing, begging Overhaul to stop. Izuku couldn’t tell what the man was doing standing over her, not from that position. But her cries spurred him into action. Or, as much action as he was capable of. He held his abdomen loosely as he got to his knees, groaning at the pain that hit him in waves. One of his eyes was beginning to swell shut. But he didn’t matter. Eri mattered. Izuku was already damned. 

 

“Don’t touch her. Leave her alone,” Izuku wheezed. 

 

Hearing him, Overhaul turned, pausing with a scalpel in his gloved hands. Having gained the man’s attention, Izuku continued to talk. “Stop hurting her, you sick bastard.” He spit blood onto the floor. 

 

The man narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think you can order me to do anything?” 

 

Izuku bowed his head in defeat. “Please. Don’t hurt her. I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want. Just stop hurting her.” 

 

The silence stretched like taffy. There was a clang of the scalpel hitting the table, then footsteps coming closer. Izuku allowed Overhaul to lift his chin, the man’s fingers gripping his jaw tightly. The teen’s eyes widened as he studied Overhaul’s face. Underneath his mask, it was obvious the man was smiling. No, grinning.  

 

“I think we found a way to make you a little more cooperative.” 

 

Even with his stomach dropping and his entire body growing weak, Izuku couldn’t help but look over at Eri. The two met eyes, and from that moment on they were connected.

 

XXX

 

Healing Eri became his daily routine. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stand by her side while Overhaul did whatever the hell he was doing, occasionally barking orders for Izuku to heal her after he was done. 

 

Sometimes, the two were left alone. It wasn’t ever for long, only a few minutes at a time, but it was like a balm to his aching soul whenever he heard her voice. She didn’t offer up much in the way of personal details—Izuku didn’t know if she even had any personal details, any history prior to Overhaul—so he did most of the talking. That wasn’t to say she didn’t ask questions. It had taken a few weeks, but eventually she grew comfortable enough to speak freely with him. 

 

He told her about his quirk, though only what he’d told Overhaul. While he trusted her to a degree, she was still a child. He didn’t want to risk giving her information she might share in the heat of a moment. He told her how he had been forced to be a healer for a while, to which she’d asked if he liked healing people. That had been a tough question to answer. In the end, he’d settled for saying, “Yes.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it certainly wasn’t the truth. He described his mom when she really needed comfort. He told her about the weekends they would spend in the apartment, doing nothing but lounging around and watching movies together. He told her about the parks they would go to, running around and playing for hours and hours. Anything to get her mind off of her surroundings. She seemed to enjoy his stories, watching him with those massive eyes of hers. 

 

He’d asked her how long she’d been with Overhaul, but she didn’t know. That question had caused tears to flow freely. She didn’t remember her parents. She didn’t remember being anywhere but with him. 

 

Izuku never whispered it aloud, but he vowed he would get her out one day. Even if it killed him. She deserved more than that. 

 

It was because of his obvious fondness for her that Overhaul easily cowed him. Whenever Izuku got a little too stubborn or uncooperative, the man simply used Eri to snap him out of it. Threatening the little girl was enough to make him halt and throw whatever pride he had left to the ground where it was ground under the man’s heel. 

 

He would do anything for her to remain unharmed. Everyone knew it. 

 

The nights spent in his room were the worst. When he had been taken away from Eri’s side and had healed whoever the hell they wanted him to heal each day. When the door shut him in complete darkness and all he had were his thoughts. That was when his monsters pounced. His doubts. His fears. The memories he’d tried to shut out because they were just too painful to linger on. He didn’t always sleep, but when he did his dreams tended to be shrouded in vulnerability. When he wasn’t sleeping, when he could consciously compose himself, he was able to throw his shoulders back and tell himself he was fine, that he wasn’t scared and didn’t care. Because not caring protected him. 

 

Eri was hurt a lot in his dreams. They were always based on the things he had actually seen and heard from her, but his brain sent it a step too far. It sucked, honestly. There were some days he was brought back to his room, nursing that familiar buzz from his quirk, and he was grateful for the backlash. Because when his head felt just a little too tight, it was easier to stop thinking about the bad things. 

 

He didn’t cry very often anymore. He’d stopped doing that years ago. Most of the villains he’d been with had taught him that crying only earned him a beating. So he’d stopped. But occasionally, when things built up, he sat on that bare mattress and cried silent, horrible tears. They never lasted long, just enough to give him a headache and have him wishing he had water in his room. 

 

They fell into a routine. He relied on routines, had done so since the day his mother was killed and he’d been stolen away from his life. Knowing what was coming and what he did or didn’t have to look forward to was vital to his survival. Of course, it was entirely likely someone someday would rip him away from Overhaul and give him a new routine to learn. That was a problem for his future self. 

 

It was because of routine that the Yakuza members who came and collected him became complacent. Before, they hadn’t spoken to him. They’d hardly looked at him, other than to make sure he was following behind. But after so long, he was a staple to their lives. They grew comfortable. And of course, Izuku sensed that. He felt he was good at reading people. It was how he avoided some amount of trouble, after all. 

 

That day, the man who came to bring him a meal in the infirmary was relaxed when he walked in. He met Izuku’s eyes, though he didn’t attempt to smile. The man walked over and handed him the tray. 

 

“You and I, we go way back, right?” Izuku asked, throwing on a crooked smile he knew could be disarming. Silly. Completely void of any ill intention. From the outside, he looked like a naive teenager. 

 

The man raised a brow. “Do we now?” 

 

“Oh, yeah. Don’t you know? This little dance we do each day is leading to something much bigger. Friendship.” 

 

The man actually snorted behind his mask. “Uh, huh. I’m sure.” 

 

Izuku watched the man’s shoulders slouch as he relaxed completely. He was tempted to reach out with his quirk and take that opportunity to escape. He would be able to take out Gauge, sitting at his desk as usual. It wouldn’t take much effort to knock that man out either. But he restrained himself. Eri was still down there with him somewhere. Despite how much his body and mind ached for freedom, he knew he couldn’t do it. Not when he didn’t know what would happen to that little girl. Overhaul’s rage wasn’t something to mess with. 

 

“How long have I been here with you guys, anyway? Just so I know when our anniversary is,” he explained with a wink. 

 

The man rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “You’re such a dumbass kid.” Then he paused, and Izuku knew he had him. “I don’t know exactly how long you’ve been here, but I’d guess nearly a year.” 

 

Shock slammed into Izuku’s face almost as hard as a fist would. But he didn’t allow his expression to waver. He managed to smile and say, “Ah, so I better start planning the party.” 

 

The man ended up wandering away. The tray was still held in Izuku’s hands, but he was frozen in place. Nearly a year. Nearly another year of his life spent down there with no sun and nothing but Overhaul and the Shie Hassaikai! 

 

He wanted nothing more than to throw his tray at Gauge, the only one he was able to direct his anger at at the moment. He wanted to slam his fists against the man’s face until he was nothing but a bloody pulp under his fingers. But he didn’t move. His hands gripped the tray tightly. His eyes stayed firmly glued to the wall. If he dared to move, he would lose his composure. He would let that anger out, and while it would feel good at the moment, he didn’t know what else it would destroy. 

 

He had to think rationally. He knew that. He had to plan with the long term in mind. But he was just a teenager! He was a kid who had spent a year of his life locked away like an animal! 

 

The rage ate away at him like acid, leaving nothing but a shivering, raw mess behind. From the outside, not a single damn thing had changed. But inside he was screaming and clawing his way out of the shackles that had been placed on him. 

 

It had been so long, he didn’t know if he remembered what freedom tasted like. 

 

What was worse than fully realizing what had been lost for him was knowing Eri was down there with him. She had been in those same conditions before he’d arrived. He didn’t know how old she was, though he estimated she couldn’t be older than seven. Around the age he’d been taken. And look at him. He was a mess. He was broken and hopeless. But her? She deserved a life. 

 

She deserved a life without Overhaul. She deserved a life without being used. 

 

Izuku set his tray on the ground with a soft clink. He wasn’t hungry any longer. Gauge glanced over once, but whatever he saw on Izuku’s face wasn’t concerning enough to act or say anything. 

 

If only he knew what was brewing under the surface. 

 

XXX

 

Izuku was planning their escape. Well, by planning, he meant running with the small, teeny tiny idea he had. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about escaping, but…the motivation hadn’t been there. But hearing he had been there for nearly a year lit a fire in him. If not for his own sake, for Eri’s. 

 

His plan was not concrete in the least, but it was all he could do. 

 

That day, as usual, he was brought to the lab to heal Eri. As soon as the door opened, Overhaul told him it would be a long day for her and Izuku needed to be there to heal as they went. Normally, Izuku hated those days. 

 

The thought of escaping was like a drug that he couldn’t kick. It filled his dreams and every waking out. He swore he could taste it. Freedom. He’d had seven years of it—and ten years of oppression to make him forget. 

 

Of course, he was guessing. No one ever gave him a calender. He’d managed to piece together his own crooked timeline over the years.

 

He made sure to keep any hint of what he was thinking off his face. Overhaul went to work as he usually did, which only made Izuku cringe. He had to stop himself from muttering under his breath, “Hang in there, Eri. We’re almost out.”

 

It took hours. Izuku did as he was told. He ducked his head and played the part he knew the man wanted to see. Submissive. Broken. Completely trained. That was what Izuku was. So when Overhaul finished up his work for the day, he didn’t even glance at Izuku on his way out, leaving with four vials of blood and…the teen didn’t want to think about what else the man had taken. 

 

Not a word was spoken to Izuku, but that was their routine as well. The healer was expected to stay wherever he was until he was given orders to move. Whether that meant Overhaul was coming back soon or not was unknown. Which meant he only had a short window to act. 

 

He didn’t think he would be able to spend another day in there. The more he thought about leaving, the more he dreamt of him and Eri escaping, the harder it was to pretend. 

 

The Twins were working at the workspace in the back of the room, doing whatever the hell they did with the data that had been collected. They paid Izuku no mind as he stepped closer to Eri. The little girl was already watching him, however. 

 

“It’ll be alright. Everything is going to be fine. Just follow my lead,” he told her. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. 

 

No one expected Izuku to lash out with anything other than his fists or words. Everything looked at him like a harmless healer, someone who was perhaps a little insane, but not dangerous. It was why the Twins turned their backs on him so easily, why Overhaul left him alone so often. 

 

Izuku lifted eyes that glowed like the sun to the Twins and held out a hand. Those golden tendrils floated around him, spearing for them. Almost instantly, they stiffened and fell to the floor. Only one of them was able to keep his eyes open, though only a sliver. 

 

“Time to go, Eri.” Izuku quickly, unstrapped her from the table and set her on her feet on the floor. “We’re going to run. I’ve got you. Just hold my hand tightly.” 

 

He tugged her out of the room and down the hall, taking only a second to look both ways before choosing where he thought the entrance was. He’d never been allowed to wander, and he hadn’t been conscious when he was brought there. He could only hope he was going in the right direction. 

 

“We can’t go! He’ll hurt us. We have to—” she started, but Izuku didn’t let her finish. 

 

“We can. If we don’t go, he’ll keep hurting you.” He huffed a few breaths and ran faster, practically dragging her behind him. Her little legs couldn’t keep up. Eventually, he ended up scoping her up under an arm, earning a small gasp. “This is the only way. We’re escaping.” 

 

His heart was beating incredibly fast. Probably not healthy. It felt like a small creature was inside, kicking its feet into his heart as quickly as it could. Soon, he just knew it would explode. 

 

Each time they came across one of the Yakuza, Izuku used his quirk and sent them careening to the floor. With each use of his quirk, he fought to keep going as quickly as he had before. The adrenaline in his body was competing against the effects of his quirk. 

 

“We’re almost there. We’re nearly out,” he gasped. 

 

The extent of his plan was to use his quirk to heal as many people as he could before he inevitably became incapacitated by its effects. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was working so far. In fact, he was doing fairly well. He felt he was keeping a level head. 

 

It took longer than he would have liked to find the entrance, but eventually came to the entryway and allowed hope to seep into his mind. Outside, he could see sunlight. It was so bright! 

 

He was swaying from the effort of carrying Eri as well as tamping down the effects of his quirk. For her sake, he kept himself from laughing, small giggles that bubbled up and threatened to escape with every second his quirk was activated. It was a serious situation, but he was just…so high. Euphoric. Sometimes he wished he could live in that feeling forever. 

 

He managed to put one hand on the door handle before things inevitably went south. He stiffened as he registered the extra presences in the room, pulling a fearful squeak from Eri as he whipped around. 

 

Standing in a semicircle around them were a dozen or so men, Overhaul behind them. “Where do you think you’re going?” the man asked. 

 

Izuku stiffened. In fear. In rage. In…too many emotions to count. He wanted to run. No, he needed to run. But if he ran, they would be able to catch him without much effort. He was weighed down by Eri and wasn’t prepared in the least for a physical altercation. Unfortunately there were too many for him to use his quirk on, even if they all stood still while he did that. 

 

He couldn’t run. He couldn’t stay and fight. No with Eri. 

 

He looked down at her, giving himself a single second to consider and form a half-assed plan. Because his first one had gone so well. She met his eyes, fearful and wide. It made his heart squeeze. 

 

Izuku dropped her to the ground. Overhaul watched with narrowed eyes, waiting to see what he did. Eri grabbed ahold of his pant leg, clearly uncertain of what was happening. “Eri, run when I tell you.” 

 

She shook her head, mouth opening to object. He didn’t let her. They didn’t have the time. “Run, Eri! I’ll keep them away. Just run and find the heroes.” He shoved her behind him, toward the door. He angled his body back toward the mass of Yakuza, but he was still able to see her hesitate. So he shoved her again, pushing her away. He was angry, but not at her. 

 

He turned away from her for perhaps the last time. His vision was edged in gold as his quirk flared back to life, stronger than he’d ever forced it to be. He didn’t have the time to hold back. The men he faced tensed and readied themselves for whatever he was about to do. 

 

“Get out. For me, okay?” he said to her. “Now run!”

 

He lifted both hands and pushed his quirk, feeling it thrum to life in his chest. Thankfully, he heard her footsteps, heard the door open and close. If she’d fought him any further, he didn’t know what he’d do. 

 

Four men dropped to the ground, in various speeds. But Izuku felt the strain immediately. It hit him right between the eyes, clouding his judgement and his ability to think coherently. He’d nevered healed that many people all at once before, not that quickly. But he couldn’t stop. 

 

He reached out and snared another handful, laughing as he went. Overhaul watched him without moving, eyes widening in understanding and…shock. Well, of course. He was seeing his healer suddenly do something other than healing. At least, in his eyes. 

 

But it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t drop the rest of them before they came forward and jerked his arms behind his back, kicking his legs out from under him. It wasn’t enough to get him out, but it bought Eri a few minutes. It would have to be enough for her. To finally be free of Overhaul. To get to the heroes. To be more than an experiment. 

 

He was glad to be the sacrifice for her. 

 

A hand gripped his hair and jerked his head back. He found himself on his knees, arms outstretched between two Yakzua members, Overhaul standing over him. The man raised a hand, peeling off one of his gloves. 

 

“You’ll pay for that,” he said quietly, the low rumble of his voice causing Izuku to tremble. The man reached out to cup his cheek. 

 

In the next moment, all Izuku knew was agony. 

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who has read this so far! Hang in there with me!

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Summary:

The heroes are here!

Notes:

I apologize for how short this chapter is. But I promise, more is coming.

The girl’s name was Eri and she was a complete mystery. The day she was picked up by a patrolling hero student was the day something sparked in the hero community, creating a blaze that refused to go out. The hero student in question was Mirio, aka Lemillion. As soon as she'd run to his side, he had taken her straight to the agency he was working with. 

 

Nighteye’s agency was already investigating the local Yakuza, and with the appearance of the mystery girl, those efforts were increased exponentially. However, while finding her provided a few answers, it also raised far too many questions.

 

The girl’s name was Eri and she had been held by a bad man. That was what she knew. A man with a bird mask. Many others who wore the same bird masks. While she hadn’t ever heard what they called themselves, the heroes she spoke to knew exactly who she was referring to. The Yakuza, or more specifically, the Shie Hassaikai. And though they knew who she’d escaped from, she was unable to tell them why she’d been there in the first place or where she’d been held. Whether it was due to her panic or her age, she had limited information. 

 

Of course, that wasn’t to say she didn’t try and describe everything she knew to the heroes. She did. But what she knew wasn’t very helpful. She didn’t know any names, though from her description, Nighteye was able to assume the bad man she referred to was Kai Chisaki, known as Overhaul. She had run from the building she’d escaped from quickly, and in her panic had forgotten which way or how far she'd gone.

 

She also told anyone who would listen about the boy who had gotten her out. A boy who had sacrificed himself for her so she could run. “He’s taller than me. He has green hair and kind green eyes.” Sitting in a hospital bed, surrounded by a few heroes, including Nighteye and Mirio, she bowed her head apologetically, tears falling from her face. “He…he has a quirk that heals people. His name is Izuku.” 

 

The heroes involved in the case were horrified as they went through what little information they had. Not only had Overhaul kept Eri in the dark, doing who knew what with her—none of them had been able to look away from those scars for a long, long time—but he still had someone in his clutches. A teenage boy with a healing quirk. 

 

After the heroes began to filter out of her room, leaving only Nighteye standing against the wall, Eri begged him to help Izuku, to find him. “He can’t heal himself. He told me that. And…and the bad man…” Eri’s eyes dipped to her hands in her lap. She finally looked up with a fierceness that surprised the hero. “The bad man will hurt him. For getting me out. You have to find him.” 

 

Nighteye nodded seriously. “We’re doing our best.” 

 

The heroes began what felt like a herculean investigation. The Shie Hassaikai wasn’t an organization to frivolously trifle with. They proceeded with caution, though the pace at which they moved felt…neglectful. With every day that passed, the burden on their shoulders grew. There was a kid out there, hurt or dead—or worse. 

 

While they did what they could, Eri was placed in protective custody. As it turned out, her quirk was volatile and uncontrolled. She saw it as a curse and became inconsolable whenever it activated on its own. Surprising everyone, Eraserhead offered to be her temporary guardian. The gruff Underground Hero hadn’t met anyone’s questioning eyes when he made that offer. 

 

For the first few weeks, they gained some ground. They were able to narrow down he area where Eri had come from, but it wasn’t clear which building Overhaul was using. Eri was shown a few photos of the buildings in the area, but it only ended with her sobbing because she couldn’t remember. 

 

They spotted Overhaul several times over the first few weeks, but they weren’t ever able to catch him returning to their base. It left them stuck, though it didn’t stop them from following him whenever they could with the hope that one day they would get lucky. 

 

It took three months before they caught a break. 

 

During those three months, they noticed a few things. The first was quirk erasing bullets. During what should have been an ordinary fight between the villains and the heroes turned into a hero student getting their quirk taken away after getting shot by one of the villains. His quirk returned, but the entire hero community became highly aware of a new danger in their jobs. The second was the sudden silence of the League of Villains. The villains who had been plaguing UA and its students seemed to vanish within a single day. No one knew where they’d gone or if they were still around and keeping to themselves. They had seemed like such a massive presence. No one in the Underground knew a thing. It left everyone on edge. 

 

It was actually a handful of Underground heroes who came back to Nighteye with some answers, though nothing that changed their situation. It was about the boy, the healer. Eraserhead was the one to meet with the man, having taken report from the other Underground heroes who had even less interest than him in mingling with limelight heroes. 

 

Eraserhead didn’t bother taking a seat. “We’ve reached out to our contacts. The kid is a legend. He’s a prize, a rarity that everyone wants to get their hands on. From what the Underground thinks, he’s a magical healer. He can heal anything. Whispers of him go back years. If this kid is only a teenager, he’s been a tool of villains for most of his life, it seems. From what I could gather, he’s been passed around to whoever has the power to take him. 

 

That was not particularly comforting. While it was good to know the kid actually existed, the information didn’t change anything. It only made them more antsy. And guilty for not having rescued him by now. 

 

The break in their luck came in the form of a random sighting of none other than Kai Chisaki himself. Thankfully, it was one of the heroes involved in investigating the Shie Hassaikai. The hero recognized the villain and called it in, managing to stay calm enough to follow the man. Straight back to a large estate near the area where Eri had been found. 

 

It confirmed what they needed to know. It also had them acting fast. A boy’s life was on the line, possibly others. 

 

Just like that, the raid straight into the heart of the Shie Hassaikai was underway. 

 

XXX

 

Katsuki Bakugo hated meetings. He hated having to sit down and listen instead of just going out and doing the shit that needed to get done. But he also understood debriefs were necessary. That was why he willingly sat in the back of the room with some of the other students who had been dragged along as Nighteye discussed all the details of the raid. 

 

Aizawa sat beside Katsuki. The man had thrown himself into the empty seat as soon as he’d laid eyes on his students. It was as if he thought they needed to be babysat. Whatever. The man hadn’t said a word to him, though Katsuki figured the man would have something to say eventually. 

 

Many of his classmates, himself included, were with heroes doing their work studies. Katsuki had been lucky—not that he would ever tell the man that was what he thought—Best Jeanist had been accepting students. He’d agreed to take on the explosive teen. 

 

It was only a day ago that Best Jeanist received a request for assistance for a raid on the Shie Hassaikai. Katsuki hadn’t heard of the Shie Hassaikai before, but apparently there were a few heavy hitters in the bunch that could mean trouble. 

 

Unfortunately, it had been made extremely clear to Katsuki—and the rest of UA’s students on work studies—that they were not going to be anything more than support. They weren’t going in first and wouldn’t be facing the bigger threats. Not only that, but to remain on that mission, they were to be supervised at all times. It pissed him off, but…he understood. He didn’t like it in the least. 

 

“—wasn’t able to provide much information on the boy, but we have a general description. He is the mission first before taking Overhaul,” Nighteye was saying. 

 

Eri. Katsuki didn’t want to admit it, but he had a soft spot for the girl. It had only been a few months since she’d started living on campus, but in that time she’d wormed her way into all of their hearts. She was clearly traumatized and scarred and working on learning how to live a normal life. The first time Katsuki had stormed past her, not thinking about his actions, the girl had thrown herself behind the nearest object to hide, immediately sobbing uncontrollably. And hadn’t that hurt? Since then, he’d worked on controlling himself around her. His emotions. His outbursts. His tone . Damn girl had him tamed. 

 

She also had Aizawa tamed. It nearly made Katsuki sneer sitting there in that meeting. The tough teacher he knew and actually respected had been softened by the child he’d taken in. She lived with him in the teachers’ dorms, having an incredibly pink room all to herself in his apartment. 

 

Katsuki forced himself to pay attention to Nighteye. The man was just so damn boring! 

 

“As stated in the memo I sent out earlier, we believe this boy is being held by Overhaul because of his quirk. Healers are rare, and to have one at your disposal is invaluable.” Nighteye turned to the projector and clicked to the next slide. “These are his descriptors. If you see him, get him to safety immediately.” 

 

Katsuki’s eyes widened as he read the description of some teenager being held by Overhaul. Green hair. Green eyes. Healing quirk. Possibly around 15 to 17 years old. 

 

Healing quirk? Healing quirk. Healing quirk . 

 

“We don’t know his name, and we aren’t sure how long he’s been held there. In the time since Eri escaped, we have no idea what Overhaul has been doing to him. Be prepared with medical attention going in.” 

 

Nighteye’s words faded out, and soon all Katsuki could hear was his own breathing. 

 

It couldn’t be him. It didn’t make sense. It was too good to be true if it was. But…a healing quirk. He would be…seventeen by then, if he’d been alive all that time. Green hair and eyes. It sounded like him . 

 

Ten years. It had been ten years since Katsuki saw Izuku Midoriya. The two of them had been best friends—or as close as two seven-year-olds could be. Brothers, almost. They’d grown up together, side by side in everything they did. Katsuki and Izuku developed their quirks at around the same time, Katsuki with a powerful, explosive quirk and Izuku with a powerful healing quirk. The two of them had planned on becoming heroes together. Katsuki would protect Izuku and Izuku would protect Katsuki. A wonderful, perfect team. 

 

He hadn’t been old enough to understand what had happened, not really. He hadn’t been shown the photos of the crime scene in the Midoriya’s apartment, but he’d been sat down by his parents and told that Inko and Izuku were gone. He hadn’t really understood what that meant until he’d stood over their graves. 

 

Having grown up, he’d since learned exactly what happened. When he’d gotten a little older and wiser, he’d gotten the details. He’d seen the photos. It had been an execution. The only comfort was knowing Inko died quickly. What hadn’t been on the scene was Izuku’s blood or any sign he’d struggled. It was as if he’d vanished off the face of the world. The investigation into Izuku’s disappearance ran cold after a few months. 

 

It had been so long since Izuku was presumed to be dead. In that time since his disappearance, Katsuki had thought about Izuku in passing, but he’d moved on. For both of them. He’d mourned the child who had been lost to the world and strived to be a hero they could both be proud of. Sometimes, when things got to be too much and he could feel himself spiraling, he reminded himself to take a breath and remember why he was fighting so hard, why he wanted to be a hero. 

 

His ideals had changed over the years, maybe becoming a little softer as he adopted more of Izuku’s mentality, but it was for the best. 

 

Izuku would have been an amazing hero. He would have changed the world. 

 

He didn’t want to hope, but…could Izuku still be alive? After all that time…could he have survived? 

 

Though he was lost in his thoughts, he still heard Nighteye say, “Tonight we take down the Shie Hassaikai.” 

 

XXX

 

"What's going on?" Aizawa asked sharply, grabbing Katsuki's sleeve and pulling him aside outside the conference room. The meeting had ended after...way too many hours. Though, he had mostly spaced the last half of it. How was he supposed to concentrate when there was a small blooming hope in his chest? 

 

He looked up at his teacher, pulling his arm away from the man. "What? Nothing." 

 

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Bakugo. I'm observant. You think I didn't notice the way your entire body language shifted during that meeting? Now, I'll ask again—What's going on?" 

 

Katsuki sighed and looked out the window beside him. Nighteye had a nice building, but it wasn't what Katsuki would have built. "I..." How did he explain to the man what was going through his head? 

 

"It's about the healer, right?" 

 

Katsuki whipped his head up, eyes wide. "How did you—"

 

"It doesn't take a genius to read you, kid. You're not one to shy away from a fight, as much as I wish you would sometimes. So it can't be the mission itself that has you reeling. Logically, it's the healer. So what about him has you so messed up?" 

 

The last of the heroes passed the two of them on their way out. Only when they were out of earshot did he run a hand through his hair and sigh. "Growing up, I had a best friend. Izuku Midoriya. He and I were inseparable. Our moms were best friends and we spent most of our lives together. He had a healing quirk." Aizawa's eyes narrowed in he listened. Katsuki continued. "When we were seven, someone broke into their apartment. His mom was killed and Izuku disappeared. He was never found and the investigation stopped. Everyone thought he was dead. I mean, he might be dead." 

 

A hand settled on his shoulder. "Do you think the healer we're looking for and your friend are one and the same?" 

 

"I don't know. But they...they sound the same. Green hair. Green eyes. A healing quirk. I mean, how often do you see healing quirks? It has to be him." At that point, Katsuki was almost begging Aizawa. It had to be true. It had to be. 

 

Aizawa's face hadn't changed. He remained passive, thoughts concealed. 

 

After a long moment, his teacher sighed and glanced around. "Let's talk back on campus, okay?"

 

Katsuki sighed. Damn. 

 

XXX

 

His fingers were tingling, going numb by the second. Though, that was the least of his concerns. 

 

Izuku’s arms were spread wide against the wall, held there by cold iron shackles that had to be over a hundred years old. He was guessing based on the amount of rust on them. He was bloody and bruised and aching. Everything hurt. 

 

He’d been there since…He wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed, but it felt like…so long. 

 

Overhaul had kept his word. He had made Izuku pay for his actions each and every day. Every hour, really. He didn’t know when the last time he slept was. Izuku didn’t regret getting Eri out, but he did wish he hadn’t been left behind. Freedom had been so close . He’d been so close to getting out, to escaping Overhaul and all the other villains who wanted his quirk. 

 

It hurt to think about. He thought it hurt even more than what Overhaul had been doing to him. 

 

Since he’d been dragged into an empty room and chained to the wall, he had been beaten to a pulp daily. Sometimes it was Overhaul, sometimes it was other Shie Hassaikai members. He almost preferred the latter. They didn’t hate him—rather, he was a source of entertainment. He was still forced to heal while he hung there. Now that they knew he didn’t need physical contact, all they had to do was stand in front of him. 

 

Since he’d exposed himself, showing exactly what his quirk could do, Overhaul had pushed him to his limit as often as he could. At first, the man demanded Izuku heal a few of the men who had returned from a job injured. Of course, Izuku had told him where he could shove that request. 

 

In return, Overhaul had kidnapped a teenage boy, maybe a year or so younger than Izuku, and brought him to Izuku’s new cell. Izuku had stared at the innocent kid, meeting wide, terrified eyes. He would never forget the look on his face. The monster had knocked the kid to his knees and looked Izuku right in the eye as he said, “This is on you.” Overhaul's hand had grabbed the kid by the throat, tightly. 

 

Izuku could still feel the blood on his skin. Overhaul had used his quirk on the kid, killing him instantly. Overhaul had crouched close to Izuku, eyes blazing. “You’ll heal when I tell you to heal. If you don’t, I’ll keep bringing people in here until you get the message. Their lives are in your hands.” 

 

So he healed. Whenever Overhaul told him to. All it had taken was that one time. When there weren’t enough people for Izuku to heal, he made more injuries. It was nothing more than a punishment, pushing him to the edge of complete exhaustion. 

 

After his display, Overhaul knew exactly what Izuku could do. That had pissed him off almost as much as stealing Eri away. He’d been lied to. Izuku had managed to pull the wool over his eyes. It was unlikely the man would ever forget that slight. 

 

He could handle pain. He’d been doing it since he was a child and had been taken for the first time. But Overhaul was excellent at inflicting it. Izuku couldn’t heal himself. He couldn’t close the wounds Overhaul chose to leave in his wake. He didn’t care much, but it left him with soon-to-be scars. 

 

It also left him with the beginnings of an infection. He could feel how his skin grew hotter by the hour and seemed to be too tight over his bones. In all likelihood, Overhaul could probably just disassemble and reassemble him to keep him from dying if it became life-threatening.

 

That wasn't to say the man didn't… disassemble and reassemble him. He did. Oh, how often he did. Daily, the man had come in and … Izuku didn't like to linger on how pieces of him had been removed, sometimes left off him for hours before he was put back together. 

 

Sometimes he preferred when he was forced to heal until he was practically melting into the floor. 

 

He didn’t regret his actions however many days ago it had been. But…sometimes it seemed death would be easier to bear. 

 

He lowered his head to his chest and sighed deeply. Overhaul would be back soon. The man had left less than half an hour ago, promising he’d be back. 

 

He was lulled into a near-sleep by his perpetual exhaustion, hardly lucid as he began hearing distant sounds of…fighting? He listened from his slumped position for what felt like hours. Shouting. Rumbling of quirks. Then—several explosions nearby. Closer than all the other noises had been. He tried lifting his head, but he couldn’t muster the strength. 

 

He wanted to lie down and sleep, mind fuzzy after…everything. Whatever was happening, it would have to go on without him. 

 

XXX

 

Katsuki never shied away from a challenge. From the moment the raid began, he wanted nothing more than to run ahead, destroying whoever or whatever tried to get in his way. He wanted nothing more than to run ahead and find Izuku. If, in fact, the mysterious healer was Izuku. But it was too insane to just be a coincidence. Right? 

 

He didn’t want to think he’d convinced himself they were there for Izuku only to find out Izuku was still as dead as he had been in Katsuki’s mind all those years. 

 

The conversation with Aizawa had gone on for a while. All the while, his teacher had listened closely, not interjecting a word until Katsuki was done and had tired himself out. When Aizawa had finally spoken, he'd heard story upon story of Izuku. He'd even seen the few photos of Izuku Katsuki had kept, buried in his photos app. Strangely enough, Aizawa hadn’t forced him out of the raid. Though, his condition for Katsuki's continued participation in the raid was that the hero student would remain glued to his side rather than with Best Jeanist. Aizawa’s reasoning? “I don’t trust you not to run off on your own. You can participate in the raid as long as I have my eyes on you,” the man had said. 

 

Honestly? Fair. It was a logical concern. 

 

So far, the raid had gone according to plan. Sort of. The heroes going in had been split up fairly early on. Katsuki could hear fighting above them, as infuriating as it was. Somehow, he managed to keep his temper under control and not demand they start blasting through the walls as fast as they could. 

 

They had been a much larger group of heroes before getting cut off from the rest. Now, their small group consisted of Aizawa, Fat Gum, Kirishima, Amajiki, and Katsuki. They’d managed to take down the few morons in their way, almost too easily. Though, it sounded like the heavy hitters were near the surface. That was where Best Jeanist was. 

 

They rounded a corner and came face to face with two men, both wearing those dumbass masks. Katsuki was the first to move, using his quirk to propel himself forward faster than they could track. In an instant, he slammed one against the wall and was turning to do the same for the other one. Kirishima beat him to it. After both men fell to the floor, Kirishima turned to Katsuki with a grin. The explosive teen ignored him. 

 

The hallway they came to was quiet. There wasn’t anyone else coming or going, which seemed odd. It was as if everyone had abandoned it, or maybe it was never used to begin with. Like there was nothing of value there. 

 

They moved quickly, though all of them were on edge. 

 

Aizawa and Fat Gum worked on clearing the rooms they came to. They didn’t want to miss the one they came there for and they certainly didn’t want someone sneaking up on them from behind. It was while the two heroes were entering a room that the door behind Katsuki opened, revealing a young woman with a plague mask on her face. Her eyes flew wide upon seeing the heroes and she attempted to run. But Katsuki was faster. 

 

He grabbed the woman by her long braid and pressed her against the wall. Her hands were tipped in claws and she bared fangs at him. Kirishima was the only reason he didn’t end up with those claws in his neck—the hero student had lifted a hardened arm in front of her attack. 

 

Katsuki pressed an arm against her throat and lifted a hand popping with small explosives, bringing it near her face. “Where is the healer?” he growled. Hearing his voice, the two heroes quickly came back into the hallway. 

 

The woman didn’t answer, though her eyes flicked to the side, down the hall unconsciously. 

 

“Let me,” Amajiki said quietly. He lifted an arm, now with the appendage of an octopus. He took over Katsuki’s hold on the woman. 

 

“That way. He’s that way.” Katsuki took a step in that direction, but Aizawa stopped him. “We have to go! He’s—” 

 

Aizawa wasn’t facing him. “Fat Gum, you’ve got her?” 

 

“Go. Get the healer.” 

 

Oh. Katsuki…hadn’t expected his teacher to actually let him hurry things up. Those dark eyes met his and the hero nodded. “Let’s go find him. But be careful.”

 

Katsuki was running down the hall before the man could change his mind. 

 

XXX

 

Somehow, Izuku had managed to fall asleep. It wasn’t a big mystery—he’d had quirk exhaustion for weeks, maybe even months and his body was attempting to heal its bruised and battered state. Still, when he lifted his head from his chest and blinked the sleep out of his eyes, it took him a moment to figure out what happened, where he was.

 

Oh. Right. It was the door to his cell opening that had jerked him from sleep. He watched with blurred vision as bodies came through the door, immediately rushing toward him. Whoever it was, he didn’t really care. Let Overhaul come and finally end him. The man wouldn’t, not when Izuku’s quirk was still valuable. It was a nice thought, though. Peace and quiet. No more pain. Death didn’t sound like it would be too bad. 

 

He didn’t care who was coming to his side. Between the blood loss, the constant ache in his body, and the never-ending fatigue, he was done. Done fighting. Done hoping. Done. 

 

“Mm,” he managed to grunt out before letting his head flop back down. 

 

Except, the more he thought about the situation, the more he found it strange. When Overhaul and his people came into Izuku’s cell, they didn’t normally move with such…purpose. They usually moved leisurely, stretching the torture out as long as they could. 

 

His sluggish brain took far too long to realize those people now touching him were not the ones who constantly hurt him. Those hands were gentle. Their voices, distorted and too far away, were soft and caring. 

 

He gasped, holding in a cry of pain as his arms were freed from the shackles and lowered to his sides. Words continued to float around him, though he didn’t catch them. Time stuttered. He was limp as he was lifted by a set of strong arms. 

 

“Wild,” he muttered, watching the ceiling shift and spin. He craned his neck to glance around, nearly causing the person holding him to lose their balance. Izuku laughed at the sudden shift. 

 

He stared at the ceiling as he was carried, bouncing up and down softly but jarring. He managed to blink away some of his blurred vision, enough to make out the person holding him. Dark hair. A…scarf around his neck. He didn’t recognize the man, but it certainly wasn’t Overhaul. “No plague mask,” Izuku whispered. 

 

The man looked down at him. “Can you hear me? Stay with me, okay?” 

 

Izuku let his head tilt back. He closed his eyes with a grin. “I’m on cloud nine,” he managed to say before promptly passing out.

Notes:

I was going to expand more on Izuku's time alone with Overhaul, but it's not the main point of the story. We all know he's been through a lot. I felt the impact of his past has already landed. If not, sorry.

The raid:
I will explain more later in the next chapter, but there are some things I won't be explaining. However, this is one detail I will explain now. Nighteye didn't die. Because Best Jeanist was involved, there were enough people there to subdue Overhaul without that casualty. There were still injuries, but Nighteye lives on.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Summary:

Izuku meets the heroes

Notes:

Sorry this chapter took so long, but it is a long one. Hope it was worth it.

Also, I will put it in this chapter as a warning for the rest of the fic because I'm bad at warnings. First, look at the tags because I've added a few. Know this fic is going to deal with a lot of darker topics and I hint at many of them in this chapter. So, keep that in mind as you read.

The raid went about as smoothly as expected. Many heroes had been hurt, but none fatally. They’d been incredibly lucky. Of course, that wasn’t to say there hadn’t been fatalities. Just not on the heroes’ side. The most noteworthy fatality was Overhaul. 

 

The heroes who had been up against that man, a monster in his own right, all reported the same thing—he’d gone nuts. In the end, the man had killed some of his own men in order to gain just a little more power, a little more strength. It had been sickening to watch. But in the end, the man collapsed and hadn’t risen. Dead. Quirk overuse. Heart failure. An internal injury that had finally gotten the better of him. No one knew or really cared to find out. The end result was the same. 

 

Overhaul was dead. It was the best outcome, really. 

 

The heroes who had been injured were sent to the nearby hospitals in the area. Shota had overseen the transport of the injured teen. Izuku. The one they were there for and had actually managed to recover. He’d been the one to walk him out of that awful place and bring him to the ambulance. He’d been the hero who hadn’t been able to look away from his sorry state. 

As he walked down the street back toward UA, he couldn’t help but linger on the events of the last few hours. 

 

Shota ran after Bakugo, unwilling to take his eyes off his student. Thankfully, Fat Gum and his interns were taking care of things. The Underground Hero readied for an attack and burst into the room Bakugo had just entered. 

 

…Only to find the teen standing completely still, frozen to the core. He was just…standing in the middle of the room. It took Shota far too long to notice the other presence in there with them. 

 

Shota was a hero who often saw people at their worst. It was different as an Underground Hero than it was with his limelight counterparts. No one wanted to get photos or an interview from the scenes he often faced. That room was not an exception. There, seated on the floor with his arms spread wide by rusted chains was the brutalized body of a kid. A teenager. Green hair. Half-lidded green eyes, Shota noted as he stepped closer. Those eyes watched the two of them, though it was immediately clear he wasn’t fully conscious. 

 

The kid was shirtless, the bruises and many, many cuts covering what Shota could see in stark contrast the ghostly palor of his skin. They were…everywhere. Some still bleeding. Bruises covered much of the kid’s face, now upturned and facing the intruders. 

 

Someone had done that. Someone had hurt him to that extent. 

 

They moved quickly once they got over their initial shock. As Shota crouched down in front of the kid and pulled out his lock picks for those damn shackles around his wrists, he cleared his throat and asked, “Is it him?” 

 

He worked for a moment longer before looking up at Bakugo. His student had come forward with him, but he remained standing. Staring and staring and staring. Eyes wide with disbelief. “Bakugo. Is it him?” Shota asked again, only receiving a shallow nod in return. 

 

Maybe. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Bakugo, but the kid was not in a clear mindset at the moment. Later, after the dust had settled and the adrenaline no longer directed his thoughts, Shota would ask him. 

 

Shota managed to unlock the shackles. As soon as they no longer held him up, the kid slumped to the floor. The two of them managed to catch him before he hit the floor. Shota didn’t waste a second. He scooped Izuku up in his arms and marched out of the room. He hadn’t walked more than four steps before Izuku began stirring, and Shota caught his eye. “Can you hear me? Stay with me, okay?” 

 

It became immediately clear that he was not in his right mind. Izuku looked up at Shota briefly with dazed eyes, pupils…dilated. Then he leaned back and went horribly still. In his arms, Shota felt the heat radiating off him and the limpness of his injured form. He was sick and hurt and who knew what else. The hero had seen what Overhaul had done to Eri, psychologically almost more than physically. He hoped for that kid’s sake he had managed to escape that torture, but he didn’t think either of them were that lucky. 

 

Due to the situation and far too many unknowns, a hero was assigned to be with the kid at all times. Of course, Shota volunteered to be the first on guard, but his colleagues firmly told him no. “You need to get some rest, maybe get a shower and eat something. Not necessarily in that order,” Hizashi said while actively shoving him out of the hospital. “I’ll take first watch. Come back after you’ve become less…” The man trailed off, eyes scanning Shota from head to toe. He didn’t think he wanted the man to finish that thought, so he left. 

 

That was how he found himself walking through UA’s gates back to the teachers’ dorm. He stopped by the kitchen briefly to grab a protein shake, which he knew he would end up finishing in the shower, before heading up to his apartment. Normally, Eri would be in her room, an apartment that had been built onto his the moment he’d thought about taking her in, even temporarily. He still doubted he was a qualified or even adequate caregiver, but that was a problem for another day. However, with the raid, he’d arranged for Nemuri to watch the girl. 

The last time he’d seen Eri, she was sitting in Nemuri’s apartment with an entire basket of different nail polish colors and a small smile on her face. “Girls' night,” the little girl had whispered to herself, repeating what Nemuri had squealed when Shota dropped her off. 

 

Shota intended to shower and then go check on Eri, but he made the mistake of sitting on the bed first. The next thing he knew, he was waking up on his made bed, legs hanging over the side and neck nearly stuck in a painful angle. 

 

The man groaned and sat up, rubbing at his temple where a headache was already in full swing. A quick glance at the clock told him he’d only been asleep for four hours. “Caffeine,” he murmured to himself. He swung himself up, groaning at the sudden increase in the throbbing in his head. It would likely go away with sleep, water, and food, but he didn’t have time for all three. Two of them were manageable, so to the kitchen he went. 

 

He couldn’t stop himself from going to Nemuri’s apartment on the way down, though. Even if Eri was asleep, he needed to know she was okay. After going down there and finding Izuku, he needed to see her. 

 

Nemuri answered the door on the second knock. She gestured to the back room without a word. That was where he found Eri, curled up in what appeared to be a nest made of pillows and blankets. “She insisted on making a fort. I don’t think she’s ever made a fort,” Nemuri whispered behind him. He came forward and ran a hand through her hair. Eri simply shifted closer to his touch, still fast asleep. “That is not a fort.” 

 

“Shh,” he hissed, though without any heat. 

 

Nemuri followed him out of the apartment, shutting the door behind her. “How are things going? Clearly you’re not here to stay. Off to the hospital, I’m assuming?” 

 

His friend was anything but stupid. She was always incredibly observant, which didn’t always work in his favor. “Yes. We rescued the kid. Izuku. Hizashi is with him now.” 

 

The woman laughed and leaned against the door. “You’re such a softie. Soon you’ll be adopting both of these kids.” She shook her head. “I didn’t ever think I’d see the day, yet here we are.” 

“I’m not adopting anyone. Now, if you don’t mind watching her for a bit longer, I’m going to the hospital.” He waited for a moment for her to say anything, which she did not. 

 

The walk back to the hospital from UA wasn’t long, but it gave him some time to get his head on straight. 

 

There was something about that kid. Izuku. There was something that made him want to be there. Maybe it was because of everything he’d been through. Maybe he just had a soft spot for traumatized kids, like Nemuri said. He shuddered to think she was right. 

 

Not that Izuku was a child, he reminded himself. If he was indeed the same Izuku Bakugo knew, then that meant the kid was seventeen, or nearly. He was nearly an adult. Shota paused, considering. He was the same age as his students, but Shota didn’t really consider them near adulthood. Yet…they were. Wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

 

But it didn’t matter if they were well on their way to adulthood. They were still just kids. Kids who needed protection. Kids who needed stability and safety when appropriate. He was all for controlled risk, but what Izuku went through wasn’t controlled in any way. 

 

Shota just hoped they hadn’t been too late to save him. 

 

XXX

 

Waking up was…disorienting. It wasn’t the first time Izuku had woken up in such a manner, but he preferred to avoid it if he could. Though, over the years he’d gotten used to it. Overusing his quirk, enduring beating after beating, or shaking off whatever drugs the villains pumped through his system in the first few days with them, it always left him reeling. 

 

More than the dizziness and confusion—he was tired. So, so tired. 

 

That fatigue didn’t slow down the racing thoughts that practically slammed into his brain. Fear shivered up his spine and his eyes snapped open. He knew he gasped, but it wasn’t audible in his ears. Nothing was. A low droning filled his head and his vision was blurry enough to make the fear worse. He couldn’t see Overhaul coming for him. He couldn’t see any of them coming at him with their fists or knives or quirks! 

 

It took far too much effort to sit up, but once there, he tilted dangerously to the side. He would have been willing to slump against the bed—bed?—if he didn’t catch sight of blurry figures surrounding him, reaching for him. They were pressing in on him. To hurt him. To tear him apart. To do who knew what. 

 

Escape. He had to escape. ESCAPE ! No more. He couldn’t take any more. The fear coursing through his veins made the decision for him. 

 

He didn’t know when he activated his quirk, but there it was. Sluggish but alive. He demanded more, urging it to flare to life. His quirk struck those reaching hands. If he could have swatted them away on his own, he would have, but he knew he was too weak for that. As it was, he was on the verge of passing out. Whatever had happened to him left him reeling. 

 

He managed to get to his feet in jerking motions. He wasn’t chained up. He wasn’t locked away. It was his chance, likely the only chance he would get. 

 

His vision, still blurred and wavering, flashed with golden light as three bodies fell to the ground in front of him. Izuku gasped, feeling most of his energy seep through his fingers. But he managed to stumble past them to the door. 

 

Lights, bright and constant. Noise, finally reaching his ears, distant and distorted. Izuku didn’t release his quirk, not yet. Not until he was safe. 

 

He couldn’t take it any longer. He didn’t know if he’d survive another round of reassembly or forced healing or torture from Overhaul. He’d rather die trying to escape. So that was what he did. He didn’t run—there was no way he could run. Instead, Izuku stumbled down a hallway, cold tile actually helping ground him. 

 

Something in his head whispered that it was all different. Something was different. He didn’t know what, so he kept walking. 

 

Escape. That was all he knew and all he needed. 

 

He rounded a corner as fast as he could, a hand on the wall to steady him. However, he ended up slamming into a moving body. He fell to the floor, legs giving out and refusing to budge again. The person he’d run into remained on their feet and now towered over him. It was clearly a man, far too large and intimidating. 

 

No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be Overhaul. It couldn’t be. He needed to get out. He needed to run! 

 

His brain was firing off thoughts too quickly, an inner voice screaming at him. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t understand them all. 

 

YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!

 

A high whine came from Izuku as panic grew and overcame every bit of clear thinking he’d gained. He struggled to get his quirk to grab ahold of the man. His energy was sputtering, draining him of the last of his stored energy. He was done without anything left to give. 

 

The man sank to a knee, but he didn’t go down. Izuku began to cry, desperately crawling along the floor to get away from him. It couldn’t end like that. He couldn’t let him catch him. “Please,” he begged, though he didn’t know who he was speaking to. 

 

He watched as the man straightened. Izuku locked eyes with the man, his heart hammering so hard he thought it would crack a rib or two from the force. Izuku felt himself go still as he noticed the man’s eyes flash a deadly red, waiting for an attack. That was it. He was done. 

 

Suddenly, Izuku’s quirk gave out. It vanished, like smoke on the wind, and he was left with a trembling, weak body on the floor without any protection. He sobbed through his teeth and fell back against the floor, vision spiraling. 

 

He saw the man step closer, but soon his vision blackened until there was nothing left. He didn’t feel his head hit the floor. 

 

XXX

 

A coffee. That was all Shota wanted. He sent a text to Hizashi on his way into the hospital, telling him he would be up in a few minutes. After he went to the cafeteria and got the largest coffee they had. Hizashi sent an obnoxious series of emojis in reply, which were ignored.

 

That was where he was going when someone came crashing around the corner, head slamming into his chest before they fell to the ground at his feet. An apology was already on his lips, but it failed to leave once he saw who it was. 

 

Izuku. The kid he’d seen lying in a hospital bed six hours ago. Somehow, the kid had gained enough energy to run. It was likely he was panicking, trying to escape without realizing he was already safe. 

 

Izuku’s eyes were wide and glowing. There were tendrils of the same shade of near-liquid gold spreading out from his body, flickering and floating through the air. There were sharp gasps coming from the teenager, and Shota lifted his hands in an attempt to pull him away from the massive freak-out he was leaning into. But Izuku stared at him with unseeing eyes. The kid lifted a shaking hand, and those tendrils spread toward Shota. 

 

In an instant, he felt as if a heavy weight was settled on his shoulders, pulling him to the floor as if someone had thrown a weighted blanket on him. Fatigue, not entirely foreign, took him to a knee. He held a hand to his chest—what was happening? Logically, he knew whatever was happening was coming from Izuku, but he felt as if his brain was running a fraction slower than it should be. 

 

Shota managed to lift his eyes and activate his quirk. Things were getting out of hand very quickly. However, the moment that gold faded away and he was left staring into bright green eyes, it was as if the kid’s strings were cut. He fell back to the ground where he gasped several times and went still. 

For a moment, Shota believed the kid was dead, that his quirk somehow killed him. Maybe it was because of whatever the hell Izuku had done to him or his lack of sleep within the past few days, but he jumped forward and placed his hand against the kid’s neck. He only breathed again when he felt a pulse. 

 

“Shit, kid,” he murmured. 

He didn’t waste any time picking Izuku up and carrying him back to his room. 

 

The lights were on when he came through the open door.  That was how he marked every inch of what was Izuku’s escape. A doctor, nurse, and Hizashi were in various stages of consciousness. The doctor was attempting to rise to his feet, grabbing the nearby chair for support. The nurse was unconscious, lying on the floor where she’d collapsed. Hizashi had his elbows on the bed, obviously struggling to pull himself up. He was groaning but awake. 

 

The blanket on the bed was on the floor in a pile and the machines that had once been attached to Izuku were pulled away from the wall and tangled together. There was blood trailing along the floor from the bed—Izuku had ripped out his IV in his rush to leave. Thankfully the small hole had closed rather quickly and all he had left was drying blood running down his arm. 

 

Shota set the kid back in the bed and hooked him back up to the monitors he knew how to work. “What happened?” he asked. 

 

The doctor finally made it to his feet, holding his head and steadying himself against the wall. Hizashi was marginally in better condition, managing to stay on his feet without assistance, though he looked slightly nauseous. 

 

Hizashi sat back in the chair behind him, only able to stare at the nurse on the floor. She didn’t remain there long. A bed was rolled outside the room and Shota helped place her on it. The doctor left the two of them alone, casting a wary glance back at the teen in the bed. 

 

“What happened?” Shota asked again. 

 

Hizashi shook his head like a dog, clearly trying to get his head on straight. “He was starting to wake up. I called the doctor and nurse in, but as soon as they got close, his eyes opened and…” The other hero sighed and looked up at his friend. “His eyes were glowing. It was crazy. And a little scary, if I’m being honest.” 

 

Yeah, Shota had seen them. Definitely a little spooky. 

 

“We tried talking to him, tried calming him down, but he freaked out. He was panicking, which is expected. But I didn’t think his quirk could do something like that. He’s a healer. What the hell did he do to us?” Hizashi looked a little lost. 

 

Shota nodded along, brows pinched. “Describe it. What he did.” 

 

The blond ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “The best way to describe it is a massive fatigue settling over me. Like my bones suddenly weighed a million pounds and I hadn’t slept in months. I didn’t pass out, but it was like my body just…gave up.” Hizashi pursed his lips, twisting his body a little and stretching his arms. “Though, it feels like…I feel better than I did before. I’ve been nursing sore muscles for the past few days.” He looked up at Shota with a perplexed expression. “Does that make sense?” 

 

Strangely enough, it did. If Shota hadn’t experienced it himself, he wouldn’t fully comprehend what Hizashi so eloquently described. Though, even having felt it, he didn’t know what it was. 

 

He looked over at the unconscious teen. A different nurse had entered during their conversation and was replacing the IV. “Healing, huh?” he murmured to himself. 

 

After his attempted escape, the doctor ordered quirk suppressants to be administered every eight hours. There were several reasons for that decision, and Shota agreed with them all. However, he didn’t agree with what the doctor said after. “If he becomes crazed again, we may have to sedate and restrain him. It’s not our first choice, but—” 

 

“No ‘buts’,” Shota hissed angrily, making sure he understood how deadly serious he was. “You clearly haven’t thought it through. He went into that state because he was trying to escape. Not because he was trying to run away. Not trying to avoid needles. Escape. Because he’s traumatized.” Shota pointed to the kid’s bandaged wrists. “What do you think those are from? What do you think his injuries are from?” 

 

The doctor and nurse had the grace to look embarrassed. Shota understood having to sedate and restrain someone in distress was occasionally necessary, but not then, not with Izuku. “He could become a danger to himself or us,” the doctor said quietly. 

 

Shota fought the urge to hit the man. He was just doing his job. He was trying to keep them all safe. So the hero took a deep breath and met his eye. “There are two heroes here. He won’t be a danger to anyone. Don’t make this harder on him than it has to be.” 

 

After a few minutes, it was just the three of them in that room—Shota, Hizashi, and, of course, Izuku. The nurse came in quietly and gave him the suppressant before leaving. She practically ran out of there. 

 

Shota could see Hizashi’s smile from across the room, even without looking at the man. “Quit it.” 

 

Hizashi held up his hands in surrender. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I being proud too loudly over here?” 

 

Shota rolled his eyes. All the while, Izuku slept through it without managing to climb back to the land of the living. 

 

XXX

 

It was nothing against the medical staff at the hospital. Shota was sure they knew what they were doing and were trying their best. But after that comment from the doctor, he needed someone there who was a little more used to dealing with volatile teenagers and their quirks. He called in the big guns and nearly jumped up from his chair in relief when she stepped into the hospital room. 

 

Recovery Girl hardly looked at the two men as she came around the bed, eyes scanning the kid up and down critically. It took her several long minutes before she turned and welcomed discussion from them. She assessed his vitals, his chart, even the stitches underneath the bandages on his arm. Though she was old, she never missed a thing. 

 

“His quirk. What do we know?” she asked. 

 

“Not much.” Painfully little, actually. Shota hated not knowing. “We know his quirk allows him to heal, but it seems more complicated than that.” Both he and Hizashi described what they’d felt when his quirk activated. Recovery Girl listened closely, eyes narrowed. 

 

She took that information and nodded, promptly leaving the room without a word. Shota looked over at Hizashi and shrugged. “Is she leaving?” the latter asked. 

 

Hizashi’s question was answered when they heard her scolding the staff who’d been in the room and reacted to Izuku’s burst of activity. He hid a smile behind a cough. 

 

It appeared she did more than scold them, because when she returned she carried a stack of papers. “He has severe quirk exhaustion as well as malnutrition. It’s a miracle he was able to get as far as he did, especially since he used his quirk so much. I would use my quirk, but he has no energy left to spare. He’ll have to heal on his own for a while, I’m afraid.” The old woman shook her head. “Additionally, as you were told, he will be receiving IV quirk suppressants until he’s coherent enough to control his outbursts. It looks like he’s a tough boy, but if he were to continue to use his quirk in such a manner, I’m not sure he’d have much left to give. Energy depletion of that caliber can lead to organ failure and brain damage.” 

 

Shota couldn’t help but picture what she was describing. He winced. It did not go unnoticed by the others in the room. 

 

“I know it’s a sensitive topic, but it needs to be discussed. For his future healing, both mentally and physically, and so I have an idea of what to watch out for. What has this boy been through?” Recovery Girl asked, watching Izuku carefully, almost mournfully. 

 

Shota swallowed once. He was an Underground Hero and was used to icing out his emotions until he could review them later. It didn’t take him long to fall into that familiar pattern. Honestly, it was a relief sometimes. 

 

“We can speculate from the rumors about him in the Underground,” he started. “There have been rumors of a healer floating around for years. Everyone has built their own image of who he is. Some say he’s not human, that he’s an angel. Others say he’s the glowing baby who received the first quirk. But they all say the same thing—he can heal anything.” 

 

He steepled his fingers, ready to get into the gritty part. “Before finding him, I was trying to figure out where exactly he was. I had heard people trying to plan to take him from the group they thought had him. It seems every villain and crime organization out there knows to ‘break him in early’. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s been with more than just Overhaul. One villain group scoops him up and the others are just waiting to take him for themselves.” 

 

Hizashi looked properly concerned. The man had his fist pressed against his lips, frowning deeply. 

 

Recovery Girl took that information in stride. “What about with Overhaul? What do you know?” 

 

Also very little. He hated to admit that, but there wasn’t much to tell. “I can speculate a lot, but I don’t know anything for certain.” 

 

From the room they’d found him in, he felt certain the conditions while in Overhaul’s hands hadn’t been pleasant. He knew the kid had to have been put through the ringer. If Eri’s condition wasn’t enough of an indication of what had been done, he could have guessed from Izuku’s immediate reaction upon waking or the injuries littering his body. Or maybe his frail frame, painfully light when Shota had lifted him off the floor. Or the panic in his eyes when staring up at a man he didn’t know. Or—

 

He had to focus. 

 

He told Recovery Girl what he guessed. Her jaw tightened as he spoke, but she ended up nodding and filing it away for later. Sometimes it was difficult to remember she hadn’t always been a healer at UA. She’d seen her fair share of traumatized, scarred, and abused children. 

 

“Izuku here will need medical care for a while, I’m afraid. I’ll get a proper diet set up for him. We can work with what medications he may need later. That’s something he should be involved in.” The woman huffed a breath. Shota didn’t miss how she reached out a hand and ran it over his forehead. 

 

When she looked back at the two men, there was a fire lit within. “He’s been treated terribly by every adult he’s encountered, from what you’ve told me. It’s up to us to help him regain a sense of normalcy after all this. But even with our help, he may never trust another adult again. And truly? I wouldn’t blame him.” 

 

The room was plunged into silence. Icy, scared silence. The two heroes were used to being able to fight their enemies, relying on their training to walk away with the villains in cuffs. What did they do with a terrified teenager? How did they fight the ones who had hurt him so badly? How did they fight his demons? 

 

Hizashi shook his head once. “I’ve been on the job for a while now and I am still horrified by what people can do. To kids. They’re just kids.” 

 

The Underground Hero slowly looked over at Izuku. At the slope of his nose to his bruised cheeks. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The scars along his hands, his fingers. How small he looked in that bed. “What happens from here on out?” he asked, aiming his question to Recovery Girl. 

 

The healer nodded, though hesitantly. “Healing quirks are rare. They’re all different, some more powerful than others. Mine is considered one of the most powerful. From the sound of it, his is even more powerful than mine. Though, until we know the limitations and drawbacks of such a quirk, it’s difficult to know.” 

 

It was clear when she went silent she was lost in her thoughts. Shota didn’t exactly know what to do—Recovery Girl was always so sure. She didn’t bring her own baggage into things. It was why it was so easy to rely on her. Sometimes they forgot she had years and years of experience they couldn’t imagine. 

 

Finally, she cleared her throat, eyes never leaving Izuku. “When I was young and had just discovered my quirk, I was lucky enough to be born into a family of heroes. I was protected from the moment I became a healer. That isn’t to say there weren’t people who still came after me, trying to take me just as they’d taken Izuku here. But my family stopped them. They protected me. That protection allowed me to grow at my own pace, get used to the horrors all healers know too well slowly.” She closed her eyes and breathed through the memories that were surely washing over her. 

 

“What about him?” 

 

Shota didn’t know. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. If Izuku was the kid Bakugo knew, then his mother was dead. Murdered in their apartment. “His family weren’t heroes,” was all he said. 

 

Recovery Girl nodded sadly. “He’ll have to be protected after this, likely for the rest of his life. It’s one of the greatest burdens of a healing quirk, especially one that doesn’t require physical touch. He’ll always be sought out for it.” 

 

Shota tapped his leg in thought. Of course, she was correct. They weren’t planning on releasing him to the street. But…he didn’t know what the plan was. 

 

First, he needed to speak with Bakugo. That was a conversation he knew was brewing like a storm overhead. One he was dreading, actually. Bakugo had confirmed he was the Izuku from his childhood, but that had been a heat-of-the-moment declaration. Though, from the photos Shota had seen, the ones Bakugo had easily been able to show him, they were one and the same. Photos of a smiling child, standing next to an equally small Bakugo. 

 

That child didn’t really look like the Izuku lying in that hospital bed. Shota almost wished they weren’t the same person—it made his heart throb in his chest to realize how much had been lost, ripped away from such a bright life. 

 

He needed to do what he could for Izuku, for the kid who had never been allowed to grow up protected. He needed to do it like he needed to breathe. 

 

Shota stood, two sets of eyes watching him. “You’ll watch Izuku for me?” he asked Hizashi. The man sent him a shaky thumbs-up. Before leaving the room, Shota leaned over and took a picture of Izuku from the shoulders up. “I’ll be back soon.” 

 

“Good luck!” his friend called after him half-heartedly. 

 

He waved without turning around. 

 

XXX

 

Nearly as soon as Shota asked Kirishima to grab Bakugo for him, the blond appeared, practically leaping down the steps from the upper landing. “How is he? Can I see him?” the teen asked rapidly. 

 

Shota jerked his head toward the door, already moving. It was his class’s day off and most of them were sitting around the common area or in the kitchen. At Bakugo’s insistent words, most of them were watching with interest. 

 

For the conversation they were about to have, a private setting was better. Easier to diffuse. 

 

As soon as the door was shut behind the kid, he was demanding answers, practically foaming at the mouth. Shota held up a hand. “Calm down. This is going to be a long and hard conversation. You’re at an eleven and I need you at a solid five. Less, if possible, but I doubt you’ll manage it.” 

 

That had Bakugo seeing red, clearly. “Calm down? You’re seriously going to tell me to—” 

 

“He’s alive.” That shut him up. “Unfortunately, you can’t be anywhere near Izuku right now, not when we don’t know his mental state.” 

 

Bakugo deflated, though his hands were curled into tight fists. “How is he? Honestly.” 

 

Shota sighed. Angry Bakugo was almost easier to deal with than quiet Bakugo. “He’s doing the best he can. He’s alive. He woke up briefly and passed out again. It’s a long story, one you don’t need to know right now.” 

 

Those scarlet eyes met his. “What happened to him. Down there, he looked—” 

 

Yeah, no. He didn’t need to finish that sentence, for both their sakes. “We’re piecing it all together, trying to figure it out. We may never know, and we all have to be okay with that.” Even if Izuku woke up and was willing to speak to them, it was unlikely he would disclose the torture he’d endured. Why would he, when speaking about it would mean reliving it? Shota certainly wouldn’t if he were in Izuku’s shoes. 

 

But getting Bakugo to realize was not an easy task. 

 

“You have to understand a few things, Bakugo,” Shota said gently. He sat on the top step, forcing Bakugo to sit beside him. The kid did, though he sat as far away from his teacher as he could. It wasn’t personal; he just needed some time to figure things out. “If he truly is the same kid you knew—” he started, holding up a hand when Bakugo whirled on him, no doubt ready to force him into believing what the teen believed “—he has been through nearly ten years of unknown pain and trauma. He’s been kidnapped and tortured. He’s been used for his quirk by every single person who got their hands on him. That leaves scars. It changes people.” 

 

Bakugo bowed his head, fisting his fingers in his hair briefly before releasing. “I know that. But—” 

 

“No, you don’t. Not really. None of us truly do. You want this kid to be the same one you knew, but I’m asking you not to get your hopes up. It doesn’t help you or him.” Shota nearly reached out to touch Bakugo’s arm, but that would not be welcomed. He let his elbows rest on his knees instead. “It’s good to hope, don’t get me wrong. It’s good to hope he’s the friend you had. But I don’t want you projecting anything onto him. I don’t want you to be faced with reality and find it nowhere near the fantasy you’ve created.”

 

A moment of silence fell over them. Finally, Bakugo lifted his gaze. There, Shota was met by…a steely expression, one that he knew he couldn’t break through with soft, kind words. 

 

Shota resigned himself. It appeared that part of the conversation was over. “I need you to send me whatever photos you have of him. We need to confirm he is who you think he is. While I think you’re right that they’re one and the same, facial recognition will confirm it.” 

 

Bakugo busied himself sending the few pictures he had to Shota. In turn, he sent them along with the photo of Izuku lying in the hospital bed to Tsukauchi.

 

Eraserhead: Attachments sent

 

Eraserhead: I need you to run these through facial recognition. Compare them to the kid we found. 

 

Tsukauchi wasted no time replying. 

 

Detective T: Will do

 

Before shoving his phone back in his pocket, he asked if the detective could send over whatever information he could find on Inko Midoriya. The old case file, more specifically. 

 

Detective T: They’ll be in your work email in an hour. 

 

Wonderful. 

 

All the while, Bakugo had been watching him, studying every twitch of his brows and tightening of his mouth. As soon as Shota slipped his phone away, the student jumped on the opportunity. “When can I see him?” 

 

The kid was relentless, a quality that would serve him well in the future. But at that moment, it made Shota want to hit him upside the head. 

 

“We’re doing everything we can. At the hospital, here, and between the police and heroes outside UA.” 

 

That, predictably, didn’t satisfy the teenager. “When can I see him?” 

 

Shota paused. He hated being in that position, but here he was. “You need to give it time. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since he was taken. Ten years is a long time to be in the position he was in. We don’t know what he went through. We don’t know what his mental state is when he’s not exhausted and terrified. We just don’t know, and we can’t know until he wakes up.” He nearly didn’t finish his thought, but Bakugo needed to hear it. He needed to understand . It wasn’t just some rescue mission for a missing kid. They had rescued a teenager who had last seen the outside world when he was a child. An entire childhood—gone. None of them could completely understand that, but Bakugo needed to get it through his head that there might not be a light at the end of the tunnel. What they had seen might be it. 

 

“You need to prepare for the worst, kid.” He hated it. Oh, how he hated having to say it. 

 

Bakugo didn’t look at him. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to. “And the worst would be?” he asked in a rasping, scared voice. A voice Shota didn’t think he’d ever hear from him. 

 

Shota sighed. “The worst case scenario is that the kid you knew is long gone. The worse case is that you are holding onto the hope of someone who can’t ever come back, and that is going to destroy you. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, but you need to be prepared.” 

 

Bakugo lowered his head once more, arms limp at his sides. It took a long moment for him to move an inch. Shota noticed his shoulders shake, but no tears fell. Finally, it was time. Shota put a hand on his shoulder, a steady presence. That was all he could be. 

 

There were no words left between them, nothing left to say. They had to wait. Wait to see if the kid Bakugo knew still existed or if he had been carved out and left to rot. 

 

XXX

 

None of class 2-A disturbed them outside, thankfully. Bakugo had been sitting on a dangerous edge and the appearance of any of his classmates would not have been met kindly. Shota sat out there with him for half an hour as he got his head on straight. By the time he stood and returned to the dorm, he’d managed to put up a few flimsy walls and pretend that everything was okay. 

 

Shota could see it wasn’t okay. For good reason. 

 

After Bakugo left, Shota headed to the teachers’ dorm. His soul ached at the thought of that kid lying in the hospital bed. It was not a good feeling, though not one he was unfamiliar with. That was how he’d felt with Eri—still did sometimes. 

 

He went to his apartment. Nemuri had put Eri to bed after he’d left, saying she was going to hang out in his apartment to watch her. He didn’t mind—there wasn’t anything of interest for her to find, as he knew she’d look.

 

When he opened the door, he found Nemuri sprawled out on his couch, flipping through the channels at a rapid speed. It was early still, so Eri wouldn’t be awake for another hour or so. She tended to sleep in, which he found an extreme blessing. Nemuri caught his eye and turned the TV off. “Hey, you’re back early.” 

 

He waved, heading straight for the coffee pot she’d thankfully filled. Nemuri came up beside him, leaning against the cabinets and watched him pour himself a mug. She wore sweats, a size too large and stained in a few places. He knew if her fans saw her on the weekends they would likely see her in a different light. Or maybe not. What the hell did he know? To him, she was practically his sister. She’d lost all sex appeal as soon as he’d been forced to hold her hair back while she vomited during their second year at UA because she’d snuck in a bottle of Schnapps. For a ‘good time’, she’d said. Look how that had turned out. 

 

“How are things going with Eri?” he asked, because he wasn’t ready to talk about things with Izuku. He just needed…a minute. 

 

Nemuri smiled. “That girl is observant. She knows something important is going on. She likes me enough, but I’m not you .” Her lips curled playfully at the end of her sentence. 

 

She waited until he was settled on the couch and had taken a few sips of coffee to ask him about the case. Bless her. 

 

“Tell me about it. What’s going on in your head? I haven’t seen you this torn up since they found Eri.” 

 

He let out a large sigh. What was going through his head? Everything. 

 

“Tell me. Unfiltered. No judgement. Open.” He looked over and found her calm, dark eyes on his. She settled in beside him, snuggling into his side. 

 

He and Hizashi were best friends, as infuriating as it was. But he couldn’t say certain things in front of the other man. Hizashi was strong and he could take a lot, but he was also much more empathetic and tended to carry around the worries of those closest to him. With Nemuri, Shota could be open. He could be terrified and his feelings wouldn’t weigh her down. He needed that at times. 

 

So he told her. He told her about his fears surrounding Izuku’s recovery. How the kid would likely never get rid of his nightmares, certainly not his scars. How the kid had been through even more than Eri, at least he guessed he had. Ten years of trauma was a lot to bear. Shota didn’t know if anyone would be able to break through that. If there was even anything left inside to reach. The small glimpse he’d had of the kid didn’t exactly inspire. But that had been in a moment of desperation, blinded by his raw instincts. 

 

Then there was Bakugo and how he fit into everything. The kid was hoping to get his friend back, to find closure for the mourning he’d done. Bakugo didn’t have to tell him that for Shota to know. Shota was terrified he was going to have to pick up the pieces of that kid after his own hopes destroyed him. 

 

And what if Izuku was fine? Well, as fine as he could be. What if he was functional ? What if he woke up and was aware of what had happened and had to live with it for the rest of his life? Who was going to take care of him? Who was going to break the news of everything he’d lost? Did he even know his mom was dead? Had he witnessed it? 

 

Then there was the matter of his quirk. Regardless of his mental state, there would be people looking for him. News in the Underground spread fast. Everyone would know Overhaul was dead and the healer was missing. They would be searching for him. Which meant they needed to keep his movements a secret. He knew they would likely take him to UA, considering the circumstances, and his presence at the school would need to remain confidential. 

 

“That’s a lot to put on your shoulders,” Nemuri mused with a small smile. 

 

“It’s not funny.” 

 

She nodded sagely. “It’s not. What’s funny is why you seem to think you have to be the only one taking care of it all.” She spread her arms wide, nearly hitting the lamp on the table beside her. “You have us, idiot. You have an entire school staff behind you. All you have to do it rally them. I know that’s your weakness, but you can do it.” 

 

He smacked her arm lightly. The light energy she’d managed to conjure into the air around them fazed, though, as he remembered Izuku’s face as he’d been knocked to the ground at Shota’s feet. “Izuku woke up. Briefly. He used his quirk on all of us. Managed to knock out three people before passing out. His quirk is strong.” 

 

“You found Izuku?” 

 

The two heroes turned, Shota wincing internally, to stare at Eri as she came out of her bedroom. She was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and carried a small stuffed elephant he’d given her on her first day with him. It was now her favorite thing. It was common for Shota to peek his head and check on her after coming back from patrol to find her cuddling with the elephant. Of course, that wasn’t the only stuffed animal she had. As soon as Nemuri and Hizashi realized she liked his, they’d gone out and bought what had to be an entire cartload of them. All different kinds—some animals, some hero plushies, and some that were unknown blobs of color and textures. 

 

Shota patted the couch on his other side and Eri wordlessly crawled up onto the cushion. Her wide eyes met his and she repeated her question. “You found Izuku?” 

 

Shota hesitated to nod. “We did.”

 

Nemuri remained silent as Shota moved, kneeling on the floor in front of her. “We found Izuku. He’s in the hospital right now.” 

 

“When can I see him?” 

 

That was a question that everyone seemed to be asking that day. “I’m not sure, Eri. Right now, he needs his rest. Do you remember how you felt when you first came here?” 

 

She nodded, wringing her hands. “I was tired all the time. And scared.” She slowly looked over. “Is that how Izuku feels?” 

 

“I think so, kiddo.” 

 

Tears filled her eyes. “It’s because of me! He stayed behind when I ran!” 

 

Shit. She was in a full-on breakdown. Shota gently touched her wrists, waiting for her to initiate further contact. The first time he’d tried to wrap her in his arms, she’d creamed and run away, too afraid of physical contact to receive it. “Eri, that’s not true. He wasn’t hurt because of you. He chose for you to get to safety. That was his choice, not yours. The only one at fault is Overhaul.” 

 

She sniffled, bowing her head. “But he got hurt because I left.” 

 

“He got hurt because Overhaul is a—” He stopped himself short before he used words she wasn’t allowed to say. “Sweetie,” he said, causing her to lift her head. “Izuku is going to be okay. He’s getting help, just like you got help. His getting hurt isn’t on you. You aren’t responsible for him. You remember what ‘responsible’ means?” 

 

Eri nodded and sniffed again. 

 

“He made that decision. And I think if he were with us right now, he would tell you he didn’t regret that decision.” 

 

It clearly didn’t put her mind completely at ease, but she relaxed enough for them to offer her breakfast and her to accept it. Nemuri met his eyes as he got up and went to the fridge. There was a special kind of comfort in having a friend who had seen him at his worst—and he’d seen her at her worst—close by and ready to pick up the pieces. 

 

XXX

 

Izuku thought he might have been staring at the ceiling for a while. He didn’t really know when he’d opened his eyes. Suddenly, there he was, alive and relatively pain-free, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. 

 

Huh. 

 

It took a while before he had a lucid thought. He blinked slowly, unaware of where he was. He knew he wasn’t in the same room as before—Overhaul wouldn’t have allowed one of the ceiling tiles above him to have a small but noticeable stain. He remembered flashes of the compound, but nothing more. 

 

He sat up, rubbing his face. However, as soon as his fingers met his cheek, he winced. Oh, right. His face was covered in bruises. And was that a set of stitches on his forehead? He’d had stitches before, but never with Overhaul. The man simply disassembled and reassembled him again if his body began to give out. 

 

It was strange. It was as if there was a hole in his chest, allowing air to gather and cool him to the core. He was also extremely aware of how utterly weak he was at the moment, his entire body made of rubber. Izuku had felt that way before, but only a few times. Only after the villains had tired of playing with him. He shuddered. He would never, ever forget those moments. When he woke up after they’d tossed him aside…

 

It didn’t do him any good to think about those things. So he didn’t, pushing them away without another thought. He was over it. He wasn’t there anymore. He had no reason to break out in a cold sweat at the idea of being back there, because he wasn’t there anymore. Simple as that. 

 

The room he found himself in was not the infirmary. The bed was softer and the blanket pooled around his waist was a light blue. There was a glass sliding door with a curtain partially drawn. There was an IV in his hand and a monitor connected to him. He stared at the moving line on the screen—his heartbeat. 

 

He was in a…hospital? He wasn’t really sure, guessing. He remembered going to the hospital once for a broken arm when he was a kid. But that had been…a few years ago. Just a few. 

 

Wherever he was, his instincts immediately told him to untangle himself from the wires across his chest. He couldn’t be in such a vulnerable position, not when he didn’t know when Overhaul was going to come for him. 

 

He was in the process of peeling off the stickers on his chest when someone cleared their throat. He jumped, nearly falling out of bed. 

 

There, sitting in the corner with a small smile, was a man Izuku hadn’t ever seen. He had blond hair and a lithe build. Clearly athletic. His eyes were on Izuku, steady. He didn’t make a move to come closer, which was the only reason Izuku didn’t dart out of the room. Not that he thought he could. Honestly, Izuku felt like a baby deer—why was his body so damn weak? 

 

“Izuku? You with me?” 

 

Hm. It was likely the man had tried speaking to him earlier, but Izuku had been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed, just as he hadn’t noticed the man sitting there, motionless. He tried reasoning that the room was dim, the illumination coming from the light over the sink in the other corner, but that was an argument he knew wouldn’t hold up under any amount of scrutiny. 

 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. We rescued you from Overhaul,” the man said. He placed his hand on his chest and smiled brighter. “My hero name is Present Mic. But you can just call me Yamada.” The man winked at him. 

 

Izuku relaxed back against the bed. Well, if he wasn’t with Overhaul, he supposed he could allow his body to rest. Besides, he was just so tired of fighting. Already, the small adrenaline rush from Yamada’s voice, startling him, was fading. 

 

Izuku watched the man closely. His body language was completely open. He wasn’t hiding any weapons, at least none he could see. Izuku didn’t know who Present Mic was—it wasn’t as if he had been able to watch TV or search the internet for heroes—but the man seemed nice enough. He didn’t let his guard down, though. 

 

The man pulled out his phone and sent off a text before shoving it back in his pocket. Then he smiled at Izuku again. As far as he could tell, it wasn’t strained. Most importantly, it wasn’t promising. Promising smiles were the worst. They always meant pain was coming. Sometimes more than pain. 

 

Izuku stiffened when the curtain was pulled back and two people walked in. The first one in was an old woman, her cane clacking against the floor. The man behind her was the one to watch out for. He was tall and moved with a grace that only came with training. His dark hair matched his eyes and Izuku immediately found himself pulling back as much as he could. He didn’t know who he was and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

 

“Hello, young man. It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” the old woman asked, coming to his side. Her face remained impassive, assessing. He felt…safe with her. 

 

“Who are you?” 

 

She nodded at his question. “I’m Recovery Girl, a healing hero. Because of the nature of your quirk and the situation revolving around your rescue, I was called in. Now, how are you feeling?” 

 

Izuku blinked. “You’re a healing hero? How does your quirk work?” Despite the circumstances, despite waking up in an unfamiliar place and not knowing what the hell was going on, he wanted to know about her quirk. Well, it wasn’t as if he had never woken up in a similar situation before. Waking up in strange places with strange people around him was a regular occurrence for him. 

 

She pinned him with a steely expression, not angry, but not compliant with his questioning. “First, your condition. Then we can discuss my quirk. And yours.” 

 

His cheeks warmed. Hell no, he didn’t want to discuss his quirk. That had been his entire life. All anyone wanted to know was his quirk. But…she wanted to make sure he was okay first. She hadn’t walked in and demanded he demonstrate his quirk or tell her what he could do. 

 

He leaned back, pointedly ignoring the dark-haired man. “I’m tired, but I feel fine.” 

 

She narrowed her eyes and hummed under her breath. “I doubt you feel ‘fine’, but if you’re not in any pain, I’ll take it.” She reached out and began touching him, pressing softly. He bit down on a yelp of surprise—who just started examining a stranger like that? 

 

She pressed on his ribs and he winced, unable to hide it. “You don’t have any broken ribs, but you certainly have plenty of bruising.” 

 

“Yeah, I couldn’t tell,” he said dryly. 

 

The dark-haired man snorted. It drew Izuku’s attention. He watched the man with a steady gaze, waiting. The man seemed to understand what he wanted to know, or at least part of it. “I’m a hero as well. My hero name is Eraserhead, but you can just call me Aizawa when I’m not on duty.” 

 

Eraserhead? What a dumbass hero name. Izuku didn’t know many hero names, to be fair, but that seemed like it was a swing and a miss. Aizawa, he could work with. But never Eraserhead. Never. 

 

“What happened?” he asked, because the alternative was to talk about his quirk and he wasn’t quite ready to do that, if he ever would. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they were heroes. He believed they were who they said they were—he clearly wasn’t with Overhaul at the moment and was what he considered safe—but he didn’t know their intentions. He didn’t know what they would do with that information. 

 

He didn’t know how they could hurt him just yet. 

 

Aizawa nodded as if this was an expected question. “I don’t know the details from your side of things. We only know what we’ve heard from…unreliable sources and witnessed ourselves. Three months ago, we found Eri running from what we now know was Overhaul’s base.” 

 

The man’s mouth opened, just starting what was likely a much longer story, but Izuku couldn’t help but interject, “You found Eri? Where is she? Is she safe?” The urgency of his tone surprised him, though he knew he cared about her. 

 

And…three months. That detail didn’t slip past him. Three months. It had been three months since he’d forced Eri away, taking the punishment for himself. That was…a long time. And it had felt like an eternity. But…three months. How had he lost so much time? Overhaul had made him use his quirk constantly, which meant he wasn’t exactly present most of the time. And the times he had been present, the man had made it his mission to cause as much pain and suffering as he possibly could. 

 

Three months. Added onto the time since he’d been taken by Overhaul, that meant he’d been with the Yakuza for over a year. 

 

Aizawa watched him with a soft, almost guilty expression. “Eri’s doing well. She still struggles, and we’re working on undoing a lot of damage done to her, but she has more good days than she does bad. I have temporary guardianship of her at the moment.” 

 

That man did? It wasn’t that Aizawa didn’t seem nice, but to Izuku he felt more…Ready to kick you in the throat. If that made sense. It was difficult to picture him taking care of Eri. But what the hell did Izuku know? He hadn’t known the man for more than a few minutes. 

 

“Do you want me to continue?” Aizawa asked. Izuku nodded. “It took us a while to find where Overhaul’s base was, unfortunately. Eri had run so quickly and in such a panic that she hadn’t been able to tell us where it was, and she hadn’t been able to identify it. We were looking. I promise we were looking for you.” 

 

Izuku ducked his head. His face didn’t move from its neutral expression and his hands remained relaxed in his lap. They’d looked for him, but…Three months. 

 

“After finally confirming where Overhaul was, we planned a raid and executed it. There, we found the Shie Hassaikai, Overhaul, and you. Most of the Shie Hassaikai members were arrested, though some killed themselves before they could be taken away.” 

 

There was something he wasn’t mentioning, or maybe he just hadn’t gotten that far. But Izuku couldn’t help but ask, “And Overhaul?” Please, please say the man hadn’t gotten away. Don’t tell me he’s still out there. 

 

“He’s dead. Died during the raid.” 

 

Izuku let out a shallow breath. “I see.” 

 

The heroes in the room remained silent, allowing Izuku a moment to gather his thoughts and process what had happened. He didn’t need time to process, though. Processing meant going through his feelings and feeling the full force of them. He’d tried that before without much success. He was pleased to hear about Overhaul’s death. That was an emotion he clung to even as he ignored the others. 

 

Fear. Shame. Guilt. Relief . Overhaul is dead. He’s dead! You couldn’t kill him yourself, but at least he’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore! 

 

“That’s enough of that.” Recovery Girl snagged his attention as she clicked her tongue and shook her head. She didn’t come forward and try and touch his hand, but she eyed it. It wasn’t difficult to tell what she was thinking. In fact, it wasn’t all that difficult to understand what the other man—Yamada—was feeling either. Aizawa was the odd man out. His face was completely without emotion. Void. Cold. Exactly what Izuku really wanted, or thought he needed. The other two wore diluted sorrow, poorly conceiled by an attempt at neutrality. 

 

“You were brought to the hospital right after we found you,” Aizawa said, eyeing Recovery Girl. The woman nodded in approval, so he must have moved on to a softer subject. “At one point, you woke up, panicking, and tried to run. You passed out in the hall and I brought you back in here.” 

 

Recovery Girl tapped her cane against the ground softly. “Quirk exhaustion and dehydration and the plethora of other injuries and health issues you’re currently working through contributed to that event. You recently received a dose of quirk suppressants to keep you from using your quirk and hurting yourself, but it should wear off in the next six or so hours.” 

 

Izuku held up his hands, staring as if he could see the effect of the suppressant. He’d heard of them before, but he’d never experienced it himself. “Huh, so that’s what it feels like,” he said with a short laugh. 

 

He glanced up and found all three heroes looking at him with vaguely confused expressions. His mouth lifted in a lopsided, dry smile. “No one wants to take away a healer’s quirk. Why remove it when you could use it?” 

 

Oh, well now he made them look sad again. 

 

Aizawa cleared his throat. “There is plenty to discuss, and we will be having more conversations—for you and for us. For now, we need to talk about what happens next. You’ve already been placed under protective custody at UA, the same as Eri. The heroes employed through the school are here to protect you until you’ve turned eighteen and want to go off on your own, or whenever that is. After you turn eighteen,” the man stressed. “We’re not going to let you fall into villains' hands again.” 

 

Izuku let out a snort before he controlled his reaction. “Good luck with that. I’ve been passed around like a cheap bottle of beer.” He cringed inside, but outwardly didn’t let them see his discomfort at his own damn joke. 

 

“We can protect you. It’s quite literally what we do for a living.” Aizawa seemed so assured, so confident that they would protect him, not even questioning if they could . 

 

The teen sighed. “Sure. You can try.” 

 

XXX

 

The three heroes actually left him alone, though they promised they would be back shortly. He knew they were giving him some space to breathe, to work out what was in his head. It was appreciated, though left him to untangle his thoughts like a kid with last year’s Christmas lights. 

 

He huffed a laugh. He’d been young when his mom…He’d been young. He didn’t have too many strong memories left. Most had faded over time. Details changed with age and specifics got lost in translation. But he did remember one year when he’d sat himself on the floor in front of the box of Christmas decorations and vowed he would decorate for his mom before she got up that morning. He didn’t remember everything he’d done, just the Christmas lights. It had been one massive, tangled ball of wires and various stages of dying lights. In the end, he hadn’t been able to untangle those lights. 

 

Sitting there by himself felt a lot like that. Determination that eventually led to frustration. He didn’t really…understand. 

 

He’d been rescued from Overhaul. That fact still blew his mind. He knew, deep down, how close he’d come to giving up. None of the other villain groups had been able to beat him like that. None of the others had been able to terrorize his soul in such a manner. But Overhaul had been able to cut straight to the weakest parts of him, manipulating him how he saw fit. Yes, Izuku had put up a fight, but if that struggle had gone on much longer…

 

There were some things Izuku had vowed he would never do. After seeing his mom die, he’d told himself he would live for her, whispering it to himself during those first few years while he curled up as tightly as he could, trying to ignore the dark rooms and cold floors. He had come close a few times, considering what an end to that pain would feel like, how relieving it would be. But he that hadn’t been serious, not really. He’d just been fantasizing. 

 

Overhaul had made him consider things he had vowed he would never do. Because another hour of that torture, of losing himself in the pain and chaos of that man’s quirk, of watching him hurt a child, of knowing death waited around for him to mess up, would have had him start asking his mom to understand. To understand that he had tried to keep the promise he’d made himself. That he had tried to live for her, but sometimes living was just too much to ask. 

 

The heroes had saved him from what he wanted to think was a moment of weakness, but he knew himself too well to believe that was true. 

 

But they had the idea in their heads that they would be able to stop anyone from coming and taking Izuku. He had witnessed dozens of villains kill each other in their efforts to take control of him. What was stopping them from coming to UA and taking him there? 

 

He didn’t really care about them having guardianship over him. It wasn’t as if he wanted to go anywhere. He didn’t know how to live on his own. He didn’t know shit about the world. In nearly all aspects, he was still that seven-year-old who had been ripped away from school and learning and friends and a life. He didn’t know anything but villains and the Underground. He didn’t know how to go grocery shopping! How stupid was that? He’d learned from hearing and seeing things around him. Villains were his teachers. That was how pathetic he was. 

 

Fine. They wanted to take him to a school. UA. He’d heard it before, but couldn’t recall what it was. A school. That much he knew. Aizawa had said that was where Eri was. He’d be able to make sure she was safe, for however long he was there. He would be able to see her again, heart lifting at the idea. That little girl was like a sister to him, as much of a family as he knew. Even if it was only one more time, seeing her was enough. 

 

Tangled Christmas lights. He knew the frustration was of himself. He was…disappointed in himself, far too aware of his weaknesses and inadequacies. When he’d been with villains, it had been much easier to believe he had some good, that he was better and not a wadded-up tissue someone had thrown toward a trash can and missed. 

 

The sheets on the hospital bed seemed too clean. Obviously someone had cleaned him up, but he couldn’t help but check to make sure he hadn’t left streaks of dirt on the fabric each time he moved. 

 

He was interrupted from his spiraling by a knock on the door. It was Aizawa. Yamada and Recovery Girl were nowhere to be seen, but he doubted they’d gone far. They had both thrown soft smiles his way before leaving earlier. It was as if they cared about him, but that couldn’t be it. They didn’t know him. 

 

“Mind if we talk for a bit?” the man asked, taking a seat. He was far enough away from the bed to make it seem like Izuku still had some air to breathe. 

 

He gave a half shrug. “Talk away.” 

 

The man paused, looking him up and down, studying his face. “Is your name Izuku Midoriya?” 

 

Izuku raised a brow. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

 

“Eri knew your name.”

 

Oh. Right. Of course she did. He remembered introducing himself the first time he’d been left alone with her, Overhaul and his followers processing the samples they’d taken in a different room. 

 

But…Izuku’s brows furrowed. “How do you know my last name? I haven’t given that name to anyone, not even Eri. I haven’t used it since I was a kid.” That name was too precious to give out. No one had the right to use it, as he knew the villains would have flaunted it whenever they wanted to hurt him. Midoriya was kept to himself, set aside like a shrine only he visited. 

 

Aizawa nodded, though he hesitated. “Someone who knew you from before came forward and was able to help identify you. I’ll leave it at that for the time being, okay?” 

 

That wasn’t sketchy at all. Izuku stared at the man with narrowed eyes. If Izuku hadn’t been so bone-deep exhausted, he would have fought harder for the man to quit that secretive bullshit. But his entire body was beginning to ache and his brain felt as if were being squeezed out through his ears and he was too tired to fight at the moment. 

 

Aizawa seemed surprised when he didn’t get an argument from Izuku. He hesitated again. Izuku didn’t care for the man’s hesitations. Not when they were concerning him, at least. “Ask it already,” Izuku snapped, not meaning for it to come out so sharply, but it was too late to turn back now. 

 

The hero nodded, more to himself than anyone else. “Do you have anyone you want us to contact, anyone from when you were a kid? Family. Friends. Anyone?” 

 

Izuku stiffed, stomach twisting. Family. That word was tied to her . Without meaning to, without giving that memory permission to hit him in the face, he remembered the blood splattering across their small apartment, hitting the wall and the ceiling, resting on the carpet like tiny jewels. 

 

He remembered the warmth on his face, too. He knew what it had been. Tears and blood alike. He didn’t like to think about his young self, his mom painted across his skin like that. 

 

He remembered her falling to the floor and the sound her body made against the cheap carpet. Her expression, slack and surprised and not smiling like she always had. Her eyes, the same shade as his, dull, having lost something important behind them.

 

After all those years, that was one memory he couldn’t seem to allow to dim or fade. 

 

“No,” he whispered hollowly. “There’s no one I need you to contact.” 

 

There was a flicker of…something in Aizawa’s eyes, but it vanished quickly. 

 

A knock on the door had them gratefully looking toward the source. Recovery Girl slid the door shut behind her as she stepped in, giving Izuku a small, reassuring smile. “Am I interrupting?” 

 

“No, you’re not,” Izuku answered for them. 

 

She took a seat on the other side of Izuku’s bed. He could tell whatever she was about to ask was serious, and it was entirely likely he wasn’t going to like it. She proved him right. “We need to discuss your quirk. Can you describe it for me?” 

 

Yeah, he could. But he didn’t want to. He hated the quirk conversation. Well, he hated having it with villains. He wasn’t sure how that conversation would go with heroes. It left him feeling itchy and restless. 

 

Maybe that was why he fed them his usual lie. It slipped off his tongue without a hint of a lie. Smooth and without hesitation. However, it was immediately clear they didn’t believe him. “Izuku, we know that’s not all your quirk does. We saw you use it when you woke up the first time,” Aizawa said quietly, though stern. 

 

Ah. Well. He sighed, giving up. Damn. That was why he was always careful about letting anyone see his quirk—it completely shattered the illusion he fed everyone. “What did you see?”

 

Aizawa gave him a knowing look. “Yamada was in there when you woke up. You managed to take down the three people in your room without touching them. You ended up running into me in the hallway. I saw your eyes glow and these…threads float around you. When you used your quirk on me, it felt like there was a massive weight on me, draining my energy.” 

 

Izuku shrugged, more to himself than anyone else. There wasn’t any use in lying. They would be able to guess enough without him telling them everything. They were heroes. That meant something, right? 

 

He needed it to mean something. 

 

He wasn’t able to look at either of them as he spoke. Rather, he stared down at his hands. He couldn’t activate his quirk at the moment, not that he really wanted to, but he pictured the threads that came from him whenever he used it. “My quirk allows me to heal people without having to touch them. They have to be close, but my range has grown since I was a kid. What you saw, what I…did when I woke up, that was my healing. Most of the time, I just heal the big wounds, the things we see. Cuts, bruises, burns, whatever. But I learned a while ago that I could heal the microscopic, cellular injuries. The natural breakdown and damage in our bodies we aren’t even aware of. That kind of healing often overwhelms the brain and causes people to pass out, or nearly.” 

 

Izuku gave a shrug. “I kept the extent of my quirk a secret from the villains. It protected me a little bit.” At least until he’d flaunted it in front of Overhaul. 

 

“That’s an incredibly powerful quirk, young man,” Recovery Girl said quietly, thinking. 

 

Izuku laughed once without much humor. He knew his quirk was powerful. But sometimes having a powerful quirk wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. “That’s not to say there aren’t any drawbacks. As I use my quirk, I believe it slowly shifts the hormones and chemical balance of my body. To put it simply, I start getting a little…off.” 

 

Aizawa lifted a brow. “Off?” 

 

Recovery Girl actually answered for him, having picked up on what he was saying. “There are many hormones in the body that are released into the bloodstream during certain activities. Endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin, among others. From what it sounds like, the more he heals, the more he feels the effects of those hormones.” Recovery Girl turned to Izuku fully. “Can you describe it a little more for me? How you feel during that time.”

 

“I feel high, almost. I feel light and floaty and…funny. It’s difficult to describe.” Izuku shrugged, conscious of how many times he had performed the gesture in the past few minutes. 

 

Recovery Girl didn’t allow him to fall back into himself. Because he was feeling insecure under their watchful eyes. His quirk was powerful, yes, but the drawback on him was…dangerous. He recognized the liability it could become if he pushed himself too far. He’d lost his mind a few times in the past because of it, unable to remember all the details of what had happened. 

 

The healer reached out a hand and touched his arm. He didn’t pull away. “It’s alright. Believe it or not, you are not the first person we’ve seen with a quirk that affected the user.” He smiled, just a slight lift of his lips. “That’s to say you want to use your quirk. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to.” 

 

That had him shaking his head with a rueful laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s an option.” 

 

Aizawa opened his mouth to say something, but Recovery Girl beat him to it. “It is. Do you want to use it? You don’t have to be a healer if you don’t want to be.” 

 

He didn’t have to be a healer? What kind of shit was that? “What else am I supposed to do?” Because if he cared to think on it, which he didn’t, he would recognize that healing was all he knew. It was a sick sort of safety net, the thing that gave him purpose and reminded him of what he’d been through all in one breath. 

 

“I’m a healer. It’s what I was born for.” The words felt heavy coming out. 

 

The old woman didn’t say anything to that. She stared at him with a contemplative expression. Then she nodded and stood. “I need to run it by Nezu, but as far as I know, there are no plans to put you in a class.” 

 

“We’d have to look at how much schooling he’s had and what education he still needs,” Aizawa added. 

 

Izuku snorted. “Yeah, very little. I was seven the last time I went to school.” 

 

Aizawa pursed his lips but remained silent. 

 

“In that case, how would you feel about being my student?” Recovery Girl asked eagerly. 

 

“What?” 

 

“How would you like to be my student? I could train you to be a healer. Teach you as an intern.” The more she said, the more excited she got. “You don’t have to use your quirk as your career, but until you figure out what you want to do, I could help you. Teach you.” 

 

In answer, he simply nodded. 

 

Recovery Girl shared a look with Aizawa, which Izuku wasn’t sure how to interpret. The old woman turned and said she was going to speak with Nezu and would be back in a little while, smiling brightly at Izuku. She ambled out the door, leaving Aizawa with the teen. 

 

The man might have wanted to say something to Izuku, ask him questions or try and reassure him that everything was going to be fine, but the kid wasn’t in the mood. He was tired and stiff and hurting. He was…He felt unsteady, even while sitting in bed. 

 

Without a word, he curled up on his side, facing away from Aizawa. It took him over an hour to fall asleep, staring at the wall across from him as if it held answers to questions he wasn’t even sure how to get out. 

Notes:

Next chapter: Izuku decides how much to tell the heroes.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Summary:

Izuku goes to UA

Notes:

I know it's been a while since the last chapter. Sorry about that. Hope you enjoy!

The next few days went by painfully slowly. Izuku felt like he had to force himself to be there, to remain in his body. Maybe it was all the thoughts swirling around in his head. Oh, yeah, that was definitely the issue. He had too much to think about, and half the time it felt as if what he was trying to puzzle out wasn’t real. Some days, he woke up in that hospital bed in a panic, one leg off the bed before he realized he was free. He’d been rescued. 

 

The idea of rescue still seemed like a fever dream. Something he’d forced himself to believe was true. How many times had he imagined the heroes saving him? How many times had he dreamt of running and not getting caught?

 

He remained in the hospital for a few more days after waking up. He’d been told he was far beyond exhausted to be up and walking and too dehydrated for them to trust he would recover on his own. 

 

It had all gone in one ear and got tangled up inside. When hadn’t he been exhausted? When hadn’t he been dehydrated? Pain and fatigue and feeling as if his body was on the brink of failing him wasn’t anything new. That was why he’d lied to the villains with every breath. It had kept him from dying, even if it had just been one step away. 

 

Yamada was sitting in his room at the moment, leaning back in the stiff hospital chair with his feet kicked up on the rail of Izuku’s bed. The man was scrolling through his phone, occasionally turning it around to show Izuku a picture of a video he thought was worthy of attention. Cats, people falling, cool hero moves. It was clear the man was trying to find anything to form a connection, which Izuku appreciated. He just…It was difficult to be present. 

 

He recognized it was just one of his phases, but he didn’t want to fall into the familiar pattern. He didn’t want to be distant and numb. That had been a way of keeping himself sane, of protecting his brain. He knew that. So why the hell was he diving into those mechanisms now? 

 

The heroes had been nothing but kind to him. Constantly asking if everything was okay. If them touching him was okay. If them leaving the lights on was okay. If the damn blanket they’d handed him was okay. Yamada, Aizawa, and Recovery Girl were his most frequent visitors, and all of them tended to treat him with kid gloves. 

 

He appreciated it, but at the same time it was driving him nuts. After years of no one caring, he was finding that actually caring was a little overbearing. 

 

Earlier, Yamada had asked if Izuku wanted to play a card game. The disappointment on the man’s face had faded quickly after Izuku told him he didn’t know how to play card games. He’d seen villains play them in the infirmary occasionally, and the League members had played card games on the occasion, but he didn’t know the rules. Yamada had attempted to teach him, but it had gone poorly. Izuku hadn’t been able to bring himself to the surface enough to focus, and because he hadn’t been focusing, he missed many of the rules and strategies the man taught him. It had ended quickly, Yamada patting him on the back and saying it was okay. 

 

It was okay. Everything was okay. Izuku was okay . 

 

He blinked and found the doctor who had been coming in and out for days in front of him. There was a stack of papers in his hands—when had the doctor handed those to him? The man was explaining his diet and how to begin introducing new nutrition into his system slowly. Izuku blinked again and forced himself to think, to recall the past few minutes. He guessed he’d been nodding along with the man because he didn’t seem to see anything wrong with Izuku. He didn’t hesitate or stop as if Izuku wasn’t listening. 

 

“I’m leaving?” Izuku asked, interrupting. The papers in his hands were his discharge paperwork. 

 

The doctor smiled. “Yes! You’ll be leaving in the morning.” 

 

Hm. That seemed soon. Though he wasn’t exactly sure what time it was. But he would be leaving. Going to UA, wherever that was. It wouldn’t be the hospital. White walls and white curtains and squeaking floors. He wouldn’t have to sit and smell the antiseptic cleaner they used.

 

Leaving. In the morning. 

 

Eventually, the doctor stopped talking. Izuku thought he had asked if he had any questions, so he shook his head. As the man left, Izuku glanced over at Yamada. The man had put his phone down and was watching Izuku with a kind smile. “You excited to break out of this joint?” the man asked enthusiastically. 

 

At first, Izuku had assumed it was a facade the man wore. He was always smiling, always cheerful and eager to spread it around. But it had just…never stopped. After days. He liked it, despite how overwhelming it was sometimes. 

 

“I guess.” Izuku shrugged. Yamada didn’t reply, allowing Izuku to get his thoughts out. It wasn’t like he did it often. “I don’t think I’ve gotten excited for something in a while. Nervous, yeah. Terrified, absolutely. Excitement is foreign, and I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is excitement or just…anticipation.” 

 

Yamada nodded. “I get it. I mean, I don’t fully understand, like, inside. But I can understand what you mean. It would have to be difficult, after everything you’ve been through. These are baby steps, and sometimes even baby steps can be scary.” 

 

Izuku…liked Yamada. 

 

It wasn’t much later when a small group of people entered his room. Well, two people and a…Izuku didn’t really know what it was. Some kind of mammal. Not the strangest thing he’d seen, truthfully. 

 

One of the newest arrivals was Aizawa. The man nodded at Izuku and gestured to the man standing beside him. “Izuku, this is Detective Tsukauchi. He’s been helping with your case. He’s a friend. And this is Nezu, the principal of UA.” Aizawa gestured to the mammal. Izuku lifted a brow at his introduction. The principal of UA? An animal. 

 

“I know that look,” Nezu said. Speaking . Holy shit, Nezu could speak. The mammal’s beady eyes were on Izuku. “I am an animal, yes, but I have an intelligence quirk.” 

 

Izuku nodded shallowly. Well, okay. Maybe it was the strangest thing he’d seen. 

 

The detective reached out and shook Izuku’s hand, only after the teen offered it hesitantly. “As Aizawa said, I’m Detective Tsukauchi. You can just call me Tsukauchi, though. If you don’t mind, I’m here to get your statement on some of the villains you were with. It will help in other investigations as well as gauge the level of danger you might be facing.” 

 

Ah. It would give them an idea of what kind of villains might try and come after him. He wanted to say, “Every villain. All of them. Who wouldn’t want a healer in their group?” But he held his tongue. Instead, he nodded and said, “I’ll help as much as I can.” 

 

The detective smiled again, trying to reassure Izuku. It seemed strange—it wasn’t the same false reassurance some of the villains he’d been with had shot his way. The man seemed genuine, as if he truly wanted Izuku to feel comfortable. Like Aizawa and Yamada. Like Recovery Girl. It was the same. 

 

“First, can I have you state your name?” 

 

Izuku thought that was an odd question. “Izuku Midoriya.” They already knew his name. 

 

“Excellent. Before we begin, you should know what my quirk is. It allows me to determine if someone is telling the truth or lying. It’s always activated and does depend on what the person I’m listening to believes is true. Any questions for me before we get into it?” 

 

That was an interesting quirk. Useful, though Izuku didn’t know if he would want to know if everyone was lying or telling the truth. Some things were better left unknown. “No questions,” he said. 

 

The man nodded. “Can you describe the villains who took you when you were a child?” 

 

Starting big, though they would be disappointed. 

 

Izuku didn’t know who had taken him. He’d been too young and too inexperienced with terror to retain anything he’d heard. It had been the same way for years—he’d been a child who was told to heal and not ask questions. No one had ever bothered to give him any information. Which left him with nothing to share, unfortunately. 

 

The detective nodded his head, only a hint of disappointment in his gaze. He quickly wrote something on the pad of paper he held. “Are there any names you do know? Anything is helpful.” 

 

Well, of course there were. “In the last few years, I’ve been with more powerful groups. I’m sure you understand, but to take something from someone else, you have to have power. Strength. It’s only obvious that each group I ended up with would be stronger than the last. They would have to be to take me away from the other villains.” 

 

He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of some of his memories. Villains weren’t always the smartest or the most intimidating. There had been times when in their efforts to intimidate him had only managed to make complete fools of themselves. Those had been the more inexperienced villains, the ones who weren’t used to being the whispers in the darkness, the ghosts that terrified other monsters. 

 

He sobered quickly. The League of Villains had been one of the worst, at least before Overhaul. Izuku preferred not to think about the last year of his life. He rattled off the few names he could remember, though he didn’t have much else to add. They had kept him fairly isolated. He didn’t know their numbers or their abilities, and even if he did, he’d been with them years and years ago. It was unlikely they’d remained stagnant. 

 

And that was assuming they hadn’t been destroyed when he’d been taken from them. 

 

Izuku fiddled with the edge of the blanket on the bed, uncaring if the lack of eye contact made him look weak. He was weak. “I blocked out a lot of it. Tried to keep my head down and get through it. I’m sorry I don’t have much for you,” he murmured. There had been so many villains, some who left more of an impact than others. 

 

“Most of the ones before the League were smaller groups. They were powerful, but not on the League’s level.” 

 

The League of Villains. What a bunch of assholes. He still remembered the day they took him for themselves. He had been in the back of a transport truck, racing down the road toward a different safe house or base or wherever the hell the villains he’d been with had intended to take him. From what he’d been able to gather at the time, word had spread about his location and they’d been afraid he would be taken from them. 

 

As it turned out, their fear had been warranted. 

 

He’d heard a shout from the front of the truck and then the entire vehicle began to disintegrate. It had crashed, rolling several times before coming to a screeching halt. Miraculously, he’d only been mildly injured. As soon as the vehicle had stopped and he’d gained some amount of awareness, albeit very little, he’d bolted. 

 

Of course, as everything had always been, the man Izuku now knew as Kirogiri had stopped him, a somehow corporal hand bringing him to a halt. The man had held him as Shigaraki killed the rest of the villains who either attempted to run or fight him. Izuku had sagged where he’d stood, resigned. Why bother attempting to escape when it was clear he wouldn’t make it. So he saved his strength. Began the long process of preparing himself to get acclimated to another group. 

 

He’d met the others shortly after Shigaraki had brought him to their base, though he’d been moved several times since that initial capture. Izuku stopped his wandering train of thought and said, “Uh, there were a few of them. The core members. Shigaraki, of course. He—” 

 

“We know who they are,” Aizawa said, interrupting him with a cold tone. The man wasn’t glaring at him, though. He narrowed his eyes at the wall instead, not looking at anyone in particular. “We’re familiar with the League. Shigaraki and the others went after many of our students, my class in particular.” 

 

Huh. It only just occurred to Izuku that Aizawa might be something other than a hero. Was he…a teacher? 

 

Nezu tilted his head slightly, the only indication of his impending question. “What happened to them? The League. We were having frequent conflicts with them a year or so ago, but it’s almost as if they disappeared off the face of the earth. Do you have any insight into why this might be?” 

 

He blinked. The end of the League.

 

That was…

 

That was his fault. Overhaul’s fault. It was difficult to tell where his actions had ended and Overhaul’s had begun. Though, Izuku knew what he’d done. It was why he was hesitant to tell them what happened. 

 

Things were fuzzy in his head, as if they’d happened to someone else and he’d been a bystander watching from a distance. He remembered escaping, but most importantly, he remembered what had happened before . 

 

It wasn’t surprising that the heroes in the room picked up on his change in demeanor. 

 

“It’s okay, you know. Take your time,” Aizawa said quietly, no longer glaring. He took a hesitant step forward before fully committing. He ended up crouched in front of Izuku, not touching him but obviously there if Izuku wanted the physical comfort. “You don’t have to tell us everything, but the more you can tell us the better.” 

 

Izuku was self-aware enough to know his moral compass was seriously scrambled. He’d done…many things. Some he’d been completely aware of and others that had felt like a dream at the time. He didn’t regret the things he’d done to survive, the people he’d hurt, but he knew the heroes couldn’t hope to swallow that pill. 

 

It was a burden they didn’t need to bear. It was better for everyone if they didn’t know all the details. Knowing would only hurt them and complicate things. 

 

“The night Overhaul and his group came for me, I had managed to escape. I…” Izuku squeezed his eyes shut tightly before he took a breath and forced them back open. “I made it out to the street. I used my quirk to knock them out inside and I ran. But Overhaul and his guys were there to get me. It just so happened I came to them.” He shrugged, as if admitting that failure didn’t tear him up inside. “Overhaul ended up knocking me out. I woke up inside the compound.” 

 

“What happened to the League?” Nezu asked. 

 

When Izuku didn’t answer, biting the inside of his lip as he figured out what to say, Aizawa reached out a hand and settled it on Izuku’s clenched fists. No words were shared between them, but it was…nice having him there. 

 

Fear. Heart pounding and vision shrouded in gold. A screaming in his head. The smell of antiseptic burning his nose, mixed with blood. The Doctor’s victims’ cries swirling in his head. Too much. It was all too much. 

 

“Overhaul told me later that Shigaraki was the only one who had been killed that night. They’d gone in to kill the entire league, but everyone else managed to escape.” Izuku lifted his eyes, unable to help the contempt twisting his features. “Shigaraki is dead. The world is better for it.” 

 

He felt eyes on him and turned, finding Aizawa staring at him. He knew the man was observant, and he froze, fearing the man was going to call him out for holding back. It was clear the man knew he wasn’t telling them everything. Yet he didn’t demand Izuku spill his guts. He didn’t force Izuku to open his mouth and sing for him. 

 

Izuku held his tongue for everyone involved. It didn’t do them any good to know those details. He had a feeling Aizawa knew, or at least had a sneaking suspicion of what had happened. But he was a hero. He wasn’t allowed to cross that line. 

 

Silence protected them all. 

 

Nezu and Aizawa looked up at the detective in unison. The man nodded and said, “He’s telling the truth. Shigaraki is dead, or at least he believes he is.” 

 

They all breathed a sigh of relief, for what, Izuku didn’t know. 

 

XXX

 

The day finally came for him to leave the hospital. Since speaking with the detective, he hadn’t been left alone for long. Aizawa and Yamada kept him company, Aizawa even going as far as staying in his room until he fell asleep. 

 

He had a guard at all times outside his room, but only the two of them seemed comfortable enough to remain inside with him. Yamada was bubbly and helped him forget about everything, at least to a degree. He was a living ray of sunshine and spread his warmth easily. It was as if the constant dark cloud over Izuku never bothered him. Maybe it didn’t. And Aizawa…Aizawa made him feel safe. He just seemed so sure that he would be able to keep Izuku safe, that the heroes would stop anyone who dared to come for him. He wasn’t sunshine, but he was steady. With the two of them at his side, Izuku felt near invincible. They protected him from himself and the villains. 

 

Nearly as soon as Izuku woke up, the sun only just having started its climb over the horizon, Yamada strolled into the room with a stack of clothes and a pair of shoes. “Good morning! I come bearing gifts.” 

 

He set the stack of clothes on the bed and tossed the shoes on the floor by Izuku’s feet. “I don’t take credit for these clothes or the style I’m sure they’re lacking,” the man said, staring mournfully at the clothes. “Aizawa picked them out. He’s signing you out and we'll meet us out by the car. It’s moving day!” 

 

Moving day. Out of the hospital and to UA. To a world of heroes rather than villains. To safety, however long he had it. 

 

Yamada gave him a moment to himself to get dressed and gather anything he needed. It wasn’t as if he had any personal items, but he appreciated the privacy. 

 

The clothes were simple, and he was thankful it was Aizawa and not Yamada who picked them out. The only splash of color he found himself wearing was his shirt—it was a few shades darker than his hair, nearly black. Jeans and a pair of black tennis shoes finished the ensemble. The clothes were comfortable and the perfect size—the first time in a while he’d worn clothes that weren’t full of holes or much too big to fit him properly. 

 

They were new. Picked out by Aizawa. It gave him a warm feeling in his chest. 

 

Yamada returned shortly, peaking his head inside the room with a bright smile. “Ready, kiddo?” Izuku nodded, much less enthused than he was. 

 

Yamada led him out of the hospital without a single break in the stream of consciousness that was escaping his mouth. Izuku wasn’t really listening, but he tuned in occasionally to make sure the man wasn’t asking him any questions. Because he did that sometimes. He asked Izuku what he was feeling, what he thought about a particular subject or object, or what he wanted . That last one always stumped him. What he wanted, as if that was something he could answer. 

 

Izuku stepped out of the hospital and was met by a wall of sunshine. It was horrible. Of course, in his hospital room he’d had a window that let in the light. Slowly, he’d gotten used to it. But outside was a different story. He put a hand over his eyes and allowed Aizawa, who had stepped away from the car idling at the curb, and Yamada to guide him to the back seat. 

 

“Sorry, I know it’s overwhelming right now. You’ll get used to it,” Aizawa said quietly. Izuku only breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut behind him, letting in only a small amount of light. 

 

As soon as the two men slid into the front seats, Izuku said, “It’s been a while since I’ve been exposed to that much sunlight. It’s…” 

 

“Terrible,” Aizawa supplied. Yamada smacked him. 

 

“It’s not terrible. Sunlight is good for you, Mr. I-only-work-at-night.” Yamada turned in his seat and grinned at Izuku. “Don’t turn out like him.” 

 

That made him snort in amusement. The two of them were obviously good friends. About the same age, if he had to guess. Maybe went to school together? Together, they were night and day.

 

Aizawa pulled away from the hospital and soon they were zooming down the road. “It’s a quick drive. Then we’ll get you settled,” Aizawa told him. 

 

About that… Izuku leaned forward and asked, “I know UA is a school, but that’s about it. What kind of school is it? What’s the deal with UA? Everyone keeps referring it as if it’s a base.” 

 

Yamada tilted his hand back and forth in the air. “It kind of is. Especially since the dorms were put in.” The man was twisted in his seatbelt, turned to meet Izuku’s eye. “UA is a hero school, but they don’t only teach heroes. It’s a high school, so all the kids are your age. There are General Education courses, Business courses, Support Courses, and Hero Courses.” 

 

“I teach hero students,” Aizawa said gruffly. And…yeah, Izuku could see that. 

 

Yamada raised a hand eagerly. “I teach Gen Ed kids. But teachers at UA kind of do a little of everything, so we all teach in other areas or help out whenever needed. Those hero students especially. They’re a handful.” 

 

Izuku could see Aizawa roll his eyes in the mirror. “Yeah. A handful.” 

 

“ Anyway ,” Yamada continued, “UA is renowned for pumping out great heroes. All Might and Endeavor were both at UA once.” Izuku had heard those names before, but in passing and without any details. He would ask about them later, he supposed. “You’re gonna love it!” 

 

Hm. Love it. He didn’t know if that was true. 

 

“What he has failed to tell you is where you’ll be staying.” Aizawa turned to glare at Yamada, but it was clearly good-natured. “You have your own apartment of sorts attached to the teachers’ dorm. It’s on the bottom floor and I’m only a floor above you. With Eri, of course. You can visit us anytime.” 

 

Yamada’s expression softened even further as he listened to Aizawa. The blond regarded Izuku with that same softness. “We’re all here for you. UA might be a school, but it’s your home. Besides, you’re close enough to the other students to make friends!” 

 

Make friends. Izuku stared out the window, unable to take Yamada’s excited smile any longer. “I won’t be making friends.” 

 

XXX

 

He…drifted. Sort of. He was present enough to see they had arrived at UA, massive gates opening for their car. He stared out the window as they drove past building after building, perfectly manicured grass and trees and gardens surrounding them. It was…a lot. 

 

UA was beautiful. Izuku stepped out of the car as soon as they stopped and attempted to take up as little space as he could—he was genuinely afraid of messing it up, of getting it dirty or ruining it beyond repair. Which he knew was stupid, but explaining that to his fear was difficult. 

 

Aizawa and Yamada walked ahead of him, the latter gesturing for him to enter. Oh, they were at a door. He’d walked up a set of steps. He forced himself to be present, to be aware of everything around him. 

 

“Izuku, this is Kayama. Her hero name is Midnight.” Yamada threw an arm over her shoulders with a smile. “She’s good people. If you need anything, she’s a good person to come to. After myself, of course.” 

 

Izuku hesitantly smiled and nodded in greeting. Despite his poor social skills, Kayama regarded him comfortably. “It’s good to meet you, Izuku.” She was attractive, objectively. She was tall and had long, dark hair to her waist. Muscular, athletic build. She had to be a popular hero, regardless of her quirk or fighting style. 

 

Aizawa was the one to pull him away from the two heroes, directing him toward a door along the opposite wall. It was subtle, nearly hidden in the shadow of the balcony above. “This is your room. We all have key cards for this door, but we’ll only intrude if we feel it’s necessary. This is your space.” Aizawa pushed the door open and allowed Izuku to enter first. 

 

It was difficult not to retreat into his head. The space was large, and there were other rooms he could see parts of. A small kitchen and a living room, a plush couch shoved against the wall and a blanket thrown over the back. Aizawa showed him a bedroom that was decorated with taste—dark colors for bedsheets and curtains and neutral shades of paint on the walls. There was a desk in the corner, too. 

 

“The bathroom is attached. Everything you need should be in there, but if you want anything else, ask one of us.” Aizawa had his hands shoved in his pockets, wearing what looked like a onesie. Which, if Izuku thought about it, was about what he’d been wearing the other times he’d seen him. Dark jeans and black sweaters or long-sleeved shirts. Yeah, it was about the same thing. 

 

Izuku turned slowly, taking it all in. “This is all mine? Seriously?” Because it was the largest space he’d ever had. 

 

“It is. And there are clothes in the drawers as well. The desk has been filled with supplies.” 

 

Izuku took a better look around the bedroom. There were a few posters on the walls. Of heroes. He didn’t recognize any of them. But now, he wanted to know everything about them. There was a shelf over the desk with a few figurines, also heroes. One was of a blond man in a leather outfit, looking frankly ridiculous in the getup. He leaned closer, eyes narrowed. Present Mic . 

 

“Isn’t Yamada’s hero name Present Mic ?” Izuku asked, lifting a brow. 

 

“Yeah. That’s him.” Aizawa laughed under his breath. “Makes you see him a bit differently, huh?” 

 

A bit differently? There was no way the man he knew was that guy on the shelf. No way. He refused to believe it. 

 

“What about you? Are any of these heroes you?” Izuku asked, looking closely at the posters. Though, he didn’t spot anyone who looked like either of the men he knew. 

 

Aizawa didn’t move from the doorway, giving Izuku time to take it all in. “Nope. I’m an Underground Hero. I won’t be on any posters, at least not ones sold in stores. There are a few floating around that are homemade.” 

 

Underground Hero. Izuku knew what that meant. Which meant he also knew how much those heroes did. The villains he’d been with had made it clear they didn’t fear many heroes, but the ones who dared enter the Underground were the exception. Those heroes were a different breed. 

 

“You’re an Underground Hero.” It wasn’t a question. Izuku turned to look at Aizawa, and the man let him look him up and down. 

 

“I am.” 

 

Izuku nodded. “The villains fear you. Not just you, but all Underground heroes.” 

 

The dark-haired man said nothing, but he did seem pleased by that news. 

 

“We didn’t know if you liked heroes or not, but my coworkers insisted on getting you hero merch.” Aizawa shrugged. “They might have gone a little overboard.” 

 

The man kept talking, but the more he said the more numb Izuku grew. He was trying not to remember how little he’d had. Those were new clothes in the drawer. New sheets on the bed. A bed that was actually off the ground and didn’t smell like mildew and urine. The room wasn’t freezing or sweltering. There was a window . 

 

He closed his eyes. How many times had he woken up in a set of strange clothes, worn too thin with scattered holes in the fabric? How many times had he found himself without his shoes and his pockets emptied of what little he’d managed to steal? 

 

It sounded as if he was breathing underwater. Everything was muffled and distorted and distant, like he wasn’t really there. Was the air thin? It felt thin. 

 

“—okay. You’re okay. You’re with me, Aizawa.” Hands touched his shoulders. 

 

Izuku shook his head. He remembered his old room, the one he’d had when he was a child and had a mom who loved to go to the mall on Saturdays where she would surprise him by going into the hero store. His room had been full of colors, posters on every surface and figurines and action figures and plushies everywhere, most on the verge of falling off his shelves or desk. He’d had an All Might alarm clock. 

 

All Might. He did remember that name. All Might was…He couldn’t remember what the hero looked like, but he remembered liking him. He’d been…strong. A strong hero. 

 

“Please save me, All Might,” Izuku had begged, sitting in the dark after having worn himself out pounding on a cold metal door. “Help me! Please, I don’t want to be alone!” 

 

“Izuku.” 

 

Izuku’s eyes snapped open and he gasped. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Dark eyes met his, only a foot or less away from his face. Aizawa. The man’s name floated through his head. Aizawa. One of the heroes who had saved him. Saved him from the darkness. From Overhaul and all the other villains. 

 

The man held his shoulders carefully, clearly prepared to let him go as soon as he made any indication he was uncomfortable. But Izuku didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to force the man away because what happened when he left and no one ever came back? Or worse, the wrong people came back. 

 

It surprised them both when Izuku leaned into Aizawa’s touch, the hero allowing Izuku to press his cheek into his chest. “I’m sorry,” Izuku murmured. 

 

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. It’s okay.” The man’s voice rumbled through his chest. It was like a blanket was spread over Izuku’s back. Aizawa’s arms. The man held him close, not tight enough to restrain. “This is a process. Take your time.” 

 

Izuku didn’t cry much, only allowing a few more tears. He just felt…tired. Empty. 

 

He was hardly aware as Aizawa pulled back and asked if he wanted to get some air. Izuku thought he might have nodded, but he wasn’t sure. Then they were walking, body practically floating across the floor. 

 

A process. It was a process. 

 

XXX

 

Shota noticed the moment Izuku flinched, stiffening. His eyes glazed over, and Shota knew he wasn’t there any longer. 

 

They’d been waiting for him to have an episode, to fall back into his memories and fight his new reality. They’d been watching him and waiting for the moment when they’d be needed to calm him down. Shota had been expecting a violent, explosive display. Like before in the hospital. Maybe he’d run and try to get away. Maybe he would try and fight them. The kid was technically off his suppressants now that he was out of the hospital, but Recovery Girl had told him not to use his quirk just yet. It hadn’t occurred to Shota that he would just…go still. 

 

It had taken nearly fifteen minutes to get the kid to relax and come back to reality. He’d been crying steadily, near silent. The kid had shaken, locked muscles trembling. Shota didn’t know what had set him off, but he didn’t think Izuku wanted to tell him. 

 

When Izuku finally nodded after Shota asked if he wanted to get some fresh air, he breathed a sigh of relief. The kid stood with only a slight support from Shota and went with him automatically. Shota tried not to think about how that reaction was ingrained in him. To obey. To move even when he didn’t want to, or maybe was hardly able to. It was unlikely the villains he’d been with had ever helped him through his panic. 

 

Nemuri and Hizashi sat in the common area, but they got to their feet as soon as Shota exited the kid’s room. He’d sent them away as soon as Izuku went silent, though he was grateful they’d stayed close by. “We’re going to go get some air. Hizashi, why don’t you come with us?” He tried to keep his tone soft and cheerful, but it came out flat. 

 

Hizashi nodded and came around Izuku’s other side. The kid stared at the floor, though he did nod at Hizashi when he got close. “Let’s take a tour, yeah? UA is too pretty not to see it on such a nice day.” 

 

The man’s cheerfulness made it through, if only a little. Izuku lifted his head and nodded again. Hizashi led Izuku out the front door, Shota only a step behind. 

 

“Was it bad?” Nemuri asked, hanging behind. 

 

Shota nodded once over a shoulder. “He’s going to need a lot of support. But he’ll get there.” He hoped. 

 

They walked slowly down the walking path. Hizashi didn’t disappoint. He continuously pointed to the building they passed and explained what each of them was, even if it was just a students’ dorm. “This is where Aizawa’s class lives,” the man was saying, pointing dramatically. “He loves them dearly. They’re like his kids. There’s one kid who kind of looks like him, but both of them deny the relationship. I haven’t run a blood test, but I think I should.” 

 

Shota rolled his eyes. The two of them had had that argument plenty of times. As soon as Shota had fought for Shinso’s spot in his class, Hizashi hadn’t let it go. They weren’t related. As far as Shota knew, the kid had a loving family. He’d met the kid’s father once, though he hadn’t been able to convince Hizashi of this. 

 

Izuku didn’t reply, but he did seem to be coming back to himself. He was actually looking around, eyes tracking what Hizashi pointed out to him. 

 

They made a few rounds, showing him the different training grounds and areas a lot of students like to use to hang out after classes, especially since they were living on campus. Once they passed the teachers’ dorm again, Shota said, “Why don’t we take you by the infirmary? Recovery Girl is probably there. She can give you a tour of the place.” 

 

Immediately, Izuku stiffened. His eyes flew wide and he stopped walking. 

 

“Izuku?” Shota asked quietly, coming around and crouching slightly. 

 

“No. No, no, no. Please no.” Izuku’s hands went up to his hair, tugging slightly. 

 

“Izuku. It’s okay. You’re here with us. Aizawa and Yamada.” Shota reached out to touch him, but as soon as his finger brushed Izuku’s arm, the kid let out a terrible keening sound and stumbled away. 

 

“I’m not back with them,” Izuku whispered harshly. “You’re not with them. You were rescued.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself—and was failing. 

 

He continued to retreat until his back hit the nearest tree. Izuku’s eyes remained wide, unseeing and terrified. But he was more alert than before. If only slightly. He curled in on himself and continued to tug on his hair. Shota slowly pulled his hands free, not complaining as Izuku clung to his costume instead. 

 

“Izuku, take a breath for me. Breathe with me.” Shota exaggerated his breaths for Izuku, and after a few long breaths, he followed along. “Good. You’re doing good. A few more.” 

 

It took them only a few minutes for him to slow his breathing and gain some amount of control over his racing heart. The two men knelt beside him, uncomplaining even as their joints protested. Damn, they were getting so old. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Izuku finally whispered, though Shota wasn’t sure who he was talking to. 

 

“There’s nothing to be sorry—” 

 

“I’m not there anymore. I know that. I just…I forgot. For a moment.” 

 

Hizashi reached out and touched Izuku’s knee. He waited for the kid to flinch back or tell him no, but it never came. “You’re not there. We’ll remind you of that fact as many times as you need. There have been a lot of changes today. We understand.” 

 

Well, no they didn’t. But Shota needed to understand. “What triggered it? Maybe we can avoid it in the future,” he asked. 

 

Izuku’s eyes dipped down to his hands. The two heroes moved back as he got to his feet, not bothering to dust himself off. Leaves and dirt stuck to his pants, bits of bark to his shirt. He didn’t seem to care. “The infirmary. I…” He hesitated. “I spent most of my time in the infirmary. With Overhaul, specifically, but a lot with the other villain groups that had infirmaries. The League had the Doctor, and I was there a lot with him, but…” 

 

Shota wanted nothing more than to kill everyone who had ever hurt that kid. He tried not to let that lethal rage show through. 

 

Then Izuku started…walking back toward the infirmary. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I should go see it. I’m going to be spending a lot of my time there, right?” 

 

Like hell he was, not after that. But he walked with determination. He seemed almost like an entirely different person. Clenched fists. Shoulders thrown back and tense. Entire body tight. He was…angry. Frustrated. Likely with himself. Shota knew stopping him and treating him with kid gloves would do more damage than it would good. 

 

So to the infirmary they went. Over Izuku’s head, the two men exchanged a look. Neither knew exactly what to do to fix what was wrong, or if that was even a possibility. Until they figured it out, Izuku was in charge of telling them what he needed. 

 

XXX

 

The two heroes were concerned. They had every right to be. Izuku was concerned, too. 

 

He’d lost it. Twice . How the hell was he supposed to be a part of society, a part of UA, when every damn thing set him off? And for the stupidest things! He was better than that, at least he thought he was. When he’d been with the villains, he’d maintained a level head most of the time. Yeah, he had his phases, but he usually relied on indifference or numbness. 

 

There was the occasional…moment, but those were not common. 

 

He tried to project a calm exterior to the two men walking by his side, but he hadn’t yet managed it by the time they reached the infirmary. Aizawa stopped him with a hand on his shoulder before they entered and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay going in there?” 

 

“Yeah.” Izuku didn’t believe himself, so there was no way Aizawa would. But it was clear he wouldn’t force Izuku away just yet. 

 

He entered the infirmary, every muscle stiff and waiting for the inevitable reminders of…well, before. He could practically feel the heroes’ eyes on him. 

 

He braced himself, eyes squeezed shut for a fraction of a second, and then…

 

There was the antiseptic smell he knew all too well, but it wasn’t alone. He looked around, staring and staring as he realized…

 

It wasn’t the same. 

 

The place was extremely clean, but it was open and brightly lit. Windows lined the back wall and let in the natural light. There were empty beds near the windows, white cabinets and white counters lining the place. It was clearly well-stocked. 

 

But there was the smell of…vanilla? He didn’t know what it was, but it was warm. It made the space feel open and inviting and not like a dungeon. 

 

Footsteps accompanied by the clacking of a cane. In a moment, Recovery Girl rounded the corner and lit up as she spotted the three of them. More accurately, Izuku. “Ah, I hadn’t realized I’d have visitors today. Here,” she said, digging in the pocket of her white coat and pulling out a small red lollipop. She handed it to him and he took it hesitantly. 

 

“We’re out showing him the place. Figured we’d show him his newest classroom,” Yamada explained tightly. The woman watched him with a careful expression, and it felt as if a silent conversation was happening. 

 

Izuku pocketed the lollipop and continued his assessment of the large infirmary. He wanted to go and lay on the bed farthest from where he stood, directly in that patch of sunlight. He didn’t have to look down at his pale as shit skin to know he needed more sunlight. 

 

“Izuku?” 

 

He snapped back to attention as Recovery Girl said his name. He blushed, clenching his jaw. “Sorry, what?” 

 

She gave him a knowing smile. “Why don’t I show you around the place?” 

 

The old woman moved away from their huddled group without waiting to see if they followed. Izuku was a step or two behind her. “We have the capability to perform most procedures here. From broken wrists to surgery, UA has the facilities for it. However, I usually try to send the more severe cases out to the nearest hospital. I’ve been trained and do what I can with my quirk, but even I have my limitations.” 

 

Hm. Interesting. He’d never seen surgery performed without the use of his quirk. He supposed he’d taken part in his own version of surgery—he’d been forced to cut into a man’s gut and remove a bullet before healing him—but he knew what Recovery Girl meant wasn’t the same. Broken bones were tricky sometimes, but as long as they were in the right position he usually didn’t have any issue fixing them up. 

 

Once, he’d attempted to regrow an amputated hand, but he hadn’t been able to manage it. He could only regrow so much. 

 

He tuned back in as Recovery Girl showed him what they had in stock, discussed what medications she had on hand, and the general process of what happened when a patient walked through those doors. It was interesting, actually. He didn’t see himself as a medical professional, not by any means, but he had been so desensitized to it over the years that learning the proper way to do things was…exciting. He didn’t have to be the one to withstand the glares of the villains around him as he attempted to save their friend screaming on a metal table, blood flying with every jerk of their body. 

 

“And this is your desk.” 

 

Izuku blinked stupidly. He stared at a small alcove where a polished wooden desk sat. There was an office chair tucked into the space, too. On it was a stack of books, but he couldn’t read the titles from where he stood. Adjacent, only a few paces away, sat Recovery Girl’s desk. Hers was covered with files and other paperwork. 

 

“This is…mine?” he dared ask. 

 

He felt her place a hand on his arm, as high as she could reach. “It is. I spoke to Nezu and, if it’s okay with you, I’ll be the one to teach you. You’ll have a self-guided curriculum Nezu is making up for you, but I can teach you to use your quirk. I can teach you medicine.” 

 

He turned with foggy eyes, gazing down at…his new teacher. A teacher, for him. “Do you want that, Izuku?” she asked, seeming hopeful. 

 

He nodded before he could even think. “Yeah.” 

 

She took his hand and came to stand in front of him. “It’s going to be a long road, but I see so much potential in you. If you come to the conclusion that you want to use your quirk or the knowledge I’m going to give you, there are so many paths for you to choose.” 

 

“Like you. Using my quirk as a hero.” 

 

“Yes, but there are other ways healers can be involved. With the way you use your quirk, you have so many options. But there’s no need to dwell on it just yet,” she added with a wink. “For now, enjoy being a student.” 

 

Enjoy being a student. Huh. 

 

XXX

 

The three of them didn’t stay long, though Izuku knew he lost some time staring at the desk— his desk. Recovery Girl had…given him a desk. It was his . 

 

He wasn’t smiling, but he felt near giddy as he was guided out of the infirmary and down the long hallway. He wondered briefly why UA was so damn large. Even the doorways seemed massive. 

 

Or maybe he just felt small. 

 

Izuku glanced up as Aizawa came to a stop and opened a door. Teachers’ lounge. He nearly pointed out that he wasn’t a teacher and probably shouldn’t be going in there, but he stopped himself. Neither Aizawa or Yamada seemed to have an issue with it. 

 

“Nem already have lunch?” Yamada asked from behind Izuku. 

 

“Yeah, she texted me while we were in the infirmary. I made a guess of what you wanted.” 

 

Yamada pouted, though Izuku didn’t have to look behind him to see it. “I’m blaming you if I don’t like it.” 

 

It was friendly banter they shared. He’d heard it from villains, but it was different with them. They were clearly good friends and they trusted each other, even if Yamada’s words didn’t reflect that. When the villains had bickered back and forth, the smiles they’d shared had been with a hidden knife waiting to strike. While they’d been friends in the moment, everyone knew a time may come when they would turn on each other. 

 

“About time you boys made it.” Kayama’s voice floated around the room Izuku found himself in, narrowing in on the woman where she sat on the edge of a table. She smirked at them, but Izuku wasn’t paying her face much attention. 

 

What the hell was she wearing? 

 

It was something akin to a body suit. Or maybe it was a body suit. It didn’t leave a single part of her to the imagination. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment and he turned away. Yes, he had seen every part of a person. He wasn’t unfamiliar with nudity or indecent exposure. But…it felt different. Yes, Kayama—Midnight, he supposed, since she was in her costume—was an attractive woman. While he knew that fact to be true, he couldn’t keep his eyes on her for long. 

 

He forced himself to look her in the eye, stoically ignoring everything below her chin. Behind her on the table was an entire spread of food. He was looking over each of the dishes when movement on the other side of the room caught his attention. He looked over in time to see—

 

“Izuku!” And then Eri— ERI —was sprinting for him. 

 

He met her halfway, dropping to a knee right as she threw herself at him, leaping into the air without a single care for her safety. Without a single worry he wouldn’t catch her. And he did catch her. As soon as her small body slammed into his, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. “Eri,” he whispered. Breathed, really. Because she was there. She was there and in his arms and safe . 

 

“You’re here. You’re safe.” He squeezed her once more and held her at arm's length. She was grinning about as wide as she could and stared at him as he hung the moon and the stars just for her. “You’re safe, right? You’re okay?” He’d been told she was fine, that she was being cared for by Aizawa, but he needed to make sure. 

 

He hadn’t gotten her out only for her to end up in the hands of people who meant her more harm. Even if it meant he had to use his quirk to the point of killing himself, he would protect her. 

 

She nodded eagerly. “I’m okay. They’re so nice, ‘Zuku. Es-special-ly Aizawa. He taught me that word.” 

 

Izuku smiled and ran his hand over her hair once. She looked better than before. She had color in her cheeks and a light in her eyes that had been taken away by Overhaul. Distantly, too far away for him to fully acknowledge the thought, he realized he hadn’t looked in the mirror in…who knew how long. He hadn’t seen the look in his own eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

 

“Aizawa told me you were out. Rescued. But he wouldn’t let me see you!” She huffed a sigh, pointing it toward Aizawa. Izuku laughed with her. 

 

She continued to talk, to tell him about everything that had happened since he’d last seen her. Her. He learned about her new room and how she’d been allowed to decorate it with whatever she wanted. He learned she liked unicorns because she was a unicorn—and apparently Aizawa, Yamada, and Kayama bought her a unicorn anytime they went out because she did really well in public spaces. He learned she didn’t like getting up early and was going to be a night person like Aizawa.

 

But he gathered more from what she didn’t say or what her body language screamed. 

 

Eri had been worried about him. She still flinched when someone moved too quickly. She watched everyone’s hands rather than their faces. But most importantly, she trusted everyone in the room. She allowed her back to be turned to them and she made an effort to look at them. She leaned into his touch easily, easier than the others. He knew why. He knew she trusted his hands not to hurt her. He would never hurt her. All she’d ever known from him was comfort and healing. 

 

He planned on keeping it that way. 

 

He allowed Eri to drag him up and over to the table. She didn’t stop talking even as she filled her plate with food from each of the containers. When Izuku didn’t move, she filled his, too. With each dish she came to, she glanced over at him questioningly and he always gave her a nearly imperceivable nod every time. 

 

It surprised Izuku when she pulled him down into one of the chairs at the table and then…climbed into his lap. She didn’t bother asking him permission or even looking up to make sure he was okay with it. He sat stiffly, unsure what to do. 

 

“Eri, Izuku might need his own seat,” Aizawa chided, though it was clear he was suppressing a smile. 

 

Izuku shook his head and moved. He held Eri with one arm while the other worked at his meal. “It’s okay. She can stay.” He wanted her to stay. Maybe he needed her to stay. 

 

She was doing so well. She was recovering. Maybe…maybe he could recover too. 

 

XXX

 

His heart was going to explode. They were so cute. They were so tragic. Shota didn’t know what was hurting him more. Two traumatized children—because, yes, Izuku was still a child in his head—were healing together. He didn’t dare breathe too loud for fear of ruining the moment. Izuku still looked relaxed, something that had been missing the entire time Shota had known the kid. 

 

He’d been there for Eri in the days after escaping. He knew what was coming, what had been done and what leaving that dark presence meant. He knew Izuku would likely have nightmares and continuously fall back into old habits and responses. But in that moment, for a short time, Izuku and Eri looked like normal kids. 

 

Eri was doing most of the heavy lifting. She chatted Izuku’s ear off as the kid picked through his lunch. He occasionally sent her a smile to show he was listening. 

 

They were both so strong. So why was he afraid to look away from them for too long? 

 

“How are things going?” Nemuri asked, pulling him aside, Hizashi seamlessly sliding in beside Izuku while they spoke. 

 

“Well enough. He had a few moments, but otherwise he’s…adjusting.” 

 

She hid a wince. She’d been there for many of Eri’s meltdowns. After a particularly bad nightmare. After she was triggered by something completely random to them. Nemuri had seen the little girl at her worst. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

 

Shota’s brows pinched. “You know he’s not mine, right? He’s all of ours. Collectively. He’s UA’s, actually.” 

 

Nemuri snorted. “Uh huh. You know he’s attached to Eri. He’s going to be around you all the time. Are you really telling me you’re going to be able to resist the instinct to pull him under your wing and protect him?” 

 

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t go around adopting everyone I see. I don’t care about people that much.” 

 

She actually threw her head back and laughed, wiping a tear from her eye dramatically. “Oh, tha’s hilarious. As if you don’t have an entire class you’ve claimed as your own. Adorable. Truly adorable.” 

 

“That’s not true!” 

 

But she wasn’t listening to him. She flicked her hair over a shoulder and strutted to the door. “See ya later, Shota. Call me if you need anything.” Then she winked . He glowered at her retreating form. Damn her. 

 

Becuase of the newest arrival to UA, Cementoss was covering his class that day, which left him with the entire day to get Izuku settled. Hizashi had classes to teach in the afternoon, but he seemed excited to hang out with them until that time came. 

 

Lunch went by quickly. Shota only allowed Izuku and Eri to step away from the table after they’d eaten what he concluded was an acceptable amount. They were growing kids—both in sore need of extra nutrients. And no, that didn’t make him a parent . He was simply concerned. 

 

“Izuku! Come see my room. Then I want to see yours!” Eri squealed, already pulling Izuku from the room. She turned to Shota on her way out. “Are you coming?” 

 

He huffed. She was still so young. What kind of monster was she going to be when she was a teenager? He shivered to think about it. 

 

He followed behind the two of them as they walked side by side to the teachers’ dorm, hands in his pockets. It was understandable that neither one could go long without reaching out and touching the other. Eri liked physical touch—she’d flinched away from him at first, but after a day or two she’d realized he wasn’t going to hurt her. Izuku, on the other hand, clearly didn’t enjoy physical touch. He’d been flinching back from them from the very beginning, prompting them to move slower and project their movements. But with Eri, he didn’t seem to have that problem. When her little hand came up, he didn’t hesitate to grab it. When her shoulder bumped against his arm, he tugged her closer. 

 

As soon as he unlocked his apartment for them, Eri burst inside and went nuts showing Izuku her room. Shota gave them their space, dropping down on the sofa in the living room and reaching for his laptop. 

 

He had already gone through the file Tsukauchi had sent him. He’d seen the photos from the Midoriya’s apartment. He’d seen Inko Midoriya’s body, blood…everywhere. It was a gruesome scene. He hadn’t asked if Izuku had witnessed it. He didn’t think he ever would. 

 

Tsukauchi had confirmed that Izuku was indeed Izuku Midoriya. The same Izuku Midoriya that had gone missing after his mother’s murder. It was official—Izuku Midoriya had finally been found after 10 years. While he’d never been declared deceased, everyone had assumed. It was nice to be able to disprove those assumptions. 

 

Though, Shota hadn’t reintroduced Bakugo into Izuku’s life. He…wasn’t exactly sure how to do that. It didn’t feel like his place to facilitate the meeting, but at the same time he knew it was. Izuku had seemed so alone in the hospital, curling up tighter when he’d asked if he had anyone in his life he wanted contacted. But he’d said there wasn’t, which either meant he didn’t remember Bakugo or didn’t want him in his life. 

 

Tomorrow, Shota would be back with his students. It was a miracle Bakugo hadn’t marched to the teachers’ dorm to hound him yet, but Shota supposed his unpredictable schedule threw the kid off. Though, it was inevitable. He could already hear Bakugo arguing with him, demanding to know when he could see Izuku. As it was, Bakugo had been sending Shota texts throughout the day, ever since they’d found Izuku. Sometimes he regretted giving his students his number. For emergencies , Shota had stressed. It was an abuse of power, really. 

 

Tomorrow, he would figure out how to approach that subject. And keep Bakugo away from Izuku until the kid was ready. If that time ever came. 

 

He was exhausted just thinking about how much work it was going to be. 

 

XXX

 

Sleep never came. Despite his mind feeling like mush in his skull, heavy thoughts exhausting what little energy he’d managed to save up, Izuku was unable to close his eyes and drift away. Maybe it was because of all the sleep he’d managed to steal in the hospital. Maybe it was something deeper he didn’t really feel like lingering on. 

 

So he stared up at the ceiling, lying in a comfortable bed and dressed in a pair of clean pajamas— pajamas ! It had been so long since he’d worn pajamas. The room was nice, extraordinarily. It had clearly been decorated with love, heroes staring down at him from all angles of the room. Posters and figurines all with smiling men and woman who had devoted their lives to helping. He knew he should feel protected and safe enough to stop thinking and sleep . 

 

Yet…

 

There was a fan overhead, shifting the air slowly. The blades made soft whumps with each turn. But it was still too quiet. 

 

He’d sat in Eri’s room that evening for hours. Time had gone by so quickly. She’d dragged him around her room, showing him every inch of space she’d filled with her blooming personality. He hadn’t been able to help himself—he’d smiled with her for…hours. She was easy to be with. She didn’t ask questions about everything that had happened. She didn’t seem to care about the past, only the future. She was the same as him, in a way. She’d seen the same monsters and carried the same shadows he did. Though, she seemed to be skaing them off better than he was. 

 

Yamada eventually stopped by with takeout. The four of them had eaten in relative silence, though it had been comfortable. Not at all like the room he now found himself in. Mumured conversation had been passed across the table and…there hadn’t been expectations. As soon as Yamada’d arrived, he’d braced himself for question and answer time. But…they’d eaten. Period. 

 

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Yamada had hounded Izuku about many things, but none painful. Somehow, the man had skirted all sensitive, painful topics. 

 

Then Yamada had taken Izuku back to his own space. Izuku one step inside the apartment he had all to himself and Yamada one step outside, the man had asked him if he’d be okay for the night. 

 

Izuku had said yes, not too quickly that the man wouldn’t believe him. Because he’d lied. Would Izuku be okay for the night? Absolutely not. He’d known that as soon as he’d left Eri’s side. He wouldn’t be okay in his own room. He wouldn’t be okay with his newfound freedom. But he’d lied because…because….

 

Becuase he’d already freaking out on them about the damn infirmary. He’d already broken down about the room and the space and the shit they filled it with! The shit he actually really liked and made him feel….

 

It made him feel seen, cared about. And he didn’t know how to feel about it. He didn’t know how to handle it. 

 

He was supposed to be stronger than that. He wasn’t a weak flower—hell, if he was he would have died a long time ago—but there he was, allowing things of the past to tear him away from the present. It burned as he attempted to stomach the idea that he’d allowed Overhaul and Shigaraki and every other villain who’d dared run their grubby hands over him to ruin him that much. Because that was what he was beginning to see as he found himself surrounded by strong heroes, men and women who wanted to help people rather than hurt. They were just so good, and he…wasn’t. Their cleanliness made him all too aware of how dirty he was. 

 

Recovery Girl’s eager face hit him like a truck. She believed in him. For whatever reason, she was excited when she saw him, practically giddy. The desk proved that much. It wasn’t something she was forced to do. She wasn’t like Guage or the Doctor. She wasn’t tolerating him because she had to or using him for her own personal gain. He wanted to embrace the idea that she saw something in him he hadn’t yet seen in himself, believed he was better than he actually was. 

 

Izuku rolled over, facing the wall. The sheets were soft under his hands, pillow unbelievably plush under his cheek. He should have been able to fall asleep easily, but it didn’t come. Not for a long, long time. 

 

When he finally wore himself out with his thoughts, it was as if he was falling from a great height and was waiting to hit the bottom. 

 

He was so, so tired. 

 

XXX

 

They were trying to ease him into things. That was what Recovery Girl had told him that morning. “One thing at a time. We don’t want to overwhelm you,” she’d said with a pat on his shoulder. He’d managed not to flinch away from the unexpected touch. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. 

 

We don’t want to overwhelm you . Too late for that. As soon as he’d opened his eyes that morning, the few hours of sleep he’d managed to steal for himself not nearly enough for the cheerful hero that knocked on his door and offered him breakfast. But he’d been able to see Eri. He’d had a short and quiet conversation with Aizawa, only after Yamada left to get some grading done. It had been a nice morning. Maybe that was the problem. 

 

Yeah, Izuku could feel a phase coming. He just wasn’t sure which one it would be. Sometimes he didn’t know until it hit him full force. 

 

We don’t want to overwhelm you . They didn’t realize he was about as easy to overwhelm as a newborn baby. 

 

That morning he was in the infirmary. She’d allowed him to get settled at his desk while she’d finished up a physical exam on an older student. Izuku hadn’t made eye contact as he’d brushed by, hoping to get to the alcove in peace without a conversation. 

 

From what he understood, he would start his classwork next week. Nezu was putting together a few placement tests for him that would gauge his current level of education and tell them all what he needed to work on. Izuku knew he’d fail those tests spectacularly, but he’d take them nonetheless. 

 

Which meant the rest of the week he would spend in the infirmary and in the teachers’ lounge with Eri and the other hereos not actively teaching. That day, he was in the infirmary until lunch, a plan he was thankful for. He wanted to be there—Recovery Girl was nice and he genuinely wanted to learn from her—but he felt one wrong move away from exploding. He didn’t want her caught in the blast. 

 

He’d been there for a few hours already. For the most part, it had been fairly slow. Only a few students had come in requiring Recovery Girl’s healing. She’d taken her time explaining her quirk to him, the good and the bad. She’d explained every single thing she’d done as well as alternatives. 

 

She didn’t move too fast and never spoke to him like he was an idiot. For one of the first times in his life, he felt as if he was an equal somewhere. Obviously, he was a student and she his teacher, but there was a slightly different relationship dynamic that he knew existed. Maybe like a child and their parent? 

 

He wished he remembered more about what that had felt like. Or been given the opportunity to know what that kind of relationship looked like as someone older than seven. 

 

The door to the infirmary opened and he heard the unmistakable patter of footsteps. They were quiet, but clearly not concealed. He and Recovery Girl sat in their little alcove, and he was the first one up and moving, spotting the student entering the infirmary. It was a female student. She peered around the empty space shyly, clearly unsure of herself. “Hello?” she called timidly. 

 

Izuku didn’t approach, but he did step out from the wall enough for her to see him. She wore what he’d been told were their gym uniforms. He hadn’t been given a set yet, but Aizawa had told him he could request a pair if he wanted them. Izuku himself wore the school uniform, though he’d ditched the jacket. He had found a few short sleeved and long sleeved uniform shirts in his closet that morning, choosing the latter without much hesitation. He wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable with the scars he’d collected—Overhaul had erased many of them, though he’d also replaced some—but he knew others could be. He’d ended up rolling the sleeves up to his elbows as a compromise. It was strangely comforting to be wearing a uniform rather than a set of patchwork, threadbare clothes. And he had shoes . 

 

“High, uh, I need help?” the girl asked, seeming unsure of the reason for her visit. 

 

Thankfully, Recovery Girl rounded the corner and came to her side. “Sit on the bed there, alright? What’s hurt?” 

 

Izuku took a few steps forward, remaining a few paces behind Recovery Girl. He wasn’t sure why Recovery Girl asked what was hurting when her arm was clearly broken. There was a notable deformity to her forearm, and he easily spotted swelling and bruising. 

 

“We were just playing a game of capture the flag. I’m so clumsy, I don’t know why I thought I would be able to climb up in the tree to hide our flag. Is it broken?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Their heads turned his way. Heat creeped up in his cheeks at the attention, but he shoved the discomfort down. He took a deep breath and then came forward. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

 

Recovery Girl smiled fondly at him and took a step back. “It’s not a problem. Actually, while we have an opportunity, why don’t you show me what you can do?” 

 

The girl’s eyes were flicking back and forth between Recovery Girl and Izuku. “What you can do? What can he do? What’s he going to do?!” 

 

“It’s alright. Take some deep breaths for me. Izuku here is my student. He has a healing ability. It’s incredible.” Recovery Girl reached out and touched Izuku’s arm. She peered up into his face and nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see it. It would give me a chance to assess your ability for myself.” 

 

It wasn’t the thought of using his quirk that was giving him pause. No, it was the tenderness she showed. The hesitation the student had at the thought of him using his quirk. None of it was bad, just different. The villains hadn’t ever hesitated to demand he heal someone. He’d fixed broken bones plenty of times in the past, many much worse off than the one the student was sporting. 

 

So he nodded and took the final step forward. The girl didn’t move as he took her injured arm, expertly supporting the limb. “My quirk is similar to Recovery Girl’s,” he told her, not meeting her eye. He was staring at the arm, golden haze slowly creeping into his vision. He could feel everything about the break. It was simple, displaced just enough to require replacement. “It shouldn’t drain you as much, but you may experience some fatigue. First, I need to move the bone back into place.” 

 

The girl bit her lip, tears filling her eyes. “Is it going to hurt?” 

 

“A little. But I’ll be quick.” 

 

After a moment of silence, Izuku looked up. He stared up into her wide eyes, dark irises reflecting his own face like the surface of a still pond. He could see the glowing of his quirk, though the small threads that accompanied his healing hadn’t appeared yet. He liked to think of it as passive quirk use at the moment. The threads only appeared during active quirk use. “It’ll be fast, I promise. A little bit of pain and then relief,” he told her. 

 

Recovery Girl thankfully stepped in and touched the girl’s other arm. She was certainly comforting where Izuku was not. “It’ll be alright. He knows what he’s doing. And I’m right here with you. No need to worry.” 

 

Huh. There she was again. Believing in him. 

 

As soon as the girl nodded, Izuku pulled. He knew from experience that giving them a countdown or warning them what was coming only made the pain worse. Better to get it over with before they even knew what was happening. 

 

Not that he had employed that tactic much in the past. There had only been a few people he’d cared enough about to offer that small mercy. 

 

The girl let out a loud yelp, tears streaming down her face. Recovery Girl was at her side, soothing her with an expert touch. But it was already done. The bone was in place and all that was left to do was mend it. The easy part. 

 

Golden threads passed from him to her, floating up and around her arm like an octopus. He didn’t know what those threads were, exactly, because his quirk worked even when they didn’t touch the person he was working on. They just…were. 

 

It didn’t take long. Bones, once realigned, were easy to deal with. The first fifteen minutes were spent on the bone and the last four minutes were spent healing the tissue that had been damaged as a result of the sharp ends of the break cutting through the internal structures of the arm. By the time he backed up, releasing his quirk where it curled up in its place in the center of his chest, the girl’s arm was as good as new. 

 

She lifted it with wide, amazed eyes, mouth agape as she realized what he’d done. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed. 

 

Recovery Girl tapped her cane on the ground in warning. “Language.” 

 

“I’m sorry. But…holy shit!” She grabbed Izuku’s arm with her newly healed hand, marveling at the pain free movement. “You’re amazing!” 

 

He gently pulled away, shivering at the eager touch. “I’m…glad you’re okay.” 

 

He stood there dumbly as Recovery Girl ran her through a few tests to ensure her arm was truly healed, and by the time the student practically skipped out of the infirmary he had no idea how much time had passed. The entire experience was…strange. 

 

“Was that a normal interaction?” he asked hollowly. 

 

Recovery Girl gave him a questioning look before it faded away into a knowing expression. “Yes, it was. Perhaps she was a bit overexcited in the end, but that’s to be expected. Your quirk is a wonder to watch.” 

 

He nodded, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. A normal interaction. To be thanked. To have someone compliment him and his quirk. When she’d grabbed his arm, it hadn’t been because she’d wanted more from him. 

 

“Let’s go sit at the desks. I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind. And I need to chart her injury and treatment.” Recovery Girl winked at him. “Soon I’ll have you doing it.” 

 

Her statement went over his head. 

 

Recovery Girl sat at her desk typing away for several long minutes. She finally turned in her chair with a smile, hands on her knees. “Can I ask you about your quirk?” 

 

“Sure.” 

 

“First, you should know you did wonderfully. Not just your quirk, but your treatment. You were quick and efficient. I know putting the bone back in place can be tricky sometimes.” She tilted her head almost imperceptibly. “I assume you need to have thinks properly alligned before you use your quirk?” 

 

He nodded. “I do. I’ve only tried healing someone with a broken leg without realigning it once. It forced the bone back together incorrectly and we had to break it again.” 

 

To her credit, the old woman didn’t wince. “How are you feeling? Any side effects?” 

 

He wasn’t. That one healing wouldn’t be enough to trigger that euphoric feeling. He told her as much. “It normally takes a little while longer before I start feeling anything. Usually I can heal several people before that happens. Or one person if it’s a bad enough injury that it takes a while.” 

 

“Tell me about what you feel with your quirk. How sensitive is it?” 

 

That was an easy question. The answer? Extremely sensitive. “My quirk has different levels, really. I’m sure you saw, but I can acivate my quirk without starting to heal someone. It allows me to reach out and feel inside. It’s why I could tell it was completely broken and displaced. Though, we could both see it was.” She chuckled at that. “I could feel the broken edges and where they’d cut through some of the tissue around it.” 

 

Her eyes were a fraction wide than before, but not in fear or shock. She was happy. Overwhelmed, maybe. “That’s astounding,” she breathed. “With my quirk, I can only tell what’s injured after I’ve started healing them. It’s why I rely so much on my medical training. But you? You are able to scan someone with your quirk and identify exactly where they’re hurt and to what severity.” Her fingers tapped at her legs. “I know of a few people with quirks that allow them to scan someone and identify injuries or assess basic vital signs, but nothing as detailed as what you’re telling me.” 

 

He swallowed and looked down at his hands. “It took a while to train it,” he said with a small smile of his own, chuckling to himself. “Obviously I didn’t have a quirk counselor or anything. I learned by doing. Trial and error.” During those early days, by himself for days at a time, he’d stretched his quirk as far as he could. It had been a game, the only thing he could do to occupy his time. He’d been able to sense a lot by doing that, learning about the intricacies of the human body and the damage people took. 

 

He’d learned people could take a lot of damage and still live. 

 

“You’ve done well, Izuku,” Recovery Girl said softly. 

Notes:

Next chapter: Obviously something has to disrupt the tentative peace we've created

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Summary:

CHAOS. Izuku meets 2-A. (Formerly known at 1-A)

Notes:

I LOVED writing this chapter. It came out better than I thought, at least without me editing it LOL. I hope it lives up to the hype and the wait!

Izuku wasn’t an optimist by any means. He wouldn’t say he was a pessimist, either, but…Alright, maybe he was a pessimist. He preferred realist, but he knew he tended to expect the worst in life. At least that way, he wouldn’t be surprised by what inevitably happened. 

 

So…pessimism. Yeah. However, he was starting to feel his spirits lift while spending time with Recovery Girl in the infirmary. So much so that he hardly felt the hours pass. 

 

He’d only healed two other students since he’d shown Recovery Girl his quirk for the first time. One had been a first-year Support Course student who came in with a burn to his hand, spanning nearly his entire palm. It had been a walk in the park, hardly requiring any concentration on Izuku’s part. The other had been a clumsy girl who apparently fell down the stairs on her way to her next class, smashing her face against the floor. The cut had looked worse than it really was—she’d split the skin from her chin to her bottom lip—only because she bled like a stuck pig. 

 

He’d made it quick, holding the skin together as his quirk wove it back together. Of course, that hadn’t wiped away all traces of the injury. Dried blood flowed down her neck and chest, staining her uniform. She continued to cry even after he’d healed her, but Recovery Girl swooped in and handled…that. He wasn’t good with tears. At least not of that variety. The irrational, scared variety. 

 

There was less than an hour left before lunch when the door opened again and three students entered. Izuku rolled his chair back until he could see them, staring as two of the three young men practically dragged the third over to one of the beds. He narrowed his eyes at the patient. The kid was clearly unwell, pale and sweaty and struggling to hold onto consciousness. 

 

Izuku was up and moving before he had time to think about it. “What the hell happened?” he asked, Recovery Girl behind him. He moved aside as the woman came up to the young man’s side. 

 

The two students who brought him in shrugged unhelpfully. “We were in the middle of class when he just…collapsed.” 

 

Recovery Girl didn’t bother looking over at them as she asked, “You’re General Education students, correct? You haven’t been out in the gym today? No recent trauma that you’re aware of?” 

 

They both shook their head. “No,” Izuku answered for them. 

 

“You boys can be on your way. We’ll take good care of your friend.” Recovery Girl turned with a smile, dismissing them. 

 

Once they were gone, Izuku came up to her side. “What’s wrong with him?” 

 

Recovery Girl brought up a small, handheld device, not answering him. He watched her prick the kid’s finger and set a drop of blood on the end of the device. “This is checking his blood sugar. I have a feeling this is the issue. Right before lunch, likely didn’t eat breakfast, it’s not uncommon.” 

 

Izuku’s brows came together. He…didn’t really understand. 

 

The machine beeped and she glanced down at it with a click of her tongue. “As predicted. His blood sugar is low. Forty-five.” As if answering her disapproval, the kid on the bed groaned and shifted, but he didn’t fully wake up. 

 

“Let me walk you through this, alright? It’s a good teaching moment. Low blood sugar isn’t uncommon here, especially if these kids have any history of diabetes or other metabolic abnormalities. With their quirks, you never know.” As she spoke, Recovery Girl moved around and gathered supplies. Soon, she returned to the kid’s side with her arms full. 

 

“With low blood sugar, there are several ways to treat it. Ultimately, what we’re going to do is raise the blood sugar enough for them to do it themselves. Right now, he’s not responsive enough for me to give him something to eat. Which means we start an IV and give him sugar that way.” 

 

Izuku stood back and watched her start an IV. She ripped open one of the supplies she’d grabbed—it was a bag of…fluids? She hung it on the hook above the bed and connected it to the IV. 

 

“So this is Dextrose. Sugar water. Now, all we do is wait. It shouldn’t take too long.” 

 

“I don’t really understand,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t really know what blood sugar is or why it made him like…this.” 

 

Recovery Girl didn’t look over at him with a smirk or a horrified expression. She didn’t laugh at him because he was stupid and didn’t know anything. Instead, she walked over and grabbed one of the rolling stools against the wall. “Sit. Let me explain. I apologize, I should have asked if you knew what I was talking about.” 

 

He took a seat with an apology. “Don’t worry, Izuku,” she reassured him. “When I asked you to be my student, I knew there were going to be gaps in your education. I don’t have a problem explaining these things to you. Everyone learns in different ways and at different paces.” 

 

He nodded and ducked his head. While it eased the tightening in his chest, it didn’t wipe it away. 

 

“Our bodies run on sugar, to put it simply. Think of it like a battery. When we don’t eat enough or can’t maintain a level of sugar, our body sort of shuts down, like it did for this young man here. The typical signs we might see are pale skin, cool, damp skin, and an altered level of consciousness.” 

 

He nodded. That made sense. He opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question, but Recovery Girl’s phone rang loudly, followed by a horrible, off-pitched tone alert. Her eyes went wide and she stood in a flurry. 

 

“What is it?” he asked, attempting to read her face. All he saw was…terror. 

 

She swallowed and finally met his eye. She looked mildly panicked. She didn’t say anything, only took a stuttering step toward the kid on the bed and then toward the door. It looked like she couldn’t figure out where to go. 

 

“What is it?” he repeated, grabbing her arm. 

 

“It’s a Level 1 alert at Ground Beta. I…” She put a hand to her forehead and took a deep, steadying breath. “A Level 1 alert means there are multiple students badly injured and I need to get out there immediately.” 

 

They both looked at their current patient in unison. 

 

It became abundantly clear that Izuku was better at handling the adrenaline running through their veins. Strangely enough, he was more accustomed to it. “Stay here. You said it wouldn’t be long, right? Finish up with him and I’ll go to Ground Beta.” Where the hell that was. 

 

She looked up at him, skepticism leaking into her expression. “I can do this,” he said urgently, already moving toward the door. “My quirk is made for this, remember? I’ll handle things until you can make it out there.” 

 

It was a fraction of a second, but it felt like an eternity. She nodded, rattling off instructions on how to get out to Ground Beta. She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “You don’t have to do this, Izuku. I’m so sorry to put you in this position. In no way does this mean we only see you as your quirk—” 

 

“You’re not the one asking. I’m offering.” 

 

He was the one to pull away. There was purpose in his movements. Everything else was unknown to him, but this? This was what he knew. Chaos and damage control. He couldn’t count the times he’d been sitting in his…cell…when a villain had burst in and dragged him toward other dying villains. Most of his life, he’d been handling stressful situations, going twelve rounds with death and winning. 

 

To Ground Beta. Where he would go another twelve rounds. 

 

As he ran, he forced the select, toxic thoughts out of his head. He wasn’t just his quirk, but at the moment it was his quirk that was needed. He knew that. He knew his quirk could keep life and protect people. It had only been used for villains before. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to use his quirk for the good guys. 

 

XXX

 

It became immediately clear where he was going as soon as he spotted Ground Beta in the distance. Dust hovered in the air and he could hear scattered shouts, both authoritative and in a panic. 

 

Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. 

 

He was met by none other than Yamada. The man ran beside him, hardly breaking pace as he explained, “We were in the middle of a training exercise when things got out of hand. A building collapsed. There are multiple students injured and a few others are still trapped. We’re working on getting them out, but it’s slow going. We don’t want to cause more of the building to fall on them.” The man’s brow was pinched and his eyes were wider than usual. Like he was trying capture everything and make sense of it. 

 

From personal experience, there was no making sense of it. Only getting through the shit to the other side. 

 

“Wait, where’s Recovery Girl?” 

 

Izuku shook his head. “There was a student she had to watch over. She should be out as soon as she’s done with him. Besides,” he added, “my quirk may be more helpful right now.” Recovery Girl had told him her quirk was extremely limited with those in critical condition. They didn’t have anything left to give. Izuku, on the other hand, wasn’t restricted by their condition. 

 

Yamada led him into the heart of a mock city. It was massive and extremely realistic. If Izuku hadn’t seen the entrance, he would have assumed he was outside UA. The two of them approached the collapsed building. It was a large, ten-story building that had fallen, chunks of concrete and glass covering the street. 

 

“Shota!” Yamada shouted. Ahead, Aizawa was hovering over a few students lying on the asphalt, other students doing what they could or simply standing around and watching with wide eyes. “Recovery Girl is on the way. Izuku is here.” 

 

Aizawa’s shallow nod was the only indication he’d heard him. Izuku rounded his side and took in the damage. 

 

There were three students lying on the ground with serious injuries. The ones standing around had some cuts and scrapes, but nothing that required immediate attention. Or any attention at all, really. 

 

Izuku didn’t ask any questions. He activated his quirk and threw out his hands, quirk sliding around their bodies, assessing their injuries. He could heal many at a time, but it was easier to heal one at a time. He needed to know which one was the worst off. 

 

The kid with the blond hair, a black lightning bolt dyed in it, was hardly conscious, eyes slivers as he watched the sky. Blood coated one side of his face and Aizawa was wrapping a pressure bandage around his head. There was internal bleeding, putting pressure on his brain. Part of his skull was cracked as well. Oh, as was his jaw. He distantly noticed the teen’s hand and wrist were also crushed, shattered into dozens of pieces. Not an immediate threat to life like his head was, but still. 

 

The girl next to him was writhing in pain, eyes pinched shut and sweat beading on her brow. She had pink skin, and it was difficult to tell if the palor of her skin was normal for her or not. She was biting her lip to keep her cries of pain inside. Ah. Her shoulder was broken, as were a few of the bones in her neck. She had some bleeding in her abdomen, but it was slow. 

 

The last kid in their injured row was handling himself well, despite the clearly broken leg. Several bones were sticking out of his leg—his upper leg and his lower leg. Blood coated most of his pant leg. It was obvious he was trying not to look at how wrong the shape was, not at all straight as a leg should rest. One of his classmates was holding his hand as he squeezed tightly in an attempt to handle the pain. His lavender hair was partially matted down with blood, but the few cuts to his scalp were non-life-threatening. His skull was intact. 

 

The blond kid needed his help the most. Izuku turned his attention toward him. “Don’t bother with that,” Izuku told Aizawa, motioning to the bandage on his head. “He’s bleeding on the inside.” 

 

Aizawa paled, though his expression didn’t change. “How bad?” 

 

“Bad enough to start putting pressure on his brain. Brain damage and then inevitable death.” A shrug. “But there’s no need to worry about it.” 

 

Aizawa got to his feet. “What do you need from us?” 

 

It struck Izuku in that moment that everyone in the area was staring at him, waiting for him to direct their terror, to make it all better. He was a healer. He was there to fix it. And equally as strange, Izuku was comfortable with that. Because he wasn’t freaking out. He knew what he could do. He knew the students lying on the ground in various stages of pain and unconsciousness and fear were going to be fine. Because his quirk didn’t fail him. Because he’d been doing it for so long, he knew he could keep going for…hours. 

 

“Those bones in his leg. I need you to reset them. I’ll heal him next. They need to be straight. It’s going to hurt. Sorry.” Izuku made eye contact with the kid and winced in sympathy. Then the purple-haired kid nodded with determination and looked back down at his leg. 

 

Aizawa moved, going over to the kid and preparing him for the terrible effort of relocating his broken bones. 

 

Izuku didn’t flinch as the kid let loose a shriek. Instead, he closed his eyes and focused. He could practically feel the broken pieces of the blond’s skull shifting as they melded together again. He swore he could see the small vessels in the brain closing back up. He left the broken hand for later—that was something Recovery Girl could do or an injury he could return to even if (when) his quirk dug its claws into his head. 

 

When he turned to the kid with the broken leg, he found Aizawa at his head, gently reassuring him as he ran his fingers through the kid’s hair. “It’ll be okay, Shinso. You’re doing well. It’s almost over,” Aizawa said quietly. 

 

Izuku knelt down beside Shinso’s leg. Whoever had attempted to straighten the leg had done an okay job, though he would need to finish the job. Of course, his quirk allowed him to see more than they could. “It’s almost in place. I need to pull on the bones one more time before I heal it,” he told the kid. 

 

In answer, Shinso’s head drooped back and let out a miserable sob. Aizawa continued to reassure him, but there was a new tension in his jaw. After a moment, Aizawa looked back at Izuku and nodded. “Do it.” 

 

He didn’t warn Shinso. Unfortunately, with it being two separate bones, he had to pull on each separately. It didn’t take long, but he knew for Shinso it had to feel as if it was an eternity. As soon as his hands left Shinso’s leg, he lashed out with his quirk, wrapping the injuries in the golden thread. 

 

“It’s going to be okay. There shouldn’t be any lasting damage,” Izuku told them. 

 

Aizawa pulled himself away from Shinso, though it took visible effort. “Cementoss and Thirteen are working on getting the other students out. If you have this under control, I’m going to go help them.” 

 

“How many are trapped?” Izuku asked, more out of curiosity than anything. 

 

“Two.” 

 

Two students. That wasn’t bad. Izuku was beginning to feel good after using his quirk. Two more students would be manageable. Even if they were in critical condition, which was entirely likely considering the condition of the others. 

 

Shinso ended up slumping back down on the ground even after Izuku was done healing him. Izuku offered him a tight smile as he shifted over to heal the girl. “What’s your name?” he asked, only because her eyes turned to him when he crouched beside her. 

 

“Ashido. But everyone calls me Mina,” she huffed, wincing. 

 

“Mina, then.” He hovered his hands over her body, finding her wounds once more. Shoulder. Neck. Bruise and bleeding organs. “Don’t move, alright?” He let out a small laugh before he got ahold of himself. Now was not the time to start smiling, not when scared students were watching him. Though a part of him wanted to start laughing and never stop. Euphoria. 

 

She stayed still, but, out of either a nervous habit or a personality trait, she talked to him. “What’s your name? I’ve never seen you before. Oh, sorry, I don’t know if you need to concentrate for this.” 

 

His smile widened. “My name is Izuku. And, yeah, I need to concentrate on my quirk, but talking to you is fine.” 

 

“Cool quirk. Like a suped up Recovery Girl.” 

 

“I’m training under her. It’s been nice,” he told her. Damn, it was like he couldn’t hold his tongue. He hadn’t meant to let that information slip, though he didn’t think there was an issue with them knowing. “Do you want to know what injuries you have?” 

 

“Not really. Is that bad? I feel like I should want to know, but I…don’t. Sorry, I’m talking a lot. I think it might be in shock.” 

 

Behind him, Shinso sat up and several students crowded around him. He could feel them moving, touching his formerly broken leg in awe as they realized the bones no longer pierced his skin. The blond was still out of it, but he was beginning to move around. He would be fine. 

 

He could hear shouting beyond their huddled group, his eyes picking up Aizawa among them. Ah, something was happening. Something urgent. Izuku pushed his quirk out faster—he needed to see what was happening. If one of the students still trapped was about to die he wanted to know about it. 

 

“You’re amazing,” Mina said in wonder when he finally finished healing her. He got to his feet, stumbling a step before getting his bearings. 

 

“Thank you.” He nodded to the students standing around before marching over to where he knew Aizawa had gone. To the wreckage that still held two victims. 

 

Yamada met him halfway again, and for a moment Izuku wondered if he had hallucinated healing the students. Had he even made it to Ground Beta? Maybe he’d imagined it on his way to the collapse. 

 

But no, he knew that was irrational. His brain was just starting to feel the effects of his quirk. That was all. 

 

“What’s happening?” Izuku asked. 

 

“Nothing good. We know where they are, but we’re having a difficult time getting them out. One of them is unconscious and the other can’t see enough to tell us how injured they are.” Yamada let out a sharp sigh. “You’re doing great, kid. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.” 

 

The compliment put him on edge. He knew there were memories attached to that discomfort, but he wasn’t in the right mindset to remember. He brushed past the man as soon as he spotted Aizawa. The man was crouched on a pile of rubble, calling down into what Izuku assumed was a space holding the students. 

 

He was sending out his quirk before anyone asked. “They’re both together?” 

 

Aizawa nodded without looking up. “Yes. They’re about five feet down, but that’s five feet of concrete waiting to fall on them.” 

 

Izuku took a moment to look the man over. His entire frame was tense, near trembling. He was panicking, though it was difficult to tell. The man was on the edge of a crisis. 

 

“Can you tell how—” 

 

“I’m already doing it,” Izuku interrupted, vision flashing gold. While his eyes were open, he wasn’t truly seeing anything. It was almost as if a set of invisible hands were touching along the rubble, reaching out for the students he knew were down there. 

 

There. He swallowed and concentrated. Two bodies. Two wounded bodies. 

 

His face fell as he realized what he was sensing, what injuries he found. None of them were good. It was a miracle they weren’t dead yet. 

 

“What. What did you find? How are they?” Aizawa asked, voice growing louder with each word.

 

Izuku held up a hand, silencing him. 

 

They were wrapped together. No, that wasn’t it. One was…on top of the other. Protecting the other? It was difficult to tell. He’d never tried to blindly piece together a picture like that. The one on top was larger than the other. A male student, most likely. He had a massive head injury, similar to the blond’s from before. Though it was obvious he’d been hit multiple times because there were three places where his skull had been cracked. Severely. Then Izuku found the penetrating injury. Something was speared through his midsection, pinning him in place. Whatever was running through him hadn’t hit his spine or any large organs, but there was still internal bleeding. 

 

The person underneath him was smaller. A female? Part of her face was nearly ripped off. Her ear all the way down to her chin. He could feel a similar injury to her chest and arm. She also had a few fractures in her back, bones shifting but not yet severing the spinal column. But that wasn’t the most concerning injury. No, that was the penetrating injury mirroring the one running through the young man above her. Whatever had shot through him had also gone through her, cutting into her chest. Into her lung. 

 

They were both alive, but he didn’t know how long they’d last. 

 

“I can start healing their injuries, but they have something is impaling them. Together. I can’t heal that. The girl, I think, she has whatever it is cutting into her lung.” Izuku felt a shiver go up his spine. “You might want to hurry.” 

 

Focus. Focus, focus, focus. Before, he hadn’t cared if the villains he’d healed lived or died. In fact, it was better if they died, though he always suffered the consequences. But those were students down there, teenagers who were hurting and dying and he couldn’t let death take them. It wasn’t fair . 

 

Anger struck him deep. His quirk flared brighter, almost hot in his chest. “I won’t let them die.” 

 

Yamada remained by his side. Izuku wasn’t aware of his presence until the man looped his arm around Izuku’s waist, holding him steady. “I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you.” 

 

I’ve got you. Those words rattled around in his head, scrambling and getting lost. 

 

He didn’t register his knees growing weak or the way he swayed dangerously; Yamada was the only reason he remained upright. Logically, he knew the injuries were unfortunate. He was healing the ones he could, but because of whatever was pinning them down together, he couldn’t completely close the wounds. Which meant he was battling the blood loss as well. Which was pissing him off. 

 

However, that irritation was quickly wiped away. His head dropped over to Yamada’s shoulder and he couldn’t help the goofy laugh that escaped. The world around him was growing fuzzy, sounds flowing together as if the entire universe was beginning to melt. Everything was warm and gooey and slow . 

 

“Are you…okay?” Yamada asked. 

 

Izuku looked up at the man and grinned. “My quirk. I feel great . You would love to experience this. Maybe Aizawa. But probably not. It’s like—” Izuku held up his hands and shook them, allowing his fingers to drag through the sound waves around him. “ Melting .” 

 

“Uh….” Yamada started, unsure how to finish. 

 

“Don’t stress,” Izuku told him, turning his eyes back to the pile of rubble ahead. To the two students trapped. “I’m healing them. They’ll be okay.” He was mostly sure that was true. 

 

He was not entirely conscious of the students coming closer, but he heard their voices float around him. The words didn’t register, so he ignored them. 

 

It felt like he’d been standing there for an eternity before Aizawa returned. Izuku wasn’t sure when he’d left, actually. He came to stand in front of Izuku, staring down at him with an intensity that snapped Izuku out of his trance for a brief moment. “Can you keep going for a minute?” 

 

“I can keep going until the sun literally explodes ,” Izuku said back. 

 

There was a flicker to Aizawa’s brows. Irritation, maybe. Or confusion. Or…Hell, Izuku didn’t care to analyze it. “Cementoss is working on creating a barrier around them. Thirteen is going to start pulling the rubble away after he’s secured them. Once we have eyes on them, we’ll need you.” 

 

Izuku saluted him lazily. “I’m at your service. That kid’s head was smashed to pieces, but it’s better now. Almost in one piece. The other one’s back is whole again.” 

 

Ah. Yeah, that was pain in Aizawa’s eyes. Pain and shock and horror . Oh. Oops. Izuku hadn’t meant to tell him all that. Stupid. Aizawa was their teacher. He didn’t need to know how close his students had come to dying. 

 

Minutes ticked by. Izuku ended up closing his eyes, but his quirk lit up his eyelids. The male student’s skull was mostly intact, only a few long fractures left. He would be okay, even after whatever was running through him was removed. 

 

The girl, on the other hand, was not doing well. Izuku couldn’t heal her lung. With each breath, she tore through even more tissue. Without being able to put the skin back into place along her face and chest, he didn’t want to heal it. Things healed wrong that way and then he’d have to cut it again and start from scratch. Her spine was whole, at least. 

 

As soon as Izuku was able to pull that thing out of her, he was going to have to get to work quickly. Heal the lung. Heal what had been punctured. Put her skin back together. A shaky, tentative plan. 

 

“Jiro. Bakugo. We’re about to start pulling the rubble out. Hang tight, we’re nearly there!” Aizawa shouted. It was strange; despite his panic, the man was able to project steadiness. He could hear it in his voice. Izuku wasn’t the one down there in that hole, but he felt comforted all the same. 

 

Jiro. Bakugo. Izuku chewed on those names, but they meant nothing to him. 

 

A warm calm settled over Izuku and a pleased smile spread on his face. Healing was calming. It was piece by piece putting things back together. There wasn’t an easy way to describe what, exactly, he found when he dove into his quirk, using that strange ability to fix what had been broken. It was like connecting threads—he found one and instinctively knew where it belonged. Over and over again until something appeared where there had once been nothing. 

 

“We’re ready, kiddo,” Yamada said in his ear. Izuku jerked upright, eyes flashing open. 

 

He didn’t wait for the hero to guide him over to the opening that had been created. He marveled at what the heroes had been able to do in such a short time. Or, he assumed it had been a short time. It could have been hours he was lost in his quirk. He tilted his head and stared at the small opening, watching a hero he’d never seen before use a quirk to literally pull the rubble into…nothing. He didn’t know what he was seeing. 

 

“Thirteen, we’re ready. It’s too dangerous to do any more. We can’t risk moving them,” Aizawa instructed. Thirteen. That was the hero’s name? Dumb. Almost as dumb as Eraserhead. 

 

Izuku didn’t wait for instructions from the heroes. He climbed down into the created hole, dropping down in the space he’d been rooting around in for…who knew how long. With his quirk, not physically. Obviously not physically. “Izuku, we’re going to—” Aizawa started. 

 

Izuku held up a hand. “Let me do this.” 

 

He stared at the two teenagers, finally seeing the whole picture. There was a girl with dark hair lying on her back against the bottom of that small space. She wasn’t quite conscious, though he knew she’d likely come alive once he ripped that piece of metal out. And yes, it was a piece of metal. A pipe? No, it was too thin to be a pipe. He didn’t know what it was, but it speared straight through the girl and into the teen on top of her, facing her. The young man was conscious, somehow, arms straight and straining to keep himself from falling fully on her. He was gasping for breath, eyes wide and unseeing. Izuku panicked for a moment, thinking he’d somehow gone blind because of his head injuries. Maybe Izuku had missed it? But no, at the movement the teen’s eyes flicked toward Izuku before returning to the girl. 

 

“We were falling. Tried to turn us. Didn’t work,” he huffed, blood leaking down the piece of metal with each breath. 

 

“Stop talking,” Izuku snapped. 

 

He needed to get the man off first. Damn. The girl needed to be healed first, honestly, but…it wasn’t possible. 

 

“Aizawa.” As soon as Izuku spoke, the teacher lowered himself down in the space with Izuku, hands hovering over his students. He was as pale as a ghost and trembling. Izuku didn’t know what would happen if one of the students died, what Aizawa would do. 

 

“What do you need?” 

 

“I need you to pull him off when I count. It’s going to hurt and he’s going to start bleeding badly. I need to heal her first, but I can’t get to her. So we’re going to do this quickly so I can fix her.” Not that the young man was in good shape, but he was conscious and still fighting. He wasn’t one wrong move away from his lungs filling up with blood and drowning while on dry land. 

 

“Alright.” Aizawa crouched lower so he could look in the kid’s eye. “Bakugo. Are you ready?” 

 

The kid nodded, gasping. “Get this shit done.” 

 

Izuku didn’t count down. Aizawa moved with him, both sets of hands ripping the young man off the metal. He let out a horrible, wet shriek before going limp and silent. Izuku turned him over onto his back, Aizawa doing what he could to keep the kid’s head and neck in alignment so he could breathe . 

 

Golden light filled the space, brighter than he’d ever seen. He knew he was pushing himself, burning through his energy faster than he should and flooding his system with….whatever it was. But there was a hungry need to fix him, fix the student under his hands. 

 

Both of them would get out of there alive. It was nonnegotiable. 

 

“Izuku?”

 

Izuku slowly tipped his head back and stared up into the light above, finding a small figure peering over the edge. “Recovery Girl?” he asked with a croak. Was that his voice? 

 

He went back to healing, hardly aware of the world around him any longer. A fog, wrapping around his brain and dampening the shock he knew he should be feeling. 

 

“How’s he doing?” 

 

“He’s doing great. He’s been healing nonstop, though. How long can he go on like that?” 

 

A pause. “I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out.” Another pause. “How’s Jiro? 

 

“Alive. Pulse is slow, but it’s steady.” 

 

The voices were muffled and entered his ear before hitting his brain, registering just enough for him to know what the words meant but not caring. 

 

The kid under him, the blond, began breathing easier. The blood seeping out from under Izuku’s hands began to still as the wound closed. Slowly, minute by minute. His quirk was working in overdrive, a flood of heat he’d never felt. There had never been that urgency before, he guessed. 

 

As soon as the blond was healed enough to lie there and not die, Izuku moved back to the girl. Aizawa moved with him. She was gasping for breath now and bleeding all over the place. He didn’t bother healing the rest of her just yet, not when the most immediate problem sat before him. 

 

“We have to pull her off the metal,” Izuku said hesitantly. Because it was a long way up and off and back to the ground. 

 

“On your call,” Aizawa said, already getting his arms underneath her. His student. 

 

Izuku sighed, holding a hand to his aching head as if that would stave off the swirling colors around him. “Alright. Now.” 

 

Even before Aizawa set her down, Izuku was throwing his quirk at her. The girl gasped and thrashed under his grip, but it was weak and she was quickly losing steam. He closed his eyes and directed every ounce of energy to her lung, to repairing that damn hole. Cell by cell, rebuilding what had been torn open. 

 

It took an agonizingly long time. At some point, he felt a hand touch his throat, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. He and that girl were locked together, despite him not requiring touch to use his quirk. Sometimes it was just easier to focus on an injury with touch. 

 

“—ely fast. He can’t do this much—” 

 

“Hang in there a little—” 

 

Voices above him. Voices around him. Voices that may or may not have actually existed. He…wasn’t really sure anything around him was real. Other than the girl underneath him. He knew she was real. He knew with absolute certainty she was alive and breathing and not gasping . 

 

As soon as that hole closed, he moved his other hand to her chest. The skin was still ripped open, bleeding steadily. It almost made her look like a doll that had been played with a little too roughly. Like she wasn’t flesh and blood but was plastic. Like a mask that was peeled back. 

 

He pushed the skin back into place and went to work. He did the same thing with the skin of her face, her ear. An ear that ended in…something long. An aux cord? That couldn’t be right. He’d seen them before—they looked like the end of a headphone cord. 

 

“Stop. We have the rest. Please, Izuku. Stop.” 

 

He was laughing. It was as if someone had turned his hearing back on. When had it turned off? He was crouched over the girl, eyes wide and mouth open as laughter tumbled out of his mouth. That voice wasn’t his. It didn’t sound like him. No, he’d taken a step back and was watching his body get puppetted by someone else. He was happy, glad to let his mind wander. 

 

“Izuku.” 

 

He was suddenly slammed back into his body, like someone had shoved him from behind. There was a hand on his cheek, soft and cool. Why was he so hot? Why was his heart racing, like a little bird he could feel in his chest and his neck and his wrists. 

 

“Izuku, look at me.” That hand moved his head, gently tugging on his chin. His gaze was torn away from the girl, no longer ripped open in front of him. Then there was Aizawa. The man searched his face. Whatever he found made him frown. “Can you hear me, kid?” 

 

“I think I can hear everything,” he answered hollowly, letting his body slump back. Wrong move, apparently, because Aizawa grabbed him in his arms and lifted him up. “Woahhhhh,” he drawled. 

 

He knew he lost time, because the next thing he knew, he was lying on the rough ground outside the hole. Or, he assumed it was outside the hole. And there were people standing over him, crouching around him. 

 

Overhaul strapping him to the table. Taking. Always taking. That bird mask, blocking the too-bright light above. “Stay still or I’ll hurt you,” Overhaul growled. 

 

Izuku threw out an arm and stumbled to his feet. He needed to get away from him, from that man. He needed…he needed…

 

He didn’t have much left in reserve. He fell to a knee and took in a few labored breaths. He just needed a few minutes. Then he could run. Then he could get away. He could feel his heart again, pounding against his spine. 

 

“Izuku. You’re okay. You’re here with me. Aizawa. Recovery Girl is beside you.” 

 

Aizawa. Recovery Girl. They…hadn’t been a dream? He lifted his eyes and found the man on a knee in front of him and Recovery Girl indeed beside him. Everything around him was swaying and twirling and too dim, but they were bright. 

 

“You’re real? I’m at UA?” Izuku dared to ask. 

 

“You are. You just healed a bunch of my students, remember?” Aizawa reached out as if to put his hand on Izuku’s but, Izuku pulled back, staring at his bloody hands. Oh. That was what had happened. Right. He knew that. 

 

So he got to his feet, grabbing onto Aizawa’s costume for balance. “Is there anyone else?” 

 

“Kid, why don’t you—” 

 

“ Is there anyone else? ” 

 

The man sighed, eyes flicking toward Recovery Girl. “No. There’s no one else,” the old woman said quietly. “Sit down, Izuku. Right here. Let me take a look at you.” 

 

He let them drag him down, staring at the hole ahead of him. Oh. Right. He knew what that was. Two students had been down there. Were still down there? 

 

His question was answered as the two students were lifted out of the hole, a girl dressed in pink and white holding onto them. They were…floating. He rubbed a hand down his face to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. 

 

Hands were touching him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was floating again. His heartbeat was loud and he could hear the air entering his lungs. Recovery Girl was there. She was taking care of him. He…liked that. 

 

He didn’t realize tears were streaming down his face until a hand wiped them off his cheek. “What hurts?” Recovery Girl asked. 

 

Izuku shook his head and put a hand to his chest. “You’re being so nice. You care about me.” He let out a miserable sob. How did she not understand? How did she not realize no one had cared about him after he’d healed them? Oh, sure, they could be nice before, but after? Not a chance. 

 

She let out a small chuckle. “Of course I care about you. You did amazing. You saved their lives. Not even I could have done that.” 

 

That only made him cry harder. He sobbed against her shoulder, not sure when he’d leaned against her in the first place. He scrubbed away the tears, but they just kept falling! He couldn't control himself, couldn’t make them stop! 

 

Recovery Girl pulled him close, arms wrapping around him despite their size difference. She didn’t complain about having to kneel on the ground or hold the crying teenager. She just held him, occasionally running her fingers over his hair and down his back. “Shhh, it’s okay. Let it out. You did well. You can relax now.” 

 

“You smell really nice,” he whispered eventually, muffled against her white coat. It wasn’t so white any longer, he amended when he was able to pull back enough to see the marks he’d left. He was coated in dust and dirt and blood from head to toe. 

 

The healer smiled. “Thank you. Do you think you can stand?” 

 

He wasn’t given the opportunity to try before Aizawa was there, lifting him to his feet. The short time he’d stopped using his quirk hadn’t erased the effects, but since he knew what was real and had someone he could grab onto for support, he was feeling better. Still dizzy and too hot and like his body wasn’t really his, but—

 

“Izuku?” 

 

Izuku turned, eyes coming to a stop on the blond he’d healed down in the hole. The blond who was also covered in blood and pale but sitting up and staring at Izuku. His eyes were wide and…scared. But also hopeful. Excited. Izuku didn’t know if he would have understood even if he’d been in his right mind, but he definitely didn’t at the moment. 

 

“Bakugo. Now isn’t the time,” Aizawa started, moving toward the blond with his hands raised in a cautious gesture. 

 

The blond had scarlet eyes, a shade of three lighter than the blood dried on his face. Izuku couldn’t seem to open his mouth as he watched the teen struggle to rise to his feet, swaying just as Izuku had. As he continued to do, actually. 

 

“Izuku. It’s me. Bakugo.” The blond put a hand to his chest, eyes begging . 

 

Izuku narrowed his eyes, looking the teen up and down. Bakugo. His memories were filled with the most recent events. The broken skull. The metal through his body. The darkness down there in—

 

He didn’t know if he gasped, but on the inside, everything went still. Quiet. 

 

Bakugo. Scarlet eyes, narrowed as he ran alongside Izuku. 

 

Bakugo. Thrusting a recently lost tooth toward Izuku’s face. “I lost mine first. Ha!” 

 

Bakugo. “You’re going to be a healer one day, right? And I’ll be a hero!” 

 

Izuku took a hesitant step back. “What—What am I—What are you —” Izuku clutched at his head. No. No, no, no. Nothing was making sense. He didn’t know what he was remembering, what he was seeing. Those weren’t memories, were they? Who was that teenager? Bakugo. Why did that name mean so much ?

 

“Izuku, it’s me. Bakugo. Don’t you remember?” 

 

He couldn’t think, couldn’t process . He couldn’t hear his heartbeat any longer. It couldn’t ground him. And, hell, he needed to be grounded. He needed stability and a place to stand and think . He didn’t understand!

 

“Everyone stop talking!” Izuku screamed, tugging at his hair. “I don’t know who you are! Get out of my head!” 

 

“Izuku, it’s okay. We’re right here with you.” Aizawa. That was Aizawa. 

 

“No, you’re not. You’re not. You’re not.” He shook his head rapidly, stumbling back a few more paces. 

 

Nothing was right. His head was scrambled already and nothing made sense. Bakugo. That name kept slamming into his head. Again and again. He didn’t know who that was. But he knew him . He had memories! Were they his memories? 

 

Izuku reached over and offered Bakugo half of the pastry his mom had packed him for lunch. He smiled, blinking up at the other boy expectantly. “Here, Kacchan,” Izuku said. 

 

…Kacchan? 

 

A hand touched his arm and he moved. He had to get away. He needed to run and find peace and quiet and a place where things made sense! He stumbled on the rubble, but he was hardly conscious of it. 

 

Bakugo grinned as he took in the cake in front of him, candles flickering. Happy Birthday Katsuki! the cake read in thick red icing. “I’m gonna wish for the new All Might figure!” the boy said loudly, then he blew out the candles in one massive breath. 

 

“That’s not how wishes work,” Izuku whined, though he laughed as he spoke. Seven candles were blown out, puffs of smoke floating away from the cake. “You have to keep it a secret or it won’t come true.” 

 

“Says who? I think you’re making it up.” 

 

“Am not!” 

 

Tears ran down Izuku’s cheeks. What was happening? He could practically smell the smoke, hear the laughter of that child. Of Bakugo. Of himself. 

 

He hadn’t laughed like that in so long. Seven candles. A birthday only a little while before his. His seventh birthday. 

 

“Who’s there?” Izuku asked, turning the corner in a rush. There was pounding at the door. 

 

“I’m not sure. Stay back, Izuku.” His mom reached out and opened the door. Only a crack. A single crack. 

 

The door slammed open, throwing his mom to the ground. He froze, standing there in shock as a handful of absolutely massive men entered their apartment. Coming his way. Hands reaching for him. 

 

“No!” he screamed, throwing himself forward even faster. He needed to get away. He needed to escape. “Don’t take me. Please, leave us alone!” 

 

Cold water thrown over his shivering form. He shrieked when it hit him. The light was blinding — he didn’t know when he’d last seen any light short of the small sliver that fell underneath the door — and he peered through his fingers at the man hovering above him. “Come on, you little shit,” the man growled, reaching down and grabbing Izuku’s arm in a tight grip. Too tight. Painfully tight. He tried clawing his way to freedom, anywhere but with that man, but he didn’t budge. 

 

A fist slammed into Izuku’s cheek and sent him careening to the floor. The man stood over him. From that angle, it might as well have been a mounting standing over the child. “I don’t care if you live or die, but the boss does. We can’t kill you, but I can do a hell of a lot without killing you. Give me a reason. A single fucking reason.” 

 

Sobs cracked Izuku’s chest. He was no longer conscious of running. He didn’t know where he was going, wasn’t aware of the trees slapping at his face. 

 

The memories kept hitting him, dragging him under the surface and holding him there until he was sure he was about to die. Over and over again. They were never going to stop. They were all he was now, all he would ever be. Years and years of memories. There was nothing left of him—how could there be? 

 

He was lost, adrift in his own head. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. 

 

XXX

 

Shota had thought he was going to have to watch Bakugo die that day. But now, the kid was alive and Shota wanted to kill the teen himself. 

 

He’d tried telling Bakugo to stop , but he hadn’t listened! He’d pushed an already fragile mind over the brink. Even before all the healing he’d done, even before willingly throwing himself into that situation—his students had almost died —Izuku needed to heal . And Bakugo…Bakugo had decided now was the time to reunite?!

 

If Shota hadn’t just seen Bakugo on the brink of death—his blood still stained the concrete—he would have choked him. Maybe. 

 

But…

 

Shota looked back at his students, unable to make his feet move even as Izuku got further and further away. No one was critical any longer, though many still had injuries. Recovery Girl was moving around them systematically, barking out commands with expertise. Bakugo had an arm thrown over Kirishima’s shoulders, clearly unable to walk on his own in any capacity just yet. It was a good thing, too. If he’d tried to run after Izuku, Shota would have lost his shit. 

 

“Shota, go after him.” Shota turned to look at Hizashi. The man had stopped in his tracks on his way over to the students. His arms were loaded with medical supplies, trailing behind Recovery Girl like a baby duck. 

 

“Go after him,” Hizashi repeated. “We’re all good here.” He sighed, seeming to deflate despite the quirk of his lips. “Izuku made sure of that. He took care of them, now you need to take care of him.” 

 

He didn’t need to be told twice. His students were alright. They were alive and they weren’t victims of a building collapse and he wasn’t digging into his memories. 

 

Izuku had managed to go pretty far in the minute he’d hesitated. Still, he caught up to the kid, watching him run like a drunkard into the forest. He didn’t run long—Shota didn’t know how much energy he had left after all that. The kid took a few more stumbling steps before falling to his knees. 

 

Shota approached slowly, though he didn’t think Izuku even knew he was there. The kid crawled along the ground, sobbing through his teeth, until he found a tree to slam his back against. It was solid. He was seeking comfort of any kind. 

 

Shota didn’t know what to do, how to fix everything. 

 

“Izuku, can you hear me?” he tried. 

 

Izuku took in a shuddering breath. Fat tears rolled down his face, eyes impossibly wide. “Please, don’t hurt me. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t take any more.” 

 

“It’s alright. No one is going to hurt you. I’m here with you. Aizawa.” 

 

He let out another miserable cry before he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifile even more. That didn’t last long. Shota stood back, unwilling to invade his space just yet. Maybe the kid would break out of it without his help. Maybe he would realize where he was and begin the long, painful process of feeling safe again. 

 

Guilt ate away at his stomach. It couldn’t have been helped. The accident had been unexpected, to say the least, and they’d been out of options. Recovery Girl could do many things with her quirk, but his students hadn’t had much to give and wouldn’t have been able to be treated by the old woman. Izuku had been their only shot, their only hope of everyone getting out there alive. He hadn’t requested Izuku’s presence when he’d sent out the alert to Recovery Girl, but a part of him had hoped he would come. 

 

Shota didn’t know what he’d expected, but in the aftermath of the near tragedy, his heart felt heavy. 

 

An unfortunate necessity, he supposed. 

 

Izuku had pulled his hand down and had his fingers buried in his hair. He was slowly tugging at the roots, rocking back and forth against the rough ground. His breaths sawed in and out, ragged and tired and desperate. 

 

“Izuku,” Shota said softly, crouching down in front of the kid. Izuku flinched at the noise, biting down on his lip until the fragile skin began to bleed. “You’re hurting yourself, kid.” 

 

His fingers brushed Izuku’s arm, eliciting a yelp. Izuku curled in on himself even tighter, knees drawn up to his chest and chin tucked in. “Please, don’t,” Izuku cried, entire body shaking. 

 

So they sat there together for a long, long while. Shota crouched in front of him with brows pinched together and Izuku lost in his head, curling away from enemies that weren’t there. It took him nearly an hour before he seemed to tire himself out. Shota watched him slowly grow exhausted. The rocking stopped first, then his whimpers grew silent. His fingers began to relax in his hair. 

 

“Izuku, are you with me?” Shota asked. 

 

No. The answer was immediately clear—Izuku was somewhere else while his body remained tied to UA. At least he wasn’t hurting himself any longer. Blood was crusted on his lip and in his hair from where his fingernails had dug into his scalp. His face and arms bore a few thin cuts from rushing through the trees earlier. Nothing life-threatening, but that was about as far as the good news went. 

 

Izuku didn’t respond to him, didn’t seem to notice Shota or hear his voice. He was a lifeless doll. Shota reached out, projecting his movements as much as he could. Izuku didn’t seem to notice. Despite his eyes blown wide, he didn’t notice the man in front of him. 

 

That wasn’t to say he didn’t react when Shota touched him. He flinched, a pathetic whine slipping free, but otherwise made no attempt to move. “I’m so sorry, Izuku,” Shota breathed, moving slowly and as gently as he could. In a single movement, he picked the teen up in his arms and held him tight. “You’re safe. No one’s coming to hurt you.” 

 

Izuku didn’t reply. He stared at the sky, fingers tightening around the fabric of Shota’s costume until he was clinging to the man. 

 

There weren’t many places Shota thought the kid would feel safe. The apartment they’d set up for him was still foreign. The infirmary didn’t feel right, not when he was already clearly reliving past experiences. And the teachers’ lounge or an empty classroom was too foreign and stiff and…and…

 

There was only one option Shota felt comfortable with. 

 

It didn’t take him long to make it to the teachers’ dorm. He awkwardly opened his apartment door, practically wedging the kid against the wood while pulling out his keys, and went straight over to the couch. He thought about taking the kid to his bedroom—he had blackout curtains and could wrap the kid up in his weighted blanket—but…

 

Shota didn’t know what had happened to that kid. He didn’t want to inadvertently stumble upon a trigger while he was in that state already. 

 

He got Izuku partially lying on the couch, managing to pry Izuku’s hands away from his uniform. He didn’t uncurl from his near-fetal position, nor did he relax. He was staring. Staring and staring at nothing. Shota wanted desperately to reach into his mind and scare away the nightmares. Not nightmares, he supposed. Memories. Real monsters that had once existed. Some still did, most likely. 

 

“I’ll be right back, Izuku,” Shota said, only leaving his side after a few seconds of waiting for a reply. He quickly ran to his bedroom, throwing open his closet and grabbing the weighted blanket crumpled on the floor. 

 

He paused with it in hand. That texture, the softest and warmest fabric he’d ever felt, reminded him of healing. He had bad days sometimes. Hizashi and Nemuri had bad days. When he’d been younger, he’d gotten through his bad days by himself. But then he’d met his two idiotic best friends. With their help, he learned better ways of coping. He learned how to stop clawing at his scalp and biting his lip and splitting his knuckles when the anger became too much and all he could think of doing was fight off those thoughts. 

 

Maybe with a little time and a lot of help, Izuku could learn too. 

 

Shota approached Izuku slowly. “Here’s a blanket for you,” he said softly, draping the weighted blanket over the kid’s legs. He reached out equally as slowly and took Izuku’s hands. He ran the kid’s hands across the fabric.

 

Izuku allowed him to manipulate his body for a few seconds. But then his eyes snapped closed and he curled around himself even tighter, flinching from Shota. “No,” Izuku whispered harshly. “No, please. No. I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore. Please stop.” 

 

Didn’t that just break his heart? Shota didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to reach Izuku without hurting him. And to stop him from hurting himself. The kid was twitchy, breathing ragged and altogether far too shallow. 

 

“Oh, kid.” Shota sighed and leaned back on his heels. He sat on the coffee table in front of the couch and took him in. 

 

He waited as long as he could, hating that particular solution was even being considered, but he didn’t want Izuku to keep going. He was lost in his head without a tether to pull him back. Shota pulled out his phone with hesitant hands. 

 

Shota: I may need you to come by. Your quirk. The kid’s not doing great. Hurting himself

 

Her reply came almost immediately. 

 

Nemuri: Understood. I’ll head your way

 

He breathed a sigh, and not one of relief. “Izuku, I need you to take some deep breaths for me. Can you try and breathe with me?” Nothing. No response. 

 

Normally, he would attempt to ground someone in his position with a hand on their arm or even their chest. Physical touch did a lot for people. But with Izuku? He was afraid of everything that moved. At that point, he was putting far too much stress on his body. 

 

It didn’t take long before a knock sounded on his door and Nemuri let herself in. Without turning, Shota called her over. 

 

“Is Izuku okay?” 

 

Shota whipped around and faced Nemuri, but more importantly, Eri . The little girl stood a step behind Nemuri, though she was already coming forward, eyes on Izuku. 

 

What the hell was she thinking, bringing Eri with her? He could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest, heat spreading along his face. Nemuri brought Eri knowing full well the little girl looked at Izuku like a hero. She shouldn’t have to see him in that condition. He likely wouldn’t want her to see him like that. What was she thinking ? 

 

He asked her that exact question, tone biting. “She shouldn’t have to see him like this and you know it!” He attempted to keep his voice low, but it still came out like a knife. 

 

Beside him on the couch, Izuku flinched away from the sudden outburst. 

 

Shota took a breath and lowered his voice even further, clamping down on the words he wanted to spew in his friend’s direction. Because at that moment, he wanted to yell at her until both their ears bled. “You’re a hero. You know this. You know how to act, and you have to know that this —” Shota gestured to her and…Eri? 

 

The little girl had already moved, sliding past him in an instant. She only had eyes for Izuku, not even glancing back at Shota or Nemuri for permission or comfort. “No, Eri, don’t—” He reached out his hands, to gab her or just warn her that she couldn’t touch Izuku—he didn’t know what the kid would do and he couldn’t bear the thought of Izuku coming out of it and seeing he’d hurt the little girl he’d fought so hard to protect—but the little girl was already climbing on the couch. 

 

Izuku flinched back, but that didn’t stop Eri. She daringly took Izuku’s hand, kneeling on the couch behind his knees. “Izuku?” Her little voice had everyone freezing. “Izuku, I’m…I’m…” She seemed at a loss for words. She glanced over at the two adults, finally. “What do I say?” 

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Nemuri breathed. Shota watched Izuku carefully as she spoke. He knew in Izuku’s right mind he would never hurt Eri. But he wasn’t exactly in his right mind. Eri was his responsibility. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, even if it meant stopping Izuku. 

 

Eri turned back to Izuku without allowing Nemuri to finish what she was going to say, though Shota suspected she didn’t have an answer to the little girl’s question. “Izuku?” Eri tried again. Her other hand came up to Izuku’s cheek. The kid flinched away from the touch, but it was much less violent than the last time. He seemed…almost like he was deflating into the couch. It wasn’t relaxed, per se. It was something else. 

 

Miraculously, Izuku’s hand came up to cup Eri’s. His face didn’t change. His eyes never left whatever he was watching, but he acknowledged Eri’s touch. Eri, encouraged by the change, kept going. “You saved me, ‘Zuku. I don’t really know how to do that for you, but I’m here. So is Aizawa and Miss Kayama. Can you look at me? Maybe that would help you.” 

 

Shota clenched his teeth as Eri began tugging Izuku’s head in her direction. But he let her, body still twitching. 

 

Nemuri came to his side and whispered, “It’s working.” 

 

“You don’t know it’s working.” He shot her an angry glare. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you brought her here when you know you shouldn’t have.” 

 

His friend’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t know what to do with her. And it sounded urgent. I figured…” 

 

“You figured you would try and throw her into the mix and, what, see what happened? What if he had reacted badly? What if he does react badly, still? What if—” 

 

Nemuri’s eyes narrowed. “I understand, Shota. I do. But using my quirk on him without trying a damn thing would only make things worse in the long run. This was the best option and you know it.” 

 

He had nothing to say to that. He was angry at her. He recognized that she was right , which pissed him off more. He couldn’t just shake off those feelings, not just yet. Shota turned back to Izuku and Eri and found her inching close to the teen. She was practically on his lap now. And…his eyes were on her. Wide and scared, but he was looking at her. 

 

“Are you real?” he asked in a terrified whisper. 

 

Eri nodded solemnly. “I am. Were you…thinking about him?” 

 

None of them needed to ask who she meant. Izuku shook his head, then nodded. “Yes. But not just him. I…” He swallowed. “I don’t know what’s real right now.” Twin tears slid down his cheeks and he closed his eyes against the rest. 

 

Eri wasn’t deterred. She wiped away the tears, smearing the dust still covering his face. “It’s okay. I don’t know what’s real sometimes too. But ‘Zawa tells me. He reminds me where I am. Do you know where you are?” 

 

Izuku shook his head with a miserable cry. “No,” he gasped. 

 

Eri nodded again. She snuggled into his side and he looped an arm around her back. “You’re in our apartment. On the couch. ‘Zawa’s here. Miss Yayama is here.” Then she smiled, the kind only the purest of angels could adorn. “And I’m here.” 

 

Izuku leaned his head forward, resting it against hers. “Nothing really makes sense,” Izuku admitted. 

 

“I feel like that, too. Not all the time now, but I did before. I think sleep helps. You can nap right here, if you want.” Eri patted Izuku on the head, making sure her movements were gentle. 

 

Shota turned and walked a few paces away. He needed to separate himself for a second. He needed to clamp down on the tightness in his chest before it grew out of control. Truly, all he wanted to do at the moment was climb into his bed and cry. Instead, he bit down on his knuckles and breathed. 

 

Two traumatized children. Eri, a literal child, comforting Izuku. How was he supposed to handle that? There wasn’t any book he could read that would tell him how to navigate the new chapter of their lives. 

 

Izuku wouldn’t hurt Eri. Somehow, Shota felt confident in that. If nothing else, Izuku would never hurt Eri. 

 

XXX

 

There was a grogginess he couldn’t manage to shake off. As Izuku shifted, he let out a small groan at the aches in his stiff body, managing to flutter his eyes and nothing else. He felt like he could sleep another night away, easily. 

 

But something nagged at him, whispering at him in the back of his head to open his eyes . Something important. Something that would take too much of his attention with the minimal energy he had available. 

 

A weight on top of him. And…another weight that…moved. 

 

That had Izuku opening his eyes. They felt puffy and too heavy. Oh. He’d been crying. He didn’t really remember crying, but he knew the feeling. What he found didn’t make much sense. 

 

He was lying in a room that was very pink. Pink walls meeting a white ceiling. Pink curtains at the window, dim light filtering through. He turned his head and realized he was laying on a pink bedspread on a too-small bed. Then—

 

“‘Zuku?” Eri whispered, meeting his eyes. She was lying against his side, as close as she could possibly get. A dark blue blanket was spread over the two of them, the source of one of the weights, Eri being the other. He could feel one of her legs tossed over his and one of her arms hugging his chest. 

 

“Eri,” he whispered back. 

 

He took his time looking around, getting a sense of his surroundings. There were stuffed animals surrounding him, mainly unicorns. “Did you put these here?” 

 

Eri nodded. “I did. They make me feel better after my nightmares. Do they make you feel better?” 

 

Izuku let out an exhausted laugh. “Yeah, they do.” 

 

Eri leaned her cheek on his chest and hugged him as tightly as she could. It was…nice. “I get scared sometimes. You were scared. You made it better when we were with the bad man. You always made it better. Aizawa helps me here, too.” She looked up at him with the most innocent eyes he’d ever seen. “Now I can help you.” 

 

Izuku brought his arm around her small body and tugged her even closer. She squeaked excitedly. “Thank you. I’ll take it.” 

 

He didn’t know what time it was, but they continued to snuggle on her bed in silence. While his body was spent and his mind was still sluggish, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes and join Eri in sleep. Eventually, her breathing evened out and deepened. She was limp against his side, treating him as a giant stuffed animal. The image almost made him smile. 

 

He was content to lie there beside her, at least until he heard a noise just outside her bedroom. Ah. Yeah. There was someone else he needed to talk to. 

 

Izuku managed to untangle himself from her reach and slide off her bed without waking her. He silently padded out of the room, shutting the door behind him. It didn’t take him long to find the person he was looking for. 

 

Aizawa stood in the kitchen, watching the coffee pot brew a fresh pot. As soon as he heard Izuku, the man turned. His face was unreadable, though Izuku saw him look up and down, taking in what had to be his unruly hair, red-rimmed eyes, and slouched posture. Not his finest moment. 

 

“How’d you sleep?” Aizawa asked. 

 

Okay, so they were going to exchange pleasantries first. Izuku felt raw on the inside, but he forced himself to participate. He shrugged, pretending. “Fine. Eri is a little heating unit.” 

 

Aizawa snorted. “That she is.” 

 

Izuku came around the kitchen and leaned against the wall. He felt off balance, like he wasn’t truly there. Like someone else was puppeting his body. Maybe that was why he didn’t pretend for long. He was just…spent. 

 

“I basically ran through all my memories. That was why I…” 

 

Aizawa turned back to the coffee pot and poured two cups. The hero took the cups past Izuku and set them at the table. He returned to the kitchen and grabbed cream and sugar, jerking his head to the table for Izuku to follow. 

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he said, spooning sugar into his own mug while gesturing to the cream and sugar for Izuku. 

 

Izuku had only had coffee a few times in the past. Black, both times. It had been disgusting. But maybe with enough cream and sugar, anything was palatable. Besides, he needed the energy boost. 

 

There was a small stretch of silence between them as they stirred their coffees. Izuku paused, spoon clanking against the porcelain. He didn’t look up at Aizawa just yet. “Over the years, I’ve forgotten a lot. Sometimes on purpose, letting it slip away without even trying to keep it. Others, I think I’ve changed too much to keep. Like I’m not the same person, so why would I have those memories?” He wrapped his hands around the mug, thinking. His brows came together. “But there are some things I remember as vividly as the day they happened. My mom’s murder. Her…Well, basically everything about her, but especially that. I remember too much about the last ten years.” 

 

“Izuku, it’s natural—” 

 

“But there’s so much I’ve forgotten. I didn’t want to forget everything. And, yeah, it’s buried there somewhere. I didn’t want to forget my life before…before…” His eyes burned. “Before I was taken. Unfortunately, that part of my life is…sort of a blur.” 

 

He hated the way his voice wavered, betraying him. It was as if the ground was rocking, ready to open up and suck him in. 

 

So he looked up, forcing himself to meet Aizawa’s eyes. It didn’t matter that tears gathered in his or that his entire body shook with weakness, both physically and mentally. It didn’t matter, because he needed to know . 

 

“Bakugo. I remember that name.” He attempted to swallow the lump in his throat, but it didn’t budge. “Please, Aizawa. Tell me the truth. Who was that? The boy I saw. The boy I saved . Who is he?” 

Notes:

Thank you all for reading! If you are so inclined, let me know what you think, things you want to see, or just general notes. You guys are great! Also, as usual, ignore the typos and mistakes. I am so lazy and don't want to edit much.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! I plan on posting regularly with all intentions of completing the fic. Hold onto your seats, this fic is going to be amazing! *She says with a smile and complete humility*