Chapter Text
7 YEARS BEFORE
Izuku wasn't going to be home until two hours later than he'd hoped. It wasn't the latest he'd been, but it wasn't great. But he couldn't just leave midway through talking one of their regulars through local substance use treatment options! It was a big step for someone who’d refused to even consider rehab for the last two years!
As long as he wasn’t late to work, only to going home, it was something he could live with. Social workers frequently worked more hours than they were paid for, and Izuku wasn’t the exception, even if it wasn’t healthy. Sometimes, there were things more important than getting home on time.
He couldn’t make himself regret it. His supervisor told him that he was overextending himself, that he was going to burn out, but she’d only known Izuku for a few months. And he wasn’t planning to work there forever. There was a high staff turnover for a reason, but Izuku wanted the experience, he wanted to help people while they were still in the midst of difficulty before he helped people come through the other side. If he was going to push for policy change, he needed to be on the ground first, so he could see where change was needed and no one had noticed.
Pro-heroes weren’t the only ones who saved lives. Perhaps 10-year-old Izuku might have seen it that way, even if he did respect doctors and scientists and sanitation workers. Now, though, he’d been in the midst of it; he’d stood beside prisoners he wasn’t allowed to touch as they shook and cried and promised they’d fix their lives this time, and he’d stood beside them again when the system threw them back in. He’d watched the color come back into people’s cheeks after they took too much, because he was there, because no one should have to be alone in the cold as they suffered, without someone to tell them they deserved to exist.
Izuku loved his job, even when the suffering he saw was enough to close up his throat.
But it did often make him late getting home.
The sun had fully set, and people filled the sidewalks, and Izuku breathed in the smell of his city, a hint of fishy ocean breeze over food and swirling perfumes and cigarette smoke and someone’s bad breath. His people, and he was one of them.
Adjusting his bag strap where it was starting to dig into his shoulder, he ran through imagined case notes, possible new interventions and referrals for specific clients, things he needed to tell his supervisor in the morning.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice he was falling until he’d hit the ground. Not hard—but he shouldn’t have been hitting the ground at all, he’d been on the sidewalk, hadn’t he? Had he stumbled down a stairway by accident, or an open manhole cover?
Blinking against his disorientation, he examined his surroundings. A… bar? It smelled clean, the lighting was dim, it was empty. Or, no, it wasn’t—there was someone behind the bar, Izuku hadn’t noticed him at first. He looked very professional; Izuku knew how to recognize a tailored suit, and his posture was perfect. His body seemed to be made of some kind of mist, with only eyes to give him any kind of facial expression. Izuku gave him a polite smile and bowed. “Hello! I’m sorry, but I don’t know how I got here. I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.” Hopefully he wouldn’t think Izuku was too rude, coming in and then immediately leaving.
“Midoriya Izuku. My Sensei has a task for you.”
Izuku blinked, caught off guard. He swallowed the lump of dread that was starting to form. Assumptions helped no one. “Oh, um, I’m off the clock right now, but I’d be happy to do intake or refer him to someone first thing in the morning… if that’s what you mean…”
The bartender’s smoky face wasn’t very expressive, and neither was his body language. “You will assist Sensei’s ward. You will fix him.”
Izuku controlled his breathing carefully. Escalating the situation would help no one. He had to stay calm, even if his heart was skipping and pounding and his palms were starting to sweat, he couldn’t let it show. “I’m sorry, I’m not able to do work off the clock like that.” Professional boundaries, he had to establish boundaries, he had to keep things normal. Everything was fine.
“I apologize if I was unclear. You do not have a choice.”
“O-oh,” he said. This wasn’t something he was trained in, was his first thought. He wasn’t a crisis worker, he’d only taken classes, he didn’t know how to talk himself out of a situation where he was genuinely in danger. The best course of action would be to remove himself from the situation, the second-best would be to de-escalate or get help. Neither of those seemed very feasible, but he could try to just leave… Moving slowly, so as not to agitate, he walked to the door. The bartender looked after him without moving. Okay, maybe this would work! He opened the door, stepped through, and—
Fell again.
Right in front of the bar, again. That was definitely a Quirk. A quick glance at the door showed a closing portal (or he thought it was a portal, at least) that looked the same as the mist that made up the bartender’s body. Oh, wow, the applications of a Quirk like that… it was amazing! How big could the portals be? Was there a weight limit? Did it only work on living things? Was it line-of-sight based? How long could the portals stay open?
Izuku shook his head to snap himself out of it. Now wasn’t the time! Even if it really was such a cool Quirk. What were the facts of the situation?
Izuku was being held against his will. No one knew where he was, and the earliest anyone would notice he was missing was tomorrow morning; even then, they’d likely assume he was sick. The earliest he could guarantee someone would know something was wrong was Sunday, if he missed his weekly dinner with Mom. The bartender had a ‘sensei,’ who wanted Izuku to do something to ‘fix’ his ‘ward.’ He couldn’t leave.
Okay. He could work with this. Maybe he could treat it like he would when talking to someone hallucinating or delusional; not try to debunk the ‘facts’ as they were experienced, but just try to work and help within the bounds of their reality. The bartender’s reality was that Izuku needed to help his sensei’s ward. “What does he, uh, need help with?” Izuku asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. It wasn’t very successful.
“He is… not functioning correctly. He does not listen to Sensei, he does not leave his bed, he does not seem to care at all. Which will not do.”
Right, okay. Oh, that really wasn’t good language for the bartender to be using, but now probably wasn’t the time to go into the merits of strength-based versus deficit-based language… no. But otherwise this was more familiar ground! Okay! This was something Izuku could maybe help with. This was fine. Everything would be alright. But confidentiality… well, he couldn’t really keep this confidential, could he? No, he’d been kidnapped! What were the ethics of confidentiality when he’d been kidnapped?! Did that even matter right now? Better safe than sorry. He’d skip the disclaimer for now, except maybe with the ward, telling him that he wouldn’t tell the bartender or Sensei about what he told Izuku. Besides the usual exceptions. This was so not what he should be worrying about right now. Izuku pushed down a hysterical laugh and clung even harder to his professional persona.
“Was there something that happened to trigger the behaviour changes?”
The bartender squinted, the first real expression Izuku had seen from him. “Not that I am aware of. I believe it was gradual.”
“Okay, okay,” Izuku mumbled to himself. “And, ah, personal information? Name, date of birth…”
“Shigaraki Tomura. I am… unaware of his exact date of birth, but he is ten years old.”
Oh, no, Izuku hadn’t worked with kids before, this wasn’t something he was trained for either… “Family history? Physical or mental conditions, is he or was he in foster care, um, anything like that?” Izuku shifted his bag; it was really starting to get heavy, he didn’t normally carry it for this long at a time. But he couldn’t exactly put it down here…
“I do not know Shigaraki Tomura’s family history. I do know Sensei saved him.”
Izuku nodded to himself. “That’s alright. I can ask him anything else himself. Um. Where should I meet with him…?” I don’t imagine you’d let me take him to somewhere that’s actually equipped to help.
“He is in his room. Follow me.”
The bartender led him through dark hallways to an unassuming door. The wood was a slightly different color than the other doors Izuku had seen, and the doorknob didn’t match, either. A personal preference? That was a lot of work to put in, just to have the kid’s door and doorknob be what he wanted. ‘Sensei’ may be a kidnapper, but that didn’t necessarily mean they didn’t take care of their ward. Izuku was going to stay optimistic!
“Shigaraki Tomura,” the bartender called through the door. “I am coming in.”
“Go away, Kurogiri,” a soft, raspy voice responded. Kurogiri, apparently, didn’t listen, and opened the door to a relatively tidy room. There were a lot of newspaper clippings and books scattered around the desk, and shelves full of trinkets, games, and more books on several walls. Pretty normal for a kid, at least as far as Izuku knew. The cleanliness probably meant someone was cleaning up after him; that was good, in a situation like this. Teaching life skills came after someone was functional.
The kid himself, though… Izuku’s heart hurt for the kid. Shigaraki. He was curled up on his side, facing the wall, and what Izuku could see of his hair was tangled and greasy. “There is someone here to see you. Sensei has sent him.”
Shigaraki didn’t respond.
“Hi, Shigaraki. My name is Midoriya Izuku, I’m a social worker. I’m, um, I’m here to help.” He smiled shakily, even though Shigaraki couldn’t see it.
“Don’t need it,” Shigaraki said.
“Everybody needs help, I’m here for whatever you need. If that’s for me to leave, that’s just fine. It’s your choice.” Forcing help wouldn’t do anything. And, more selfishly, maybe if Shigaraki sent him away, Kurogiri and ‘Sensei’ would let him go.
“Sensei sent you?” Shigaraki asked, sounding a little suspicious now. An improvement from the flat affect of before!
“Um, yes? I, I heard you’re not feeling too great right now. That maybe it’s harder to do things right now than it used to be. Does that sound right?”
“I can do stuff, I just don’t want to, I’m not a baby.”
“Of course not. It’s common to struggle with that, Shigaraki, it doesn’t mean anything bad about you. Everybody has a hard time sometimes. We’re here to help you get through that hard time, if you’ll let us.” Was that good? It was different from what he was used to; people who were actively using drugs struggled with their mental health, but he didn’t see them in their homes, and their coping mechanisms were different than a depressed ten-year-old. Same for the people he’d worked with in prison. Some of them had struggled with depression, sure, but things functioned very differently in a prison.
This was so outside of his scope.
“Well, I’m not everybody, I’m stronger than everybody, that’s stupid. I don’t need help. I’m strong. Sensei said so.” There was something he was a little more familiar with.
“Even strong people need help. How do you think they get so strong? It’s not all by themselves. Sensei helps you, right?”
“Sensei saved me,” Shigaraki said, moving a little now. Izuku couldn’t quite tell what he was doing, fidgeting maybe? “Go away. I don’t like you. I’ll, I’ll destroy you, you’re annoying.”
Izuku felt his face twitch up into a grin against his will. At least Shigaraki couldn’t see it. The way he was talking reminded Izuku of Mom’s best friend’s kid, little Kacchan, who loved to tell Izuku to ‘die!’ whenever he played the villain to Kacchan’s hero. So vicious. But a concrete request was something, at least. “Alright. Thank you for talking to me. I’ll go now.”
“Ugh… whatever. Kurogiri, get him out of here,” Shigaraki mumbled.
Before Izuku could leave of his own will, he fell through one of Kurogiri’s portals again, and was back in the bar. He stumbled a little, catching himself on a stool.
“Any chance I get to leave, now?” Izuku said, his professional tone giving way to something half-irritated and half-hopeless. He cleared his throat. “I mean. I would really like to leave. Can I please leave?”
“I apologize for the rudeness, but I cannot let you leave until Shigaraki Tomura is acting correctly. Please come with me.”
Izuku took a couple slow, deep breaths and tried to ground himself. He was okay. The situation was going to be okay. For now, he just needed to stay calm and do his job, for whatever that was worth. Kurogiri didn’t take him through a portal this time, for whatever reason. “If I’m going to be here for, uh, a while, would you mind answering some more questions about Shigaraki?”
“Of course not. Please, ask anything you’d like. If I cannot answer I will tell you.”
Izuku nodded, maybe a little harder than he needed to. Damn, he would’ve liked to think it’d take a little more than this to crack him. Then again, he’d been kidnapped, that was a pretty stressful and traumatic situation, even if he hadn’t been harmed. Yet. “Alright. Well. It seemed like there was a lot of stuff you didn’t know. What do you know? And could I talk to, um, Sensei about the questions you don’t know the answers to?”
“You… may be able to talk to Sensei,” Kurogiri said with some hesitation. Why? It wasn’t obvious. Izuku stashed that observation for later. “As for what I know… Shigaraki Tomura is very intelligent, he learns quickly. He has a short temper. He listens to Sensei, as he should, at least when he’s in his right mind. He enjoys reading, playing games, strategizing, spending time with Sensei, and destruction. He does not take care of himself well, although this is something he has improved on, with the exception of these past few weeks.”
Lots of good information there. He needed to write all this down as soon as he could. Luckily, he always kept a couple spare notebooks with him, just in case. “Could you tell me more about what his social network looks like? It sounds like you and Sensei are his primary caregivers, is that correct? Does he attend schooling, have other relatives, anything like that?”
“I… suppose I am the primary caregiver. Sensei does not concern himself with everyday care tasks, when it comes to Shigaraki Tomura. It is my purpose to care for him. I also provide schooling for him. He does not have anyone else in his life.”
Ah… well that wasn’t great. Kurogiri did seem to genuinely care, so there was that, but Izuku was getting suspicious of this ‘Sensei’ character. Suspicious in a different way from ‘he’s a villain that kidnapped me,’ suspicious like ‘maybe he doesn’t know how to take care of his kid.’ But that was something Izuku could help with! Plenty of parents were well-intentioned and just didn’t have the knowledge they needed! That would have to be his next objective, getting a read on Sensei. After that, more rapport building with Shigaraki. Maybe Kurogiri would let him take some food for the kid, or read to him, or something. Just talking to him would help, too, but since Izuku was able to give him a choice, he would, even if Shigaraki sent him away again.
“What was that?”
Izuku blushed as he realized he’d been muttering. He’d thought that habit was broken, except when he was home alone! The stress must be getting to him. “Oh… nothing. Just thinking to myself.”
Kurogiri didn’t comment again, which Izuku appreciated. He made a conscious effort to keep his mouth shut as they kept walking. Sensei… was that the mystery man’s villain name? That was kind of cool, if it was. Izuku had never worked with any big-name villains when he was doing his practicum, and it would’ve been inappropriate to ask even if he had, but he’d always sort of wondered how villains decided on villain names. Heroes, too, for that matter, but he’d actually gotten to ask about that. Maybe he could ask this ‘Sensei!’
Or maybe he’d just get killed for that. Probably best not to. God, he needed to get out of here, he was losing his grip a bit.
Kurogiri silently opened another door and gestured Izuku in. Kurogiri closed and locked it before Izuku had the chance to flip the lightswitch, and when he did, he understood why. There was nothing but a bed, a toilet, and a strange railing that went around all of the walls. No windows. No pillow, even. Izuku wasn’t usually one to curse, even internally, but he really meant it when he thought fuck.
He wasn’t getting out of here, was he. This was it. This was it, this was what he got for ever even daring to dream of being a hero when he was Quirkless, this is what he got for just trying to help people. Fuck!
It was all he could do not to break down crying as Kurogiri cuffed his hands, a chain in the middle attaching to the railing on the wall, so if he wanted to he could pace like a caged animal. Around and around until he couldn’t ever snap out of it. Learned helplessness.
Once Kurogiri left, through a portal of course, Izuku did break down. He spent some unknown amount of time trying to stave off a panic attack, and then some unknown amount of time having a panic attack, and then some unknown amount of time passed out against the cold, concrete wall as he recovered from a panic attack.
All he wanted was to go to sleep and wake up back home, with his houseplants and the breeze from his window and the feeling of his weighted blanket draped over his whole body. Who was going to water his plants? It was another five days until Sunday, when Mom would notice he was gone. Were his plants going to die?
Was he going to die?
The tears running down his face hadn’t stopped since Kurogiri left, and he wasn’t going to try to stop them. There was no point; he couldn’t be half-functional right now, and if he tried to suppress this, he wasn’t going to be able to just ignore it. So he let himself cry, and eventually, he fell asleep under the scratchy cotton sheets.
CASE NOTES
Client: Shigaraki Tomura
DOB: Unknown; client is reported to be 10 years old
DATE: 2XXX/2/17
Subjective: Client reports that he ‘can do things, just [doesn’t] want to.’ Kurogiri, primary caretaker, reports that he ‘doesn’t take care of himself well’ and isn’t ‘functioning correctly,’ and doesn’t get out of bed or seem to be motivated to do much.
Objective: Client did not get up from his bed during discussion. Client was uncooperative, and seemed to be doing some kind of repetitive motion, although he was turned away and the motion was unclear. Client did not appear to be practicing regular hygiene; hair was greasy and tangled, clothes were visibly dirty. Bedroom was clean. Seemed to have rapport with Kurogiri consistent with a caretaker. Flat affect.
Assessment: Client appears to be exhibiting signs of depression, although more assessment is necessary. Client is socially isolated and rejects the idea of accepting help. Kurogiri’s presence: protective factor (?), Kurogiri is attentive to client’s needs and able to talk about client’s likes, hobbies, personality, etc.
Plan:
- Talk to client for a longer period of time to assess needs and coping skills, and establish rapport
- Risk assessment
- Introduce behavioural activation to improve client’s engagement with activities (and social interaction?—very few social opportunities, bring up with Kurogiri?)
- Discuss setting goals with client to establish purpose and long-term ‘wants’