Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Izuku Midoriya wiped his face with the long sleeve of his middle school uniform, cringing when the combination of tears, snot, and sweat soaked through the fabric onto his clenched fist. He shook the offending hand before deciding to rip off the jacket entirely and toss it to the side. The small brass buttons that held the material together clinked onto the concrete, and he watched as one of them bounced once, twice, three times before tumbling off the ledge that All Might himself had just stood on.

”If you want a quirk so bad, go take a swan dive off the roof, and maybe you’ll have one in your next life.”

Izuku had thought of little else in the past week. It wasn’t the first time someone had suggested it, but it was the first time hearing it out loud. Usually the bullying took its form in a spider lily left on his desk at school that he could brush off physically, if not emotionally. But to hear it out loud, and from someone he’d looked up to for nearly a decade – that was a different kind of hurt.

Until, it wasn’t a hurt anymore. Sometime over the past week, that voice had become a comfort. When he went home and  cried himself to sleep each night, that voice transformed from a threat into a lullaby. When he woke up each morning, still quirkless, that voice sang to him. When he walked to school, hungry and aching, that voice would rustle his hair. When the group of bullies decided to hold him from lunch in order to “train” their quirks on him, that voice wiped his tears. And when All-Might stood in front of him and told him, “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that you can be a hero without a quirk. You should give that up, and pursue something more realistic,” that voice screamed.

Izuku didn’t believe in reincarnation – He knew there was no way he could’ve done anything so bad in a past life to deserve this one. He didn’t believe that jumping off the roof of his middle school would result in him being reborn with a quirk. He didn’t believe he had some latent quirk that demanded a life or death situation, as many of his bullies had suggested while beating him to a pulp. But he did believe that six stories up, if he fell right now, he would not survive the fall. And he believed that would be better than any alternative.

So, with the sun as his only witness, Izuku wiped his tears once more and took a deep breath. He took his school ID from around his neck with shaking hands, and he dug his wallet out of his pocket to throw it on top, hoping they would at least be able to identify him that way afterwards. He followed the path that All Might had taken, all the way to the ledge, and stopped. The wind nearly blew him back from so high up, but Izuku stood firm. Just like All-Might, he thought to himself. He bent his legs, and he jumped.

Chapter Text

Deku hits the floor with a thud, the impact hard enough to make his teeth rattle. He has only a moment to observe the jarring sensation before he's rolling to avoid another hit. He springs up too quickly, losing his balance and overcorrecting. His opponent snatches one of his flailing limbs and pulls it, hard. Before he can cry out, it's being used to hold him in place against the floor.

“Tch” The man above him grunts, unimpressed. He hadn’t even broken a sweat, meanwhile Deku has slipped in his own that had dropped onto the concrete more than once.

“Enough. Rappa. Please.” Deku taps out, gasping breaths strained with a whimper. The man snorts, but lets up with a grunt.

“Still too slow. We’ve been doing this for weeks.” Rappa snaps. Deku winces, sitting up and wiping his face.

Deku had only been training for a short amount of time, but they were already becoming some of his least favorite parts of his day. Initially, he’d been wary. After so long of being forced into the same routine, why break it now? Why did they want him stronger? Why did they want him to be able to defend himself? Then, he’d been excited – desperate even. Anything to get out of his shared room, anything to be able to gain some sense of autonomy. But now? This wasn’t training – this was a different kind of torture.

“Deku.”

Bright green eyes widened, and Deku sits up too quickly, the blood rushing and pounding in his head. Rappa stands a little straighter as well, distancing himself from the kid.

“Y-yes?” Deku stutters out.

Chisaki Kai, Overhaul, crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, looking every bit the authoritarian god that he’d made himself to be. He has his mask on today, which is rarely a good sign for Deku. But he doesn't look angry. Curious, maybe, at the stutter. It was one of the first thing’s he’d broken in Deku, but the habit still had a tendency to sneak through unannounced. Deku would pay for that later.

Overhaul doesn't say anything for a long moment. He looks between the kid and Rappa, eyes narrowing at the bruise Deku could feel forming on his cheek. 

Chisaki pushes off the doorway and walks straight for Deku. He holds his breath and tries his best not to flinch when a gloved hand caresses the bruise, even as Chisaki holds his gaze. Gold eyes bore into green and he tightens his grip. Deku does gasp now; The feeling of his captor’s talons digging into sensitive skin never did get any easier to bear.

“You’re disgusting. Shower. Now.” Chisaki grits out before pushing his head to the side none too gently. Deku rubs his neck and keeps his eyes down. He nods, once.

He limps to the doorway before he's stopped one more time.

“Wear something nice. We have company.” Chisaki informs him.

Deku pauses, tensing. He never did like the type of company the boss would keep. The knowing smirks and roaming hands made it to where he never could take enough showers to satisfy Chisaki, but he was blamed all the same.

“Who?” Deku decides to try his luck. He may as well be prepared. Hopefully it would be someone from Mira, or someone like Yuri. They were polite enough to keep their hands to themselves.

Deku could see the smirk even through the mask. It never did meet the man's eyes, but the danger that was always present in them would lessen occasionally. Or worsen, depending on just how amused he was. Currently, judging by Deku’s standards, Chisaki must have found the whole thing hysterical. His suspicion was confirmed when the boss breathed out, hardly more than a whisper, but the loudest thing in the room:

“The League. “

*********************

Deku tries to contain his amusement, but judging by the scowl on Chisaki’s face, he's failing miserably. After months of trying and failing to get a meeting with the League of Villains, Overhaul had finally gotten their attention. He’d finally gotten his meeting. Only to meet with a nobody - Not even the one with the cool portal quirk, or the cute girl with the knives.

“Dabi. Nice to meet you.” The man holds out a scarred hand that Chisaki looks at with disdain.

“Overhaul.” He doesn't return the gesture, but instead sits down on the plush couch closest to Deku. Close enough to lean back and lay an arm over the back, fingertips brushing against the kid’s shoulder.

"So I’ve heard.” The man named Dabi purrs. He leans back in his own seat across from the two, arms spread wide over the back of the couch. His long legs cross over one another and he makes himself comfortable.

“I haven’t heard of you.” Chisaki responds.

“Hm. Doubt that.” Dabi grins and lets the awkward silence hang there by a string before pulling it taught. He raises his right hand and produces a small, blue flame. Deku leans forward, intrigued, and Overhaul's eyes flicker as realization dawns on him.

“Ah. The fire user."

Dabi’s grin never falters, even when he extinguishes the flame. He seems to be in a constant state of amusement, judging by the way the staples holding his smile together creak and groan with a constant use. Even when his gaze flicks over to Deku, sitting as small as possible next to the leader of the Shie Hassaikai, his amusement doesn't wane.

“And you are?” Dabi addresses him with a wink. The kid flinches and looks to the man sitting next to him for guidance.

“Not for sale.” Chisaki speaks with a finality that relieves as much as angers Deku, who barely catches himself. He isn't allowed to feel angry.

Dabi’s grin lessens now, brows furrowed in confusion. He looks between the kid and the Yakuza leader like he's putting together a puzzle. After a tense moment of silence, Chisaki pieces it together for him.

“And I don’t share.” He clarifies. Dabi’s brows raise, stretching the staples that were now as much a part of him as his own skin.

“Understood.” Dabi’s tone gives nothing away, though the way his muscles tense as he holds himself  are enough to signal his discomfort. Chisaki rolls his eyes and leans back, an arm wrapping around Deku just enough to make a statement.

“Well. Now that we’re introduced. What exactly can you offer me?” Chisaki starts. Dabi barks out a laugh and sits up, any previous tension evaporating with the movement. Now it's Deku’s turn to flinch when he feels Chisaki getting ready to bite back, hard, before Chrono steps into the room.

“Sir, it’s Jay.”

Chisaki groans and rolls his eyes before sitting up. The arm that had been draped around Deku reaches out for the phone Chrono holds out for him.

“A moment.” He barely turns to glance at Dabi before exiting the room, leaving the kid alone with the villain.

Deku tries not to stare, but really, he doesn't get the opportunity to meet that many new people. Especially not people with quirks as cool as the one in front of him. He hadn’t seen a blue flame like that before, and he wondered if the fact that it clearly burned hotter than a normal fire type quirk meant it had more limitations. Maybe he couldn’t use it as long, or as often, or maybe it was harder to control. The scars he wore were too extensive to have been caused by anything less than something so volatile and destructive as fire, maybe that was a –

“What’s your name, kid?”

Deku starts when he sees the fire user sitting up straight, if not leaned towards him just a bit. Dabi's eyes are anything but amused – they're now hard and analytical, looking Deku up and down like he would get some answers that way. But he's soft enough that Deku doesn’t feel afraid of him, necessarily. No more than any other villain, at least. And to not feel terrified was something Deku didn’t take lightly any more.

Regardless, Deku knows he can’t be caught speaking. He keeps his eyes down, like he’d been taught, and shakes his head. Dabi hums, but doesn't ask again.

“How old are you?” He asks instead. Deku couldn’t have told him even if he wanted to. He knew his birthday might have been sometime soon, or may have already passed.

“Are you hungry?” Dabi reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out what looks like a granola bar. Deku’s eyes widen at the gesture, and he starts to salivate against his will. His hands tighten into fists by his side and he forces himself not to react.

“Look, kid, I can –“

“He’s not talking to Jay. And he’s taking too long.” Deku whispers, surprising himself. He freezes, the admission tumbling out of him without any kind of permission.

“What?” Dabi asks, confused.

“Jay. He died last week. He’s not talking to him, and he’s angry. You should go.” Deku hasn’t spoken this much to anyone that wasn’t a part of the precepts in what feels like years. Maybe it has been.

Dabi looks from Deku to the doorway the Yakuza leader had disappeared from. He hesitates, his eyes boring into him. Deku thinks he sees too much, and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the way Dabi can definitely see the bruise on his cheek, the way he makes himself as small as humanly possible. He doesn’t like the way Dabi has tracked all of the scars that are visible in his short sleeves. He doesn’t like that Dabi’s lips curl when he realizes how thin the kid is.

There’s a loud bang from somewhere behind Deku, and he flinches. Dabi looks up and makes his decision, quickly. He nods once at the kid and stands, tossing the granola bar into his lap. Deku catches it, instinctively, and holds on tight.

“Hang in there, kid.” The villain tells him.

Deku doesn’t reply, and Dabi wasn’t expecting him to. He wasn’t expecting anything he saw today. He figured when Toga had told him about some kid being held by the Shie Hassaikai, she must have been off her fucking mind. The Yakuza were old school, and while human trafficking was a lucrative form of income, it wasn’t something they usually partook in. Looks like the new blood made an exception.

As soon as Dabi has found his way out of the underground maze, he’s in an alley with his phone up to his ear, the line already ringing. He lights a cigarette with his hands and inhales once before the call is picked up.

“Miss me already, hot stuff?” Normally this would get at least a chuckle out of Dabi, or a quip back at the bird. Not tonight. Dabi breathes out a small plume of smoke and closes his eyes.

“I need a favor.”

Chapter Text

Eraserhead didn’t get many assignments from the Hero Commission. He rarely received any requests from pro heroes. And up until a week ago, he’d never even spoken to the current number three.

Eraser’s time off from his day job typically consisted of thumbing through police investigations that needed a pair of eyes that could look the other way, or specific vigilantes that did need that long arm of the law. Some weekends he could be guilted into spending time with his husband, but lately, he’d needed less and less persuasion to do that. So when the Voice Hero came to him with something work-related, it caught his attention.

“And why do you have his number?” Shouta raises an eyebrow. His husband, Hizashi, doesn’t disappoint. His cheeks flush slightly and Shouta has to dodge the half-hearted smack to his shoulder.

“Shoutaaaaa gross he’s like… half my age!”

Shouta snorts, “Hardly.”

“I have it from that one time he came on Hands Up!”

“And the number three hero gives numbers out to all his interviewers?” Shouta is hardly smirking, one corner of his mouth ticked a bit higher than the other, but his husband is too flustered to notice.

“Well, I don’t know, I mean-“

“Is that why you got so dressed up for work a few months ago?” Shouta feigns ignorance and scratches his chin, knowing that was exactly why the hero had taken an extra hour getting ready that night.

“That was unrelated!” Hizashi squeaks but doesn’t deny it.

“Hmm… Did he give you his personal cell before or after seeing you in those tight pants?” Shouta teased.

“Unrelated!” Hizashi emphasizes again, and Shouta breaks into an actual smile this time, unable to keep up the ruse. His husband’s eyes narrow and Shouta dodges another half-hearted smack.

“Tch. You know, I can’t help that I’m hot, Shouta. You knew what you were getting into when we started dating!” Hizashi sticks out his tongue like the professional hero he is. Shouta lets out a breath of air that only his husband can translate into a laugh, and Hizashi rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Yeah. Do you want it or not?”

“Hm.” Shouta motions for his husband’s phone, who hands it over with another eye roll.

“I could’ve just texted it to you.”

“But then I couldn’t see that he’s saved in your phone as-“

“THAT WAs a joke! Nemuri, she-” Hizashi’s quirk may have been erased, but his embarrassment was not.

“Did he say what this was about?” Shouta asked, inputting the number for the fastest hero into his phone. As much as he enjoyed teasing his husband, Shouta hadn’t worked an actual case in a few weeks. He’d mostly been assisting in analytical and supportive roles in the last bit of summer, much to Hizashi’s glee. To say he was itching for a good case would be an understatement.

“Just said he needed help with something.” Hizashi shrugs.

“Hm. How did he know you would have my contact information?” Present Mic and Eraserhead’s relationship wasn’t secret to their closest friends and colleagues, but it wasn’t well known either. The fact that the commission may be aware of it left a sour taste in Shouta's mouth.

Shouta called the number and held the phone up to his ear with one hand while retying his long hair up into a bun with the other.

“He didn’t. Just knew we were close at UA.” Shouta hummed again and pushed back the strands that had escaped his poor attempt to tie his tangled hair back. The phone rang once, twice, before it was answered.

“Yo.”

“Hawks?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Eraser.”

Good luck! Hizashi mouthed before going back into their bedroom to finish up his lesson plans for the semester.

“Eraser! Wow, I didn’t think I’d hear from you so fast. Or at all, really. You’re hard to get a hold of!” Shouta could hear what sounded like a hurricane in the background, so he knew the bird must have been flying pretty fast.

“Well, you caught my attention.”

“Ha! Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

Shouta’s eye roll could practically be heard over the phone, and Hawks laughed again.

“What’s the case?”

“Geez, right to it huh?”

“Hawks.”

“All right, all right. Listen, I could actually really use your help on this.” Hawks’ tone hardens, serious now that he knows he does in fact have the underground hero’s attention, “You’re not tied to the commission, and I’m not sure I want them knowing about this yet.”

That gives Shouta pause. One of the reasons Hawks and him have yet to interact wasn’t only due to their polar opposite work schedules, but for the fact that he was for, all intents and purposes, the poster child for the hero commission.

“Is this line secure?” Is the first thing Shouta asks.

“Yes, but I’d really rather talk in person.” Hawks answers back, all traces of his light teasing from earlier gone.

“Where.”

“I’m patrolling till seven, there’s a diner in Yamaka that’s safe.” From the commission goes unsaid.

“I’ll be there.”

“Great! I appreciate it, Eraser.”

“Sure. I’ll see you-“

“Wait!” The hero sounds out of breath now, and he grunts and Shouta can hear what sounds like a fight.

“What?”

“Can you bring Present Mic?” He shouts over the gunfire in the background.

“Mic? Why?”

“Do you know if he’s seeing anybody?”

“Bye, Hawks.” Shouta hangs up on a short bark of laughter from the other man and sighs. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches an arm above his head.

Shouta pulls down his husband’s favorite mug and fixes a cup of tea. He could tell from the blonde’s furrowed brow and frequent fidgeting that he would be fighting a migraine soon, probably due to him not wearing his glasses while working again. He picks up the glasses from the kitchen table and brings both items to him. Yamada looks up when he enters, the tension in his face easing when he spots him.

“Thanks, baby.” He grins. Shouta leans down and kisses the top of his head.

“I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait up.” He says, sitting down and trying not to disrupt the papers strewn across his husband’s side of the bed.

“That’s fine. Joke wanted to go out anyways, so I won’t be home.” Shouta nods.

“Let’s take a nap before that.” He mutters and wraps his arms around Hizashi’s chest that’s shaking with quiet laughter.

“I need to finish this first – I’m almost done.”

Shouta grumbles incoherently, slumping down until he’s laid down on his side of the bed with an arm still wrapped around Hizashi’s middle. Yamada strokes his hair fondly and smiles. “Love you too.”

******************

Three days later sees Shouta stating the one thing he never could have seen himself saying before. Nursing a cup of shitty coffee with one hand, pushing his hair back with the other, he stares straight across the booth in the diner he’s been frequenting the last few days. Hawks is looking him over apprehensively; He can tell the underground hero isn’t happy about something. He opens his mouth to ask before the other man beats him to it.

“We need the Commission.” He grunts.

The winged hero’s eyes widen dramatically before he schools his expression into something more neutral. But Shouta can see in the way he’s suddenly fidgeting in his seat that he doesn’t like that idea. Shouta still isn’t sure where the heroes’ loyalties actually lie, be that to the commission or to whoever his “source” is, but it’s clear he doesn’t want his superiors involved in this. Shouta just isn’t sure why that is.

“Why?” Hawks asks, simply, after processing what Shouta has said. Shouta takes a breath and finishes off the coffee before refilling it just as quickly.

“I’m not sure how much your source knows about the place, but it’s expansive. I’ve been watching just for a few days, and the amount of traffic and supplies that go in and out are enough for a small army.” Shouta says. Hawks’ brows furrow.

“That’s why we have you, though. To infiltrate and get the kid out.” Hawks says, reiterating what he’d stated at their very first meeting.

“At first, that was possible. But today-”

“I thought this was your deal, Eraser – Undercover and stealth and shit.” Hawks folds his arms and leans back, looking at the moment more like a child than a hero.

“It is. But their security is too much for just me. If we had law enforcement assisting, maybe, but it would end up getting back to the commission anyways. And that’s not even-”

“Ughhh, he’s going to kill me.” Hawks pouts.

“Who?”
“My stupid source.” Hawks sighs and pulls out one of his phones, presumably to let them know about this latest development.

“Did your source even know what he was walking into? Did he tell you what I’d be walking into?” Shouta asks, brows raised.

“What do you mean?” Hawks closes his burner phone and sets it on the table.

“This isn’t just a street gang that I’ve been watching. I’ve seen more than a few wanted criminals leaving this place – Setsuno and Mimic were both in and out of there today. Hawks, I think this is-“

“Ah- yeah. Yeah, I… I know.” Hawks winced. Shouta blinks.

“You know? And you were just going to let me walk right in for this kid we haven’t even confirmed is really there?”

“Of course not! I knew you’d see what we were up against, but I also knew if I told you I was talking about the Shie Hassaikai the first time we met, you’d have gotten the Commission involved at the beginning! I at least wanted to see if we could do it without them.” Hawks’ phone lights up and he opens it, rolling his eyes at whomever it is that has his number.

“Unbelievable.” Shouta grunts and leans his head back, rolling his shoulders. 78 hours of surveillance wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined when the hero had reached out, and hiding in small, cramped spaces for the last few days had reminded him he wasn’t nearly as young as he was when he started his career.

“I’m sorryyyyy, okay? But I promise the kid is real.” Hawks emphasizes for what must be the hundredth time that week.

“How? You don’t have a picture, a name, an age-” Shouta points out for what also must be the hundredth time.

“I promise, all right? You wouldn’t have taken the job if you didn’t believe me.” Hawks parrots back.

This is an old conversation between the two new acquaintances, and Shouta still can’t believe they’re having it. Still can’t believe he’s willing to put his faith in this baby hero that had sworn on his life that his source was legitimate, that he wouldn’t lie about something like this. Shouta rolls his eyes but relents. Even if this kid with green hair and matching eyes don’t exist, they’ll have taken down one of Japan’s newest mafias before they’ve even had the chance to get started. That’s a good enough reason for Shouta. But still…

“Tell me again.”

Hawks sighs. “Short kid. Green hair, green eyes. Freckles. Skinny. Could be as young as eleven. Lots of bumps and bruises, lots of scarring up and down his arms.” Shouta nods along as he talks, soaking in the information like it’s his first time hearing it.

In reality, he’d had the brief description written down in his notebook since the first time they’d met. He’d had Tsukauchi run it through Law Enforcement’s database, hoping for a hit, but there were no missing persons or runaway reports that matched the description. Which meant no one else was even looking for the kid – who knew how long he’d actually been missing.

****************

One week after his first call with Hawks, Shouta still isn’t sure how he got where he is. Sitting at the table at the Hero Commission’s headquarters with Hawks on his left and Best Jeanist on his right. Even All-Might was at the table, and Eraser hadn’t seen him since he’d the Naka-Ku incident almost three years ago. The last time Shouta had been in the same room as so many pros was… well, never.

“And we’re sure this will work?” Present Mic asks for the hundredth time. Shouta fights the urge to smile fondly at his husband. His anxiety isn’t exactly misplaced, but there’s a reason he and Shouta never work together. If Yamada knew half the things Shouta did on duty, he’d never let him leave the house again. This was nothing compared to some of his stunts in his early years.

“It’s the best plan with the highest probability of success. If we want to go in and blow up the place, that’s one thing. But this level of extraction really is Eraser’s specialty.” Sir Nighteye confirms. He’s sitting as far from All-Might as Shouta is, he notices.

“Then what are we all here for?” All-Might himself asks.

“This isn’t just some street gang,” Hawks chimes in and quotes Shouta’s own words, “The Shie Hassaikai has managed to gather some of the most dangerous criminals that are out right now in a relatively short amount of time. Not to mention Overhaul – His quirk alone is enough to warrant a certain level of caution.”

“And Eraser will be going in essentially blind – We don’t know what is underground.” Kamui Woods chimes in.

“I see.” The number one hero nods, accepting these facts.

“And if there’s no kid?” Best Jeanist chimes in. Shouta can’t blame him for being skeptical – they still hadn’t actually confirmed this piece of information.

“Then we’ll adjust the plan accordingly.” Nighteye chimes in.

“If the bug works as it should, you’ll know when I do.” Shouta offers. The vigilante he’d requested the item from had assured him, enthusiastically, that it was completely undetectable by any other form of technology or quirk, but would still provide a feed. The commission had been skeptical at first, but Shouta had vouched for his provider, and after letting the commission’s own support team take a look at it, it’d been approved.

Shouta met his husband’s gaze across the table. Yamada and he had never worked together for a reason. While back at UA they’d made a formidable team, but Shouta wasn’t certain he could stay uncompromised if they were both in a real fight. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that, but Shouta could see the worry creating tension in the creases of his husband’s eyes.

“Well… if that’s it. We should rest, now. It’s going to be a long night.” All-Might stands up, and everyone follows suit.

Shouta makes his way to the door but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see Hawks looking far more serious than he has in the last few days.

“What?”Shouta asks, glancing back over his shoulder to see Yamada waiting in the doorframe.

“Just… Thanks.” The number three hero’s eyes are burning into Shouta's, and he can feel the hero’s energy pouring off of him in tangible waves.

He’s nervous, Shouta realizes. He may be the number three hero, but he’s still young – and who knows where they’ll all be after tonight. This isn’t a patrol in a dangerous neighborhood, or a search and rescue. This is a mission that is unpredictable enough to cause the legitimate concern that everyone might not be coming home in the end, and it’s happening because Hawks brought it to the table.

“You can thank me when it’s over.”

Chapter Text

The first time Eraser comes to, he almost wishes he hadn’t – Not yet at least. Whatever they injected him with hurt like hell to come off of, and the pounding in his head made it difficult to open his eyes. When he did, he couldn’t open them wide enough, and the only thing he could make out before he was drug back under was the color green.

The second time Eraser wakes up, the hurt has been replaced by overwhelming dizziness. His eyes are open, but nothing stays still. Everything is spinning and he’d probably vomit if he wasn't so dehydrated. He knows he needs to focus, and concentrate, but the only thing staying still is a pair of wide green eyes, and then he’s falling under again.

The third and final time Eraser regains consciousness, the room is still and the pounding in his head is now manageable. He looks around the small room for that color, the green that was bright enough to stand out against the gray interior. Eraser knows it could have been the drugs, but Hawks’ description of the kid has stuck in his mind: Green hair, green eyes.

Imagination or not, Eraser knows he needs to get moving. He needs to cover as much ground as he can, he needs to see as much as possible so the heroes waiting a few blocks away could see what they’d be running into. And he needs to do that before Overhaul returns.

The boss leaving the underground for the afternoon had been a coincidence the heroes couldn’t pass up. With him out of the building, Eraser had more time to move around and find the kid. The hard part was doing that without giving away the impending attack, or it was likely they’d lose the Yakuza leader altogether.

Not that any of this would matter if Eraser couldn’t get out of his confinement in the first place. The shackles on his wrists that bound him to his chair were too tight to slip out of, but not tight enough to give him any kind of leverage. They’d taken his capture scarf when he came in and had patted him down, seeing as his outfit felt a few pounds lighter.

And there was nothing in this room that was useful. It was empty, sterile, free of anything else except for one other chair free of constraints and an old, rusted sink that came out of the wall. An interrogation room, Eraser assumed.

Eraser flexes his hands and rolls his neck, willing the pin that has been tucked into his hair to fall into his palm. Eraserhead had been captured enough times, intentionally or not, to know that no matter how thorough his captors may be, they never did think to check his hair. Or maybe they did but were intimidated by the “Literal nest of fucking yuck” as his husband had lovingly referred to it on more than one occasion.

It was then, with his head tilted at a painfully sharp angle and with a triumphant huff of air leaving his chest as the pin fell into his open hand, that he truly saw the kid for the first time.

The one door to the room swings open all at once, then slower when the kid notices the hero is awake. The boy freezes, hurriedly checking behind him before shutting the door, quickly. He hesitates, seeming to grow physically smaller under the weight of the hero’s stare.

Shouta goes to speak, but all that comes out is a weak croak followed by a hacking cough as his throat works to provide some relief from his dry mouth. The kid starts at the noise, then seemingly remembers himself as he approaches the hero quickly, but warily, telegraphing his movements in a way that a kid his age shouldn’t know to do.

And he was a kid. It was hard to pinpoint an age, thanks to the too-long hair that covered much of his face, and the obvious malnourishment that had stolen his fat and his muscle. Maybe a middle-schooler, Shouta thought, definitely not out of high school.

Shouta tracks the boy’s left hand that rises to tuck a wild green curl behind his ear, showing off a matching set of eyes framed with freckles. The kid’s right hand holds a glass of clear liquid that he brings up to the hero’s face. Eraser flinches back, startling the boy into sloshing some of the liquid over the side.

The boy mouths a silent, Oh, and his eyes widen in understanding as Shouta’s narrow, distrusting.

The kid offers what may have been intended to be a reassuring smile, but in reality, it was little more than a grimace. He holds the glass up to his own parched lips and takes a big gulp that shows off a pale throat covered with purple and blue bite marks. The kid swallows and opens his mouth wide for Shouta to see that he had indeed ingested it.

Eraser nods slowly, deliberately. It could have been a ruse, but Eraserhead does need to talk to the kid, and he can’t do that if he's unable to get even a word out.

The boy moves slower this time and holds the cool glass gently against the hero’s lips. Eraser tilts his head as far as he can in his confinement and can get at least some of it in his mouth.

“Thanks.” He rasps. The kid nods and takes a considerable step back to set the glass on the floor. He stands back up and wrings his hands anxiously, eyes flitting across the hero’s form and never settling in one place.

“What’s your name?”
“Are you hurt?”

They speak at the same time, though the boy’s question comes out as little more than a whisper.

“I’m fine. What’s your name, kid?” Eraserhead isn’t completely lying. He’s definitely had worse and he's confident his aching was no more than bumps and bruises.

The boy looks down and doesn’t answer, staring at his sock-covered feet instead. His arms cross in front of his chest as he holds himself together.

“Where are we?” Eraser asks instead. The kid looks up at that and bites his bottom lip.

“You’re Eraserhead, right?” He asks, ignoring the older man’s question. Shouta has to strain to hear the kid and asks one of his own.

“Why do you think that?”

He’s moderately surprised. Shouta is underground for a reason, and that reason typically relies on his relative anonymity. But maybe the kid heard them talking when they brought him in.

“They took your scarf. I recognized it from the pictures.”

“What pictures?” The kid hasn’t stopped worrying his bottom lip, and if Shouta’s hands weren’t literally tied, he would’ve stopped him.

“It’s going to be okay.” The kid says, and this gives Eraserhead pause. Was the kid trying to comfort him?

“Pretty sure that’s my line, kid.” And Eraser finally has a good grasp on the pin in his hand, but he can’t give anything away with the boy watching him. He doesn’t know this kid, and though he seems sweet, Eraser has no idea how long the boy has been with the precepts or where his head is at.

“I’m not a kid.” He grumbles and looks away.

“Oh? How old are you, then?” Eraser tries to get the kid talking about himself, but the boy just clams back up, wraps scarred arms around his middle, and doesn’t answer.

“What’s your favorite color?” Shouta tries, and this does get a reaction, if not an answer. Green brows furrow and a small nose scrunches in confusion. The expression lasts only a moment before it's gone, and Eraser still doesn’t have an answer.

“Mine is yellow.” The hero offers. The kid starts wringing his hands again as he finally looks back at the hero.

“Your quirk erases quirks, right?” And Eraserhead is surprised by this kid once again. Out of the small circle of villains that have heard of him, even fewer know how his quirk works. Most are actually convinced he’s quirkless.

Eraser doesn’t respond, but his silence seems to serve as enough of an answer for the kid. Green eyes are now threatened to overflowing and his voice wobbles when he stutters, “Y-you really sh-sh-shouldn’t have been ca-captured.”

Shouta has never been good with crying, despite how often he experiences it from his husband, and unfortunately, this is no exception. His eyes widen as he takes in the small kid that is slowly hyperventilating in front of him.

“Ah- uh – Shit, kid, it’s okay. We’ll be fine. I’ll get you out of here, okay?” Shouta tries to be reassuring, but this only seems to make the kid cry harder.

“N-no. Th-they’re g-g-going to-”

Shouta doesn’t figure out what they’re going to do, because the door opens with a slam against the wall, causing both the kid and the hero to jump.

There’s an incredibly tall man that Eraserhead recognizes as one of those that had been filtering in and out of the base the last few days. He takes in the scene, with the kid wiping his eyes to hide any evidence of his tears, and the man’s eyes narrow.

“Deku. Lunch.” The man’s tone offers no room for compromise, and the kid nods.

The boy walks back over to the glass on the floor and picks it up, before looking between the villain and the hero with a questioning look. The villain rolls his eyes and waves his hand as he walks out of the room.

“Hurry.” He says.

The kid walks quickly back over to Shouta and offers him a last sip of water that the hero takes, gratefully. He knows he’s dehydrated from the drugs and the fight that led up to his imprisonment, and he needs all the strength he can get for what he knows is coming.

“It’ll be okay. Promise.” The kid whispers even quieter than before, and his wide, earnest eyes are impossible to doubt.

When the door closes and it’s just Eraserhead in the room, working the pin into the cuffs, he can’t help but feel a little bit better about the situation. He would’ve made a great hero, he thinks.

Chapter Text

Aizawa groans as he regains consciousness yet again. Normally, he’d jump at the chance to sleep all day, but his naps usually involve a lot less pain and a lot less of the disconcerting buzzing sensation that’s taken hold underneath his skin. His ears ring as he tries to get a grasp on the steady stream of mumbling that’s coming from somewhere nearby. He’s able to pick out a few of the words before giving up and opening his eyes.

“And…should have…stupid…okay?...can’t believe…of course-“

“Kid.” Aizawa groans and sure enough, his eyes find the green-haired boy sitting in the other chair in the room, hunched over and teary-eyed.

“What happened?” The hero asks. The last thing he remembers is wriggling the pin into place and turning the lock on his cuffs, then a blinding pain that started at his wrists before radiating throughout his body.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Eraser! The restraints – they’re specially made – when they sense they’re being tampered with, it releases an electrical current and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you that, I should have but I didn’t think you’d try and get them off so quick, but you’re a hero, of course, you’d try and escape and if I would’ve told you then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and-”

“It’s fine. How – How long have I been here?” Eraser cuts the kid off. It’s impossible to tell after being in and out since he was taken, but if Overhaul isn’t back yet, then hopefully it hasn’t been too long.

“Um, I don’t… I don’t know how long you were here before I saw you – Maybe an hour or two? And then you were in and out for like an hour, and it’s been two hours since I saw you, so-“

“Six hours, at most.” Eraser guesses. Too long.

“When will he be back?” Aizawa is fidgeting now, flexing his hands that are truly trapped on either side of him.

“H-He? How did you know-“

“I need to get us out of here. How exactly do these things work?” Eraser is trying to soften his stare, but the kid still shrinks in on himself, his eyes growing pained and watering.

“U-um, it-it-it’s-“

There’s a knock on the door that’s more of a loud bang, and then it’s opening to reveal the same large man from earlier. Setsuno, Eraser remembers from the Intel he’d managed to gather. Quirk - Larceny. He’s carrying a plate of food that he drops into Eraserhead’s lap, smirking as much of it spills over the edge. Not that the hero would eat it, even if he could.

“No talking to the prisoner, Deku.” The villain grunts.

The kid surprises Aizawa, speaking up so that the hero can hear the hardened tone that wraps around his sudden confidence.

“Mind your business, Setsuno.” The kid’s eyes narrow as they cut across the room from the hero to the villain. The two stare at each other for a few more moments before the larger man grits his teeth. He gives the hero a parting glare before slamming the door on his way out.

The kid seemingly deflates, his shoulders slouching as he exhales deeply. His eyes soften when he looks back at Aizawa.

“Will you get in trouble for being here?” Eraser asks. The boy, Deku is what they call him, shrugs.

“Not really. I told Setsuno that if he didn’t let me see you, I’d tell Chisaki that he touched me.”

Eraserhead hums, soaking in the implication of that statement.

“You do that often?” He asks. The boy looks at him, questioning.

“Manipulate them, like that.” The kid flinches at the first word, and maybe Eraser should be a little more sensitive, but he’s not known for being tactful even on his best day.

“N-No. I-I c-couldn’t. Just when… When s-something is imp-important.” The kid stutters out. Eraser raises an eyebrow.

“Is this important?”

The kid doesn’t answer. He does stand up, slowly, and walks toward the hero. He doesn’t miss the way Eraser tenses as he gets closer, and the boy pauses.

“I’m just getting your plate.” He explains, and his voice has gone soft and uncertain again. He waits for Eraser to nod before offering up another half-hearted grimace.

He picks up the plate off of his lap, careful not to touch the man underneath, and steps back as far as he can while still being able to reach out a spoonful of what looks like mushy rice. Aizawa shakes his head, aggressive, and the kid takes back his hand.

“It’s okay, it’s not poisoned or anything - I’d show you, but, I’m not allowed.” He tries to reassure the hero.

Aizawa shakes his head again, and the kid retracts his hand completely.

“Y-you should eat.”

“I won’t be here long.” Eraser tells him. The boy is fidgeting again, his hands tugging at one of the longer green curls. He nods and sets down the plate.

“What can you tell me about this place? How many are here, currently?” Eraserhead starts. If he can’t get out quick enough to do surveillance, he needs the rest of the heroes to come in prepared.

“Do you know where the exits are?” He asks when he doesn’t get a response. The kid nods, hesitantly.

“Tell me.”

The kid’s eyes are wide and he’s shifting his weight between his left and right foot. Eraser raises his head and scans what he can see in the room. He didn’t remember seeing any cameras on his way in, but it’s possible he was too out of it to notice.

“Can they hear us?” He asks, wondering if the boy’s reluctance is because he doesn’t want his captors to her him. The kid shakes his head.

Eraser exhales, frustrated, “Look, kid. You don’t know me, but if you help me, I promise I’ll get us out of here, okay? I just need you to trust me.”

The kid is hanging on to his every word like he really does want to believe him, but the sentiment behind them is lost.

“I’ll never get out.” The kid whispers and Aizawa doesn’t think those words were meant for him. He opens his mouth to speak, but the kid cuts him off.

“I know you. I mean – I don’t – I know of you.”

“From them?” Aizawa questions, nodding at the closed door. He needs to get this kid talking.

“N-no. From before.”

“Before?”

“Before them.”

“Ah. Before you were… taken?” Eraser asks, finishing the thought. The kid nods and licks his dry lips.

“I... I used to really like… heroes. Like, analyzing their quirks, and stuff…” The kid is almost blushing, self-conscious for some reason at this admission.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“Um… All-Might, but – I don’t like him so much, anymore.”

Aizawa snorts, “Me either, kid.”

The boy almost quirks an actual smile at this, so Aizawa continues, “He’s not awful, just… ignorant.” Aizawa settles on. The kid’s eyes widen, comically.

“He’s stupid?”

“Not stupid… he’s intelligent about some things… strategy and engaging with the public… but when it comes to common sense situations, he can be… lacking.” The kid brightens and finally, Aizawa thinks, maybe they’re getting somewhere.

“Underground heroes don’t typically have a following…” He points out, curious how the kid knows about him.

“N-no, but – You do!” The kid says. This takes Eraser back, and all he gets out is,

“Huh?”

“You do! No one really knows who you are, at least not back then, I don’t know about now, but a bunch of people you saved started a whole forum trying to figure out who you are! They started describing you, trying to see if anyone else had run into you, and they realized they were all talking about the same person! They were trying to figure out who you were so they could thank you – Then enough people realized they were talking about the same person, and I guess someone knew your hero name because the last time I checked, there was a whole find Eraserhead hashtag that they created! I told them to take it down because that’s the whole point of being an underground hero is so no one knows you, but – Oh, sorry. Sorry – I didn’t mean to ramble.”

The kid has some color in his cheeks now, some life in those eyes that are still hiding behind long bangs.

“No, it’s fine. I just… never realized.”

“Yeah! You’ve saved a lot of people! And a lot of them weren’t even sure if you were a hero! There was a whole thread about whether people thought you could have been a vigilante because they never saw you use your quirk – but I knew you had one! I figured out it had to be an erasure-type quirk after I saw that one video of you fighting the Lasso Villain a few years ago – And it has to do with your eyes, right? That’s why you wear the goggles?”

The kid didn’t give the hero a chance to answer, and now that Aizawa got the kid talking, he isn’t sure if he can get him to stop.

“I didn’t say anything, don’t worry! I didn’t usually post except for that one time, about the hashtag – I just read a lot of the other posts and stuff from the survivors! Most of them were abuse or domestic violence victims – there were even some drug users that went to rehab because of you! And trafficking survivors that had totally normal jobs because of you! They said you were nice, and made them feel safe and not scared… Sometimes, I wished…”

The kid slows down a bit and trails off, giving Aizawa a moment to interject.

“You wished…?” He prompted. The kid flushes a bright red and is waving his hands, frantically. He starts and stops speaking a few times, unable to get a word out, when Eraser takes pity on him.

“Seems like you know a lot about heroes.”

“Ah, I… yeah. I used to really want to be one when I grew up.” The flush is fading now, and his voice has grown quiet and sad again. Aizawa doesn’t like it, but time is still moving too quickly.

“Look, kid. Being a hero is… it’s scary. But, you seem to know, it’s not always lifting cars off of people and punching bad guys. Sometimes it’s just… as simple as staying alive, for a little bit longer, until you’re able to save the next person.” The kid’s eyes are watering now, but Aizawa continues.

“So… I really need you to help me out, kid. Anything you can give me – Their names, quirks, directions, anything that can get us out.”

Those green eyes are drowning in tears that are now falling freely down sunken cheeks and chapped lips. The kid wipes his eyes and rubs them until they’re swollen, trying to calm himself down. Aizawa gives him a few moments.

“I need to see what time it is.” The kid says, abruptly. Eraser starts, cursing himself for pushing too hard.

“Wait, kid – don’t – “

“I’ll be right back, I promise. You wanted to know how long you’ve been here.”

“Yeah, but that’s not-“

Important now, he thinks to himself, because he’s alone again.

“Damn it.”

Alone again, Aizawa tries and fails to activate that stupid bug. It’s in his hair, alongside a few more pins, and connected to his brain according to the analysis done by the hero commission’s support team, but he’s pretty sure it short-circuited when Aizawa was electrocuted, earlier. There’s supposed to be a steady beep, a tone every thirty seconds that only he can hear, but he hasn’t heard it since he woke up this last time. He needs a signal to activate it again, to send out the call that the heroes need to get here, now. He didn’t get any Intel, but it’s too late to worry about that now. He needs to get above ground.

The kid comes back in with a different look in his eyes. His face is still red and splotchy, but his eyes are focused. He stalks over to the hero and leans down.

“What-“

“It’s almost six. You’ll get another guard, then. Tengai  – Barrier quirk.” The kid’s hands are shaking when they slip something into the hero’s pockets.

“Two codes. The top will get you off this floor, the bottom will get you to the lobby. There should only be one person there, an attendant – Yu-  Crystallize.”

“I-“

“Take the vents. Take the third right out, take a left, then there’s a fork – take the one that’s smaller until you’re above the hallway with the blue light. There’s an elevator that uses the first code and it’ll take you to the first floor. The second one will get you to the lobby.”

“How-“

“After I leave, wait two minutes exactly. Use this,” He holds up a small device with a switch, “Only after two minutes.” His heavily scarred hands are gentle, but firm when they open the heroes and close the man’s fingers over the device.

The kid is full-on shaking now, his breathing is shallow and he’s losing color. He's a second away from a complete meltdown at this act of defiance.

“Kid- listen for a second. You need to come with me.” Eraser tries, but the boy is already shaking his head.

“I’ll distract him, don’t worry.” The kid says, and Aizawa wants to scream.

“Kid. If they realize a pro hero knows their location like this, they’ll run. You won’t be here anymore and I won’t know how to find you.” Aizawa tries to explain. Of course, it won’t come to that, the rest of the heroes are still on standby, but the kid doesn’t know that.

“I know. It’s okay, just-“

“Kid. Come with me.” Aizawa doesn’t want to let him out of his sight for even a second. If they think he had anything to do with the hero’s escape, he’s sure it won’t end well for him.

“No.” The kid raises his voice and winces, looking behind him.

“You won’t get out of here with Tengai watching you. I can at least give you a head start.” He makes his way to the door and Aizawa struggles, finger on the switch.

“Two minutes.” The kid reminds him, seeing his hands move. Eraser stills.

“Just… stay alive a little bit longer. Go save the next person.” The kid says, parroting his own words back at him.

“Don’t-“ Aizawa starts, but the kid is already back out the door.

Aizawa wants to yell, but his eyes are closed and he’s counting. Two minutes. Each second has him feeling tenser, and he can feel the adrenaline begging to be released from him. Sixty seconds, and he’s clenching the device like a lifeline. He supposes it is.

Two minutes and Aizawa hears the kid outside the door, talking to someone – Tengai, Aizawa guesses. He flips the switch and the cuffs fall off of him, revealing a burned and blistered line around his right hand, where he’d tried to escape earlier. He’s standing on the back of the chair and hoisting himself into the vent above him before the three-minute mark.

Aizawa takes the third right, then a left. He can hear people below him and he’s going as quickly as he can, as quietly as he can. He has no idea how he’s been lucky enough not to run into Overhaul considering the time, but he isn’t interested in testing that luck.

Six o’clock means he’s been underground for nearly five hours. He’d been unreachable for at least two. Damn, Hizashi must have been panicking. He was surprised he hadn’t come to his rescue, blowing the operation and busting down the door. Even All-Might wouldn’t be able to stop his husband when it came to protecting the people he cares about. Aizawa considered him lucky to be counted among them.

Eraser came across the fork in the vents and takes the slightly smaller opening on the right. The kid must have been planning an escape for a while, and to throw all that preparation away on Aizawa was… heroic.

Aizawa slows down once he sees the blue lights. He really wished he had his scarf to make his descent a little easier, his landing a bit softer. No one had ever taken it before – no one had ever thought to. He wondered just what it was they were planning on doing with him, and how long they’d been watching him to pick up on that.

Scarf or not, he could be quiet. He was able to take the grate off and clear the hall before lowering himself to the ground. He spotted the elevator and keypad right away and dug in his pocket for the crumpled piece of paper the kid handed to him. It was old and worn, frayed in some places, more evidence that the kid had held on to it, planning for the right time.

Aizawa punches in the code, 3296, and the doors open for him. He looks back down the hall, still looking for cameras, and still finding none. Strange. Maybe no one had ever gotten this far.

The moment the elevator starts going up, he tries activating the bug. One floor up, and he still isn’t getting anything. What quirk did the kid say to look out for? Crystallize … that shouldn’t be too difficult. As long as he wasn’t spotted first, he could take out their quirk and get in close – with an ability like that, they wouldn’t be used to close combat fighting.

Two floors and still nothing. He really needs to hurry. The scars and marks – the old ones on the kid's arms and the fresh ones on his neck –they made Eraser nauseous. The thought of leaving him, no matter how briefly, didn’t sit well.

Three floors and he got the tone. He sighed in relief and held it down against his head, talking rapidly.

“Get in formation, now. No eyes on the boss, but we need to move. The kid is here, no additional information on him. At least three floors down, not sure about additional exits. Setsuno and Tengai  spotted downstairs, Yu is in the lobby, no… shit.”

Aizawa trails off as the elevator doors open to reveal a tall, regal-looking man. Hooded eyes are furrowed in confusion for only a moment before they widen in understanding and then narrow, threatening. The bottom half of his face is covered in a plague mask, and Aizawa’s own gaze hardens as he takes in the villain that he knows has made that green-eyed kid’s life a living hell.

Overhaul.

Chapter Text

Deku can’t leave his head. He tries, he tries hard when the villain unclips his plague mask, sets it gently on the ground. He tries when he reaches his hand out and brushes Deku’s cheek. He tries when Tengai pushes him down by his shoulders and ruffles his hair. But Deku is panicked, he hasn’t done anything as daring as this in years – not since his first escape attempt.

Deku can’t leave his head, but it’s not so bad. Tengai is gentle, and Deku doesn’t have to pretend with him. It’s over fast – maybe too fast, because Eraserhead needs to get out before Tengai realizes he’s missing. If they find the hero in the vents, it will be Deku’s fault that he’s captured, that he’s brought back and -

“Do you have any idea how powerful you are?” Tengai asks, breaking Deku out of his own head.

Deku blinks once, twice, waiting for the punch line that doesn’t come. He shakes his head; He knows better than to ignore a direct question – even if it’s a joke.

Deku doesn’t feel very powerful down on his knees. The hard floor had made his legs grow numb about five minutes ago, but the rest of him was, unfortunately, very much awake. His chest is tight and his throat is burning. His jaw is sore and his cheeks are red and puffy from crying.

The older man hooks a finger under Deku’s chin, so he’s forced to tilt his head. Tengai doesn’t usually play games like this – he’s more reserved than the other members, steady, but Deku can’t seem to find his footing today.

“Deku… You have no idea… You’re the most powerful person in the Shie Hassaika.” He murmurs.

Deku’s eyes must have closed at some point, because they fly open at this statement. It’s enough to make him forget the last few minutes, to make him forget why he’s in this utility closet in the first place. He studies the older man, his eyes are steady, if a little hazy, but he’s lucid enough.

“What?” He asks, and his throat is wrecked. He’s going to have to drink something and rest before he sees Chisaki.

“It’s true. And you… waste it. That power. You… you could have anything you wanted and you just… are content to lie, or kneel, where you are. You don’t even try and take it.”

Tengai seems to be talking more to himself now, his voice has grown soft, and Deku is lost. He’s used to men’s nonsensical rambling after a good orgasm, he doesn’t usually pay much attention, but given that this is about him…

“I don’t-“ Deku clears his throat, and that’s a little better – it doesn’t sound as fucked.

“I’m not powerful.” He says, and nothing else he could say would ring as true in that moment.

Deku had never been strong or powerful – no wonder All-Might told him he couldn’t be a hero. No wonder Kacchan had beat that sentiment into him for all those years – it was probably for his own good. Deku was deku – useless on his best day. If he couldn’t defend himself from his bullies, from his mother, from himself – How did he ever think he could defend himself from actual villains? If the last three years have proven anything, it’s that he can’t.

“No… You’re not.” Tengai concedes, pulling Deku out of his spiral once more.

“You’re not powerful,” Tengai reaffirms, “But you have power.”

Tengai kneels. He has one knee on the floor in front of Deku with the other propped up. He leans on it with one hand while the other is continuing to stroke Deku’s cheek – Deku wishes he would stop that.

“You have the leader of the Shie Hassaika wrapped around your finger.” He murmurs. Deku startles, actually flinches away from that statement, and Tengai drops his hand.

“What?”

“Hmm,” He hums, “You really don’t know?” Deku shakes his head, wide eyes are begging for clarification.

“Deku… You could be dripping in the rarest jewels… You could drink the finest wines… You could ask the world from Chisaki and he would give it to you… if you returned even a touch of his affection.”

“Affection?” Deku spits out, and this is a lot to process but that word isn’t hard to understand.

“You don’t think so? I think you’ve spent the last three years in unimaginable pain, when all you had to do was… try.”

“No… You – you’re lying.” Deku raises his voice and the older man raises his eyebrows at this act of defiance.

“I don’t lie, Deku.” He reminds him. Deku shakes his head.

“Then you’re wrong.”

“I don’t think so.” He hums.

Deku has had enough of this. He doesn’t like it – He doesn’t like what Tengai is trying to spin him. He’s not powerful; he just had the villains cock halfway down his throat while the villain gently fucked into him. He wasn’t powerful, and he’d accepted his situation two years ago, three hundred and seventy nine days after he met Chisaki.. He wasn’t anything at all.

“Stop.” He tries to sound strong, but it comes out as more of a plea.

“Hm… all right.” The man relents and stands, slowly. He ties his yukata back together; Deku hadn’t even noticed it was still hanging open. The villain holds his hand out and Deku takes it, pulling himself up. The man ruffles the wild green curls almost fondly, but his eyes are sharp. They’ve always seen too much.

“Let me just leave you with this… advice.” He starts and waits for Deku to nod, once, shakily, before continuing.

“Chisaki will only grow more powerful… He’ll expand, eventually, and if his plan is realized – he’ll be unstoppable.”

“You could also be powerful and unstoppable, if only you would take it. If you give in, accept his attentions and his feelings for you,”

Deku is nauseous at the implication that Chisaki s human, that he’s anything more than a monster, “But you could also be thrown away.”

Deku looks up and the other man is back in his personal space, deadly serious and close enough that Deku can feel his breath on his swollen lips.

“I like you on your knees because I like knowing I can take the most important thing to the leader of the Shie Hassaika from right underneath him.” His grip is strong on Deku’s waist, not allowing him to back up.

“But if you refuse to belong to him, eventually he’ll get bored. And if you’re unhappy with your treatment now, imagine what it will be when he moves on. Or worse, resents you.”

And Deku can imagine it, though he doesn’t want to.

“And when Chisaki isn’t interested, the rest of us won’t be either. I know I’m not the only one you barter with…” Tengai continues, and the nausea in Deku’s stomach is threatening to spill onto the floor between them.

“You’ve been dealt a bad hand, Deku. But this is it for you. You need to decide what you want out of this life, and you need to take it.” His grip tightens and releases, allowing Deku to take several steps back.

The villain is clearly waiting for a response, but Deku can’t think of anything to say. He’s trying very hard not to think of the escape plan he just gave away to Eraserhead.

Tengai sighs, disappointed, and the moment is gone. The older man picks his plague mask off the floor and secures it back around his head. Deku feels that disappointment shiver down his spine and he wraps his arms around himself.

“Come on. Let’s-“ The villain’s hand stills on the door handle, and his back straightens. His head snaps up, alert, and now Deku is on alert. Is Chisaki back already? Deku thought he’d have a few more minutes to compose himself.

Then Deku hears it – or feels it, rather – the slow rumbling and sudden boom that shakes the walls.

Tengai open the door, quickly, and motions for Deku to follow him. Deku does, unsure of what’s going on but he knows it can’t be good. He hangs in the doorway of the closet while Tengai takes the few steps to the holding room where Eraserhead was being kept and he swings open the door. Even from a few feet away, Deku can feel the sudden rage emanating from the typically calm man when he notices the empty room.

“What did you-“ He spits out, but he never gets the chance to finish his sentence –

Because his head isn’t attached to his body anymore.

What sounds like an explosion has rocked the area once more and the villain didn’t even have time to throw up a shield before the wall was being blown in and he’s thrown across the room, well past the chair Eraserhead had been strapped into.

Deku stands up, shakily, from his protective crouch he’d assumed when the wall blew in, and he walks quickly over to the villain’s body.

Tengai is unrecognizable save for the yukata. His head is lying a few feet from his neck, but it’s been caved in by the rubble and his eyes are just… gone – there’s nothing but blood and mangled flesh in their place, and there are glimpses of white peeking out of the mess that Deku guesses are bone or cartilage.

He’s… dead, and Deku can still taste him in his mouth. He’s dead and Deku is covering his mouth with his hands, trying not to scream. He’s dead and he was so nice, so much nicer than the others. He’s dead and Deku has seen death before – You can’t spend any amount of time in the precepts without becoming familiar, but this is different and –

And he can hear Rappa’s war cry and the sound of the other’s fighting and yelling and Deku needs to move.

Deku starts heading to the wall that was completely obliterated, there’s nothing there anymore except for the rubble that Deku has to climb over. He scrapes his hands and his knees and Chisaki is going to be pissed about that, but he’s shaking too hard to walk straight. He makes it through the wall only to see that this isn’t the only one that’s been caved in – He can see one, two, three more that have been obliterated in a row, with the one room he’d been in being the final stop and what in the world could have been strong enough to do that?

“TEXAS SMASH!” Rings out clearly, louder than anything else, and – All-Might?!

Deku’s heart is racing as the implication of that thought sinks in and finally- finally he’s moving, his limbs are using every bit of strength they have to make his way to them, to the fight – He needs to see for himself and he-

He skids to a halt when he passes the equipment room that he saw Rappa stash Eraserhead’s scarf in – Deku had been walking by to the showers when he recognized the hero’s support item- and he snatches the scarf and the bright yellow goggles that are lying on top.

He nearly trips over the fabric that is bundled in his arms as he runs, faster now that he know what he’s running towards, and Eraserhead must have gotten out fast and he told the heroes where he was – because there has to be more than just All-Might here based on the sounds Deku is hearing. And when Deku rounds the corner to the Rec Hall – He freezes.

The scene in front of him is like something from the hero movies he used to watch as a kid. Because the Shie Hassaika, the villains, are currently fighting what looks like half of the top ten heroes in the country, plus a few more, and the heroes are losing.

Deku doesn’t know what to do. He wants to run, to run as fast and as far away as he can while Chisaki is distracted, but he doesn’t know how to start.

He recognizes some of the heroes – he sees All-Might, and Best Jeanist, and it looks like there are vines growing out of the walls that shouts Kamui Woods. The ceiling has caved in, which is impressive considering just how far underground he assumed they were, and Deku can feel the sun in his face. He takes a deep breath, the anxiety churning and bubbling up and out of him in the form of an embarrassing whine. What is he supposed to do?

Deku’s mind is made up for him when he hears a familiar voice, “Hawks!” Eraserhead’s voice sounds from some ways away, and Deku’s vision swims when he sees the most beautiful shade of red flying overhead so fast it’s a blur – and then Eraser is flying, and falling, gracefully, an landing in a roll that breaks his fall as his quirk activates and takes out Setsuno’s ability, rendering them useless and allowing Best Jeanist, to incapacitate him.

Deku takes off in that direction with the hero’s gear. He’s had years to learn how to move quickly and soundlessly, what feels like decades to go unnoticed so as not to draw attention to himself.

Deku ducks under a rogue bullet and trips over one of Kamui Wood’s roots that are shuddering underneath the concrete. If he can get close enough to Eraserhead, maybe he can just throw the gear without stopping. Maybe he’ll never stop running, but he’s going to get a head start.

But all hopes of slipping away quietly vanish when he sees something the hero doesn’t – Deidoro is right behind Eraserhead with a long knife raised high, and Deku locks eyes with the villain over the hero’s shoulders, but the hero doesn’t notice him and he doesn’t see Deku, and he’s going to die and Deku can’t save him so he screams as loud as he can, louder than he has in years, “BEHIND!”

Eraserhead looks up just in time to catch his scarf that Deku has bundled in his arms and thrown as far as he can. The fabric unveils across the space between them – it’s longer than it looks and it’s almost beautiful the way it dances between the hero and the kid, the way it seems to suspend in the space between them.

Then Eraserhead grabs a hold and pulls while he ducks just in time to avoid what would have been a lethal hit. The scarf responds to the man’s touch immediately by wrapping around the villain and knocking him to the ground, hard.

“Kid!” The hero reaches out with the other end of the scarf and it wraps around Deku’s wrist. He’s being pulled towards the hero whether he wants it or not. He slams into the side of a surprisingly solid chest and is wrapped tight under the man’s arm.

“Stay next to me.” He hero orders, and Deku isn’t going anywhere. Because the cry that pierces through the chaos is enraged, dripping with a fury Deku has never once heard in the last three years, and something that will end up haunting his dreams for the next several months-

“DEKU!” Chisaki screams loud enough to give Present Mic a run for his title, and Eraserhead holds on tighter as the air leaves Deku’s lungs.

“Stay with me.” Aizawa says again, and the grip around his waist is tight enough to bruise, though the hero doesn’t realize it.

Overhaul is larger than life, he always has been despite his quiet demeanor, but now he’s towering over the heroes like a monster, and Deku can meet his eyes from here and the villain is seething and he’s getting closer, close enough to reach out and –

And the villain falls back, hard, not seeing the winged hero that slams into him with a brute force. Deku recognizes that color from earlier, bright red feathers that are shocking when they’re piercing Chisaki’s skin, and he must hate that because he once went on a thirty minute rant about the diseases birds can carry when Kendo begged him to allow one as a pet.

Eraserhead is being drug backwards, Deidoro is still attached to the end of his scarf, but the hero digs his heels into the ground. Eraserhead’s eyes are a bright red as they lock onto Overhaul’s form. The hero’s hair rises, defying gravity while also confirming Deku’s hypotheses about the mysterious quirk. Overhaul deflates, almost comically so, and now the winged hero is winning against him. He has him pinned down to the floor with those bright red feathers and even though there’s still a fight going on around them, Deku feels a rush at the sight. The tide turns when the leader of the Shie Hassaika falls.

Deku can see Shin Nemoto fighting his way through the heroes to his boss, but it looks like Snipe is here because someone is firing round after round and keeping him back, clearing a path for the other heroes to come rushing in to help restrain Overhaul. Judging by the way the building is still shaking, All-Might is still fighting behind them. For the first time in years, Deku feels hopeful, and –

“Get the kid out of here.” Eraserhead says to someone that Deku must not be able to see, because he feels a hand on his arm.

But then something happens. When Best Jeanist takes over and Eraser’s scarf slips off from around Shin’s arms, that’s all the time the villain needs to use the blade that is always attached to his hip and throw it – hard – right for Eraserhead who doesn’t see it because he’s still glaring at Chisaki, keeping him down.

Deku moves before he has time to think about it. He’s still holding tight onto the hero, so it’s nothing to push him out of the way, the blade sticking it’s landing in Deku’s side instead of the hero’s back.

Three things happen at once – Eraser blinks, his hair falling back down around his shoulders as he looks over to the kid with wide, worried eyes. Deku gasps, he isn’t a stranger to pain, but this is a pain he’s unfamiliar with, and so attuned to his cries and his whimpers is Chisaki that his head snaps up at the sound, and realizing what’s happened, he transforms.

Only to absorb the very ground beneath him, to use his quirk to reach out and knock the blade from Deku’s side, bringing him to his knees, and to slit Deidoro’s throat. The former bullet’s eyes are wide and he clutches, uselessly, at his neck, as if willing the blood to stay where it is.

Do you have any idea how powerful you are?

The shock at seeing Chisaki annihilate one his closest allies is the only thing that can break Deku out of the pain he’s feeling. His crimson blood is soaking through his thin, white shirt and he’s pretty sure the blade avoided his lung, but only just.

Snipe is shooting again but it doesn’t matter much, because he can’t get a sight on Overhaul. He’s huge again, monstrous, and he’s going to take Deku again after he’d been so, so close to escaping.

“Take the-” Eraser starts, but doesn’t get the chance to finish because All-Might is still smashing, ignorant, Deku thinks, and the hero splits the ground they’re standing on so hard that it buckles up between Deku and Eraserhead, and Deku is tumbling away from Deidoro’s remains but he’s also sliding closer to the real monster.

The winged hero is still giving the villain a fight, but it may not be enough. He’s fast – so fast that all Deku can make out is a red blur that surrounding Overhaul, pushing him farther away from the battle and farther from the only thing he wants, the one thing he’s searching for – Deku.

When his captor spots him, bleeding on the ground, his focus sharpens and he’s not interested in fighting anymore. His form changes into something smaller, leaner, but stronger – He’s taken the rubble that All-Might has created and formed a shield with his body and a weapon with his fist.

Deku tries to get up, he’s scrambling, bloody fingers are scratching concrete and trying to get a grip on the Earth below him to run back to Eraserhead, who is still shouting for him. There’s debris flying everywhere – bullet casings, concrete, bodies that are thrown into the air only to meet gravity a few moments later.

Overhaul finally lands a hit on the bird and the hero hits the ground hard enough that Deku can hear it from his spot far away. Those wings wilt, they stay down, and the hero doesn’t move.

Overhaul is dirty – he’s sweating through the mask that he rips off and flings across the room, close to Deku. It lands a few feet away from something metallic that catches the light – a gun.

Overhaul takes a step back from the hero, then another, distancing himself. Overhaul has never been great at close combat, he’s always relied too heavily on the long reach of his quirk.

More shots ring out and Snipe still can’t get a good vantage point. Overhaul is observant, he knows where to stay to avoid the damage. He even glances up and to the side, eyeing where the hero must be lying in wait. Deku spots him, thanks to his signature cowboy hat.

Deku isn’t hurting anymore, and he’s not sure that’s a good thing. He doubts it’s because the pain has stopped – more likely the adrenaline has to decided to be useful and provide him some relief for once.

Overhaul turns his attention to the winged hero on the ground and he sneers. Deku knows what the villain is doing before it even happens. He’s seen that look enough times on Chisaki’s face. He’s see it when Deku’s having a bad day that jumbles his words into stuttering excuses, or when Chisaki gets in a certain kind of headspace and Deku won’t cooperate. He’s disgusted. Probably because the hero touched him, had his hands on him, or maybe because for a moment, he’d been beaten.

You could be dripping in the rarest jewels

Deku springs towards his tormentor and the hero that’s slowly gaining consciousness below him. Deku’s hands grasp something cool and heavy, and his grip tightens.

You could drink the finest wines

Overhaul raises his hand, stretched out from his body, and that rubble is sharpening into spikes, swirling around his arm until it’s moving so fast it looks nearly stationary.

You could have anything you wanted

Deku slides in between the villain and the hero just as Overhaul shoots out his attack. The concrete scrapes his bare legs and he skids into an ungraceful slump, but he’s blocked the hero from Overhaul’s blow.

If only you would take it.

Overhaul’s attack stops inches from Deku’s heart. The villain panics, he freezes, moving again to withdraw his attack. His eyes are wild and his chest is heaving almost as hard as Deku’s. He almost killed him.

“Deku,” The kid has never heard this tone of voice before. It’s gentle, like he’s trying hard not to startle a wild animal. Deku supposes he is.

“Deku, put the gun down.”

Deku’s grip tightens and Overhaul doesn’t miss the movement. The barrel of the gun is cold where Deku has it pushed against his own temple.

You have the leader of the Shie Hassaika wrapped around your finger

Deku doesn’t know about that, but he knows he has the villain’s attention. Deku is sprawled on the ground, his body stretched as large as he can make it to cover this hero he doesn’t recognize. He can feel feathers tickling his back, and it’s relaxing – it’s the softest thing he’s felt in years.

“No.” Deku manages.

Chisaki takes a deep breath. He’s still on defense, but some of the chaos around them has stilled since Deku pointed the gun at himself. Or maybe everyone has disappeared, because it feels like Chisaki and him are the only two people that matter right now.

After three years with the precepts and with Chisaki, Deku didn’t think anything could surprise him anymore. Nothing could shock him or for a moment give him pause to rethink his reality. But today, Chisaki has rendered Deku breathless. The villain is tense, his face is flushed and he has a large gash on his cheekbone. Deku has never seen  him so… messy. Is it because of him? Because now his finger is kissing the trigger?

“Deku… don’t.” Chisaki doesn’t beg, he never has, but there is a plead somewhere under the guise of a command.

“I will.” Deku tightens his grip further to prove his point, and Chisaki’s eyes flash with fear.

“I know… I know you will.” Chisaki nods. That is how they met, after all.

The hero lying underneath Deku is stirring now, awake, and Deku can’t have him getting in the way. So Deku sits up, props himself up with the arm that’s not holding this desperate ultimatum. The blood loss must be worse than he thought, because he’s shaking with the effort, and Chisaki’s gaze can’t seem to settle on the wound on his side or the gun to his head. Both are threatening his belonging’s life.

“Shh,” Chisaki purrs, because Deku must have gasped louder than he thought when the pain hits.

Deku stands, shaking, and glares. He hates this. He hates this man that is trying to comfort him now that he can’t control him.

Chisaki would give you the world…

“I want…” Deku starts and stops, breathing too fast not to wince at the tearing of his skin. Deku spots Snipe up above, moving slightly to the left, but still without a line to fire.

“Anything.” Chisaki takes a step forward and Deku takes a quick step back and to the side. Chisaki mirrors it with a step of his own.

You could have anything you wanted…

“I don’t want anyone – anyone getting – hurt.” Deku manages between pained breaths. Chisaki is nodding before he’s even finished.

“Okay. No one gets hurt.” He concedes, and Deku takes another step to the side. Chisaki takes two more of his own, causing Deku to flinch back and hold on tighter to the gun. Chisaki freezes and waits for Deku to relax.

“But only if you put down the gun.” The villain says. Deku shakes his head and his vision is swimming.

“N-no. You’ll just do it any-anyways.”

“Deku-“

“Tell them – to – stand down.” Chisaki’s eyes flash at the abrupt order.

“No.” He says, quietly, testing Deku.

You’re the most powerful person in the Shie Hassaika…

Deku remembers the first time Chisaki looked at him with something other than cold amusement. Deku had been there for a few weeks, confined to the leader’s room, when he finally slept through the night. He hadn’t gotten more than a few hours at a time before that, too terrified and in pain to truly settle. When he’d woken up in the morning, twelve hours after he’d fallen asleep, it was on top of Chisaki.

At some point during the night, Deku had curled into his warmth, and he’d clutched the villain’s shirt like a child does with a stuffed animal. That was the first time Deku’s body had betrayed him. When he’d awoken that morning, pushing his face into the crook of a pale neck and inhaling, only to recognize the scent as his tormentor’s, he’d nearly fallen off the bed in shock and in horror at himself.

But Chisaki hadn’t let him. He’d grabbed his hand before he hit the floor and held him up. He’d looked at him with wide eyes, a pink blush softened his sharp angles, and those eyes filled with something that Tengai called, affection.

“Please.” Deku whispers.

Deku can sense the change in the villain immediately. He freezes, his eyes widen and his pupils blow larger than life, and Deku’s not even sure if he’s breathing. He swallows, once, and Deku tracks the Adam’s apple that bobs with anticipation. If this doesn’t work, Deku’s going to have to pull the trigger, because he recognizes that look in the villain’s eyes and he has no desire to go through that again.

“Enough!” Chisaki yells and Deku flinches, but for once it’s not directed at him.

The members of the Shie Hassaika have been ordered to cease their attack, and they’re still, waiting for their next order. The heroes are still, not daring to upset the shaky balance that Deku and Chisaki are dancing around.

“Okay – See – It’s okay. No one is going to get hurt.” Chisaki takes another step forward while Deku takes a few more to the left. Chisaki is mirroring him, and it feels like they really are dancing. Maybe they always have been. They’re several feet away from the winged hero who is up to kneeling, wide eyes pleading with the kid.

“Do you promise?” Deku whispers, and it’s the loudest thing in the room.

Chisaki tenses, but he doesn’t answer. Deku starts to cry again, or maybe he hasn’t stopped. His breathing is wet with tears and he tastes iron in his mouth. Chisaki’s face falls.

Deku’s hand holding the gun isn’t shaking anymore, it’s steady when he steps back, farther away this time than any time before. He stops, tenses, wonders if he’s pushing too far.

“Don’t! I promise, Deku – give me the gun, I promise.” Chisaki just needs one more step, one more push closer to Deku. And Deku doesn’t even try, Chisaki takes that last step all his own and he breaths out, “You can trust me.”

The shot rings out and shatters the moment into a thousand pieces that Deku will never be able to piece back together. Chisaki falls, not in slow motion, but all at once. Deku looks up and sees Snipe with his sight still on the villain in case he gets back up again, but based on the amount of blood leaving his body like a dam that’s been begging to burst, Deku doesn’t think that will be any time soon. He meets the hero’s line of sight, and that hat tilts forwards in acknowledgement.

The winged hero must have regained some of his strength, because he’s able to walk in front of Deku. He’s blocking the sight of Chisaki and he’s creating a wall between them with his outstretched wings.

The hero doesn’t say anything. Deku probably wouldn’t have understood him anyways – his ears are still ringing. He looks at Deku, blinks, his eyes hovering on the wound in his side and the gun that Deku is still holding. His wings are beautiful, and Deku wonders if they’re as soft as they look.

Sound comes back all at once, and he blinks back to awareness as he feels a presence behind him. There’s a low voice muttering, Deku can’t quiet grasp the words, but they’re soothing in a way Chisaki’s weren’t. Deku’s eyes flutter back and chills erupt down his arms.

“You can let go now, kid.” Eraserhead has a hand on his, its gentle, and he’s lowering the weapon for him. He’s slipping the gun out of his hand and Deku isn’t sure where it goes after that. Eraserhead has another hand on his elbow, keeping him steady, but it doesn’t matter much when his legs buckle and he falls back into the hero.

“Hawks… fast… can you…?”

Deku feels like he’s still falling – he doesn’t feel like he’s in his body right now. He does feel something brush over his face, and it’s a struggle to open his eyes but when he does, it’s worth it.

Deku tries so hard to reach his hand out to brush against the crimson feathers, but his hand is too heavy. They look soft; they’re shining even though they were so sad a few minutes ago. But Deku can’t reach.

The air leaves Deku’s lungs all at once and his eyes snap shut. He opens them, slightly, and he fights to hold them open for as long as he can. It’s probably not that long, but he doesn’t care, because it feels infinite. He’s outside for the first time in three years, he’s free from Chisaki, and he’s flying.

“Stay with me, kid.” The air is loud around him, it feels like he’s in a hurricane, but he feels safe in the hero’s arms. He feels safe when those feathers brush his face. Deku is safe for the first time in 1,230 days.

Deku is safe, and he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

(20:37) Birdie: It’ done.  We got the kid

(20:39) Hottie: Told you

(20:39) Birdie: I didn’t doubt u

(20:42) Hottie: You did

(20:42) Birdie: Did not

(20:42) Hottie: Did too

(20:42) Birdie: Did not

(20:53) Hottie: Where is he now

(20:54) Birdie: Hospital

(20:54) Birdie: Getting checked out

(20: 55) Hottie: I’d like to check you out

(20:59) Birdie: Dabiiiiiiiii~ Lame

Dabi smirks when he stretches. Long, scarred arms reach up and above his head. He clasps his hands and reaches upwards, groaning when his skin pulls tight against the staples. One hand is still holding on to his cigarette, and he flicks the ashes, feeling some of them fall onto his shoulder. The other hand is turning off his phone. He’s especially sore today; Kurogiri is convinced his chronic pain is determined by his stress level, so he lowers his hands. He tosses the cigarette he’d been smoking on the ground and crushes it under his boot. His phone slips back into his pocket and he makes his way back inside.

The bar is quiet today. Dabi can see Kurogiri wiping down a clean counter, and Compress is leaning back in a booth with his hat pulled down low, covering his eyes. Twice and Spinner are out on a job, Magne is scouting new recruits, and Toga s probably holed up in her room above the bar. Dabi nods at the portal villain on his way upstairs.

Toga has been pouting all week. After speaking with Hawks about the Precepts, he’d decided to keep Toga out of the loop as much as possible. Dabi knew she could keep a level head when she needed to, but he also knew how fast that head could spin out of control, when pushed. The plan the heroes came up with, getting one of them captured to scout the interior, was a dumb one in Dabi’s opinion - but it relied on the ability to keep quiet. And Toga was never quiet.

Except for that one day. The day she’d come to Dabi about the kid.

A soft knock at the door pulls Dabi out of his day dream. The knock is the first thing he notices that’s off about the situation. Because Toga doesn’t knock – She doesn’t announce herself before entering a room. The text he’d received asking if she could come to his apartment really should’ve been his first clue, but Dabi wasn’t exactly thinking straight. His thoughts were full of a certain hero he’d been spending his time with.

“Dabi…” She opens the door and comes inside, shutting it quickly behind her. She leans against it, balancing on the balls of her feet and tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. She doesn’t have her buns up today, two long pigtails fall past her shoulders.

“Hm?” His brows furrow and he’s slightly annoyed at her presence, but he did tell her she could come here.

“If I ask you something… do you promise you won’t tell Shiggy?” Toga’s voice gives away her uncertainty.

This gets Dabi’s attention rather quickly. Toga is loud and brash, she’s manic on her best day and completely unstable on her worst, but she knows who she is. She skips through life knowing the ground will always be under her. She smiles and laughs when she shouldn’t, and she knows she’s fucked up, but she never doubts that she’s exactly what she’s supposed to be.

Dabi wants to tell her no – hell no. Especially when he has no idea what she’s thinking... But he doesn’t. It’s easy to forget sometimes that she’s just a sixteen year old kid, but right now she’s really showing her age and her insecurity in the way she won’t meet his eyes. She’s just a little older than his brother, Dabi remembers.

“Okay.” He says, simply. Toga is surprised, but she smiles.

“So… you know how I went to the precepts this morning? For big boss?”

“Mhm” Toga is still glued to the door, swaying back and forth.

“Right, so, I went in as one of their little guys – just a new guy, I think, and I wasn’t able to get in very far. Like at all. So I kind of was able to get a hold of the big one, right – Rappa-“

“You weren’t supposed to draw attention.” Dabi interrupts, scowling.

“Yeah I know but I wasn’t getting anywhere, and if I came back empty handed, it would make Shiggy look bad to big boss.” Toga explains.

“And so when I changed again, I was able to actually see him and meet him – Overhaul.” Toga clarifies at Dabi’s confused look. His face hardens.

“Toga. That was dangerous.” He scolds, and he’s not sure why she’s telling him this instead of Shigaraki, but eventually she gets to the point.

“It was fine, it was whatever, I actually found out a LOT of stuff, but that’s not what I need to tell you.” She plays with that same strand of hair, twirling it around long fingers that are forever stained red.

Toga takes a deep breath and rocks forwards once, waiting, before she rocks back and exhales.

“I need you to ask your boyfriend to do a hero thing.” She says. Dabi frowns, unfortunately they both know who she’s talking about, but, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I need you to ask your friends with benefits for a favor.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Fine! I need you to ask your fuck buddy for a rescue mission.”

“Christ, Toga – we  haven’t-”

“There’s a kid. In the precepts. He’s… I don’t think he wants to be there.” She says. Dabi tries to take a deep breath and lower his blood pressure after being called out over his… acquaintanceship with the stupid bird.

“Elaborate.” He says.

Toga pushes off the door and finally makes her way towards Dabi. She falls onto the couch next to him, leans back on her arms and looks at him from the side. He purposefully scoots away from her, creating a space in between them.

“I’m pretty sure they bought him from somewhere. Or maybe they just have him, I don’t know. But it looks like… like Overhaul… Like he’s Overhaul’s.”

Dabi thinks about this for a moment, and, “If you think Overhaul may have a potential weakness, you need to tell Shigaraki.” But Toga is already shaking her head aggressively. Her pigtails are long enough to smack Dabi’s arm in the process.

“No! No, Dabi, I don’t want him to get hurt! He’s cute!”

Dabi rolls his eyes. So that’s what this is about.

“Toga, you can’t pick and choose whose side to be on based off of how cute they are.” Dabi wishes this is the first time they’ve had this conversation, but… it’s not.

“That’s not why, silly! I mean, he is cute, but he’s so… nice! He’s really nice! I accidentally ran out of time and he saw me, and he said my quirk is really cool and not gross at all!”

“What?!” Dabi stands up, away from the couch, so that he doesn’t accidentally set her on fire.

“He won’t tell anyone! He promised! And I believe him!”

“Toga – You – I can’t – Doe Shigaraki know you were seen?”

“Of course not! And you can’t tell him!” She points a finger at him and Dabi groans.

“He’s just a kid, Dabi. Like, really, I’m pretty sure I’m older than him.” She grows quiet and her shoulders hunch forward as she leans over, elbows on her knees. Her face is in her hands, tilted to the side and looking at him like a cat.

Dabi hates that he’s so transparent, sometimes. He’s worked hard to build his reputation as a villain – he goes by Dabi for a reason – but Toga sees right through that. She knows he has a younger brother, he’d told her once after a particularly rough job, and she knows he never takes on assignments that involve kids. So she knows how Dabi responds to her request before he even says anything.

“When you say he’s Overhaul’s… What do you mean?”

“He’s… He wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone else, when Overhaul was in the room. And Overhaul was… touching him – like a lot. Like, it was creepy. And the way the others talked… I think they sleep in the same room.” Is what she ends up saying. Dabi can read between the lines, even if he doesn’t like what he sees.

“Shigaraki would probably try and get him out. Especially if it would hurt Overhaul. Why are you asking me?” Dabi asks. Toga smiles, wide and full of teeth.

“Because! You’re kind, Dabi! That’s why the hero likes you so much!” She smiles wider, if possible, “And I think Shiggy would help him too, but… the kid… he really is sweet. But he’s so small and he looks so sleepy and… I think he deserves for a hero to save him, you know?”

Dabi blinks once, twice, unsure which statement he needs to start unpacking first.

“I’ll… I’ll look into it. If I need to, I’ll talk to the bird about it.” Is what he ends up saying.

Toga’s eyes have brightened and her cheeks must hurt from how hard she’s smiling when she leaps off of the couch and throws her arms around Dabi’s  neck.

“The fuck off me!” Is mumbled into her hair as he tries to push her off, but she’s laughing and she’s happy, so he doesn’t try very hard.

That was over a week ago. Dabi had set up a bogus meeting with Overhaul to see what he could find out, and he’d called Hawks as soon as he saw the kid for himself.  A few days after that, the hero filled him in on the plan and asked if there was any way The League could get Overhaul above ground for a few hours.

Dabi hadn’t been worried about Hawks. The hero was in the top three for a reason. He was fast, he was smart, he was charismatic and he was pretty, even if he acted too quickly and laughed too loud, and had a tendency to rush into dangerous situations. Even if Overhaul and his eight bullets were strong and smart on their own, Hawks would probably be fine. So no, Dabi wasn’t worried.

That didn’t mean a weight wasn’t lifted off his shoulders when he’d received the text from the bird.

“Toga” Dabi kicks at her door and waits. She must be painting, there’s music loud enough to be heard downstairs and he could hear her shrill voice singing along until he made himself known.

The music cuts off and he can hear shuffling behind the door. She opens it in a huff, crossing her arms. She’s wearing a pair of pink overalls that are splattered with something red that he doubts is paint, her hair is back in her normal buns, and her eyes are narrowed, glaring at him without shame.

Dabi rolls his eyes and puts a hand in his pocket.

“Can I come in?”

Toga shakes her head. Still pouting then.

“It’s about the green bean” Dabi uses the nickname she gave the kid, and Toga’s face changes in less than a moment.

“Hurry!” She grabs an arm and pulls him into her room before shutting the door.

“The bird just texted. They got him out. He’s as the hospital right now.”

“Which one?!” She shrieks.

“I don’t know and I’m not asking.” He says.

“But I want to go see him!”

“That’s why I’m not asking.”

“Dabi!” She stomps her foot.

“No. The place is going to be swarming with heroes. It’s too dangerous.”

“But-“

“No. “

“But… you said he’s at the hospital… what if he’s-“ Her voice wobbles and Dabi cuts her off.

“I promise I’ll let you know the first thing I hear. Hawks said he’ll call when he can.”

Toga doesn’t like being told what to do. She never has. Shigaraki has learned the hard way that if he wants something done, he has to ask for it or phrase it in such a way that the girl is doing him a favor. But Dabi has never been diplomatic, and he needs the girl far away from the heroes. But he isn’t heartless.

He reaches a hand out and pats her head, awkward, but it must be the right thing to do, because the tears that were moments from spilling have receded and there’s a pink blush on her cheeks.

“He’ll be fine, Toga. “

The moment is interrupted by Dabi’s phone buzzing in his pocket. He sees who’s calling and shows Toga, who brightens, and he answers the phone.

“Hawks.” Dabi doesn’t mean to lower his voice, but Toga doesn’t know that.

“Hey, Dabi.”

The hero sounds… bad. His voice is barely scratching out his name and he has to clear his throat before continuing.

“Are you all right?” Dabi asks before he can stop himself. Toga’s eyes are gleaming and he flips her off before walking out of her room, despite her protests.

“I’ll text you” he mouths.

“Yeah, no. Fine. Uh, kid’s in surgery. Took him in right when I got here. I don’t really… know anything yet.” Hawks trails off and Dabi can imagine the picture of the faraway look his voice is painting.

“Surgery?”

“Kid got stabbed. Took a hit for Eraser.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

There’s an awkward silence on the phone, and Dabi is certain Hawks has more he wants to say. But he isn’t saying anything. It’s been awhile since Dabi has seen him, they’ve both been busy, and Dabi wants to keep him talking.

“Chisaki?” He asks. Hawks sighs.

“Surgery. Snipe got him.”

“Good.” Dabi hums.

“Yeah.”

The hero is quiet, almost whispers. Dabi wants to ask him if he’s really okay, if he’s lying, but he isn’t sure Hawks would tell him the truth. He doesn’t know as much about the hero as he’d like, but he can tell they both came from an upbringing that demanded silence over displays of weakness.

“So… How was your day?” Hawks surprises him.

Dabi blinks once and holds the phone out, staring at the device. He’s not positive it’s working correctly, because it almost sounded like Hawks was trying to start a conversation.

The first time the bird came up to him was the longest they’d gone talking to each other. They’ve seen each other a handful of times since then, but their encounters typically consist of thing veiled flirting. Hawks is trying to work his way into The League, and Dabi is trying to work his way into the hero’s pants.

The winged hero had strongly declined his first offer, and Dabi thought maybe he’d misread the situation. But Hawks’ eyes didn’t lie when they roamed over the villain’s body each time they met, when the villain pretended not to see.

“Uh, it was…” Dabi trails off and now he’s the awkward one. Usually the hero keeps their interactions as short as possible, and now Dabi is the one struggling to keep up.

“Sorry, I… You have a nice voice.”

There’s a pause, and –

“Just, I mean!  I- I didn’t mean that! – Sorry, I – The nurse is coming out now, I’ve got to go!” Hawks flusters and hangs up immediately, leaving Dabi to stare at his phone, confused.

Dabi knew for a fact that he sounded like a pack of cigarettes fucked a chainsaw, so he wasn’t sure what the bird was on about. Did the hero really just want to… talk to Dabi, after a long day?

Dabi discredits the idea as soon as it pops into his head. He frowns and slips his phone into his pocket after texting Toga that there was nothing new to report. He didn’t want to worry the girl until he knew the kid was going to make it.

Dabi runs into Shigaraki on his way out of the bar, despite trying not to. He’s sitting in a booth opposite of Compress, whose snoring softly. Shigaraki catches his eye and tilts his head in a quiet summons.

Dabi walks over with both hands in his pockets. He raises an eyebrow, a silent, “Yes?”

“Were they successful?” Shigaraki tilts back the rest of his drink and licks his lips. Dabi nods.

“Hawks just told me. Kid’s out. Overhaul in surgery.” Shigaraki nods, calculating.

“And the rest of them?”

“Not sure. But I doubt Overhaul is the only one who was arrested.” Dabi leans on one foot and scratches the back of his head.

He almost felt bad for breaking his promise to Toga, but when his little bird asked for The League’s involvement, he knew he had to bring it to Shigaraki. And despite Toga’s fears, he knew the leader would help. He and Dabi were both kids, after all, when they’d been forgotten. They knew what it was like to wonder why no one had saved them.

“Good. Let me know.” Shigaraki stretches, looking like a cat, and he kicks Compress awake. The man starts and pushes his hat back onto his head.

Dabi nods and turns to leave. He stops when he feels a hand on his wrist. He knows, logically, that Shigaraki is just trying to get his attention, but he flinches. The man holds on tighter, meeting Dabi’s eyes.

“Tell your hero I’d like to meet him.”

Dabi stiffens, and then relaxes. He purposely lowers his shoulders and schools his expression into something other than nervousness at the order.  He nods, and Shigaraki lets him go.

“Good night, sir.” Kurogiri nods in Dabi’s direction as he makes his way out the door. He doesn’t say anything back, he never does, but he does give him a nod in return.

Dabi pulls out his phone once more and opens his contacts.

(21:18) Hottie: You’re in.

Chapter Text

Hawks groans and his wings droop in complete embarrassment and self-mortification. His face is hot and his ears are on fire.

You have a nice voice

Not for the first time, Hawks wishes he had some sort of portal quirk so he could just slip through the ground and never come back up.

Initially, when the Hero Commission had given him the mission, Hawks really hadn’t thought much of it. It was just another assignment, one of the dozens since he’d debuted. Hawks was a good liar – had to be, growing up under the commission’s watchful eye – and figured it wouldn’t take long to infiltrate and begin to dismantle the League of Villains.

Then he met Dabi.

He’d been trailing the villain for a few weeks leading up to their first encounter. According to his Intel, the fire user did most of the recruiting for the group, having the most level head out of the bunch. That rumor, lucky for Hawks, was true. The other rumor floating around the underground, that the villain could have made a career as a professional flirt, had also proven true after their first meeting.

“You lost, little bird?”

Hot air blows into the shell of his ear, startling Hawks into whirling around – fast. His hands fist in the villain’s worn, leather jacket and he slams him against the side of the building he’d been hanging around, waiting for the fire user to leave his apartment complex. Now Hawks was the one being watched, breathing heavy and panicked. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had snuck up on him.

Hawks' stomach turns over when he realizes he’s just thrown his one lead into the side of the building. How the hell was he supposed to get on his good side, now? But the villain surprises him, one corner of his mouth ticks up. Dabi exhales once – a soft laugh.

“I usually do this the other way around, but I think I’d make an exception for you, pretty bird.”

Scarred hands wrap around the hero's wrists, not pushing or pulling, just holding steady while bright blue eyes burn into his.

Hawks jumps when his phone goes off.

He fishes it out of his pocket and winces when he sees who messaged him. Hottie. What the hell had Hawks been thinking, changing the villain’s contact information where he could obviously see it.

He wasn’t flirting. At all. Dabi was a villain – a real villain. Hawks had seen most of the case files he was believed to be responsible for. Dabi has killed people – his confirmed kills are in the double digits – and based on the pictures of their remains, none of them were peaceful deaths.

Dabi. Cremation.

Hawks ignores the message, doesn’t even open it, and tries to push down the feeling in his stomach that feels like his own wings fluttering. He focuses on his surroundings, instead, and tries to ground himself in the moment.

The hospital isn’t especially busy tonight. A tired-looking nurse is leaning back behind a desk, reading something on his phone and taking a break from typing on the computer. Hawks can hear a few women in scrubs gathered together, murmuring and laughing at the coffee maker a few feet away.

Since he was the number three hero, the staff had been nice enough not to leave him in the waiting room and had even pulled up a chair for him to sit outside of the operating room the kid was currently in. That’d been nearly two hours ago, and he hadn’t heard anything since.

His work cell rings, loud and startling him awake, and he hastens to quiet it. His handler, X, is calling again. Since he’d touched down at the hospital and handed the kid off to the ER surgeon, he’d ignored four of his handler's calls – now five. He didn’t feel like talking right now, didn’t feel like going through a debrief or explaining how, for a moment, he’d almost ruined everything.

Hawks rubs at his temple, where Overhaul had landed a solid hit.

Hawks knew he was fast – He was the fastest hero for a reason. He’d never had a reason to think twice about that or to ever wonder if there was a fastest villain out there that could give him a run for his title.

Not that Overhaul would qualify. Even at full strength, bulked and towering over the rest of the heroes after remaking himself with parts of rubble and weapons and… people, Hawks was able to dodge his attacks.

But something had happened, when Eraserhead’s quirk was lifted. Even before Overhaul transformed for the second time, something behind Hawks that the villain had seen had made that cold composure snap and break. In hindsight, that’s probably when the kid was injured.

But Hawks didn’t know that at the time. He didn’t know that Overhaul would react like something akin to a lioness seeking vengeance, breaking apart the earth and breaking open his ally with bared teeth and slits for eyes. Hawks didn’t know Overhaul would do anything to get the kid, so he wasn’t prepared for the speed and accuracy of the hit that was hard enough to knock him unconscious.

He couldn’t have been out for long, but it was long enough for the kid to give him and every other hero watching a panic attack. Because Hawks had woken up to a nightmare, to a worst-case scenario – the kid was holding a gun to his own damned head.

Hawks' stomach had dropped to the floor. His head hurt like hell and he couldn’t exactly see straight, but he’d tried to move. He’d tried to stand up and get to the kid before he pulled the trigger.

The kid had been talking to Overhaul, but Hawks couldn’t hear it from his few feet away. The fight was still rolling through the underground, it hadn’t stopped when Hawks’ heart did – breaking at the sight of large alligator tears rolling down the kid's cheeks, clean rivers flowing down skin that was bruised and broken. And then,

“Enough!”

Overhaul’s cry was heard clearly, and all at once, the moment froze. It suspended, hanging on to the moment between the villain and the kid. The kid moved, stepping back and tightening the grip on the gun. Overhaul matched it in length and speed. Hawks was up to kneeling now, his eyes pleading with the kid.

Do you promise?

Hawks' heart finally broke with that question.

Overhaul took another step, and –

“Hey.” A hand on his shoulder startled Hawks out of the memory. The hand is big and warm and the knuckles are bloody.

“Eraser.” Hawks acknowledges.

“He’s still in there?” The hero looks more exhausted than usual. There’s dirt in the lines that are pulled tight around dark eyes, his lips are dry and cracked in a few places. Hawks realizes he’s had a much worse day than any of them had – He’d been underground for hours.

As soon as Hawks had handed the kid off and he’d taken a breath, he’d texted the underground hero.

(20:16) Hawks: Tenpei Hospital, 3^rd floor, OR A6, kids still breathing

The hero read the message but hadn’t responded for half an hour before,

(20:40) Pencil Sharpener: be there as soon as I can

Hawks knew the hero would be busy with the rest of the villains, apprehending them and cleaning up the mess of the mission. He didn’t expect to see him so soon.

“Yeah. I haven’t heard anything.” Hawks answers the hero, who hums. Hawks rubs at his head and Eraserhead puts his hands in his pockets.

The underground hero is looking down, eyes heavy-lidded but sharp. They wander over the winged hero’s form, taking in the exhaustion and the way he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Have you been cleared yet?” Eraser asks. Hawks looks up.

“Huh?”

“By medical. Has anyone looked at that?” Eraser nods his head towards the spot that Hawks catches himself rubbing, again. He winces and puts his hand down.

“No, I’m fine. Just a bruise.” Hawks promises. Eraser huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Come on.” He nods his head towards the nurse still on his phone and starts walking.

Hawks stands up, dizzy, but blinks determinedly to follow the older man.

“What are you-?”

“Excuse me.” Eraser walks up to the counter and leans against it. He catches the attention of the nurse, who brightens upon realizing he has something to do.

“Is there somewhere the bird can get checked out?” Hawks opens his mouth to protest, but the nurse is already nodding.

“Of course! If you want to wait here for a sec, I’ll call someone over here so you can still wait for the kid.”

“Thank you.” Eraser nods and glances back.

“Ah – I’m really not supposed to be treated by anyone outside the commission.” Hawks winces, apologetically. Eraserhead gives him a crazed look at this, brows furrowed, before smoothing out his expression.

“Fuck the commission. You have a concussion.” Eraser stares. Hawks' eyes widen at the statement before he busts out a laugh.

“Seems like you have a prognosis in mind already, Dr. Eraser.”

“Diagnoses. Prognosis is the treatment.”

Hawks snorts, “How did you have time for medical and hero school?”

Eraser rolls his eyes and his shoulders. They’re back outside the door now, waiting for news. He forces the winged hero’s shoulders down so his butt hits the chair he’d been sitting in for the past two hours. 

“Stay.” He orders.

“I’m a bird, not a dog.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

Hawks opens his mouth to fire back, but they’re both startled and snap to attention when the door to the operating room opens and an older woman in scrubs stops in front of them. She takes off her mask and wipes a hand across her brow.

“You brought the kid?” She asks, and Hawks nods. Whoops – bad idea – there are black spots in his vision now.

“And you?” She asks, looking skeptically at Eraserhead.

“I was at the scene. Met with him before the incident.”

The woman snorts, “Incident. Which one? Kids got evidence of incidents all up and down his little body.”

Hawks grits his teeth and Eraser gets out, “The most recent one.”

“He have any family?” She asks.

“Not sure. Is he okay?” Hawks asks. She glances at him, and continues, “You have a name for him? Date of birth?”

“We don’t know him. He’s been held by the Shie Hassaika for an undetermined amount of time.” Eraser grits out.

“I see. Well. Patient information isn’t supposed to be thrown around, heroes or not.” She crosses her arms.

“They’re fine, Ira.” An older, even more exhausted-looking male with glowing eyes steps out of the room. He nods at Eraser. They must know each other.

“Toru.” Eraser nods back and the nurse, Ira, huffs and rolls her eyes. She walks away and over to the other nurse at the counter.

“He’s still in surgery. He’s coded twice on the table, but I think we’ve got him as stable as he can be, considering. The blood loss was exaggerated due to malnutrition and dehydration. We think he lost about 1,000 milliliters, which would be a concern for anyone, but due to his height and his weight, there’s a much higher risk of loss of life.” He starts, and Hawks sees why Eraser and he get along. Neither are interested in sugar-coating information that may be hard to swallow.

“The blood loss is our main area of concern. The knife missed his lung and his kidney, barely, which is why he’s alive. But the head surgeon working on him currently is good at what he does. He’d be my first choice, regardless.” The doctor continues. Eraser takes it all in with little more than a small tug at the corners of his mouth that one might call a grimace.

“How much longer will he be in there?” Hawks asks. The doctor shrugs.

“That’s up to the kid. At least another hour, maybe two until he’s stable enough to be moved off the table.”

“Anything else?” Eraser asks.

“Obviously, the kid’s been abused. It doesn’t take a doctor to notice. Once he’s stable and healed a little in the next few days, we can do a more comprehensive exam. We’ll do the basics tonight; make sure he doesn’t have any areas that require immediate attention. And we’ll complete a SANE,” Hawks recognizes that name,” Due to some of the more… conspicuously placed marks.”

Eraser nods. “And after that?”

“He’ll be in the hospital for a few days, at least. He’ll require regular check-ins for the next few months to make sure he stays on track, developmentally. I couldn’t tell you how old he is, maybe after our full exam I’ll have a little more to go on.”

“You’ll be handling the case?” Eraser asks. The doctor nods.

“Good.”

“I’m sure Ira already asked, but, any idea who to contact for this kid? Any next of kin we can notify?”

Eraser shakes his head, “Wouldn’t tell me his name.”

The doctor nods, seemingly expecting as much.

“I’ll keep you notified, seeing as you’re the hero assigned.”

Hawks breaths out a sigh of relief and Eraser relaxes a bit.

“Thank you.”

The doctor nods, “You have my cell. I need to wash up and go back in.”

“Thanks, doc.” Hawks sighs and watches the doctor leave. He rubs at his head again, wincing. Eraser notices and flicks his hand.

“Stop that.”

“Hey!”

“You’ll irritate it.”

“I’m an adult, not one of your students.” Hawks mutters, sitting back down.

“I know. My students are better behaved.”

Eraser slides down the wall, hand still in his pockets, and sits. Long legs are sprawled in front of him. His head is tilted back to show his own evidence of the fight, in the form of small scratches and cuts on the left side of his face.

“Did you go to medical?” Hawks checks.

“Unfortunately,” Eraser doesn’t open his eyes, “’Zashi made me.”

Hawks wonders who the hell Zashi is, and is about to ask him when Nurse Ira makes a return.

“Heard you need a check-up.”

She has one of those rolling desks with a laptop and a few small, portable machines attached. Hawks grimaces.

“Ah, yeah. Apparently.” Out of his peripheral, Hawks can see Eraser roll his eyes.

“Hm. Anywhere besides the head hurting?” She asks, putting on her gloves.

Hawks flinches at the sound of the latex slapping against her wrist as she pulls them on.

He hates this, sometimes he hates the beginning the most because there are just so many possibilities and scenarios in which this will hurt, and his brain is scrambling to come up with them all at once so he can be prepared, so he can see it coming, so he can try and relax his muscles because tensing makes it worse, but-

“Hawks?”

“Wha-?” The nurse is looking him over, and critical eyes soften at whatever it is they see.

“I asked if anything else was hurting you, besides your head.”

The woman’s voice has mellowed out, she doesn’t sound quite as aggressive as she did before, and Eraser picks up on the transition as well, because one eye peeks open to look over.

“Uh, no. No. Just, here.” He touches his fingertips against the sensitive skin, and she nods.

“Good. I’m going to go ahead and take your blood pressure, okay? I’m just going to use this,” She picks up the familiar cuff and unravels it, slowly, “And wrap it around your arm. Do you have a preference?” She looks at him expectantly.

“Preference?”

“Which arm, sweetie?” She asks. He can see the hospital badge that identifies her as the lead RN for pediatric trauma care, and it’s mocking him.

“I don’t care.” He says, maybe too harsh, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Left arm it is then.”

His signature brown jacket is too thick, so she has him take it off so she can wrap the cuff around his arm. His heart is racing and he knows what she’s going to say, “A little high, but not too bad.”

“Can you open your mouth for me? I’d like to take your temperature if that’s okay.” She slips the plastic cover over the thermometer and he opens his mouth, dutifully.

“Perfect, 98.6”

This continues for a few more minutes. She tells him exactly what she’s doing before and while she does it. She waits for him to respond and never assumes when it takes him a little longer to do so.

“Well, it looks like you have a concussion, but I’m sure you were already aware.” She’s writing something down on a small pad attached to a brow clipboard. Hawks is tense, waiting, wondering why she’s dragging this out.

“Naproxen. For the pain. Diclofenac for the swelling and one Xanax to calm the nerves.”

“I’m not nervous.” He’s quick to respond.

She smiles, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. It’s knowing, and it’s sweet and patient, but he doesn’t want that. He just wants her to hurt him, already.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to take them. A lot of heroes do, though.” She says, gently. Eraser speaks up.

“Can I have some, then?”

“No.” She cuts a glare at him and her tone cuts through any ground she’d just made with Hawks. He’s holding his breath, waiting, he’s going to pass out if this isn’t over with soon, but Eraser just smirks at the nurse.

She turns back to face him again, sees his reaction, and smiles apologetically.

“Sorry. Your friend is a regular at this place. Just brings out the worst in me, sometimes.” She chuckles. Hawks releases the breath he’d been holding. Eraser mumbles something that sounds like, the feeling is mutual.

“You should be okay. You might be a little nauseous at some point, but if so it will pass. No sleeping for more than two hours at a time for the next twelve hours. Do you have someone that can stay up with you?”

Hawks nods, lies. It’s just a concussion, he’s had so many by this point that he probably knows more than her on the subject.

“Good. Well, my shift is over in about…” She checks her watch, “Ten minutes. But my replacement is Ms. Lilly. If you need anything, you can let her know.”

“Thanks, Ira.” Eraser pipes up. The nurse rolls her eyes. She gives Hawks a parting smile and rolls away.

She just… leaves.

Hawks sits in his chair, silent, trying to process that. She didn’t hurt him, not even when she examined his head. Her hands were careful when they smoothed over the sensitive area, hushing and cooing when he inhaled too sharply. She didn’t ask him questions he didn’t have answers to, she didn’t get mad when she had to repeat herself, or when she told him he was injured.

“You good?” Eraser asks. His eyes are closed, but Hawks isn’t foolish enough to believe he doesn’t see anything.

Hawks swallows past a sudden lump in his throat. He clears it, hoping for the sensation to go away already.

“Where’s-“ His question is cut off by his phone ringing again, startling both the heroes. Hawks silences it and groans. He probably can’t ignore X much longer before they show up here, but he really doesn’t want to talk.

“Commission.” Hawks answers Eraser’s silent question. The hero hums in acknowledgment.

“I’ve been dodging them too.”

“Yeah?”

“They tried cornering me on the scene after I was checked out.”

“Ah, yeah. They’re…persistent.” Hawks grimaces. Eraserhead sighs and nods.

“What were you saying?”

“Huh?”

“Earlier, before the call.”

What was he saying? Eraser asked if he was good, and –

“Oh, yeah. Where’s Mic?”

Eraser’s brows furrow and he opens one eye to peer at him, curious.

“What.”

“Present Mic. Voice Hero, DJ, Hero Weekly’s Hottest Thirty under Thirty-“

“Why.”

“Probably his ass,” Hawks shrugs, “Or his smile. Or his arms – He has nice arms.” Hawks sighs, wistfully, and Eraser makes a choking noise.

“I mean why are you asking me this.”

“Oh. Because you’re here.”

“And?”

“And so, by that logic, he should be here too.” Hawks explains like it should be obvious.

“We’re not actually inseparable, despite what he might have told you.”

“That’s not what he told me! What he actually said is, ‘Wherever Shou goes, I go!”

Eraser rolls his eyes, but Hawks can see his cheeks warm as he ducks his head into his scarf. The winged hero smirks and opens his mouth to continue teasing the older man, when –

“SHOOOOUUTAAAAA!”

Hawks’ eyes light up at this turn of events, while Eraser slumps even further into his capture scarf. Hawks breaks out into a grin when the Voice Hero rounds the corner.

He’s in civilian wear, much to Hawks’ delight. He has light denim jeans ripped in just the right places, with a fit so well and worn it had to have been Best Jeanists’ work. He wore a dark green, oversized sweater tucked into his high waisted pants. His long blonde hair was high up in a half-assed bun, a few of those rogue strands catching on pierced ears. He pushes his glasses up when he gets close enough and he huffs.

Cute

“WHY aren’t you answering your phone?!” Present Mic crouches down next to Eraser and tugs on his scarf, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“It’s dead.”

“Gah! Then charge it!”

“How?”

“I gave you a portable charger for this exact reason!”

“I’m fine, Hizashi.” Eraser lowers his voice and puts his hand over Mic’s, still on the man’s scarf. Mic huffs, tugs once more, and stands.

“You’re really okay? You saw the medics?” Mic confirms and kicks Eraser’s knee with his foot, lightly.

“I did. I’m fine. Thanks to the kid.” Eraser mutters, not too happily. Mic bends at the waist and ruffles the hero’s hair and Eraser sinks into the touch. Hawks takes this time to clear his throat.

“Oh! Hawks-kun! Are you okAY?!” His voice grows louder when he notices the bandage that Ira added to his face.

“I’m fine. Also thanks to the kid.”

“Sounds like he was quite the hero!”

“Is.” Eraser interrupts, and Mic looks down, curious.

“He’s still in surgery. But he… he is. Not was. He’s still a hero.”

Mic’s face softens in understanding and he nods.

“Oh, Shou. I didn’t mean it like that. He’ll be okay.” Mic smiles, and it’s warm and leaves no room to doubt.

“It went well, then? The last thing we saw on the feed was the cute little kiddo telling you to hold on!”

“I wouldn’t say it went well. He did get stabbed.” Eraser points out. Hawks feels the need to chime in, “And put a gun to his head.”

“WAHHhh!” Eraser activates his quirk and quiets the scream.

“Got Overhaul’s attention,” Eraser says.

“Why weren’t you in the raid, Mic?” Hawks wonders.

“Ah, Shou and I can’t work together. I mean, we can if we really really need to, but it’s not a great idea. Hasn’t worked out in the past.” He says, tucking a long blonde lock of hair behind an ear.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, because we-”

“Hawks likes your arms.” Eraser interrupts, unhelpfully. It’s almost worth it to see the pink blush work its way up to Mic’s neck to his cheeks.

“And your smile.” Hawks pouts. Mic’s eyes go wide and Hawks lets out a laugh when Eraser rolls his eyes.

“And your ass.” Eraser adds.

Mic squeaks, leading Eraser to activate his quirk again, and it’s back and forth bickering between the three of them.

Hawks isn’t sure how long they go back and forth, laughing and screeching and groaning. It’s a nice distraction from the knowledge that just a few feet away, the green-eyed kid was being cut open and put back together on the operating table.

Hawks must have dozed off at some point because he wakes up when the doctor – Toru – makes an appearance. The heroes all stand, tense.

“He’s out of surgery.”

All three heroes let out a sigh of relief. The doctor continues,

“He’s stable for now, but given the situation, we’re keeping him in ICU for tonight. No visitors – no exceptions.” He glares at Eraser when he says this, but Hawks has a feeling that won’t stop the hero, “After we’re confident in his progress, we’ll transition him to a private room.”

“So, he’s going to make it?” Hawks asks, hoping. The doctor is wary when he says, “His chances look much better than they did an hour ago. I can’t promise anything, but as long as he continues to stabilize, I think we can look at a full recovery.”

“Thank god!” Mic interjects and smiles at Eraser, swings an arm around his shoulder, and brings him closer.

“I also took it upon myself to take a sample of his blood to send over to the Quirk Census Institute. If he was registered, we’ll get a hit. Maybe figure out who this kid is.”

“Thanks.” Eraser nods, and, “Which room?”

The doctor glares for a few moments before giving up. “ICU is fifth floor. You’ll have to look for him, yourself. And no waking up my patients.” He warns. Eraser nods.

 “Understood.”

“And no interrogating the kid for at least twenty-four hours after he wakes. That goes for law enforcement and the commission.” The doctor looks at Hawks.

The bird waves his hands, “Of course! I’m just glad the little guy is okay. I can keep the commission back for a day or so.” He offers.

“Very well. It’s… nearly midnight.” Toru checks his watch, “Visiting hours are well over. And you all need to rest. You’re welcome to return once he’s been transferred to a private room.” He looks at Eraser again, who is pointedly looking anywhere else. The doctor sighs.

Toru says his goodbyes and leaves the three heroes alone, again. Present Mic yawns, loudly, scratching his head. Eraser rubs tired eyes and Hawks is trying very hard to stay standing.

“You’re staying?” Mic asks.

“Of course. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find him.”

Mic huffs out a fond laugh, “I’ll stay with you.”

Eraser is already shaking his head. He probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s leaning into Mic a little too closely, and Hawks has to strain to hear him.

“You should go home. Rest. Bring me a change of clothes in the morning.”

“You’re sure?” Mic frowns. Eraser hums and glances over at Hawks, who is still standing there and trying to act like he isn’t listening.

“Why don’t you give the bird a ride home? I don’t trust him to fly like this.” He says as if Hawks isn’t even there.

“I can fly just fine, Eraser.” He rolls his eyes. Mic smiles.

“It’s no problem! I wouldn’t feel comfortable making you get home by yourself.” He says. Is he always so genuine?

“If you’re sure…”

“Of course!” Hawks yawns and rubs his eyes.

“Are you ready now?” Mic asks. The hero nods.

Hawks walks a few feet away, close to the large, double doors that lead back to the waiting room. He’s trying to give them a chance to say goodbye in private. It was a traumatic day, after all, for both of them. He couldn’t imagine someone he cared about being captured by the Yakuza like that, and then losing touch with them? If it were Dabi, he would –

Wait.

No.

Where the hell did that thought come from? Hawks must have been more out of it than he realized. Maybe the concussion was worse than he thought.

“Ready?” Mic is at his side, pulling him out of his horrible intruding thoughts.

“Yeah.” He nods.

They walk out of the hospital together, leaving Eraser to stay with the kid. It’s warm outside, and Mic is chatting away about something that Hawks is trying and failing to follow. Because he’d opened his phone, the burner when they got outside and reads four new notifications.

(21:18) Hottie: You’re in

(21:45) Hottie: I like your voice, too.

(21:58) Hottie: Let me know when you make it home. Make sure you see a doctor or some shit.

(01:01) Hottie: Goodnight.

Chapter Text

Eraser finishes his third cup of crappy coffee before the sun is even up all the way and tries to stifle a yawn. Forty-Eight hours of only hospital coffee was threatening to send him into withdrawals – he wasn’t even convinced there was enough caffeine in the drink to qualify as coffee.

The hospital staff wouldn’t let him bring any outside food or drink in the room, and considering how far they were bending the rules by letting him stay with the kid, he wasn’t interested in pushing his luck. Hizashi had offered to bring him a thermos to chug in the parking lot, but Aizawa couldn’t bring himself to leave the boy. He wouldn’t risk him waking up alone, especially when the kid had gone so far to keep Eraser company, before.

There hadn’t been much of a change in the kid’s status the last two days, which Aizawa supposes is a good thing. After the first night, the staff had deemed him stable enough to transfer him out of critical condition and into his own room. Since then, the kid hadn’t moved the slightest muscle or made the smallest sound.

That first night had been… difficult. Aizawa had found himself passing the time in watching the kids small chest move up and down, breathing in and out on his own. Aizawa was afraid if he looked away, even for a moment, it would stop.

Now, Aizawa has his laptop and his notes sprawled out across the lumpy couch that’s pushed up against the one window in the room. He doesn’t want to crowd the kid when he does wake. And Hizashi would probably make another cat joke if he knew, but Aizawa liked sitting in the warm sunlight.

Once again, Aizawa was struck by the notion that he really did have the best husband. Once it had been clear Aizawa wasn’t going anywhere until the boy woke up, Hizashi had made a call to Nedzu and informed him that his husband would not be attending the scheduled entrance exams that had taken place the day after the raid.

The principal was surprised, to say the least, and to catch the principal off guard was a feat that Aizawa typically would have relished in. Aizawa had been teaching at UA for years, and had never once taken so much as a sick day. He’d received a lot of angry emails and work calls about it from administration, about how he had too much compensatory time built up and he how he needed to take time off to avoid eventual burn out. So to hear that he was missing one of the most important days of the year was unfathomable, until Hizashi offered the explanation.

Aizawa had fallen asleep eventually, passing out on the couch hard after the kid was cleared. He’d slept almost nine hours, twice his usual amount, and woke up feeling a little more alive than the night before. He’d texted Hizashi and asked to bring his work stuff up to the hospital so he could review the footage of the exams himself and type up his notes, referrals, and considerations for Nedzu.

A few prospective students stood out to him as he went through the footage, some better reasons than others. The float girl, Uraraka, he made a note of. The hardening kid, Kirishima. And he’d recognize a Kaminari anywhere – the kid looked just like his mom, Pro-Hero Charge, and seemed to take after her in more than looks. One of the boys, Bakugo, had an incredibly powerful quirk, but his attitude appeared to be just as explosive.

And then there was Mineta. Aizawa wasn’t quite sure how he’d made it this far in the first place.

Aizawa combs through the footage, adding more names to his list, before compiling them with his notes and remarks to send them off to the principal. He makes sure to add his annual critique of the exam itself, re-iterating the fact that fighting robots is not a good indicator of a hero and that there should be other opportunities for those with less flashy quirks to be given a chance.

Aizawa closes his laptop and stands, bones popping as he stretches. He looks over at the kid again, glances over his vitals – still steady.

There’s a knock at the door and Aizawa turns, expecting it to be one of the nurses. They’d been coming in and checking on the both of them at least once an hour. Eraser is pleasantly surprised when he sees Tsukauchi instead.

“Eraser.” The man nods and smiles. It’s tired, but genuine. Aizawa has always appreciated that about him.

“Detective.”

“How is he?”

Eraser glances back at the bed, “Still asleep.”

“I read over your debrief, watched the footage. Looks like he needs it.”

Eraser hums in agreement.

“Do you need another statement?”

“No, no. I just came to check on the kid. And on you.”

Eraser raises an eyebrow at the second statement tacked on to the first.

“Mic said you haven’t left since they brought him in.” He explains. Eraser shrugs, nonchalant, and sits back down on the couch.

“We have two armed officers outside the door, you know. And the precepts are scattered. A few of the lower rung members squeezed out, but the bullets and anyone else that could actually be considered a threat have all been charged.”

“Have they said anything?” Eraser steers the conversation away from himself.

The detective shakes his head, “None of them are talking.”

“And Chisaki?”

“As soon as he got out of surgery we took him in. He’s in a max security facility that’s still able to cater to his level of medical care.”

“Which is?”

“Snipe was able to land the shot between two of his lower vertebrae. Not a death sentence, but it did lead to paralysis from the waist down. There’s a chance he may regain mobility, but we won’t know that for a while.”

“Hm.” Eraser figures that’s a best case scenario. As much as he would’ve liked to have seen Overhaul succumb to his injuries, he knew that wasn’t a very heroic feeling to have.

“He’s asked about the kid. A lot. Nothing specific, just wanting to know if he’s alive.”

Eraser’s eyes cut across the room, “You haven’t told him anything, have you?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

The detective walks over to the window, closer to the hero. He leans against it, crossing his arms and looking outside.

“They were trying to come up with a way to destroy quirks.” Eraser’s eyebrows shoot up, disappeared behind thick, curling hair.

“Destroy?”

“Yes. On an individual and molecular level. They were creating a serum that, if injected, would break down a body’s quirk until it was completely eradicated.”

“And they documented everything,” The detective continues, “All their research, their tests, all their dealing with the underground. That’s all in code, of course, but we’re working on it.”

“Looks like Overhaul was a bit of a control freak. He’s got itemized reports for the money they spent, every bit of Intel they received and from who and how reliable it is - they’ve even got a list of victims.”

Eraser frowns.

“Then, did you figure out who the kid is?” He asks. Surely with that much detail in every other aspect of the Shie Hassaika, their leader would have documented something so significant to him.

“Nope,” Tsukauchi surprises him, “Kid’s got a whole folder on Chisaki’s private server that’s been encrypted to hell and back. It’s huge, almost as large as the rest of it put together.”

“You can’t break into it?”

“We’re working on it. We’re giving our guys a shot, but if they can’t hack into it then we’ll send it over to Nighteye’s agency to assist.”

Eraser nods, “And the Institute?”

“We received the results this morning. No match in their system. No DNA matches in our system, either.”

“You got it that fast?”

“I expedited the request. We really wanted to figure out who this kid is. Chisaki’s folder is titled, ‘Deku,’ but I doubt that’s his name.”

“No,” Eraser mutters, “Rappa called him that.”

Tsukauchi doesn’t comment on that. Neither of them do.

“Well. Hopefully we’ll know more once he wakes up.” He says, instead. Eraser nods.

Another knock on the door, and this time Hawks is coming in. He hesitates when he sees the detective.

“Ah, sorry, should I wait?”

Tsukauchi shakes his head, “No need, I was just about to head out. Let me know how he’s doing.”

“I will.” Eraser answers.

The detective smiles politely at the winged hero, who steps into the room and allows him to pass by. He waits until the man has left and closes the door.

“Still nothing?” He asks, looking over at the kid. Eraser shakes his head and the hero’s face falls, just a bit.

Hawks looks a lot better than he did two days ago. His face has some color, the bruise has faded into tanned skin, and wings have a little more life in them. The worry lines on his face have smoothed out, and his eyes don’t look quite so heavy hearted anymore.

“What about you?” Eraser asks. Hawks hesitates, bites the inside of his cheek.

“Ah, yeah, actually. That’s why I’m here.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong. Just… uh…”

“Spit it out, Hawks.”

“You’re going to take the kid, right?” He blurts out. Eraser blinks, once.

“What?”

“Like, after he wakes up and he’s better and stuff. You’ll take him home?”

“I – no, Hawks. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been here every day! You haven’t even left to go shower or anything!”

“That’s not – I don’t want him to be alone. When he wakes up.”

“It’s a hospital, Eraser. He’ll be surrounded by people, constantly.”

“A familiar face.”

“You – Ugh. You’re annoying, how does Yamada put up with you?”

“Ask him.” Eraser notes the bird isn’t calling his husband by his hero name, anymore.

“I did. I can’t repeat his answer in front of the kid.”

 Eraser rolls his eyes.

“Hopefully the kid will have a family. Parents, grandparents. Someone that will take him in.” Eraser says.

“Okay, yeah, obviously that’s best case scenario. But come on. No one has been looking for this kid Eraser, how do we know they’re going to come running now?”

“We don’t know why a missing persons report was never filed. It could be a number of reasons.” Eraser crosses his arms, but truthfully, he’s wondered the same thing. Even if his home life wasn’t the best, shouldn’t his teachers have noticed his absence?

“He’s not even registered with the institute! Whoever he was with didn’t even bother to take him. Hell, he could’ve been down there since before it even manifested – before elementary even!”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Eraser shakes his head, “He mentioned the Lasso Villain when I was with him, and he said he heard about it ‘before’. That was almost four years ago.”

“Okay, whatever, but – “

“Why is this important, Hawks? If he doesn’t have family, someone will take him in.” And that leaves a sour taste in Eraser’s mouth as it comes out. He tries to convince himself it’s the crappy coffee he’s been drinking.

“Yeah. The Hero Commission.” Hawks eyes bore into Eraser’s. The atmosphere shifts, slight, but enough to fill Eraser with a sense of dread.

“What?”

“They’ll get someone working for the commission to take him in, to foster him.”

“Why would they do that?” Eraser asks. Hawks fidgets, bounces on his feet before facing him.

“They’re pretty sure the kid is quirkless.”

Eraser’s brow furrows, “Really?”

Hawks nods, “Explains why he didn’t show up in the database. Why he didn’t use it during the raid-”

“It may not have been applicable in that situation,”

“And why Overhaul took him in the first place, if they were so obsessed with getting rid of quirks. The commission isn’t sure, obviously he’ll have to confirm it, but they’re confident.”

“Even so… why would the hero commission want a quirkless kid?” Eraser asks. He knows being quirkless these days is rare – rare enough that no one talks about it, and some specialists aren’t even sure it’s possible anymore with the new generation being born. But he also knows the hero commission thrives on power and flashy showmanship, and being quirkless would be neither of those.

Hawks opens and shuts his mouth a few times, not willing himself to speak.

“That’s classified.” He says, finally. Eraser frowns.

“Hawks… Do you really think you should be working for an organization that you feel the need to protect children from?”

The winged hero’s mouth falls into a thin line. His eyes harden and his feathers ruffle in the background. Aizawa realizes he’s triggered something in the hero, but it’s too late to take it back.

“Like I have a choice, Eraserhead.”

“What is that supposed to-”

“Look, just… Just – think about it. He’d be better off with you and Mic than he would just being another asset for the commission.”

“Why don’t you take him?” Eraser asks, ignoring the statement regarding Mic. Hawks is already shaking his head.

“I’m too tied up in the commission. I can’t guarantee I could put the kid first. Plus, you’re like an actual adult. And a teacher. You know how to handle kids.”

“I… I don’t know, Hawks.” Eraser trails off. Hawks looks at him, serious for once.

“Look… you obviously care about the kid. He clearly felt comfortable enough with you when you were down there. Just think about it.”

Eraser’s eyes find their way back to the hospital bed. To the kid that stuck with him, that ran through the battle to toss him his scarf, that pushed him out of the way of an attack that nearly cost him his life.

“If he doesn’t have anyone… I’ll think about bringing it up to Mic.”

“Bringing what up to me?”

Aizawa’s husband appears in the doorway, and if anyone is going to wake this kid up, it’s going to be him.

Eraser doesn’t say anything and neither does Hawks. The winged hero just gives him one more knowing look, eyes wide and full of meaning.

“Hey, Yamada.” Hawks turns and grins.

Hizashi returns the gesture before walking over to Shota, clucking and pulling at the bags under his eyes.

“You said you’d rest!”

“I did.”

“Did not.”

“I worked a little.”

“Shooo!”

“I had to. I already missed the exams; I needed to review the footage to get back to Nedzu.”

“Will you rest now??”

“Maybe.” Eraser admits. He can feel the exhaustion creeping back in. It never really left, but sometimes it could overwhelm him if he wasn’t careful. Usually Hizashi was there to pull him back into bed before it got that far.

“I’ll leave so you can do that. Just, please think about it.” Hawks pitches in. Eraser nods, wearily, and the bird smiles in return on his way out.

“Think about what?” Hizashi asks after he’s gone.

Shota sighs and sits back down on the couch. His husband follows and curls up next to him, looking up at him expectantly. He winces in the sun, and his cheeks are slightly flushed, likely due to the walk to the hospital.

Aizawa leans forward and kisses him on top of his hair. He breaths in the scent of his husband, and relaxes.

“Missed you.” He murmurs. Hizashi makes a pleased sound underneath him and wraps himself around Shota a little tighter.

“You too.” He says.

They sit like that for a moment. The room is quiet, aside from the machines that are beeping every so often to let them know the kid is indeed alive. Hizashi’s hair is tickling Aizawa’s nose, so he burrows in a little farther, wrapping him up and holding him close. He’s warm, and he smells like home, and damn – he might really fall asleep like this.

“Sho,” Hizashi dashes that opportunity when he whispers, “What did you want to talk about?”

Aizawa groans and lifts his head. His eyes are dry and probably swollen when he rubs them. He fishes out eye drops from his pocket and unscrews the cap. He’s going to need to be awake for this conversation.

“Hawks asked me if we’d be taking the kid home. To foster, after he wakes up.” Aizawa sighs, and Hizashi shifts so he can get a better look at his husband. His blonde head is tilted, slightly, and his glasses are falling down his nose.

“Are we not?”

Aizawa blinks. “Huh?”

“I… I mean, I kind of figured that’s what you wanted to do,” Hizashi is fidgeting now, he looks uncertain when he says, “I already washed the sheets in the guest room.”

Aizawa doesn’t say anything, just stares down at his husband in shock. Sure, they’d talked about having kids one day. But those conversations had been vague, hypothetical, and Aizawa had always imagined a surrogate with blonde hair and a cute, obnoxious personality.

“Should I not have done that? I just kind of assumed…” Hizashi trails off, glances over at the kid.

“I – why, I mean – why did you think that?”

“Sho…” Hizashi scrunches his face, “You’re really transparent for an underground hero.” Aizawa wants to be offended, but he knows the statement is probably more true than he would like to admit.

“What do you mean?” He asks, anyways.

“Well damn Sho, you haven’t left the kid alone for five minutes! You even chose him over coffee! Coffee, Sho! You’ve never chosen me over coffee!” His voice grows louder as he gets on a roll, “And don’t even try and act like you’re just doing this because it’s what heroes do” Hizashi lowers his voice in a poor imitation of Aizawa, “You obviously care about the kid.”

Yamada mirrors Hawks own sentiment and Aizawa rolls his eyes. He crosses his arms and determinedly looks out the window.

“I don’t know that I’m ready to have kids. Let alone a full grown teenager.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say he’s full grown. He’s pretty small.” Hizashi teases, and Aizawa is not amused.

“But I’m not talking about adopting him, Sho. Just fostering. We could give him a safe space to heal for a little while.” Yamada’s voice softens in a way that doesn’t happen often. When Aizawa looks back at his husband, he sees nothing but goodness and sincerity looking back at him.

“Why? Why do you want to, I mean.” Aizawa clarifies.

“I mean, he did save my husband’s life.” Yamada laughs and pushes said husband, softly. “Do I really need any reason more than that?”

“Yes. Zashi… this is serious. If you want to give him a safe space, we can’t just… change our minds. We don’t even know the kid. Hell, he may not know himself. He’s been through some serious shit, and… I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Aizawa runs a hand over his face.

“Hey, hey. Sho – I know. I was just teasing, I’m sorry.” Yamada tugs Aizawa’s hands into his own and runs a soothing thumb over bruised knuckles.

“I’m serious, Sho. I really think we could help the kid. If he doesn’t already have someone. He seemed so… adorable in the footage.”

“He was traumatized, not adorable.” Aizawa feels the need to remind him. Yamada rolls his eyes.

“Obviously, but, ‘It’ll be okay? Promise?’ Kid has a heart of gold.” Hizashi reminds him of what the kid had told him, how it had made Eraser feel, for a second, like he could believe him.

And Aizawa can’t argue Hizashi’s sentiment.. He’s coming up with a dozen excuses a minute, but from what he’s seen of the kid, he can’t deny that he isn’t… what does Joke call them? A cinnamon roll?

“That’s… yeah.” Aizawa admits. Yamada smiles, and it’s more of a smirk – the kind he pulls out when he knows he’s won something.

“Great. Well, I’ve got patrol in a few hours. I’m going to go home and shower and get ready.”

“Is that what I smelled?” Aizawa teases and leans over, sniffing into the crook of his husband’s neck. Hizashi squawks, offended, and pushes him away.

“And here I was trying to be sweet, sneaking you these!” Yamada drops a handful of jelly packets into Aizawa’s lap. Aizawa’s eyes widen and he tears into the strawberry one immediately.

“You’re the best.” He tells him, honestly. Hizashi smiles.

“I know! Text me when he wakes up.”

Eraser nods and finishes the packet before opening a second. Hizashi rolls his eyes, fondly, and then it’s just the two of them again. The hero and the kid.

Aizawa sighs and gathers all his work together, piling them on the window sill so he can stretch out on the couch. He closes his eyes, wishes he would’ve thought to ask Hizashi to bring his sleeping bag, and his mind starts to wander.

What would it be like, having another person in the apartment with them? Nemuri had stayed with them for a time, following a break up, but this would be different. He’d have to actually feed the kid and keep him safe. Despite his career as a hero, Aizawa knew he could come off rather menacing. He supposes that’s what Hizashi is for, making the kid feel okay. His husband always makes him feel okay, even when he isn’t trying. And he’s always been good with the kids; his classes always give him the highest marks and kindest reviews.

Yeah, Aizawa is confident; Hizashi would make a great dad. But what about him?

Shota’s mind starts to slow. He feels the edges of sleep whispering to him, lulling him towards a dreamless snooze. He starts to slip into that state between consciousness and unconsciousness, when he hears it. The beeping that’s been steady for the past two days is a little bit faster now. Another machine picks up, and it’s louder than it was before.

Aizawa sits up, sleep forgotten, and watches as the kid breaths in a little deeper. A small nose scrunches up, brows furrow and he can see him blinking heavily behind closed lids, fighting to wake up.

After a few moments, Aizawa is reminded of a warm smile, teary eyes and fidgeting hands. His eyes open, confused and weary, heavy lids are fighting to keep them down. But one more try, and Aizawa is met again with the color green.

The kid is awake.

Chapter Text

The first thing Deku feels when he comes to, is warmth. He’s too warm to be underground, but he’s also too warm to be dead.

The first thing Deku smells when he’s drug out of his sleep, is fresh linen and coffee. Two things that are foreign enough to take his hand and pull him out of unconsciousness.

The first thing Deku hears is a steady beeping, and he recognizes that he’s hooked up to a machine. Damn, Chisaki must have been pissed, mad enough to run more of his pointless tests – but why? And if he was with Chisaki, why was he so warm?

Deku is confused enough to fight – to open his eyes even when it feels like there’s a weight trying its hardest to hold them down. And the first thing he sees gives him pause. He sees long, black hair, tied back and out of a pale, gaunt face. A white scarf is wrapped around broad shoulders, tired eyes that are still sharp, assessing. Eraserhead.

Memories slam back into Deku with an overwhelming rush, and his eyes fly open – he’s fully awake now. He tries to sit up, but his exhausted muscles and drugged out limbs won’t let him.

Eraserhead tenses, moves like he’s going to get up, but stops himself when he sees Deku flinch back. He stays on the couch, waits for Deku to calm down. That won’t be happening anytime soon.

“Wh-” Deku opens his mouth, but he’s choking. His throat is dry and rough like sandpaper, scratching in an effort to get his question out.

In a reversal of their first interaction, Eraser stands this time to grab the cup of water at Deku’s beside table. He offers it to him, silent, and Deku nods. His eyes are watering when the hero closes the gap and,

“I’m going to sit you up, so you can drink.” Eraserhead lets him know, but he holds the back of Deku’s head, gently, large hands are doing their best not to linger, but

Rough hands grip his hair, and Deku can’t leave his head because he has to get out – he has to get out before anyone knows – and Deku is choking on a familiar taste, salty and bitter and the hand in his hair tightens, painfully, and he –

“Shit, kid – sorry, you were choking I – sorry. I won’t do that again.” Eraserhead steps away, the back of his legs hit the couch but he stays standing. His palms face Deku, surrendering to whatever it is the kid needs in this moment.

“N-no. S-s-sorry, sorry, I – th-thank you.” Deku manages. He knew the hero was just trying to help; he shouldn’t have reacted that way.  Gasping and pushing away at a ghost, crying about something that already happened.

Eraser doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting Deku catch his breath. The kid’s eyes are wild, and he’s wide awake after days of trying to catch up on years of exhaustion.

“Overhaul is in custody,” He starts, and Deku freezes, “He was injured by Snipe during the fight, and after coming out of surgery he was apprehended and charged.”

Deku tries to process this, can’t, and Eraserhead continues.

“Shin, Rikiya, Setsuno, Hojo, Tabe, and Rappa have all been incarcerated as well. Deidoro Sakaki was killed by Overhaul, during the raid. Hekiji Tengai is technically unaccounted for, but we believe-”

“He’s dead.” Deku whispers, finishing his sentence.

A familiar yukata, bloody and blown apart by the explosion. It’s stained red, and black, and Deku was just gripping it like a lifeline.

Eraserhead hesitates, and then nods.

“We were unable to identify the body with dental records, so we’re waiting for fingerprint analysis to come back.”

Deku sniffles; he’s so tired of crying. But based on what the hero is saying, it sounds like he might be… there’s a chance he could finally be…

“You’re safe now, kid.” Eraserhead tells him.

Deku doesn’t even try and hold back his tears, now. He isn’t even sad, or happy, necessarily. He’s feeling too much to pinpoint any specific emotion. It’s all overwhelming, feels like something lighting up under his skin. There’s too much input and too many places his thoughts are going, there’s no road for them to take.

So he cries. He holds his face in his hands and tries to be as quiet as he can. He realizes he should probably be embarrassed to be crying in front of his second favorite, now actual favorite, hero. But that emotion is lost under other, stronger ones that he doesn’t have a name for.

The hero lets him cry. It can’t have been for long, but it’s long enough that Deku has built up a good amount of tears and snot that he’s trying to wipe away. He sees the hero move in his peripheral, and looks up to see an outstretched hand holding a box of tissues. Deku takes it, careful not to accidentally touch the man, and starts wiping his face.

“I’m going to step out for just a second and get the doctor, okay?” The hero says. Deku nods and tosses the tissues in a small trashcan next to his bed.

Eraserhead is tall, a lot taller than he remembers. Deku remembers warm hands catching him, after he fell, and he remembers being tugged into a broad chest. He remembers opening the hero’s palm and slipping in a piece of paper that he’d done… unforgivable things to acquire. But this realization is new, the way Eraserhead simultaneously fills up and disappears into the room.

Deku tracks him, walking out of the door, and takes in his surroundings.

His room is bigger than he’d expect for a hospital room. There’s a bathroom, and the door is open just enough to see it looks like there’s a small shower in addition to the sink and toilet. There’s a small desk at the foot of his bed, with a small television that’s currently powered off. There’s the couch Eraserhead had been waiting on and it’s pushed against the wall, so that it’s being showered in… sunlight.

Deku tries to move, tries to push himself up, but his arms are shaking and all at once he remembers why he’s in the hospital in the first place – Deidoro had stabbed him.

The pain has Deku gasping and clutching at his side. He pulls the robe open and peers down to see fresh bandages wrapped around his abdomen, no blood in sight. Lower, on the left side, he sees the bruise that Eraserhead had given him in his urgency to have Deku stay next to him during the fight. For the first time, Deku thinks he doesn’t mind the look of a bruise so much.

“Good morning.”

Eraserhead is back, and he brought someone else with him. The doctor, Deku assumes, based on the long white coat, the stethoscope around his neck, and the forced geniality that barely overshadows a bone deep exhaustion. Deku tenses at the sight of the coat, tries not to give away his unease.

Deku doesn’t say anything back, but he does nod his head in acknowledgement while the hero plops back down on the couch. He’s untying and retying his hair, more mindful of catching all the loose strands that were falling down before.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor asks. Deku reads his hospital ID. Dr. Toru Yuki.

“Do you remember how you got here?” The doctor asks, when Deku doesn’t respond. He’s patient, waiting by the television, plenty of space in between him and Deku.

Deku thinks about his question, remembers a rush of air and something soft that brushed his hair and his face. He remembers a brown jacket, gold eyes.

Deku shrugs in response. He remembers, but he doesn’t understand.

“You were admitted two days ago. After the raid on the Shie Hassaika, you were brought to the hospital by Hawks, the current number three hero,” The doctor says, “And you were immediately brought into emergency surgery.”

Deku knows he should probably be worried about the second half of that statement, but his mind is stuck on the fact that there’s a hero he doesn’t know about. Sure, he’s been underground for a while, but the number three should still be someone he recognized, who’d already debuted while he was still getting bullied in school. It took a long time to break into the fifty, let alone the top ten.

“We were able to stabilize you and get your vitals to a place we were happy with. But, I’m sure you’ve noticed that there will still be a bit of pain as your body focuses on healing.”

Deku nods, regrets it. He shouldn’t have confirmed that, yes, he’s in pain. Now the doctor knows where to hurt him.

“You may still feel a little out of it from the painkillers. We gave you as much as we’re comfortable with. Due to your height and weight, it wouldn’t take much to overdo it with the narcotics, so now that you’re awake we’ll probably need to start tapering you off of them.”

Deku tenses at this information. He looks down to his arm, where the IV is taped into the crook of his elbow. He doesn’t like being drugged, never has. Chisaki didn’t do it often; he didn’t like Deku being tainted with chemicals like that. But it happened enough that Deku would put up a fight anytime it was deemed necessary.

“Do you have any questions, so far?” The doctor asks. Deku looks up at him. He knows this is a test. He shakes his head, determined to pass it.

“Okay. Well, then, you’ll be here for a few days at least, so we can keep an eye on you and make sure everything is healing the way it should. You’re severely malnourished, and that could impede the recovery process.” Deku winces. Yeah, he could feel the malnourishment when he pressed hard enough against his side to feel the sharp points of his ribs.

“But our nutritionist has already prepared a special diet for you, to start putting some weight back on you, safely.” The doctor continues. Yeah, no. Deku won’t be doing that.

“Do you know if you have any allergies we need to be aware of?”

Deku shakes his head. Milk, shellfish, and almonds. But they don’t need to know that. He knows better than to give them information that could be used against him, later.

“Right. Well, then, before I check your injury, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?” The doctor is joined by a small, young looking nurse. She smiles at him. Deku doesn’t return the gesture.

“Could you tell us your name? Date of birth?” He pulls out the rolling chair in front of the desk and sits a few feet away from the bed.

Deku doesn’t answer. He glances at Eraserhead, who is leaned forward towards them. Deku bites his lip.

“What about an age? Can you tell us how old you are?” The doctor asks. Deku looks down; his hands are going to be rubbed raw if he keeps up the picking and wringing he didn’t realize had started.

“We need this information so we can access your medical history, and your charts. We want to make sure we aren’t missing anything important.” The doctor explains.

There’s a pause, and when it’s evident Deku doesn’t plan on answering, the Doctor continues. He doesn’t appear to be dissuaded easily. Deku supposes patience is a mandatory character trait of anyone in the medical field.

“What about your family? Do you have parents or guardians we can contact?”

“Hold on, baby. Just a little bit longer – for mommy.”

“Kid-”

“Deku.” He gets out. He knows that’s not the answer they were looking for, wasn’t even the answer to his latest question, but he wasn’t anticipating the way the doctor’s eyes softened, or the way Eraserhead’s looked so resigned.

“We’re not going to call you that.” The doctor tells him, gently. Deku flinches at that statement, at the quiet conviction. He shrugs, nonchalant, even though he feels like the world has been flipped upside down.

“What about other family we can call? Friends? Teachers?” Deku is shaking his head before the doctor is done talking. The man sighs, resigned.

“Okay. Then, can you tell us if there’s anything pertinent to your care that we need to be aware of? Any allergies to medications, previous medications you may have been on, diagnoses or tests you may have taken?” Deku shakes his head. He has a feeling the doctor isn’t referring to the same kind of tests he took underground.

“Is that a no you won’t tell us, or a no to the questions?” He asks. Deku swallows.

“Second one.” His voice sounds wrecked after so much sleep, he barely recognizes it.

“Okay. Thank you, for telling us.” The doctor smiles. Deku glances back at the hero, who hasn’t moved.

“What about your quirk?”

The silence is deafening, now. He can tell they’re all waiting for him to answer. He can feel their eagerness, their anticipation. But he can’t tell them – won’t tell them. They’ll hurt him if they know, and Eraserhead will leave if finds out just how useless he is.

“Okay.” The doctor realizes he won’t be getting an answer.

“Well, I do need to take a look at your injury, now that you’re awake.” He says, and everyone in the room tenses, is on edge and fearful for how the kid will react. But Deku has had plenty of experience staying still for men in long, white coats.

“Okay.”

Dr. Toru smiles and stands, slowly. He telegraphs his movements in a way Deku knows he should appreciate, but if anything it’s only dragging this out further. It’s almost a relief when he gets to the edge of the bed. Until he grabs Deku’s robe, the kind that ties in the front, and tugs.

The doctor’s cold hands brush against Deku’s skin in his effort to remove the clothing, and Deku grabs his wrist – hard. As hard as a malnourished teenager can, anyways. Which must have been hard enough to get his point across, because the doctor freezes and glances over at Eraserhead before looking back at Deku.

“I need to remove your robe, so that I can check your side and your bandages.” He explains, calm. There’s no hint of emotion in his voice, and that’s almost enough to snap Deku out of his sudden and irrational panic.

Deku doesn’t let go. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, his eyes are shut tight and he knows he has to be hurting the doctor’s wrist at this point, with how hard he’s gripping it. He hears someone moving next to him, and he opens his eyes.

Eraserhead had stood, walked over and crouched onto the floor. He was tall enough that Deku could still meet his line of sight on the bed. The hero looked at where Deku’s grip was only growing stronger, and looked between him and the doctor.

“What’s the problem?” He asks, and from anyone else the question would have jabbed at Deku. But the hero is sincere, his head is tilted and his eyes are soft but are narrowing in consideration. Deku doesn’t answer, but Eraserhead seems to put it together himself.

“Can you examine him without touching him?” The hero asks the doctor. Toru hesitates, but nods.

“I can do that.”

Deku doesn’t look away from Eraserhead and doesn’t loosen his grip. Not for a few more moments of tense silence. He knows logically that the doctor needs to actually see the injury to check it, and he knows that whatever he actually does probably won’t be as bad as anything Chisaki’s doctors had done to him, but his panic doesn’t seem to care about that logic.

Slowly, moment by moment, Deku eases his grip. His breathing regulates, even if it’s a bit shallow, and all he feels is a bone deep exhaustion as he finally relaxes.

“S-sorry.” He whispers, and he’s still looking at Eraserhead but the doctor must know he’s talking to him.

“It’s not a problem. I should have asked, first.” He says.

Quickly and efficiently, the doctor tugs the robe free and moves it out of the way without touching any skin. Deku looks away from the hero now, his face is burning at what everyone in the room can see. When Dr. Toru brushes his fingers against the bandages, ready to unravel them, Deku tenses again. He knows he said he didn’t need to touch him, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. And Deku isn’t stupid, of course he’ll have to. He’ll unravel the white fabric and see the injury underneath, and he’ll poke it and prod it and Deku really should’ve just answered his questions earlier because he’s in no condition to go through that kind of torture again and –

The doctor stops. He pulls his hand away and waits for Deku to notice. Toru blinks once, surprised. Deku turns to look at Eraserhead, confused, when he sees a similar look on his face. Deku realizes he must have been mumbling, they understood some of what he was thinking at least.

“Doc.” Eraserhead speaks up, but his eyes are locked on Deku’s. The doctor clears his throat.

“Yes?”

Deku couldn’t look away from the hero even if he wanted to. His eyes are burning with some emotion Deku isn’t familiar with, has never seen directed at him.

“You touch him, and I’ll break your hand.” Eraserhead finally looks up at the doctor, who makes a choking sound. His face reddens and he splutters,

“You can’t do that!”

“I can.” Eraserhead is calm, but confident. He stands up from his crouch and puts his hands in his pockets. He’s moved a little closer to Deku, slight enough that anyone but Deku wouldn’t have noticed.

Deku’s eyes widen at the gesture. Surely the hero wouldn’t actually do that – he’s a hero after all! And from what Deku knows about him, what he remembers reading, he’s one of the best. But… he also knows that Eraserhead is known for his honesty, sometimes too blunt to really be nice or helpful.

“Tch. I said I could do it, didn’t I?”

The doctor takes advantage of Deku’s momentary surprise and confusion at the hero’s actions to start unraveling the bandages. Deku tenses, once he realizes what he’s doing, but he’s able to stay still. He closes his eyes, starts counting down from five hundred. They’re usually done by then.

“It looks good. Healing nicely, no sign of infection.” The doctor says. Deku didn’t even get to four hundred and fifty. He sets aside the bandages and reaches towards the nurse, who is still standing back against the wall. He brought new ones to change into. He grabs them and turns back to Deku, to start reapplying them, when he pauses.

“Actually, Lilly, do you think you could do this?” He asks. The nurse smiles and nods before taking the doctor’s place.

Deku isn’t quite so tense when he can feel the warmth of her hands through the fabric. She smells nice, like vanilla, and she hums while she wraps him, carefully.

“Does that feel okay?” She asks. Deku nods.

“Great!” She smiles.

“I’ll let you rest, now,” The doctor walks back to the door, crosses his arms, “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Deku doesn’t want to admit it, but he is. The little movement he’s produced has been enough to wipe him out, and he rubs his eyes.

“Lilly will bring you something small to eat, if you can. Before you sleep.” He says. The nurse nods, “Yep! Be right back!” She walks away, cheerful, and the doctor follows.

It’s just Eraser and Deku in the room, something that feels familiar. Deku is trying to stay awake, trying not to pass out. He knows he’s not allowed to, despite what the doctor says. But he also knows he can’t eat, not whatever the nurse brings back.

“I can ask her to keep it warm for you, if you want to rest.” Eraserhead offers. Deku blinks once, twice, he has a dozen questions he needs to ask, but his mouth isn’t working properly. He hears the hero chuckle.

“Go to sleep, kid. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**********

Eraserhead is not there when Deku wakes up.

He wakes up feeling better, more like himself – whoever that is, now. It doesn’t hurt so much when he breathes in deep, and he even allows himself to stretch, just a little. The hospital sheets are so soft, softer than anything Deku has felt in a long time, except for whatever it was that had held him when he was flying. So Deku nuzzles the pillow, smells the clean linen, and sighs.

Until he hears something between a squeak and a cough.

Deku’s eyes fly open and he bolts up. He doubles over with the way his body rejects that motion, gasps and holds his side as if that will make the pain stop.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, little listener! You were just so cute! Are you okay?!”

Deku looks over to see a man he doesn’t recognize sitting in Eraserhead’s spot on the couch. He gulps, frightened, and looks over at the closed door for help.

“Ah! Here, here – drink some water!” He says, when Deku starts to pale. He flinches back at the abrupt movement that results in the man spilling the water all over the floor.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry! I should’ve known! Sho told me, I just-“

“Go away.” Deku gasps and pleads, and the blonde’s face falls. He takes several steps back until he’s pressed against the window.

“Shit, I’m sorry kid. I really thought Sho would’ve been back by now, I didn’t think you’d wake up before he came back!” The blonde apologizes and looks just as distressed as Deku feels.

“Get out!” Deku pulls the sheets up as high as they’ll go and the blonde hesitates.

The man looks between Deku and the door, swaying with each glance. Finally he whines and pulls out his phone with one hand and fidgeting with one of his many ear piercings with the other.

“Shit, okay kid – I’m sorry. Shit, Eraser is going to kill me.” He complains, but starts making his way to the door. The kid stops him.

“Wait!”

The man freezes halfway to the door, looks up at him with wide, worried eyes. They’re almost as green as Deku’s, he notices. Not quite as frightened, though.

“You… Eraser?” Deku bites his lip. The blonde nods, fervently.

“He’s my husband!” The man exclaims, almost too loudly. Deku winces.

“Your… husband?” He asks, hesitant. The man relaxes, just a bit.

“I made him leave for just a little bit! He hasn’t left the hospital since you were admitted. He hasn’t even left this room since you came in, so I made him go home and shower and get some coffee while I waited with you. I really didn’t think he was going to be gone so long though, so I’m really sorry if I scared you!” He says.

Deku can’t help but feel a small curl of warmth in his chest at the thought of Eraserhead staying with him, guarding him, for however long he’s been here. If he’s telling the truth, that is.

“H-how can I be-believe you?” Deku asks. The man’s expression tightens.

“I wanted to call him so he could explain, but he isn’t answering his phone!” He says. Then, he brightens.

“Oh! Here!” He unlocks his phone and does something, his fingers are flying across the screen as he finds what he’s looking for.

“Ha!” He exclaims and takes a step closer so he can show Deku what it is he’s found. He holds his phone out as far he can while still maintaining his distance.

Deku’s eyebrows disappear behind a nest of wild, green curls. The man is showing him a picture of the underground hero that seems like it wasn’t taken too long ago. It looks like the hero is in bed, or on a couch, curled up at such a sharp angle it looks almost painful. What Deku notices about the picture, though, is the cat curled up next to him in the exact same position, mirroring the man.

Deku’s lips twitch without his permission, and if he could smile if he would. The blonde man is grinning wide enough for the both of them as he rocks proudly back and forth.

“See? Isn’t he cute, he won’t let me show anyone else!” The man complains. Deku huffs.

“Should you be showing me, then?”

“Mmm, I don’t think he would mind, if it’s you.” He says. Deku’s brows furrow but he lets the comment be. The man is obviously close enough to the hero to have such a personal picture, so he relaxes – slightly.

“My name is Yamada. Yamada Hizashi!” The man says, grinning. Deku wishes he could match his enthusiasm.

“N-nice to me-meet you. Yamada S-San.” Deku would bow if he didn’t think it would hurt so badly.

“Ahh, so polite! You can call me Yamada! Or Hizashi! Sho usually calls me Zashi, or loud, or obnoxious, or-“

“Sho?” Deku doesn’t mean to interrupt, but he does, and he freezes. He waits for a blow that doesn’t come.

“Ah, that’s Eraser! Aizawa Shota.”

“Sh-should you be telling that?!” Deku panics. The whole point of a hero name was to try and keep some degree of anonymity. And given how much is seemed Easer valued his privacy, Deku couldn’t believe he had just told him! In his panic, he doesn’t even realize that he hadn’t been punished for interrupting the man.

But he just laughs, loud, and now that Deku has woken up and calmed down, he seems really familiar. Was he in the underground, with the other heroes? Maybe, but Deku thinks he recognizes him from somewhere besides that. Somewhere from before…

“Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat!” Yamada offers. Deku shakes his head.

“No, thank you.” He says, just as his stomach growls, loudly. There’s a beat of silence, and then Yamada laughs again.

“I’ll ask Eraser to bring you something on his way in.”

“He’s coming back?” Deku asks, too eagerly, if Yamada’s expression is anything to go by.

“Of course he’s coming back for his favorite little listener!”

Deku doesn’t catch the important preposition – for, not to. He’s just glad that he’ll get to see him again, one more time before they go their separate ways. Deku is trying not to think about it, what will happen to him once he leaves the hospital. Will they find his mom, even if he doesn’t tell them who he is? Will they just kick him out, if no one comes for him? Or send him to an orphanage? He doesn’t like any of those options, but he knows he has no right to be picky. Besides, he knows he can make it on his own if he has to.

“Are you allergic to cats?” Yamada asks, urgently. He’s leaning forward, Deku hadn’t noticed that he’d pulled up the chair to sit closer to him, and Deku flinches just a bit. Yamada leans back.

“Ah, sorry! It’s an important question!”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so.” Deku answers, confused. Yamada looks relieved beyond belief at this fact.

“Phew! Thank god. I don’t think I could deal with a cat-less Sho for very long.” Yamada says.

“Huh?”

“What about dogs?”

“Ah – I don’t kn-know. My… neighbor. Had one. It made me sneeze, but it – it had long hair.” Deku says. He clears his throat. He shouldn’t talk so much. Yamada seems friendly enough, but Deku knows that may not last.

“That’s fine! I can work with short hair! There’s no way Sho would be able to say no to you, if you asked. Not right away, that would be too obvious, but maybe…” The man keeps talking, but Deku is done trying to understand what he’s talking about. He’s trying to figure out how he knows him.

The man is flamboyant, he’s dramatic and loud and not usually the kind of person Deku would run into. His long, blonde hair is pulled up in a high pony, showing off dozens of piercings on both ears. His eyes are bright, excited even, the complete opposite of Eraserhead. The man laughs again, loud and sincere and –

“Put… your hands up?” Deku tilts his head and it comes out as a question opposed to the usual exclamation. It’s quiet and uncertain, almost whispered.

Yamada’s eyes widen and he actually sits back. He’s stunned into silence for a moment before he breaks out into a wide smile. He puts his fists in the air, leans back, and –

“YEEEEEAAAAAAH!”

He yells loud enough that Deku actually yelps out loud and jumps back, hands fisting the sheets at his side. The voice hero freezes, realizes his mistake, and opens his mouth to seemingly apologize when –

“Really, Hizashi?”

Deku whips around to see Eraserhead standing in the doorway, arms crossed. He looks exasperated with the other man’s antics and rolls his eyes. He looks over to Deku, and apologizes.

“I thought he’d have more tact than this.”

“Shooo!”

“It-it’s fine. I – it’s nice to meet you, Present Mic.” Deku offers his best version of a smile.

The voice hero’s face turns bright red when he looks to Eraserhead.

“He’s adorable!” He mock whispers, and now it’s Deku’s turn to flush.

“Tch. You already knew that.” Eraser says, and Deku notices that he isn’t denying Yamada’s statement. His face is on fire.

“I- I – no, sorry I – uh, I – “

“Relax, kid. You’re fine.” Eraserhead is standing next to Present Mic, a hand on his shoulder, and twelve year old Deku probably would’ve exploded at the sight.

“I startled him.” Yamada admits, sheepishly, and Deku waves his hands, frantically.

“No! No! I – I’m sorry, I just – “

“What did you do?” Eraserhead looks down at Present Mic, disapprovingly.

“Well, I woke him up, “

“Of course you did.”

“And then I kind of spilled his water all over the place. And yelled.”

“Yeah, I heard that part. You startled the entire floor.” Eraser rolls his eyes and pats Yamada’s head. He looks down and instead of disapproving he looks almost… fond.

“Y- you’re really married?” Deku asks. Eraserhead glances at Yamada, before confirming.

“We are.”

“Yep! Eight years!” Mic says, happily.

Whoa. That’s a long time. Deku would’ve been seven years old, when they got married. Deku would’ve been walking to school by himself, writing down ideas and theories about his favorite heroes that would come into his head while walking. Kacchan still talked to him, at seven years old. Maybe they would’ve walked to school together.

“Kid?” Eraserhead catches his attention, and there’s a note of concern. Deku realizes he may have spaced out a bit.

“S- sorry. What?” Deku shakes his head. Eraserhead hesitates.

“I was late getting back because I was talking to the police. I tried getting them to wait, but. They’ve been waiting a few days to talk to you.”

Deku freezes, and – oh. Oh.

His eyes water when the realization hits him. They weren’t going to send him to an orphanage, or kick him out on the streets. He was a criminal. He’d done things – bad things that Chisaki forced him to do. He didn’t want to do them, he didn’t like it, he tried to fight him for the first few years, but that didn’t change the fact that it was illegal, that it was wrong and it hurt, but he should’ve fought back harder, he should’ve yelled louder or tried to escape more than once, and of course Eraserhead didn’t leave him, because someone had to watch him, to make sure he wouldn’t escape before he was arrested and probably sent to prison – but what if he went to the same prison as Chisaki? What if he saw him again, and Chisaki would be so angry that Deku had hurt him, had tricked him,

You can trust me

“Kid!”

“Kid, look at me – hey. Hey, eyes on me.” Eraserhead is as close to Deku as he dares, he’s crouched on the ground and his hands are hovering, useless and uncertain.

Deku listens to him – he can follow instructions. That’s one thing he’s always been good at.

“Good, good job kid. Take a deep breath.”

Deku grows warm at the praise and Present Mic notices, standing behind his husband.

“Really good, little listener!” He adds. Deku keeps his eyes on Eraserhead, like he’d been told to, but he warms again at Yamada’s sentiment.

“Now breathe out.” Eraserhead instructs.

They do this for a few more breaths, Deku following the sound of the hero’s voice until he settles. He rubs his eyes, embarrassed to be crying again in front of the hero. In front of both heroes!

Why are you always such a crybaby, Shitty Deku?

“Kid – you’re okay. You’re not in trouble, okay? I promise. The police just want to help you – you aren’t going anywhere.” Eraserhead must be able to read his mind, or maybe he was mumbling again.

“Definitely! And Eraser will be there with you, okay?! If you feel up to it! If not, I can go in and talk their ears off instead, and they’ll be so annoyed they’ll have to come back another time!” Mic chimes in.

Deku shakes his head. No. He has to get this over with. Even if he does get in trouble, or get sent away. He has to show them that he can do it. It’s the least he can do, after everything the heroes have done. He can’t disappoint them, too.

“Are you sure?” Eraserhead asks. His face is drawn tight with concern, and he hesitates.

“Y-you’ll really st-stay? With me?” Deku asks. Eraserhead’s face softens, more so than Deku has ever seen. It’s kind and it’s open, there’s a hint of a smile somewhere. He hopes he can see it one more time, before he goes away.

“Yeah, kid. I’ll stay with you.”

Chapter Text

Eraserhead – Or Aizawa, Deku has learned, leaves to grab the detectives that have been waiting to talk to him. Deku had been asleep for two days, and fell back asleep for nearly another day after that. They had a lot of time to figure out what they wanted to ask him, what they wanted to know about him. But Deku didn’t want them to know about him.

“So how did you know it was me, little listener?” Present Mic asks. Deku knows he’s trying to make him feel more comfortable, so maybe he’ll slip with the police, but Deku answers anyways.

“Um… my friend – Kacchan – we used to li-listen to your sh-show. When I went to his house. We would stay up l-late and listen every – every weekend.”

“Oh?! Your parents let you stay up that late?” He asks, leaning forward again, but more mindful this time of the space between them.

Deku shakes his head, “N- no. We had to be quiet. But, I’m pretty sure his mom kn-knew.”

Deku hasn’t thought about Bakugo Mitsuki in a long time. He always wondered… did she know? Sometimes she would pack an extra lunch to send with Kacchan, that he would forcibly shove in Deku’s direction. She would ask, as tactfully as a Bakugo could, how on earth he was always covered in so many scrapes and bruises. His excuses would placate her in the moment, but she would always ask again the next time she saw one.

“So you’re a fan?” Present Mic smiles.

“I was… I mean!” Deku flounders when Mic’s pierced brow raises, “I just haven’t heard it! In like, a long time! I’m sure I’m still a – a fan!” He rushes to explain. Mic laughs, but it isn’t patronizing or tactful – it almost sounds genuine.

“Don’t worry kiddo, I knew what you meant. That just means you’ll have to start tuning in again! I have a podcast now, too!”

“R-really?”

There’s movement by the door, and –

“Always promoting, huh?”

Deku is caught off guard by the sound of another male voice in the room. It belongs to someone that Deku assumes is the detective. He’s not too tall, rather plain looking, but Deku can see the gun on his waist and the cuffs hanging from a belt at his side.

“Of course!” Yamada laughs again, and it’s familiar. They know each other.

“Kid, this Detective Tsukauchi.” Eraserhead introduces. He stands behind the officer, crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks between him and the kid.

“It’s nice to meet you.” The detective smiles, polite. Deku doesn’t trust it.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it then! I’m going to find the cafeteria.” Mic stands and stretches, groaning loudly.

“Y-you’re leaving?”

A blonde head swivels back around, and Deku bites his tongue. He isn’t sure why he’s so comfortable talking out of turn, but he needs to be more careful – he knows better.

“Just so you guys can chat! I’ll be back later!” He assures with a thumbs up.

Present Mic’s hand brushes his husband’s shoulder, gently, and he leans in. He whispers something Deku can’t hear, and he leaves. The room is a lot quieter without him in it. Deku isn’t sure he likes it.

The detective takes Yamada’s place in the rolling chair, but he deliberately scoots back a few feet. Eraserhead takes his spot on the couch, and Deku wishes he would sit a little closer.

The hero blinks once, surprised, and stands. Deku flushes a bright red – he’d said that out loud. His face burns hotter when the hero walks over, hesitates before sitting on the very edge of the bed, past Deku’s feet. Deku feels the weight of the bed dip a little lower.

“S-sorry.” Deku whispers.

“It’s fine.” He says, simply.

“Well,” The detective begins after a beat of silence, “First things first – thank you.”

Deku’s head whips around to stare at the man, confused, and immediately put on the wrong foot. The detective sees his bewildered stare and chuckles.

“For keeping this one alive,” He nods in the direction of the hero, “It’s a full-time job in itself, in addition to being an officer, and I wasn’t there to watch his back this time.” He explains. Deku hears Eraser grumble, but he doesn’t say anything.

“And, of course, without your help – I’m not sure we would’ve won that fight.”

You can trust me

“Even if what you did was reckless, and terrifying to watch through a screen outside, while the rest of you were in there.”

“It was still terrifying inside.” Eraser comments. Deku feels nerves bubble in his stomach. Eraserhead sounds… disappointed.

“I’m sure.” The detective, Tsukauchi, agrees.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, and Deku wonders if this is part of his strategy – to confuse Deku, to catch him off guard.

“F-fine.” Deku says, and the detective twitches, slightly.

“Ah – You should know before we get started. My quirk is called lie detector. I can feel whether someone is telling the truth, or not. It comes in handy interviewing people, but I thought you should know.”

Deku supposes that does come in handy, being an officer. What kind of truths can he really deduct, though? Could he tell someone is lying if the person really believes what they’re saying? Is it like an actual lie detector, picking up on physiological cues? How is he able to prove his abilities in court – or maybe his quirk isn’t allowed, or –

“So why don’t we start with the basics, okay?” He doesn’t wait before jumping right in with,

“What’s your last name?”

Deku fidgets with the sheets, picking and pulling at the fabric that is suddenly to scratchy – it’s not soft anymore.

“What’s your first name?” And that one is easy,

“Deku.” He says, quiet but confident. The detective winces and Eraserhead sighs.

“That… that’s a nickname. What’s the name on your birth certificate?”

Deku has been called Deku since Kacchan started growing stronger… Since his friend grew taller and faster- running out of reach and leaving Deku behind.

“How old are you?” He asks, instead. This question is a little harder. He doesn’t actually know, so he shrugs.

“Wh – what day is it?”

The detective’s confusion clears in understanding.

“July twenty-first.” He answers. So…

“Fifteen.”

“Oh? So you’ll be going into high-school, then?” The detective asks, conversationally.

Deku just shrugs again. He hasn’t even thought of school. He’d have to take so many classes to make up for what he’s missed. He isn’t sure what Overhaul made him learn was even applicable to high school entrance exams.

“Does your birthday fall before or after today?” He asks. Deku doesn’t answer.

“What middle school did you go to?”

Deku stays silent, thinking. Sometimes… if he closes his eyes, he can feel the wind that rushed over him, that day on the roof. He can feel the sun beating down on him. He can feel his stomach lurch when he steps off the ledge.

“What elementary school did you attend?”

Still, Deku is quiet. He knows they’re trying to figure out who he is, and he understands why. But he doesn’t care. He can’t go back.

“Did you grow up here? In Musutafu?” The detective clarifies. Yes, Deku thinks.

“Do you remember what day you met Chisaki Kai?” He asks, suddenly veering off the course his questions had been following.

“I…” He trails off. What a stupid question. Of course he remembers.

“How old were you, when you met him?”

“I… twelve.” He says. He doesn’t think that information could hurt him. The detective writes it down in a notepad he balances on his lap.

“Were you with the precepts, all three years?”

Deku nods, because, where else would he be?

“How did you get there?” He asks, and this is a similar question to one he’s already asked. Deku doesn’t answer.

The detective is patient. He must be, to do his job well. He takes a break from the questioning, takes a small sip out of a bottle of water he’s brought. Eraserhead shifts on the bed.

“I’d like it if you could give me your version of events, of your last day with the Shie Hassaika.” He says. Deku pauses. He glances at the hero.

“Don’t you – don’t you already know that?” He asks. Surely they got the hero’s statement, first.

“I do. But I’d like to hear your perspective.”

“I… I don’t… know.”

The detective nods, “That’s okay. Why don’t you start with how you found Eraserhead?” He offers, giving Deku a starting point. He nods.

“I… I saw his scarf. Rappa was… he was putting it away. I recognized it.”

The detective nods and jots this down in his notebook.

“How did you know where he was?”

“That’s where they always put them.”

“Them?”

“People.”

“People they’ve captured?”

Deku nods.

“Okay. Keep going, please.”

Deku takes a breath. The man seems so… calm. He wasn’t what Deku had pictured when he envisioned the police.

“After I… I left the first time. I ate. And I took a shower. And I came back.”

“Why did you go back?”

“I… I didn’t know. I just… I knew why they wanted him, and… I didn’t want him to be – to be alone.” Deku feels Eraserhead tense at the confession.

“Why did they want him?” The detective asks. Deku wrings his hands, nervous, before shaking his head.

“I can’t tell you.” He whispers, and waits for the hit. The detective nods.

“Okay. Then what happened?”

Deku was not expecting acceptance. He was already bracing himself for a slap at the least, or the gun at the worst. It catches him off guard.

“I… we talked. And I – I didn’t tell him about the cuffs, and I’m really, really sorry, I – “ He turns to the hero to start apologizing again, but the man already has a hand up, stopping him. Deku knows there’s probably a mark, a ring around his wrist underneath the long sleeves.

“It’s okay, kid. I’m not upset.”

“Of course. I hope you know - you’re not in any trouble here, kid.” The detective says. But Deku knows he’s only saying that because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Deku.

“I…  had the keyswitch, though. I had a few copies, in case they found one. I hated the cuffs…” He remembers the time he found them, where Setsuno kept the extra copies. He could have cried with relief when he realized what he was looking at.

“And the codes?”

Deku closes his eyes. He’s not thinking about that. He’s not talking about that. He can’t. He shoves that moment far away.

“I had them.”

“Why?”

“I… I wanted to – to try. To leave. But, they change every month. Just in case. And I… I don’t know.”

“Did you ever try and leave, before?”

It’s dark. All around him, the darkness is so suffocating it feels like a physical presence holding him down. Deku can’t even see his hand in front of his face. He can feel it, but he can’t be sure that it’s real. What if it’s not? What if it is?

“Yeah.” He whispers. He can feel his eyes glazed over with tears, but he holds them back. He doesn’t want to cry right now.

“Okay,” And that must be his favorite word because he’s said it a dozen times in the last few minutes and it’s starting to get on Deku’s nerves, “You told Eraserhead that you would distract Tengai so he could escape. How did you do that?”

“If… if I’m good… can I have some rice?”

The man squints down, confused, “You’ll be sick.” He reminds him. Deku nods.

“I know, but… it smells good.” Deku whimpers, really putting on a show that the older man seems to enjoy.

“I guess… but if you get sick, don’t tell Chisaki it was me.”

“I promise.”Deku nods, dutifully. The man looks around for a moment before settling on the door to the supply closet. He nods his head in that direction.

“Come on.”

Deku doesn’t answer. He looks to the side, pointedly away from the hero.

“Why did you turn the gun on yourself?” He asks.

“Because…”

You have the leader of the Shie Hassaika wrapped around your finger…

“I thought… he wouldn’t like it. If I did that.”

“Why did you think that?”

You could ask the world of Chisaki, and he would give it to you…

Deku shrugs.

“Why didn’t you point the gun at him?” He asks, curious. Deku pauses.

“I couldn’t… He… he could have avoided it.” He says, finally.

In the moment, Deku hadn’t even considered it. He already knew he couldn’t do it. He’d thought about it a lot over the years, probably a concerning amount of his spare time was spent imagining it. Sometimes, when gloved hands left bruises on his hips, when sharp teeth broke through sensitive skin…

“Do you need a break?” Eraserhead asks. He’s looking at Deku with concern, and Deku can feel something wet on his cheeks. He curses himself internally and shakes his head.

“It’s okay if you do – we can continue this later.” The detective assures him. Deku shakes his head again.

“Okay. Then, what can you tell me about the Shie Hassaika?” He asks.

This question is vague, different from the others. Deku supposes it’s meant to be, to see what he’s willing to tell them. But all he can say is…

“Cold.”

Deku shivers. He knows it must be hot outside; it’s the middle of summer. He knows this because Rikiya came in the other day covered in sweat, complaining about the humidity outside. Deku rubs his arms, wishing he could feel something other than the cold air conditioning blasting against his bare arms. He wishes Chisaki would let him wear long sleeves, or socks, or shoes.

“It… was cold? Or you’re cold now?” The detective clarifies.

Deku shivers. All of a sudden, the blanket isn’t warm enough. He can feel the air biting through his thin robe, and chills form down his spine. He’s too far from the window to feel the sun.

“Both.” He whispers.

There’s a rustle of fabric. The detective looks to the side and Deku can see movement in his peripheral. He blinks and starts when something is dumped onto his head. It takes him a moment before he recognizes the familiar fabric, and the smell of coffee and laundry detergent and –

He sinks into the warmth of the capture scarf and looks over to the hero, who is leaning back in his spot on the bed, acting like nothing significant just happened. Like he didn’t just short-circuit Deku’s brain. Like he didn’t take every belief Deku has ever held in his short life, every fundamental truth, and obliterated it.

Overhaul’s quirk was never this powerful. He took Deku apart more than once, in more than one way, and it was nothing compared to the feeling of the underground hero shrugging off his support item, his scarf that Deku had never seen him pictured without, and take it off like it was nothing – place it on Deku’s shoulders because he said he was cold.

Deku is pretty sure the detective is talking. He’s pretty sure the hero is talking. But Deku can’t hear over the buzzing in his head, he can’t feel anything but warm and safe and he is never giving this scarf back. He sinks into it, nuzzles the fabric that isn’t even that soft – it’s worn and well loved, but it’s also torn and frayed from overuse. Deku doesn’t care. He shifts just a little, allows it to fall a little lower, so it’s covering his shoulders, too. His hands find the ends and he wraps them tight, like mittens, and sighs.

“… Don’t think we’ll… it’s fine… you should take… for Mic…”

Deku feels like he’s floating and it’s nice. He can’t remember the last time he felt this nice. Vaguely, he realizes he should probably be worried that he can’t find anything to hold on to, to focus on, but he can’t be worried when he feels this nice, like his brain has stepped out for a moment and is allowing his body to just… be. It feels like when he leaves his head sometimes, but he isn’t afraid.

He thinks he lies back down, at some point, because he’s falling asleep. He can feel the scarf under his head, over his shoulders. He hears a door open and close. He can feel someone looking at him. He feels an extra blanket being placed over him, gently, and he sighs. He’s never felt so warm.

**********

When Deku wakes up, he’s alone. He can tell that a significant amount of time has passed; based on how low the sun is in the sky. His stomach rolls, he’s so hungry he feels nauseous, but he pushes the feeling down. His heart sinks; when he sees the empty couch and that the rolling chair has been pushed back to its spot at the desk. He sits up, and freezes when Eraserhead’s scarf slips down, just a bit, now wrapped all the way down and around his waist.

He rubs his hands along the material, and blushes. He can’t believe the hero gave him this. He can’t believe he left it with him. Maybe that meant he was coming back?

Deku can hear voices outside his door, but they don’t sound like Eraserhead or Present Mic. He worries at his lip, can’t help but feel a little nervous. He knows, logically, that he isn’t alone right now. He’s in a hospital full of people. But Overhaul never let Deku wander alone, not even to go to the bathroom. There was always someone he knew just a few feet away, watching.

Deku shakes his head and takes a deep breath. Maybe he can use this opportunity to finally stretch. He’s spent most of his time awake, staring out the window that was across the room. He wanted to look outside, he wanted to feel the sun and see whatever it was that was on the other side. He thought about asking someone if he could – he still couldn’t get the memory of flying out of his head. He was tired of being indoors, of being surrounded by walls and machines. But he couldn’t bring himself to bother anyone with something that small.

The green haired boy stretches, lightly, testing the pain in his side. It hurts, bad, but it’s not immobilizing. He peels off the tape holding his IV in place, and tugs it out. He feels stronger than he did the first time he woke, and he’s pretty sure he can swing his legs off the side of the bed.

He does, and he nearly grins. He can do this. He faces the window, sets his bare feet on the floor, and pushes off.

“Whoa!”

Deku falls forward; his legs completely giving out underneath him, and holds his hands out. But it isn’t him that yells, and when he doesn’t end up face planting on the tile, he opens his eyes. He’s suspended in the air, something is taking his weight. He doesn’t feel anyone holding him, but he feels something tugging at his shirt, and he panics. He looks down and sees two, large feathers pinning his shirt in place on the bed, and he thinks he feels a third holding him up like a puppet. He blinks, once. The feathers… he recognizes that color.

“You okay, kid?!”

Deku is being placed back on the bed by two hands that feel familiar, that feel safe…

“You!” Deku exclaims, and points. The winged hero freezes, is taken aback by the loud exclamation.

“Me?”

“You – you saved me! You brought me here! I knew it was real!” Deku wasn’t actually sure if he’d imagined the flying or not, but he was pretty sure it happened.

“Oh! Ha – yeah, I did. You totally saved me first, though.” The hero shrugs.

The hero, Hawks, is… pretty. Deku blushes upon this realization. The hero isn’t very tall, not much taller than Deku, but his aura is larger than life. His wings aren’t taking up much room right now, and Deku has to strain to see them over his shoulders. He has a kind smile, and black markings that are decorating beautiful golden irises, and really his entire personality seems to match his eyes – he’s golden.

“I – I did?”

“Yeah! I was about to be road kill if you hadn’t showed up!” The hero emphasizes this with hand movements and an earnest expression.

“I.. well…”

“For real! That was gutsy, kid.”

The hero is still close to him, after setting him back on the bed. Deku realizes this and backs up, instinctually. His hands play with the ends of the capture scarf he’s still wearing, and the hero tracks the movement. His eyes widen.

“Did Eraser give you that?!” He squawks. Deku nods, nervous.

“I was cold.”

The hero’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at this statement. He pauses, then a hand comes up to his chest while another covers his mouth as he doubles over with a full body laugh. Deku startles at the intense reaction and hums, nervously.

“I can’t believe he even tries to act like he doesn’t care, when he pulls shit like this. Has Yamada seen this?” He asks, pulling out his phone.

“U- um, I don’t-”

“Can I take a picture? He’s going to die if he doesn’t see this immediately.” He holds up the phone and Deku panics.

“Wha – no!” He waves his hands. The hero lowers the phone, but whines.

“Pleeeeeease, it’s adorable!”

“It – it’s not – no way!” Deku blushes. That’s twice he’s been called that, now.

“Ahhh, fine. I guess he’ll see it when he gets back.” Hawks puts away the phone, slips it into his jacket pocket.

“What were you doing, anyways? Gotta use the bathroom?” The hero asks. Deku shakes his head, blushes.

“N-no.”

“What’s up, then? Getting bored?”

“I just…” Deku trails off and glances back outside. Hawks turns around to follow his line of sight.

“Ah! You wanna go to the window?” He asks. Deku nods, hesitantly.

“No problem!” He smiles, and then the world tilts, and he’s being carried across the room.

“Wha – hey! Put me down!” He flails, and Hawks tuts.

“Sure thing, green bean!” He drops the kid onto the couch, but it doesn’t hurt. He uses the kid’s weight to his advantage, and nothing pulls at his side. Deku bounces, once, eyes wide and accusatory as he glares up at the hero, who just grins.

“Come on, nothing we haven’t done before.” He winks and laughs at Deku’s squeak.

Deku feels himself blush and hides under his scarf. Since he’s woken up in the hospital, everyone has been so… careful, with him. Which, honestly, he understands is the only logical thing they can do. Eve Deku doesn’t know what upsets him. But Hawks took one look at him and decided to do the opposite, and broke down his walls with his bare hands.

“Come on, you can’t see sitting down like that.” Hawks lifts Deku up by the armpits, and Deku is about to protest again, when he sees it.

Deku’s breath catches in his heart. The sky… it’s beautiful. It looks like it was made for him to see today, for the first time. It’s huge, and he hasn’t seen anything so bright in years. His eyes water, sensitive to the light, but he forces them open.

He presses his palms against the glass, and it’s hot. He gasps, and let’s go. He breathes in once, twice, and slowly brings his hands back against the only thing keeping him from being… anywhere, anything he wants to be. He could be still, like the trees in the small park a few blocks away. He could be loud, like the couple he sees fighting in the parking lot. He could be warm, if he wanted, like the sun beating down through the glass. Deku could be… anything.

It’s overwhelming. Deku is glad that Hawks has a hand on his back, gently stroking up and down his spine. He keeps him kneeling up against the windowsill, because he would have fallen on his own. The hero seems to sense this, braces a little more of Deku’s weight before asking, softly,

“Is it too much?”

Deku isn’t sure how he knows. But he does, and Deku is grateful he doesn’t have to explain why his eyes are watering, or why he’s trembling in the hero’s hold. All he has to do is nod, and he’s being lifted up again, gently this time. He doesn’t fight it when he’s brought back to the bed, or placed down on the mattress. He looks up, grateful.

“Thanks.” He says, quiet. The hero smiles knowingly.

“Not a problem kiddo.” He ruffles the kids hair, and

Deku is gasping for air he knows he won’t find, he’s clinging on to the Yukata like a lifeline-

“Whoops – sorry! Won’t do that again, don’t worry.” Hawks backs off, but he doesn’t look scared of Deku, of what just happened. Deku isn’t sure what did happen, exactly, but the hero’s wings give away a bit of his unease, fluffing behind him, and Deku finds himself staring. He blinks, tries to remember where he is.

“Eraser and Mic should be back, soon,” He says, catching Deku’s attention, “I was supposed to be here a while ago, but I got held up.” He explains.

“…Are you friends?” He asks, eventually. Hawks hums, scratches his head.

“That’s a good question. Not sure about that – maybe with Yamada?” He trails off, considering the question.

Deku’s stomach roars – and it’s loud. Loud enough that his ears warm and Hawks opens his mouth, almost comically so, eyes widening at the angry sound.

“Damn, kid! You should’ve said something! Wait here a sec.”

He leaves the door open when he leaves, so Deku can still hear him talking outside. Deku fists his hands in his robe, near his stomach, angry for drawing attention to it his hunger.

“Here!” The hero is back, and there’s a bowl in his hand, along with a fresh glass of water. He sets them both down on the table beside Deku, and brings it closer, so it’s easier to eat.

Deku just stares at it. His hands are at his sides, fists curling in so tight, he can he feel his nails leaving marks in his skin. His stomach groans, loud, and he can smell cinnamon and something sweet, like sugar, coming from the oatmeal that’s set down in front of him. His entire body is wracked with a tremor, and he doubles over.

“Whoa, kid!” Hawks frets and holds him up. Deku knows he’s crying now, and that’s three for three with the heroes.

“Please. Take it away.” He manages. Hawks looks worried, scratches the back of his head.

“But you haven’t eaten, right? That’s what Eraser was saying…”

“Can’t. I can’t have this.” Deku pushes it as far away as he can without it tipping over the edge of the desk.

“You don’t like it?”

“Can’t.” Deku repeats. His eyes are still watering and his mouth is dry. He thinks he would vomit if he could, and shudders at the thought.

“Okay, okay kid. Just – here.” The hero takes the bowl and sets it on the floor, out of sight. Deku can still smell it, but it isn’t as overwhelming. He can breathe a little easier.

Hawks gives Deku a moment to calm down, to stop shaking. Deku can feel the hero’s hand moving up and down his back, soothing, and Deku melts into the touch. His eyes flutter as he looks up at the man.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffs. Hawks stiffens, then, “It’s okay, kid. We’re just worried about you – you know?”

No, Deku doesn’t know.

“I… I can’t. Eat that.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Hawks reassures him, “What can you eat?”

Deku shakes his head, “I don’t know. I don’t know what it was.” He whimpers.

“Shh, kid. It’s okay. What do you mean?” Hawks asks, trying to understand.

“It’s – it was, I don’t know! Like, like a smoothie, or something! I don’t know what he put in it!”

“Okay, okay. Its okay, kid. You’re doing great.” Hawks reassures him, tries to calm down Deku’s sudden outburst.

“Who made it? Chisaki?” He asks. Deku nods.

“Y-yes. I can’t. Can’t eat anything else. Just that.” He says, repeats his instructions like the mantra they are.

“Kid…” Hawks has stopped his stroking, has taken his hand back. His entire demeanor shifts. His wings ruffle, dangerously, and he has to stop himself from scowling at someone that isn’t there.

“Fuck Chisaki.”

Deku looks up at the sudden change in tone, and stares.

“You aren’t there anymore. You don’t have to listen to him, anymore, okay? You need to eat, and this stuff was already approved by your nutritionist, it’s not poisoned or anything like that.” He tells him. Deku’s eyes water. He shakes his head.

“N-no. I c-can’t. Even if, even if I – I can. I can’t. I’ll be sick.” He tries to tell him, to help him understand. After so long drinking every meal out of a straw, anything more than that made him physically sick to his stomach. It was painful, and he ended up throwing up anything else he ate, anyways.

Hawks hesitates, realizes what he’s saying. He scratches his head, something Deku has noticed that he does when he’s uncertain.

“Okay… okay…” He mutters under his breath, “It was like a smoothie?” He asks. Deku nods. His head aches with the effort.

“So, like, you can drink water – right? Liquid?” He asks. Deku hesitates, and then nods his head. Tengai had given him some of his blended tea, once, and he had been able to keep it down.

“Okay, okay. Wait here, yeah?” He stands and picks up the offensive bowl of oatmeal before carrying it out of the room. This time, he closes the door.

Deku calms his breathing in the time he’s gone. He tries to ignore the hunger pains that have turned sharp and unforgiving. His side is aching and his head is pounding in protest at going for so long without something to eat. He holds his head in his hands and waits.

He doesn’t wait too long, before he hears the rustling of wings coming through the doorway. He looks up, and Hawks has another bowl in his hands. Deku opens his mouth to protest, until Hawks sets it down.

It doesn’t smell like much, which Deku is grateful for. It looks like a simple soup, or broth, or something like that. There are bits of what looks like ultra processed vegetables that are floating, discreet. Small enough not to chew.

“Do you think you can try this?” Hawks asks, nervously. He’s still standing, hasn’t sat down. Deku bites his lip.

“I… I don’t know.” He says, finally.

“Can you try?”

Deku looks down. He wants to… he really wants to. It doesn’t have much of a smell, and it doesn’t look like much, but there’s a curl of steam rising from the top that makes it look inviting. His mouth waters. But he can’t force his hands to move.

“What will it take?” Hawks asks. Deku looks up, confused.

“I will give you literally anything if you eat that.” He says, pointing at the bowl. Deku’s brows raise.

“Literally! I have a lot of money, I’ll buy you anything you want. I’ll even take you flying again, if you liked it !“

“Can I… “ Deku stops himself. Hawks freezes, waiting.

“Yes!” He exclaims, startling Deku. The hero doesn’t even know what he’s going to say, yet.

“Can I… can I, um… touch your wings?” He asks, hesitant. Hawks is surprised, slack jawed at the request, and Deku feels his face heat.

“Never mind, I – sorry”

“Okay.” Hawks sits down, serious now that Deku is willing to try.

“R-really?” He asks. Hawks nods.

“If you can eat at least half of that. Then, yes.”

Deku’s eyes widen and his hand twitches, expectantly. Now that he knows flying up into the air wasn’t a dream, he’s sure that those feathers are what felt so soft against his skin. He remembers trying and reaching up before, when they were still underground and Eraser was still holding him up.

Deku looks down at the soup. He takes a breath and picks up the spoon that’s resting inside the bowl. He swirls it in circles, in the broth, watching it wash up and down the sides. He can feel the hero’s eyes on him when he picks up the spoon. He holds it up to his mouth and inhales. He can smell it now, but it smells good. Not too sweet, like the oatmeal.

Once Deku has a spoonful, he can’t stop. Its good and it’s filling him probably more than it should, but Deku doesn’t care about that right now. His body takes over, desperate for any nutrients it can get after so many days without them. He hears Hawks huff out a pleased laugh, but Deku doesn’t look up. He’s making sure to be careful, not to spill any on the scarf, and between that and the overwhelming need to be full, he doesn’t have energy for much else.

“Good?” The hero asks when Deku finishes the bowl. He looks up, embarrassed at how quickly he went through his meal, and nods, sheepishly.

“Good.” Deku confirms.

The hero’s wings flutter, happily, behind his shoulders. Hawks sees Deku trying and failing to be discreet when he glances at them, and chuckles.

“Well, since you held up your end of the deal…”

The hero moves to the bed, kneels in front of Deku, who leans forward. He doesn’t think twice before shuffling closer to the hero, so he’s bracketed on both sides by red wings that are unfolding, spreading out to their full height and size.

Deku is mesmerized, transfixed on the sight and the feeling of being enveloped in something so beautiful. Here, burrowed in Eraserhead’s capture scarf, and hidden behind Hawks wings, Deku isn’t afraid. He reaches out a scarred hand, stretches his bruised arm forward to brush fingertips lightly, against the middle of Hawks’ left wing. He feels it move, slightly, like a muscle twitching. He looks back at the hero, worried, but Hawks just grins and nods his head.

Deku doesn’t smile, but his eyes soften with an emotion Hawks recognizes as wonder and fascination. He gets the look a lot from fans and from some of his handlers, but it’s never looked like this, before. Like it’s a privilege to touch him, not a right. Hawks feels his throat tighten, clears it, and –

“Hawks-kun?”

Deku jolts back when the sound of someone else startles him. Hawks retracts his wings, folding them back behind his shoulders, and gives a mock salute.

“Mic!” He greets.

Eraserhead joins his husband in the doorway, leaned against the frame. He sees how comfortable the kid seems with the winged hero so close, and is pleased to see that Hawks infectious personality isn’t lost on him.

“You ate?” Eraserhead notices the empty bowl. Hawks nods.

“He did! All of it!” He says, proudly.

“That’s great.” Eraserhead smiles, and walks farther into the room.

Deku plays with the ends of the capture scarf, not ready to give it up, but Eraserhead doesn’t mention it. Present Mic would probably screech loud enough to take down the building, if he hadn’t already seen a picture snapped by his husband while the kid had been asleep.

“How’re you feeling, kiddo?” Present Mic asks. Hawks gets up off the bed and stretches.

“Okay. Tired.” Deku rubs his eyes. Now that he was full, his body had decided it was time to knock out again.

“I’m sure! Before we let you sleep – we wanted to talk to you about something real quick!” He continues.

“And that’s my cue.” Hawks salutes. He smiles down at Deku, stops himself from ruffling the kid’s hair again.

“Those two have my number, so let me know when you feel up to flying again.” He offers. Deku’s eyes widen, and Eraserhead frowns.

“He’s still recovering.”

“That’s why I said when he feels up to it!”

“Tch.” Eraserhead rolls his eyes.

“Such a buzkill! Ugh.” Hawks mock groans and gives Yamada a pat on the back as he leaves.

“I’ll see you around, kid!” He waves and Deku finds himself mirroring the action.

When the door closes, there’s an awkward moment of silence. The two heroes share a wordless look with each other that only them two seem to understand. Deku grows anxious, he’s too warm now, and suddenly he’s wide awake again, the pull of sleep buried underneath his nerves.

“Um… what… what did you want to – to talk about?” Deku asks, winces at his own voice.  Both adults look back at him, having seemingly forgotten he was there. Eraserhead sighs and Yamada takes the lead.

“Actually, we wanted to ask you… Little listener, where do you want to go? When you get out of here?” Present Mic sits down in the chair next to him. Eraserhead picks up the bedside table and carries it over beside his husband. He leans on it, long legs crossed in front of him.

“Um… I don’t… I don’t know. What’s… what’s going to happen to me…” Deku trails off, and the anxiety is back. Is that what this is about? Are they kicking him out early, since he couldn’t even give the detective the answers they were looking for?

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” Eraserhead assures him. Deku looks up, nervous.

“I don’t… I don’t know, then. Um… I can’t… I can’t go back h-home.” He says. Eraserhead’s eyes widen at the admission.

“So you did have a home? Before?” He asks. Deku hesitates, nods.

“Yes, but… Please – I don’t… I don’t want to go b-back.” He pleads. Both adults are quick to console him.

“Of course! Of course, kiddo, we aren’t going to make you go anywhere you don’t wanna go. Okay?” Present Mic assures him. Eraserhead, on the other hand,

“Is that why you won’t tell us your name? You don’t want us to find your parents?”

Deku hesitates, again. He should have known the hero would pick up on that, once he admitted that he did actually have somewhere he could’ve gone home to. But he couldn’t… he couldn’t go back. He’d rather go to an orphanage than go back.

“Part of it.” Deku mumbles. Eraserhead nods, understanding.

“Well… then… if you don’t have anywhere to go…” Present Mic trails off, and now he’s the nervous one. He’s looking between his husband and Deku, willing his husband to do the talking for him. When it’s clear he won’t, he sighs and spits it out.

“We’d like you to come home, with us.”

Silence. Deku’s eyes widen, and he can feel his heartbeat pick up. He can hear it, on one of the machines. The adults hear it too, given their own expressions when they look back at him.

“If you want! Like we said, we aren’t going to make you go anywhere you don’t want to. We can help you find somewhere else, if that’s what you want.” Present Mic offers.

Deku turns to look at Eraserhead, at the underground hero. Growing up, he’d been a very close second favorite – second only to All-Might. Once he’d determine the hero actually existed, and eventually had a name and face to put to the stories people wrote about him, he spent a lot of his time wishing that one day, he would run into him. Maybe while the hero was out patrolling, or maybe Deku would be at the wrong place, in the wrong time and in the middle of a villain fight. The circumstances weren’t important. The important part of the fantasy, was what happened after. When the hero would see him – really see him – and save him.

“I… I can’t…” Deku starts off, manages to speak and break through the shock.

“You can! If you want!”

“Wh-why?” Deku asks, bewildered.

“Because! We like you a lot, little listener, and if you need somewhere to go – we’d love to have you!” Present Mic has both thumbs up and is smiling. Eraserhead is quiet, reserved, looking at Deku so intensely, he wonders if he can hear his thoughts.

“B- but. I – I don’t want to – to be a burden, or…”

Izuku! What is this email I got from the school saying you’ve been fighting?!

“You’re not a burden,” Eraserhead finally speaks up, “You’re a kid. And we’re adults. And we’d like to help you.”

Deku’s eyes start to water, and really, he’s surprised he hadn’t started crying sooner. But the confirmation from the underground hero was apparently enough to break the dam, because once again he was handing Deku a box of tissues, smiling, exasperatedly at the kid.

“Are- are you s-sure? I… What if- what if-“

“What-ifs are never good to think about too hard. And we’re sure.” Yamada says.

Deku looks between the two adults. He can’t find any trace of insincerity, any sign that they may be lying. And he knows this is far more than he deserves, but if they brought it up, then…

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

Hawks has been flying for hours.

His back aches and his lungs burn with overexertion. He hasn’t flown like this in nearly a year, not since his last physical. But he can’t stop – not yet.

He hadn’t even bothered taking the elevator down to the first floor of the hospital. As soon as he’d left the kid’s room, he’d found a balcony, burst through the doors, and took off – jumping over the railing and feeling the familiar lurch in his stomach before his wings carried him far, far away from the touching moment he knew would be happening as soon as he left.

The way that kid had looked out the window when Hawks held him… Wide-eyed and nearly hypnotized, but terrified, by everything the world had to offer below him. Hawks recognized that look in himself. He remembers seeing his reflection in the window at only six years old, a year after he’d been with the commission. They hadn’t let him out before that after he’d joined – they didn’t want him getting distracted, or to get any ideas about leaving. At the time, he was torn between looking outside, at the sky, and looking at just how much he’d changed in that year.

He’s free

He remembers his first apartment, the one that the commission had funded as soon as he’d turned eighteen. The one that was less than a mile from headquarters, the one that they’d furnished and redecorated to be as stylish as possible. The one on the first floor of the building, and whoever it was that made that decision had a twisted sense of humor.

Hawks flies higher, just to prove he can. He isn’t six years old, anymore. They can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do – He’s the number three, for crying out loud. He doesn’t get overwhelmed like that anymore like he used to. He can go outside whenever he wants, he can do whatever he wants.

He’s free

Hawks can leave whenever he wants. The commission doesn’t have a gun to his head. They aren’t keeping him in handcuffs. And he knows, he’s just seen the evidence of it, that his childhood could have been a lot worse.

He’s free

Hawks spots an empty rooftop, high up enough that no one will spot him. He touches down, one foot at a time, and he doubles over. He’s gasping for air, he hasn’t pushed himself so hard in a long, long time, and he rips his jacket off because he can’t breathe.

He’s free

Fuck, he forgot to take his quirk suppressants this morning. Yamada had called him and asked him to stay with the kid while he and Eraser had met with a judge and signed the paperwork that would give them guardianship. That must be why he feels like this, why he feels out of breath and out of control and out of time and –

He’s free. He’s free, He’s free, He’sfreehe’sfreehe’sfreehe’sfreehe’sfree

Hawks’ phone rings and he could cry if it wasn’t so fucking funny. He already knows who it is, and doesn’t bother checking when he answers, still knelt on the concrete.

“What, Hana?”

“Hawks-San! How many times – You’re not supposed to know, okay?!”

Hawks rolls his eyes, “Fine. What, X?”

Hawks doesn’t mind his current handler – not as much as the previous ones. He wasn’t supposed to know their names, they all went by the same alias – X. This most recent one though, a young woman straight out of university, had accidentally introduced herself by her given name upon their first meeting, and he’d spent the rest of their first encounter trying to convince her not to go put in her two weeks on the spot.

“Where are you?”

“Out.”

“Out, where?! Your phone stopped pinging a few minutes ago!”

“Oh… Huh…”

Hawks looks around and doesn’t recognize the streets or other buildings he can see from here. He hadn’t been paying attention to which direction he’d been traveling in the last few hours, and he might have been too far from a tower to get a great signal.

“Huh?! You don’t-”

“Is there a problem? I’m not on duty, today.”

“Ah… Hawks-San… you know you’re always on duty – you’re the number three!”

Hawks knows this, sighs, “Is that all then, Hana? Just checking in?”

“No, no – Don’t hang up!” She exclaims, and this almost gets a laugh out of the hero. He’d had years to become an expert at avoiding the commission, and Hana was the most recent handler to learn that the hard way.

“I don’t know, like you said – reception is pretty spotty.”

“No! Wait! I haven’t even – Ah, okay. Ah, they – I mean, we – we’re mad at you.”

Hawks sighs and stands up from his knelt position on the rooftop. He wipes his hands and stretches his legs and his wings. He walks over to the ledge with heavy legs and plops down, his legs swinging freely over the side.

“Oh?”

“N-no, that came out wrong. Ah, disappointed?”

“Ouch.”

“Well! You were supposed to find out and tell us before the police interviewed the kid, so we could sit in too! We have questions!”

“I don’t know everything, Hana. I can’t actually be everywhere at once, you know. I’m fast, not psychic.”

“Did they even ask about his quirk?”

“I dunno.” Hawks runs a hand through his hair.

“You didn’t ask?!”

“It’s my day off, remember?”

“Tch. Did you ask the kid at least, when you were with him?”

A pause, and – “How did you know I was with the kid?”

“Your location – you know this. I could see you in the room he’s staying in.”

“Huh,” Hawks hums, “I didn’t realize how specific that was.”

“Well…” A sigh and, “Any progress with your other assignment?”

“Hmm”

Hawks has been trying very hard not to think about his other assignment. Dark hair and dark scars and a dark personality to match, that would brighten on occasion – just enough to give Hawks pause. His burner phone feels heavy in his pocket. He hasn’t responded since the night of the raid. He doesn’t know what to say… Dabi telling him goodnight… asking him to see a doctor…

He was playing Hawks. He had to be. Testing him, pushing him to make sure he wouldn’t break when he met with Shigaraki. Which, apparently, was coming up soon.

Hawks should have jumped at the opportunity. That’s been the whole point of his meetings with Dabi– get an in with The League, learn as much as he could before he burned them from the inside out. Maybe he and the fire user had more in common than he thought.

“Hawks-San?” Hana pulls him out of his head.

“You know you can just call me Hawks, right?”

“Ah! N-no, I’m already breaking the rules by not calling you-“

“Yeah. I know.” Hawks interrupts, bitter.

His handler hums, clearly waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t.

“So… any updates?” She prompts.

“Shigaraki wants a meeting.”

“Wah?! Really?! That’s great, Hawks-San!”

Hawks hates the way that little bit of praise makes him feel a little bit better about this shitty situation.

“When is the meeting?” She asks.

“Not sure. Don’t want to push my luck.” He lies. Because he does – he wants to push back, see how far he’s willing to fall into the darkness, see if the eventual flames will be bright enough to guide him back to himself, once this is all over.

“Hm. Okay, well, I understand that. But, we need to –“

“I know what I need to do.”

There’s a pause. He can imagine her biting her nails, down to the quick, something he’s been trying to get her to stop. Of course, she only does it when she’s talking to him, so he feels a little bit obligated to help. Not obligated enough to make her job any easier, though.

“Do you have any updates on… her?” He asks, sighing.

“Ah, yes! Yes, let me just pull up my email, the center just sent an update!”

“Don’t bother. Just making sure she’s alive.” He gets out.

Hana doesn’t say anything. She never does, when he asks about her. Sometimes, it looks like there’s something she wants to say, or do. Her hands will twitch at their sides like she’s stopping herself from giving him a hug that she knows would most definitely be unwelcome. Her mouth will open and close, but eventually, it settles into a thin line, and whatever it is she’s thinking stays tucked inside her head. Not that Hawks can blame her; he’s never been good at comforting either.

“Anything else?” He asks. He needs to be getting back, the sun is getting low.

“Ah, not really. They – we want you to continue the relationship with the kid.”

“We don’t have one, I just met him today.”

“Well, maybe work on building one? Find out what you can about his quirk, or lack thereof, and see what exactly the precepts were working towards?”

“Shouldn’t law enforcement share that with you, anyway?”

“Ah, yes, but not likely until they finish their investigation. Detective Tsukauchi is the lead on the case, and he isn’t as… flexible when it comes to the legalities of open communication between our agencies.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Hawks mutters.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“So… You’ll do it? You’ll talk to the kid?”

Hawks leans back on his arm that isn’t holding his phone. He hangs his head back and feels the sweat starting to cool. He’s glad he talked to Eraser, glad he talked to Mic about taking the kid in. There’s no way he’d have been able to stand by if the commission tried to bring him under their wing, but also… if it came down to it, he wasn’t sure that he could just… leave.

“Sure. Whatever.”

“Ah, thanks, Hawks-San. We really appreciate you, you know that?”

Hawks hums but doesn’t say anything.

“Okay. Well… have a nice day off, Hawks-San.”

“Yeah. Bye, X.”

Hawks hangs up and looks at the phone. He’s tempted to just hold it over the edge, let it slip out of his hand. This high up, it wouldn’t stand a chance. He could watch it break, he could watch that line of communication shatter, even for a day.

But then, the commission would just get him a new one. And he’d get an earful. And the next time he needed a favor, they may not be as generous.

He sighs and tucks the phone away. He pulls the other one out, the one he paid for in cash, two cities away, with his first paycheck. The flip phone that has all his important numbers saved – Rumi, Eraserhead, Mic, and… Dabi.

The commission doesn’t know about this phone. Or, maybe they do, and they’re letting him keep it. Who knows what the commission knows. Apparently, they can track his movements a lot closer than he’s been lead to believe.

He sends a quick message to the group Yamada created with Eraser, Hawks, and himself. Hawks had immediately taken it upon himself to name the group chat – FUCK CHISAKI – which had apparently gotten an actual chuckle out of Eraser.

Hawks lets them know to give him a call about the kids eating history and he makes a mental note to cover how not to integrate him back into the public without giving him an anxiety attack.

He’s glad Eraserhead got his head out of his ass, got his shit together before the commission got a chance to file for guardianship. When Hawks saw the infamous capture scarf draped around the kid’s shoulders like a fucking blanket, he knew he was right. Eraser would be good for the kid, and Yamada would be good for anyone. The guy was a ray of sunshine walking into the hospital room when Hawks had been having his mental breakdown, watching the kid pet his wings almost… reverently.

Hawks texts Yamada separately now, threatening him with bodily harm if he doesn’t send the picture he knows the man has of the kid and the scarf immediately. That’s the only explanation for the hero not freaking out at the sight of the kid – Eraser must have shown him already and hadn’t bothered to let Hawks in on the cuteness. Rude.

Hawks stands, the balls of his feet balancing on the ledge of the roof.

He’s free

He looks over this part of the city he doesn’t recognize. He should really pay more attention to where he’s flying, but if he’s being honest, he only remembers about half of the flight. He’d been trying so hard not to think about the kid’s reaction to fucking oatmeal hitting way too close to home.

After moving into his first apartment, Rumi and he had made it their life’s purpose to try each and every food item that was on the commission’s unapproved list for the hero, and he’d promptly thrown all of it up on his kitchen floor. Everything from bubblegum to certain kinds of fish, from ice cream to potato chips, from peanut butter to cheese. All things that… she could never afford, before the commission, and all things his handlers had forbidden him from trying.

He’s free

Hawks bounces on his feet. He stretches his wings, feels them ruffle, and they’re always so much more sensitive when he forgets his suppressants. He can feel the wind on each feather, and he basks in the feeling of ease it gives him.

He’s free

He bends down, picks up his jacket from where he’d tossed it. He shrugs it on, not noticing when his commission badge slips out of the pocket. When he tugs his glasses down from their spot in his hair, the wind nearly blows him over.

Hawks bends his legs, and he jumps. His wings expand, they catch him, and he flies away.

He’s free.

Chapter Text

Exactly one week after the raid, the kid is discharged from the hospital.

It’s been a… rough week, Hizashi has to admit to himself. The first few days were spent by his husband, Shota, refusing to leave the kid’s side for even a moment – not even for a cup of coffee. The days after that were spent placating the kid, reassuring him that yes, they really did want him to live with them and no, he wasn’t a burden.

When they weren’t passing out tissues and handing out assurances, his husband and he were busy playing the world’s worst guessing game – trying to figure out exactly what the kid could and couldn’t eat.

When Hawks had called Hizashi to give him an insight into the kid’s eating behaviors, Hizashi briefly considered the easiest way to break into whatever prison Chisaki was currently holed up in and the best way to go about strangling him. Then, setting his rage aside, he gets to work figuring out exactly what were in those “smoothies” that Overhaul provided the kid.

Tsukauchi was more than happy to have one of his officers look through the precept’s files. Hizashi was worried that since it had to do with the kid, it may be in Chisaki’s large encrypted file just for him, and by all accounts it was looking that way. Until one of the officers noticed the same order purchased twice a month, like clockwork, with the same few ingredients.

The kid had assured him that while he didn’t know exactly what he was being given, he was sure there weren’t any drugs or weird chemicals in there. Chisaki likes him clean, he’ said. And while in the back of his mind, that fact had Hizashi’s imagination firing off again, coming to the conclusion that strangling sounded like way too nice of an option; on the surface he was relieved. And the kid seemed to be right – after a week he showed no signs of withdrawals, and both Hizashi and Shota had one less thing to worry about.

When it came to what he could eat, his options were limited. Anything that couldn’t fit through a straw was out. The kid wouldn’t even try it. He would panic, repeating over and over and that he can’t have it, he can’t, he’ll be sick and he doesn’t want to be sick. One time, Hizashi was surprised to see that the kid even got a little angry after one of the nurses pushed a little too far in trying to get him to eat some fresh fruit.

Other than that one outburst, if one could even call it that, the kid had been… a little too okay. He was still skittish, especially around Mic himself, and Hizashi really had to be on his best behavior and remember not to get too close, or be too loud, or move too fast, or tease too much, or… basically, he had to remember to not be himself. Or, at least, not the public’s version of himself.

But Hizashi was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Shota and he had both been briefed by Tsukauchi enough to know that this kid had been through hell the last three years. They didn’t have the details - no one would except for the kid until they were able to unlock his file. And honestly, Mic wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how the kid got those scars that ran up and down his arms, too symmetrical and precise to be self-inflicted. He didn’t want to know why he dissociated every time someone brushed his hair back to check the wound on his forehead. He didn’t want to know why the kid’s first reaction to being offered a place to stay was him panicking about being a burden.

Hizashi just wanted to erase all of that from the kid’s mind – like Eraser did with his quirk. He wanted to hold him and pet him and somehow physically let him know that he was safe, and that he would never ever have to go through any of that again.

But Hizashi knew that’s not how trauma worked. And even if the kid was putting on a brave face, Hizashi knew that they all had a long road ahead of them.

Over the last seven days, Hizashi had spent every free moment that wasn’t spent preparing for the kids arrival by taking a crash course on abuse and neglect, and the short and long term affects it had on children. From the first night of the raid, after he’d seen the look in his husband’s eyes and knew without a doubt that even if they didn’t end up taking this kid home, he’d be an important fixture in their lives one way or the other, he’d got to work. That night when he got home and couldn’t sleep, too keyed up because the anxiety he’d built up the last few days hadn’t gotten the memo that it wasn’t needed anymore, he’d done his first Google search.

How to help a kid that’s been abused.

There was a lot of information, Hizashi was pleased to find. Good information – From Universities and organizations that specialize in the healing process, to hospitals and psychiatrists that see the physical and mental side effects first hand. Hizashi had fallen asleep that night with the name and number of a professor from a local university that had written a number of well reviewed papers on the topic.

The next day, that professor had even invited him to attend a workshop he was leading on campus. Hizashi went, gladly, in his civilian wear. The professor recognized him almost immediately, grinning sheepishly and admitting he was a long time fan, but he spoke with Hizashi like he would any concerned parent. Foster parent, that is.

So yeah. Hizashi didn’t know when, but he knew that eventually, this kid was going to fall apart. He only hoped he was prepared enough to help him put himself back together.

And Hizashi knew he wouldn’t be doing it alone. It was obvious the kid had already formed an attachment to Eraser. The kid would settle, just a bit, when the man walked into the room, or scooted a little closer on the edge of the bed. The boy hadn’t taken the scarf off except to shower, once, and for a brief moment Hizashi was afraid that, this is it. The kid’s face flushed a dark red, his eyes watered and mouth set in a determined line when Eraser brought up the fact that he needed to remove it.

“Just for a second, while you’re in there. You can set it on the bed, or I can hold it for you. I promise, I’m not taking it back.”

The kid had surprised both of them when he turned to Hizashi and asked, “C-can you hold it?”

Hizashi had blinked, surprised, but recovered quickly with an, “Of course, little listener!”

Shota had teased him the entire time the kid was in the bathroom. He tugged gently on the scarf as if he was going to take it, which Hizashi would respond to with a smack or a glare or a huff, before finally resorting to a, “Don’t make me tell the kid”. A threat that had worked immediately and saw Shota keeping his hands to himself.

The kid looked better after the shower, but not great. His hair was too long – he was constantly pushing it out of his eyes. His skin was too pale and his eyes were too wild. But he was clean, and even offered them a smile – the first one Hizashi had seen – when he thanked him and took back the scarf, wrapping it around his neck and shoulders before sighing, contentedly. His husband had blushed at the display and turned his head, but a pleased grin was working its way onto his face. Yeah, his husband was already hopelessly lost on this kid.

But, Hizashi knew he was too. Which is why he was currently digging through the hospital’s dumpster outside, along with the administrator who caused this whole mess, while his husband was busy signing the discharge papers.

“I’m really, really sorry!” The guy, Minh, according to his badge, apologizes for the hundredth time. Hizashi huffs, is tired of telling him it’s fine when it isn’t.

When the kid had learned he was being discharged, it was obvious there was something on his mind. Something specific, that had him opening and closing his mouth several times a day, sometimes allowing a noise to escape, “wh-“

But every time he and Shota prompted him, the kid would shut down. Until finally, it was the last morning in the hospital. The kid was wearing a simple pair of sweats and a long sleeve shirt, because the kid had refused to tell them what kind of clothes he wanted to wear on his last day. Shota hadn’t wanted to push him, so Hizashi had been forced to accept the inevitable, and welcome the kid into his home in... sweatpants.

“Kid. We’re leaving this morning. So if there’s something you want, you’re going to have to tell us.” Shota says, finally. The kid looks like a deer caught in headlights, but then he takes a breath and squares his shoulders.

“Did… do you kn-know if… if my things are – are somewhere?”

Hizashi and Shota shared a look, “Your things?” His husband asks.

“Um.. .Y-yeah. In – in my p-pockets. From before. I… I had s-something.”

The kid is nervous as hell, wringing his hands and pulling on the bottom of his sweatshirt.

“Oh,” Shota raises his brows, “We didn’t know you had anything with you.”

“Um.. y-yeah. Just… Just one – one thing.” The kid bites his lip; he isn’t look at either adult.

“The hospital should have taken any items you had on you – I can go check!” Hizashi offers. The kid looks up at this, wide eyes brightening just a bit.

“R-really? It’s – it’s okay if it’s, if it’s t-too much trouble.” The kid is quick to say, waving his hands. Hizashi shakes his head.

“No trouble, kiddo! What is it I need to ask for?”

The kid looks back down at the ground and mumbles something, too quiet for either man to make out.

“What was that?” Hizashi leans forward.

“It’s… it’s like… itsagranolabar.” The kid rushes out.

“Oh? We have plenty of those at home, little one!” Hizashi assures him, wondering why the kid is so worried about it when he knows he can’t eat it, but the kid is shaking his head.

“I – I want… I want th-that one, though. Please. It’s… it’s important.” He all but begs, green eyes boring into Hizashi’s soul, pleading with him.

And so, Hizashi had all but run to the front desk, asking for the kid’s belongings. This was the only thing the kid had asked for, or even mentioned wanting. Anything else Shota or him tried to get out of him was met with uncertainty or nervousness at seemingly revealing too much. The only things he really knew the kid liked were heroes, Eraser, and Eraser’s capture scarf.

When the medical assistant had realized what he was going on about, he paled. He stuttered out some explanation about how he’d just thrown it out – it was the only thing the kid had on him, it was definitely crumbled and inedible, and he thought the kid had already been discharged. When Mic asked him to please point him in the direction he’d thrown it in, he’d started to sweat.

Of course it was garbage day.

“You’re sure it’ll be in here? You didn’t eat it, did you?” Mic asks. He’s glad he wore his hair up today, but he regrets the long sleeve he’s picked out.

“No! No sir, of course not! I wouldn’t – Ah! There! There it is!” The man points excitedly, and Hizashi’s heart jumps.

In the far right corner of the dumpster that is literally overflowing with the hospital’s garbage, there’s a clear plastic bag with the kid’s hospital ID written in big font. There’s a small granola bar inside.

Hizashi sighs, whines. There’s no way he isn’t going to need his own trip the hospital after this. He’ll develop tetanus or some kind of flesh eating bacteria, at the very least. And he’ll have to burn his clothes, which he isn’t super excited about.

“You – “ Hizashi takes off his shoes. They’re way too expensive to even consider throwing away.

“Tell no one.” He finishes, pointing at the man, who is still wide eyed and sweating bullets.

“O-of course, Present Mic – Sir!” He assures him.

Mic winces. He takes a deep breath to ready himself, which was a terrible idea, because now he can really smell it. He dives in.

***********

The look of adoration on the kid’s face is worth the disgusted one that Shota gives him. If Hizashi weren’t currently crawling out of his skin, he might have found it comical. His typically reserved husband looks at him with wild, crazed eyes, a scrunched nose, and a horrified grimace.

“Please don’t tell me you-”

“Is this it, listener?” Mic asks. The kid nods his head, enthusiastically, and holds out his hands before he realizes it. He freezes halfway through the motion, but Mic is already placing the heavily disinfected snack bar in his palm.

“Th-Thank you, Y-Ya-Yamada.” He nearly whispers the last part, and Hizashi grins. He’d spent days trying to convince the kid to call him his actual name, no honorifics, instead of the hero name he’d been using.

The kid slips the bar in the same pocket that Hizashi knows for a fact is also carrying one of Hawks’ feathers that the hero had left after meeting the kid. Hizashi has seen the kid running his fingers over the bright red feather when he gets especially nervous. He wonders if he knows that if Hawks concentrates hard enough, he can still retain some feeling for a short amount of time in the ones he loses. Probably not, or he wouldn’t be doing it so often.

“Well, now that we’re all here…” Shota trails off, glancing at his husband before turning his attention on the kid.

“Are you ready?”

The kid hesitates, standing in the middle of the room and clutching the two items in his pockets. He glances over at the window, his gaze lingers, and then he looks back at Eraser. He nods, determinedly, his green curls flopping even farther into his eyes, forcing him to push them back.

“Let’s go!” Hizashi yells, a little too loudly or suddenly based on the slight flinch the kid tries to hide.

The walk to the car is a long trek that it slowly, but surely, wearing the kid down. Hizashi can feel the anxiety leaking out of the little listener at his side. He’s burrowed deep in Shota’s scarf, his hands have disappeared somewhere in the fabric, and he’s leaning heavily against Shota – so much so that it’s almost difficult for the man to keep walking in a straight line.

But really, the kid does all right. He keeps walking, and eventually they’re in the lobby. It’s at this point that Hizashi notes the kid may be more than a little nervous – he’s favoring one of his legs and his left hand slips out of its hiding place to hold his side.

“Are you hurting, little listener?” Hizashi stops and asks. Shota looks down at the kid and frowns when he notices.

“N-no! I’m okay!” The kid tries to assure them, but neither of them buys it.

Hizashi crouches down so he’s level with the kid. He hums and glances down at the kid’s side.

“You know…it’s still a long walk to the car. If your side hurts – that’s totally okay, and we aren’t going to be mad at you.”

The kid mumbles something, but looks at his feet.

“What’s that?”

“It… it hurts… a little bit…”

Hizashi smiles, “Thank you for telling us, kiddo! Would you like one of us to carry you?”

The kid flushes and shakes his head, “N-no, I couldn’t – “

“It’s no problem! We’re both heroes after all; it wouldn’t be difficult for either of us!” He assures him. The kid bites his lip, bounces on his feet, before glancing sideways at Eraser. The hero crouches down alongside him.

“Would you like to jump on my back? I have lots of practice. Sometimes, ‘Zashi gets really drunk because he forgets he can’t hold his liquor, and I have to carry him around like that. And he’s a lot heavier than you.” Shota says, deadpan. Hizashi squawks, offended, and would smack his husband if the kid wasn’t in the way.

“Are you s-sure?”

“I am sure. He’s always been a lightweight.”

“N-no!” The kid almost laughs, “It won’t be…”

“It’ll be fine. Here.” Shota turns around and waits. The kid glances back at Hizashi, who nods his head.

The kid unwraps his other hand from inside the scarf and gently wraps both arms across Shota’s back. He jumps, and Shota catches him.

Hizashi already has his phone out before he’s standing, taking picture after picture, in all angles and lighting, to save and send in the group chat. He’s glad he did, because the look on the kid’s face when they walk outside maybe the best thing he’s ever seen. His eyes squint in the sunlight, his face is scrunched and flushed, but he’s smiling – a real smile that isn’t scared or nervous or shy. The kid is smiling for himself.

The car ride back to the apartment is quiet, interrupted only by Hizashi’s occasional fun fact about whatever song is playing on the radio. The kid tries to pay attention, but he’s caught between listening to the hero, staring outside, and trying very, very hard not to let the smooth car ride lull him to sleep.

Once Hizashi notices him nodding off, he stops talking and starts working on taking the perfect picture of the kid’s face smushed up against the window. The only thing visible between the scarf and his hair is his scrunched up nose that was dusted in freckles, just like the rest of him.

“You’re going to run out of data if you keep taking pictures.”

“Then we’ll get a better plan.” He whispers back and saves the pictures in the album he created as soon as his husband had sent him the first one of the kid in the capture scarf.

Shota huffs, fondly, and nods in agreement with his husband.

It’s nearly lunch time when they get close to home, and Hizashi is starving. He may have forgotten to eat breakfast in all of the excitement and nerves he had bubbling up inside of him this morning, and his treasure hunt through the garbage had only killed his appetite for a few minutes.

His stomach growls loud enough to wake the kid up.

The kid is dazed for a moment, before remembering where he is. He sits up a little and rubs his eyes before his stomach lets out a growl of its own. He blushes and makes eye contact with Hizashi who grins, “I’m hungry too, little listener! Don’t worry, I went shopping yesterday and got all the ingredients to make your smoothies!” He holds a thumbs up and smiles brighter. The kid almost smiles back, but Hizashi can see the appreciation in the way his eyes soften and warm.

The kid still couldn’t eat anything thicker than a milkshake, or a blended tea. Well, maybe he could, but he wouldn’t try and find out. The kid freaked any time someone brought up trying something new, and he still refused to let them in on what he did and didn’t like. After a pretty serious rash that had Shota and Hizashi scrambling, the kid admitted he was allergic to milk. Hizashi’s eyes had bugged out of his head and he’d wanted to scream, wondering why the kid didn’t say something before he drank it all, but he’d assured the kid that it was fine, and he could substitute soy or almond milk. When the kid shyly admitted he was allergic to almonds too, Shota had demanded he tell them what else he was allergic to, immediately.

“We’re here.” Shota announces when they pull into the parking lot of their building.

Shota and Hizashi have been together since their time at UA, and after moving out of their first crappy apartment, post-graduation, they’d decided to call their new one home for the last several years. They could probably afford something nicer, thanks to Yamada’s radio show, but they both had worked hard to get the apartment to feel like home, and neither of them were interested in starting over.

Shota puts his key in the door, and then freezes before turning towards the kid. He looks horrified.

“You… you’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

The kid shakes his head and Hizashi bursts out laughing. The kid looks at him sideways and asks,

“Is that why you asked me that?”

“Yep! If Sho had to get rid of his babies, I wanted him to have a heads up.”

“Y-you! No way! You’d have to pick the cats!”

Hizashi rolls his eyes and, “I think we like you a little more than the cats, kid.”

Eraser doesn’t say anything. He hums, contemplating that statement.

“Wait, then why were you asking me if I was allergic to do-”

“And we’re home!” Hizashi interrupts; ignoring Shota’s half hearted glare and kicking open the door.

His husband follows him, but the kid hesitates at the doorway. He looks around, curious, but not afraid, Hizashi is pleased to see. When he spots one of the cats, his eyes light up.

“That’s Roko. He’s sweet. His sister, Mia, has her moments, so try not to startle her and she’ll probably let you keep your fingers.” Shota smirks.

The kid takes his first step in and his eyes aren’t able to keep up fast enough with the thoughts Hizashi can hear coming out in mumbled run-ons. The kid is smart and observant – two things that make sense given his environment. But Hizashi has a feeling the kid’s always been bright.

“Ready for the tour?” Hizashi asks. The kid nods and Shota mumbles something about fixing lunch.

“You can leave your shoes here,” Hizashi points to the mat by the door and takes off his own pair of overpriced boots. The kid takes off his slippers.

“Over here is the living room – You can totally watch whatever you want as long as you don’t delete anything we already have recorded!”

“Here is the downstairs bathroom; aaand Sho’s study is here. You can go wherever you want, but just be mindful before you come in here, because sometimes he has super gross crime scene pictures that even I don’t wanna see.”

The kid nods along, soaking in the information like a sponge. Hizashi starts upstairs and the kid follows.

“Up here we have our room, your room, and another guest room!”

The kid is quiet while Hizashi rambles, talking about different parts f the apartment and explaining the hidden spots the light switches may be, or the tricky doorknobs that require a little extra push.

“You’ll have your own bathroom that connects with the other guest room, too! I wasn’t sure what kind of products you like, so I just got some sample sizes until we can get to the store.”

 “Aaand, here you are!”

Hizashi opens the door to the kid’s room. It’s a little bigger than the other one and it’s closer to his and Sho’s, so they can keep an ear out if they need to.

The kid takes in the bare room, the clean sheets and comforter hat smell like the same laundry detergent the scarf did when he first got it. There’s a desk against the window and a small television Hizashi had installed into the wall a few days earlier. There’s a lamp, a bookshelf filled with old English textbooks and old compilations of research on the history of the hero industry. There’s a small fan and a brand new blanket just in case the kid got cold in the middle of the night. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a start.

“Is it… do you like it? We’ll totally get the rest of your stuff when we go out, we just wanted you to be able to pick out what you wanted, yourself! And we wanted to give you a few days to settle in before we go shopping, and…. Kid?”

Hizashi trails off and is rendered speechless – a rare occasion in his life. The kid is crying, silent, Hizashi wouldn’t know if he hadn’t looked over. His eyes are glazed over and he’s biting his lip so hard, there’s a small bit of red showing on the bottom. Hizashi isn’t sure the kid even notices he’s… dissociating? Is that what this is? Or is he just overwhelmed? He’s shaking, and Hizashi knows it isn’t cold in here because he made sure the heater worked perfectly before bringing the kid home.

“Kid?” Hizashi asks again. The kid is staring into nothing, eyes unfocused as his breaths come in quick pants. Hizashi panics, thinks. He steps in front of the kids line of sight and – there.

The kid comes back, slowly. He blinks himself into awareness, and once Hizashi is confident that he’s really there, the kid’s eyes start to drop. They blink heavily, and he uses a scarf-wrapped hand to rub at them.

Hizashi gives him a moment to collect himself before breaking the silence.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, as quiet as he can. The kid starts, looks over and starts to panic again.

“Y-Yes! Sorry! I’m so – sorry I promise it’s – it’s great it’s – it’s more than I deserve, really, I don’t even know what else I could even want, I… Th-Thank you. Prese- Ah… Yamada.” The kid trails off.

Recently, Hizashi has been doing his best not to interrupt him when he starts mumbling or ranting. He’d read somewhere that cutting off kids repeatedly like that may make them less willing to speak up  in the future.

“Are you sure? If there’s something that… upset you, you can tell me. I’ll take it out. Or if it’s the room, you can have the other one.” Hizashi offers. The kid is shaking his head.

“N-no! Promise! I promise, there’s nothing wrong with the room!”

“Hm… with something else, then?” He asks. The kid hesitates, nods.

“Would you like to tell me?” He asks, leaving it up to the kid. He bites his lip and starts, likely realizing how hard he bit it the first time. He shakes his head again.

“N-no… I… I’m sorry.”

Hizashi assures him, “You don’t need to be sorry! Just know that, if you ever need anything or want to talk about anything at all – if it’s serious or not, Sho and I would be honored to hear about it. Okay?”

The kid nods, eyes downcast as he fidgets with his hands.

“Then… I… I have a… question.” The kid takes several moments to get out.

“What is it, kiddo?”

The kid glances over at the bed, eyes glued to the piece of furniture. It takes nearly a minute of silence, and Hizashi is really pushing himself today, before he asks,

“This… this is – this is really… Where I’ll sleep?” He looks back at Hizashi. The kid really looks like a kid, in this moment. He knows he told the doctors he’s fifteen, and the doctors were able to confirm that looked accurate, but sometimes – like right now – the boy truly looks like a child, lost and desperate for guidance.

“Of course little listener, where else would you sleep?” Hizashi asks, genuinely curious. It’s only when the kid’s eyes widen further that Hizashi realizes –

“Oh! Oh – no – I mean, yeah! Yeah kid – this is where you’ll sleep. By yourself. We – Shota and I are down the hall. So, I mean, if you ever need anything then of course – of course you can get us. But we aren’t going to bother you while you’re in here. If we ever need you, we’ll knock first.” Hizashi manages to get out after a lot of flustered hand movements, once he realized what the kid was implying.

Hizashi really tries not to take it personally – the sigh of relief that eases the kid’s earlier panic. He knows that even though Shota and him are trying their best – there’s a good chance the kid really doesn’t feel safe yet. He might not for a little while longer, and they need to be prepared for that.

“S-sorry. I… I kn-know you… you wouldn’t…” The kid trails off helplessly, not wanting to imply any more than he has.

“It’s okay kid, you don’t need to apologize. But it’s true – we wouldn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence where neither really knows what to do, how to move on from this unexpected turn. Luckily, Shota breaks the tension when he yells from downstairs, “Lunch is ready!”

Hizashi offers the kid a smile and isn’t surprised when he doesn’t find one in return. He takes the lead and guides the kid downstairs. Only to find…

“THE FUck, Shota?” His quirk is erased with a quick glance and un-amused scowl.

“Language.” He says, nodding towards the kid.

“I-it’s okay. My friend – Kacchan – he used to curse a lot, growing up.” The kid surprises them. He doesn’t often offer much information about himself, especially nothing before the precepts, but Hizashi has heard this nickname, Kacchan, a few times.

“Oh? Was he also a terrible cook?!” Hizashi complains, looking at his burned rice (and how the hell does Sho manage to burn something like rice in the first place) and his undercooked pork.

“At least I can’t burn yours, kid.” Shota slides the drink in the kid’s direction over the counter.

“Thank you.” He takes a sip and his eyes crinkle at the edges.

“It’s good.” He nods. Shota smirks and looks at his husband.

“Want one?” He asks. Hizashi rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not eating this, so, might as well.”

Shota rolls his eyes, clutches his chest in faux pain at his husband’s disappointment, and the kid grins.

**********

It’s been three days since they brought the kid home, and things are going… too well. Hizashi knows that he and Shota are amazing, they’re incredible – but they’re not actually miracle workers. And Hizashi is afraid that the kid is hiding things from them, or maybe pushing them away in his head, building more and more pressure until one day he’s just going to break right in front of them.

“Give him more credit than that.” Sho mumbles as he slides in bed. Hizashi had been ranting about his worries as they got ready for bed that night, brushing his hair and braiding it, then undoing and re-braiding it several times.

“Of course! Sho, he’s amazing, he’s like – incredible. But, I mean, he still won’t even tell us his name.” Hizashi whines.

There had been more than a few instances where the kid had reminded them that they could call him Deku. He swore he didn’t mind, it didn’t upset him, and he’d been called that for a really long time anyways, so it felt more like his name than his actual one. They’d had to tell him each time that no, they weren’t calling him that, that wasn’t his name, and they would wait patiently until he was ready to share it with them. The kid would furrow his brows, genuinely confused at their reaction, before continuing whatever it was he was doing.

Which was usually sleeping. His sleeping habits rivaled Shota’s – a feat Hizashi would previously have thought impossible. But the kid was still recovering, physically and emotionally, and so he and Shota let him sleep as much as he wanted. Usually that was on the couch, under both Roko and Mia, who had take an immediate liking to the kid. Sometimes it was at the dinner table, one time it was outside on the patio. It was always deep and peaceful, and it always made Hizashi pause and think, maybe he wasn’t giving the kid enough credit. Maybe he really would be okay without having to go through all the usual steps.

“He isn’t ready.” Shota says, which is what he says every time Hizashi brings up the kid’s name.

“Do you think… he ever will be?” Hizashi asks, every time. Shota shrugs, like Hizashi knew he would.

“I don’t know.”

**********

Four days after the kid is discharged from the hospital, everyone is in agreement that they’re ready to go shopping.

The kid needs more than two pairs of outfits – both sweats – and more than one pair of shoes. He needs toiletries and products and decorations for his room, and socks and underwear, and… everything. The kid needs everything. And Hizashi feels like he’s a kid on Christmas morning, excitement and energy bouncing in his step. Because he’s ready to buy the kid the entire mall, if he asks for it.

“Ready?!” He asks. His excitement is contagious, because even Shota doesn’t seem quite so put out by a shopping trip.

“Ready.” The kid nods, serious, like he’s just been assigned a very important mission, and Hizashi chuckles.

“Remember the guidelines?” Hizashi checks. The kid holds up a hand and numbers off as he goes.

“If I want something, I should ask for it,” He starts, “I should look for at least ten different outfits, and pajamas,” Hizashi was still pouting over the compromise he’d been forced to make with the kid over the number, “and if my side starts to hurt, or something feels wrong, I should let you know.”

“Bingo!” Hizashi holds his thumbs up and the kid flushes.

“I still think ten is too much…” He folds his arms and looks out the car window as they pull into the parking lot.

“Well, I think ten is too little. That’s why it’s a compromise!”

“And remember,” Hizashi tells him as they get out of the car, “Even if you see something you don’t need, that we didn’t talk about – you can still ask for it. Okay?”

The kid burrows in his capture scarf – because there’s no doubt that it’s his, now – and nods.

A few hours later and Hizashi is pretty pleased with the way the day is going. He was a little worried about overwhelming the kid, especially since Hawks had warned them about something called sensory overload, but the kid didn’t seem to be having any issues. He had a system, apparently, that took Shota almost an hour to figure out, before he leaned over to Hizashi and muttered,

“He’s getting whatever is softest.”

Hizashi notices this, too, when he goes right up to the pajamas and promptly picks out ten different onesies, all in different patterns and prints, and all incredibly soft looking. Hizashi hides his grin when the kid does make an actual decision to pick a cat one over a solid grey.

“Those are all great, kiddo! Let’s get some other styles too though, yeah?” Hizashi offers. The kid shakes his head, frantic.

“N-no! I can put some back! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry, kid. We told you, ten outfits was a guideline. Not a rule.” Shota speaks up. Hizashi has a suspicion it’s because he wants to see the kid in the cat onesie just as much as Hizashi does.

“But-”

“No buts! Let’s go!” Hizashi sings and the kid is forced to follow.

An hour after that and they’re all starting to get tired. The kid’s eyes are drooping and struggling to pay attention to anything around him. He leans into Shota, who takes his weight, and mumbles something in his sleeve.

“Hm?” His husband looks down at the kid.

“I’m tired.” He says. Hizashi shares another look with his husband. They’d given him the guidelines for a reason, but neither of them thought he was comfortable enough to actually speak up yet. Huh. Maybe this kid was made of tougher stuff than Hizashi thought possible. Maybe he and Shota really were that amazing.

“Do you want to go home?” Shota asks. The kid nods his head into his elbow and nearly trips over his feet.

Shota steadies him with a hand to his shoulder and stops. He crouches down to the kid’s level.

“Do you want me to carry you?” He asks.

His husband is wearing his glasses today, and they slip off a bit. The kid pushes them up, brushes his nose in the process, and doesn’t seem to think anything of it. His husband, on the other hand, blushes, and probably wishes he had his scarf back for moments like these, where he could duck and hide the fact that, even though the kid was clearly exhausted, he’d felt comfortable enough to be in his space like that.

“I don’t… Oh!”

Something catches the kid’s attention behind Shota. His eyes widen and his mouth hangs open. His husband turns, looking for what it could be, but sees nothing. Hizashi can’t see anything either.

“What is it?” Hizashi asks. The kid turns pink and starts stuttering, tripping over his words.

“I – C-Can I – I want – that.” He gets out, pointing in the direction of shoe store right behind Shota.

“Sure, kid, whatever you want!” Hizashi reminds him. He still has no idea what he’s looking at, but before he even finishes his sentence, the kid takes off.

Shota and Hizashi follow the kid into the store, and once Hizashi realizes what it is that made the kid react like that – it takes everything in him to act normal.

The kid is coming up to them with a shoebox, the lid is open to reveal a pair of brand new, limited edition, bright red sneakers – Hawks’ brand new, limited edition, bright red sneakers. The hero’s merch is good quality, Hizashi can tell. The red canvas matches the color of his wings perfectly, and there’s white stitching on the back, near the heels, that make out one small wing on each side.

The kids eyes are shining, he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet that are currently inside an old pair of Hizashi’s shoes that are probably two sizes too big. It’s the first thing he’s asked them for, besides the granola bar, and Hizashi is so happy he could cry. Shota, on the other hand.

“Tch. The guy has a big enough head as it is.” He rolls his eyes, but Hizashi can see underneath his act and knows he’s also pleased about the kid’s honesty.

“C-Can I?” The kid asks. Hizashi squeaks.

“Of course, little listener! Let’s make sure they fit, okay?”

The kid nods and they find out that the shoes do indeed fit. They pay for them at the counter and the kid wears them out of the store, proudly. His earlier exhaustion has been forgotten for a moment as he walks to the car in front of Hizashi, next to Shota. Hizashi takes the moment to snap a picture, making sure to capture the bright red shoes at his feet, and sends it Hawks.

**********

Six days after they bring the kid home, and everything is going great. The kid has settled in seamlessly. He’s still skittish, he still isn’t a fan of having people in his personal space, and he still spaces out more often that Shota or him are comfortable with. But he needs less sleep now, and hasn’t even taken a nap during the day since they’d returned from their trip to the mall.

The kid still hasn’t laughed, doesn’t smile often, but Hizashi is learning to be okay with that. The kid is comfortable, and he’s safe, and that’s really all Hizashi wants for him right now. The kid doesn’t panic when Shota mentions the fact that school is starting soon, which means him and Hizashi will be going back to work. Shota assures the kid that they’re already working on a schedule so the kid won’t be alone, but Hizashi was still worried about how the kid may take the news. The answer was with a nod and an understanding smile.

The kid is doing great. Shota is doing great - he’s clearly bonded with the kid far more than he expected to. Hizashi is doing great, he gets to hang out with his two favorite people all day, and he’s learning more and more about this kid with green hair and a golden personality. Everything is great.

And then, the nightmares begin.

Chapter Text

“Are you going to be good for us, today?”

Deku shivers and feels a pinch in the back of his neck. He struggles to nod; To let them know that yes, yes he’s going to be good – they don’t need to make him. Not today.

“Good. That makes me happy, Deku.”

There’s a breath in his ear that has him tensing. Behind him, Chisaki makes a disappointed ‘tsk.

“If you’re going to be good, then you’re going to be still.” The man orders.

Deku swallows. That means no nodding. But he’s also not allowed to talk.

“Aren’t you?” Chisaki pushes.

Deku whines, he doesn’t know that he’s supposed to do. So he whispers, “Y-Yes.”

Another disappointed sigh and Chisaki is grabbing the back of his neck, harder now, leaving Deku to struggle against the cuffs that are keeping him in the chair.

“Deku,” He groans, as if he’s the one is pain, “What rule did you just break?”

This is another test with no right answer. A trap that’s been laid for him since the beginning.

“N-No talking.” Deku stutters and winces. That’s two rules now.

“That’s right. But you did it anyways. Twice now, haven’t you?”

Deku doesn’t answer this time. He can’t. He can’t find his voice, because Chisaki has stolen it along with everything else Deku has.

“Oh, well. I guess we can do this the hard way, today. Don’t expect me to take it easy, tonight, just because you’ve acted up today. You did this to yourself, didn’t you?”

Chisaki moves around to the front of the room, to face Deku. His hand reaches out, strokes Deku’s cheek. He forces himself to still and closes his eyes.

“Ready, Doc?” Chisaki asks. Deku braces, though he knows it doesn’t matter. He’s never ready.

“Where should we start, Deku?” Chisaki’s lips brush his ear as he whispers.

Deku doesn’t answer. He can’t and he doesn’t want to because even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. Chisaki didn’t actually care about Deku or what he wanted – he’d made that clear his first night in the precepts.

Chisaki takes off one of his gloves and sets it aside. He runs a long finger down Deku’s arm, trails it from his bare shoulder down to the crook of an elbow, and finally circles around his wrist.

“Hm… let’s start – Here.”

There’s no room to breathe before the pain starts – He’s felt it half a dozen times by now, but each instance brings a new kind of agony. It burns and it aches and he’s being unmade, and the visual is almost worse than the feeling, because now he can see the inside of his wrist – he can see everything.

Chisaki has ruined him to his core.

Deku’s muscles and his tendons and his bones are balancing in front of him, and god he wishes he could just pass out already but he never does, because he’s Chisaki’s and Chisaki hadn’t given him permission. And he isn’t allowed to close his eyes and Chisaki is grinning – he’s still leaning against Deku while the doctor takes his samples and Deku can feel Chisaki growing hard against his leg while Deku cries, tries not to scream, but he is – He’s screaming because it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts

Deku slams into the desk, knocks the lamp off the edge and instinctively reaches to catch it, but he’s too slow and it shatters. His knees hit the floor as he scrambles to pick up the pieces, but is forcibly stopped when a pair of hands wrap around his waist, tugging him back.

Deku screams. He isn’t sure he ever stopped. He kicks out, panics, hits the floor again and scrambles back until he hits the wall.

There are two people in their room, and neither are Chisaki. Deku’s throat burns and his head is pounding and he isn’t sure who it is, but if Chisaki isn’t here then no one else should be, he’s going to kill him if he finds out someone touched him in their room.

Deku’s hands are on fire and he whines, why do they hurt if Chisaki isn’t here? He never leaves him unmade, not even when he’s bad – And Deku looks down and sees he’d bleeding, but he’s whole, and when the light comes on and Deku recognizes that – wait – he’s not in their room, he’s in his room. His hands are bleeding because he did this – he cut them when he was trying to pick up the lamp he shattered. The two men in his room are Eraser and Mic and they’re looking at him with a range of emotions that fall somewhere between panic and pity. He’s in their home and he just woke them up and broke their things, and –

Deku runs.

He’s able to make it to the bathroom before Eraserhead is able to catch him. He slams the door and locks it, backs up and slips on the tile. He falls back and feels the impact reverberate up his arms. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, all he feels is terror at the knowledge that he’s just ruined their night and broken their things and there’s no way they aren’t kicking him out now – Chisaki was right. Deku is useless and ungrateful, and not for the first time, Deku wishes he could’ve done it right the first time when he’d stepped off the roof of his middle school. But he didn’t, because he doesn’t do anything right, because –

A door opens behind him, and Deku remembers Present Mic telling him that this is a shared bathroom. He turns in time to see Eraserhead open the door, causing Deku to scramble back until his back hits his own door he’d just come through.

“Hey. Kid.”

Eraser crouches and sits on the floor as soon as he enters the room. He leaves the door open behind him, and Deku can see Present Mic behind him, nervous.

Deku closes his eyes. He pulls his knees up to his chest. He doesn’t have the scarf, it’d probably fallen off in the middle of the night. Which is probably for the best, because Deku doesn’t know what he would’ve done if he’d gotten blood on it.

“Do you know where you are?” Eraser asks. He sounds like maybe he’s moved a little closer, and Deku tenses.

Deku… what rule did you just break?

He knows – He knows Chisaki isn’t here. He’s in prison, where Deku should be. But Deku is here, in his favorite hero’s home, and Deku has ruined it.

“You’re safe, kid. You’re at home, with ‘Zashi and me.” Eraser tells him.

This makes Deku cry harder into his arms, because that’s not true – he’s lying. He’s never been safe and he never will be.

“And Roko, and Mia.” He adds, when deku hears a faint chirp accompanied by the feeling of a long tail brushing against his legs.

Deku sniffs at this and peeks his head up to see Roko looking up at him. His splotchy nose is twitching and his ears are flitting back and forth. Mia’s tail continues to wrap around him as she walks in circles around part of him she can reach.

“Do you know where you are, kid?” Eraser asks, again. Deku glances up and is surprised to see not even a hint of anger on the hero’s face. There’s nothing but concern.

Deku sniffs again and nods. Eraser lets out a breath.

“Good. Can I… Your hands.” Eraser hesitates.

Deku shakes his head, panicked. He holds his hands tighter through the pain until there’s blood dripping out of closed fists and dripping onto the tile. Eraser notices and starts,

“Don’t!” He exclaims, holds a hand out.

Deku releases his hold, drops his arms at his sides. Eraser hesitates, looks between the bloodied hands and panicked expression.

“I just – I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He explains, patiently, with a hint of panic underneath.

Deku doesn’t understand. He already hurt himself. Over and over. He wasn’t good – He couldn’t be still or quiet or anything he needed to be, and when he got hurt it was his fault. So why is Eraser so worried?

There’s another chirp at his feet, and now Mia is sitting next to her brother, one paw is perched on Deku’s leg.

“Can I see? Please?” Eraser asks.

“Please?” Deku whispers, and Chisaki grins, “Good boy.”

 Deku shakes his head against the pounding in his temples.

“I won’t touch you – I’ll stay right here. Can you just… show me? So I can see?”

Deku takes a few breaths. He wants to reach out and scratch Mia behind her ears the way she likes, because she’s meowing now – loud and concerned. But he doesn’t want to get her dirty. So he opens his palms against the sting and holds them out, facing the hero.

Eraserhead doesn’t lie – he stays where he is and examines what he can from a distance. Whatever he sees has him breathing out a sigh of relief, and he meets Deku’s gaze.

“Would you like me to help you with that? Or I can show you how to.” Eraser offers. Deku opens his mouth and closes it.

What rule did you just break?

Deku holds up a shaking hand and holds up the number one. Eraser squints, confused. Mic is the one that interjects.

“You want one of us to help you?” He asks from his spot behind his husband.

Deku hesitates, and then nods. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to do it himself – not with both his hands still burning. And he really wants to reassure the cats that everything is fine.

“Okay. Would you rather me or Hizashi help you?”

Deku keeps his eyes on Eraser, willing him to understand. He isn’t sure he can handle anyone touching him right now, but he can try and be good for Eraserhead.

“Hizashi, can you grab the first aid kit?”

Eraser keeps Deku’s gaze but pitches his voice so the other hero can hear him.

Mic is already out of the room before his husband has finished his question. It’s just Deku and Eraser, when the man asks, “Would you like to do this in the living room? The couch will be more comfortable than the floor.”

Deku sniffs, rubs his face, which is a mistake. He’s sure he looks like a mess, if he didn’t already. He can feel the blood drying on his cheeks.

“Don’t worry,” Eraser assures him when he looks up, panicked, “We can clean it.”

The hero waits for Deku to stand. He uses the door against his back to make sure he won’t fall. When Deku is confident he can walk without his legs giving out, he follows the hero downstairs and into the living room. It’s dark, and a few moments after Eraser turns on the light, Hizashi appears with the first aid kit.

“Here,” He hands the kit to Eraser.

“I’ll make you a cup of coffee,” He tells him. He turns to Deku and asks, “What about you, kiddo? Would you like some tea? Or hot chocolate?”

Deku sniffs and shrugs. They just recently determined that Deku has a bit of a sweet tooth, so he holds up the number two, knowing the hero will make him something regardless if he answers or not. He’d rather not have it go to waste.

“Coming right up!” he grins and disappears into the kitchen.

“Where would you like to sit?” Eraser asks when it’s just them. Deku shrugs.

“Hm... Let’s sit on the couch.” Eraser offers.

Deku nods, and immediately upon sitting, is draped in one of the heroes’ softest blankets. The kid looks up at him, blushes at the gesture, but the hero just smiles.

Eraserhead has to sit close to Deku. It’s closer than he’s ever been, aside from their time together underground. And Deku knows he shouldn’t be nervous, the guy is a hero and has been way too kind to him since they’ve met, but he can’t help it. The memory of Chisaki is still fresh in his mind; it feels like it really did just happen.

But Deku knows that Eraserhead is trying his best to make him comfortable. The hero has told him he can call him Aizawa, or even Shota, but Deku can’t. Eraserhead has always been… Eraserhead. In the time Deku has known him, he’s lived up the reputation the hero wasn’t even aware existed. He’s kind, understanding, patient – but not in a way that draws attention to it. He’s funny when he isn’t trying, and he’s a really good husband, and a really good hero.

And Eraserhead is gentle. He holds out one of his hands, waits for Deku to give him his left. He looks at it, turns it over, making sure there isn’t any glass in his wounds before dabbing it, softly. His eyes have narrowed in concentration, and he pauses momentarily to lean over and find his glasses on the coffee table. He pushes them on and continues his gentle ministrations, and Deku can feel some of the tension ease out of him, even as he feels the sting at the pull of his skin.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Eraser asks, softly.

The house is quiet, for once. Usually Yamada is around making noise, or the cats are begging for food and attention, or the television is on in the background. But it’s quiet tonight.

Deku nods in answer to his question. He feels… stupid. For reacting the way he did. That stuff… that was old stuff. Old wounds that didn’t even leave scars after Chisaki remade him. It was a memory from long ago, from his first few months in the precepts. It wasn’t even close to the worst thing that’s happened to him, so why was it on his mind?

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Deku shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about it, let alone have a conversation. And if he tells Eraser, he’ll have to tell him why Chisaki spent his time taking him apart in the first place. He’ll have to tell him that he’s quirkless. That he’s… not worth all of this.

“That’s fine. I used to hate talking about mine…” He says, “But ‘Zashi has a tendency to make even the most reserved person spill their thoughts.”

Deku looks up at this, curious. Eraser smiles, roughly.

“All heroes get nightmares,” He says, “And that includes you.”

Deku startles, “I’m not a hero.” He rasps. His eyes widen and he slaps a hand over his mouth.

What rule did you just break?

Eraser surprises him by tugging on his wrist, gently removing his hand.

“Don’t. You have a voice with us, kid. We want to hear it.”

Deku’s eyes water and his lips wobble.

“I’m not a hero.” He repeats.

“Why not?”

“I… I don’t… I can’t be.”

“Hm… Do you remember what I told you? When we met?”

Deku remembers everything about that day. Remembers everything Eraser told him.

“I told you that sometimes, behind a hero is as simple as staying alive.”

“But… it was an accident. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be here” Deku whines, desperately. Eraser’s brows furrow for a moment as he tries to understand. He doesn’t, so he continues.

“You saved my life. And Hawks’. And you almost lost yours, doing it. You don’t think that’s heroic?”

Eraser finishes wrapping his left hand, and Deku gives him his right. Eraser treats it with the same level of care as he did the first one. Deku almost wishes he wouldn’t. It doesn’t feel right.

“That’s… That’s not how it was.”

“How was it?”

“It was… I just. Had to.”

Eraser gifts him a small smile – the special kind. The kind Deku had been sure he’d never see again, before Eraser and Mic had invited him into their home.

“You didn’t have to. You chose to. Like a hero would.”

Deku tries to protest, but a warm cup is being placed in his bandaged hands.

“One cup of hot cocoa for you!” Mic sings and passes Eraser his own cup.

“One cup of coffee for you,” The hero sits down next to his husband and groans, kicking his feet up on the table.

“And tea for me.” He leans down in his seat.

“Why are you drinking coffee?” Deku asks, blowing on his own drink. Eraser hands him a damp cloth for his face, and Deku takes it.

“I won’t go back to sleep. Might as well.”

Deku panics at this statement, but luckily Mic sees and heads him off.

“He was already awake! He was working in his office!”

“A-Are you s-sure?”

“I’m sure,” Eraser confirms, “This isn’t even my first cup tonight.”

Mic squeaks and jolts up, “What?!”

Eraser winces at the noise and rolls his eyes. He reaches across the table for the remote and leans back.

“What do you want to watch? Unless you want to go back to bed.” Eraser offers. Deku shakes his head.

“I don’t.”

“Well… want to start the second heroes rising?” Eraserhead suggests. They’d started the trilogy the night before, once Yamada had realized Deku had never seen it, even though Deku knew for a fact Eraser didn’t like them.

Deku hums and nods, taking a sip of his drink. Usually he would sit on the other, smaller couch, but he was already curled up in his blanket. So he shifts to the edge, leaning on the arm of the couch and leaving a good amount of space between him and the hero. He curls up, content, and his hands don’t hurt so much anymore. He works one down into his pocket, where the feather from Hawks and the snack bar he kept from Dabi are always kept, always close to him.

So he leans back, rests his head on one of the pillows, and fights to stay awake. He jumps when Mia pounces up and circles his lap before settling down. Deku smiles and scratches behind her ears, the way she likes. She purrs and the relaxation she feels must be contagious. He doesn’t stay awake very long, after that.

Chapter Text

Deku startles awake and curls in on himself when he realizes the chill is back. The bad one – the kind that starts somewhere deep in his chest. It lingers, waits for his heart to pump it through the rest of his body until he can feel it in his limbs, his head - his stomach. There are never enough blankets to keep him warm, when he gets this cold. No matter how tight he wraps himself in the capture scarf, he still feels the solid block of ice that settles on him at some point during the night melt and drip through his veins.

Deku opens his eyes and squints across the living room. He can just make out the clock, just make out the time and can see – thank God. There’s only one thing that’s guaranteed to help with the chill, and he should be waking up right about… now.

“Oh? Good morning, little listener!”

Yamada yawns and stretches, and Deku tears out of the pile of blankets he’s under to speed over to the hero. He stops just before he collides with the man, looks up at him from under his curls. The man smiles and Deku feels the cold dissipate.

Deku has a theory. It’s not a great one, since he’s only slept a handful of hours in the last several days, but he’s confident enough. Because the hero in front of him is too powerful – he must have two quirks. His voice is powerful on its own – but his smile? He could probably power of all of Japan for years, if he smiled like that all the time.

“Hungry?” He asks, and Deku nods.

Deku peeks behind the hero through the crack in their bedroom door and can make out Eraser still sleeping under his own pile of blankets. He’s never up before Yamada, leaving the two on their own in the early morning hours.

Today, though, Eraser has to wake up. Because it’s the first day of school.

“Peanut butter and banana?” Yamada opens the fridge and starts placing the ingredients for Deku’s smoothie on the counter. Deku yawns, “Yes, please.”

The hero hums while he gathers the ingredients, measures them, and puts them in the blender. He’s almost always humming, or singing, or talking. It’s nice. Deku doesn’t like the quiet.

And Deku hates his bed.

He hasn’t slept in it since his first nightmare, a few days ago. He hasn’t slept by himself in… years, and it’s too big for just him. And he can move at night, which he isn’t used to. His wrist tingle and itch at night, and he can’t get still. And when he does settle, he starts to fall asleep, only to jump back awake after feeling hands – so many hands on him. Gloved hands in his hair, in his mouth, in his –

“Kid? You okay?” Mic asks. Deku winces – he did it again.

Since he’s been having trouble sleeping, he’s been having trouble focusing during the day. He knows he’s worrying Yamada and Eraser, so he tries really, really hard to pay attention. But he still slips more often than he should.

“Yes – Sorry, Yamada.” Deku tacks on the hero’s name to make him feel better, and he gets a small smile for his effort. Deku doesn’t even feel cold anymore.

“No problem kiddo! I was just letting you know I’ll have to go get ready soon! I can’t just roll out of bed pretty, like Sho.” He passes Deku his smoothie. He drinks it and feels a little better after the first sip settles in his stomach.

Oh… okay.” Deku tries not to be disappointed. He knows the heroes have lives outside of him.

They have work as teachers at UA – UA! And Deku knows they’ve both taken time off of their hero work to help him. So, of course Yamada can’t sit with him this morning and ask him questions. He can’t play the stupid name game he came up with, a poor attempt to get Deku to slip and correct him when he comes up with more and more outrageous names to call him. Deku secretly likes that game, even if he’ll never admit it. It’s funny, and he likes trying to keep a straight face for some of the more outlandish names.

“Do you wanna come hang out while I get ready, Fabian?” Yamada asks, surprising him. Deku nods, probably a bit too aggressive, and hops out of his chair to follow the hero to his room.

For the first few days, Deku had avoided the heroes’ room. For… reasons that he wasn’t proud of and didn’t want to think too hard on. But night before last, when he’d had a particularly awful nightmare that featured both Eraserhead and Present Mic in the middle of the raid, with Deidoro’s blade hitting its original target plus the Voice Hero, Deku had panicked. He knew – logically – that it was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Deku’s own wound from the blade was proof. But he couldn’t settle, he couldn’t be sure – He needed to see.

He’d gotten up from his spot on the couch and hesitated in front of the heroes’ door for a few moments, awkwardly balancing his weight on his heels, when he’d heard something behind him. He’d turned to see Eraser, just as surprised to see the kid, holding a cup of coffee. Eraser had taken in Deku’s shallow breathing, the sweat on his forehead, the way his hands were fidgeting under the scarf.

“Nightmare?” He asks.

Deku nods. He wishes he could see better – could see through the hero’s shirt to confirm that there was no blade sticking out of him. That he was whole, and safe.

“Do you want to talk ab-”

“You were there. And – And Y-Yamada.” Deku whispers.

If Eraser is surprised, he doesn’t show it. So far, every time one of the heroes’ has had the unpleasant experience of waking Deku from his dreams, they’ve always asked if he wanted to talk about it. And he’s always rejected them.

“Oh?”

Deku nods and clutches his own side. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, but sometimes if e presses down too hard or stretches too long, it will pull and sting just a bit. He worries at it now, rubbing it over and over. Eraser notices.

The raid?” He wonders. Deku nods again. Eraser hums.

“I have those nightmares too.” He says.

Deku knows the hero has nightmares. He told him, once, and Deku has spent enough sleepless nights on the couch to see the hero waking up in the middle of the night, unable to go back to bed. Sometimes he disappears into his office, but most nights he sits with Deku and puts on the television. Neither of them pays much attention to it, but they sit together until the sun comes up. Deku waits for Yamada, and Eraser waits until he’s too exhausted to fight his sleep any longer.

“Do you want me to wake ‘Zashi for you?” Eraser had asked when Deku stayed in front of the door. He shook his head.

“I don’t want to wake him up.” He says.

“I just… I just… I – I n-need…” Deku struggles.

He doesn’t know how to ask for this. It’s stupid – Eraser is standing right in front of him and Deku knows he isn’t injured. But he remembers his dream, remembers how real it felt when Deku couldn’t reach him in time – When Eraser’s eyes closed and didn’t open, when Yamada screamed so loud until he couldn’t anymore, because Deidoro had got to him too, and –

“What do you need, kid?” Eraser asks.

Deku walks towards the hero until he’s close enough that he can smell the strong coffee and he can feel the warmth emanating off the man. He reaches out a hand but stops before it gets any closer. He looks up and says, “Y-Your shirt. I need – I need to make sure.”

Eraser doesn’t understand, but he sees the aborted motions the kid is making. He tugs up his shirt, just a bit, with his free hand. The kid immediately relaxes and crosses the barrier he’s built between them. He touches Eraser’s side with one hand while he holds his own with the other. Eraser realizes then, what his nightmare was about.

“Kid.” He says, and Deku starts, pulls his hand away. Eraser catches it in his own, lets his shirt fall.

“We’re safe.” He says.

Deku’s eyes water and he looks away, embarrassed.

“S-Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be. It’s understandable, to need that reassurance.”

Deku wipes his eyes and hides the rest of his face under his scarf. He takes a step back, away from Eraser and closer to the door. His gaze hovers on the doorknob and wonders if he can go back to sleep, now. He doesn’t think so.

Do you want to check on ‘Zashi without waking him? We can be quiet.” Eraser offers.

“You can be quiet for me, can’t you, Deku?”

Deku freezes, feels like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on his head. It’s not a slow drip this time, it’s an overwhelming wave that’s rushed over him, soaked him where he stands and frozen him to his core. Eraser notices the change and pauses, waits. After a few moments of Deku just staring at him – wide eyed and breathless, he takes a step back and opens his mouth to offer what are probably apologies for whatever he’s said that’s triggered this reaction.

Then the door opens, startling them both, and Yamada is stumbling out – bleary eyed and dazed when Deku moves all at once, crashes into him and wraps his arms around the hero. There’s no blade, there’s no wound or blood that he can feel, and when Yamada holds him back after getting over his momentary surprise, Deku feels the ice in his veins start to melt.

Deku had stepped through the threshold in his haste to get to Yamada, and he doesn’t notice this until several minutes later. His face is bright red and he’s stuttering so hard, he’s pretty sure neither of the heroes understands a word he says. They gather that it’s an apology, but they tell him repeatedly that its okay – he doesn’t need to apologize – he can always come to them for anything.

Which, of course, starts off the waterworks – again.

As soon as he’d stepped foot in their room, he’d felt stupid and bad and… embarrassed. He knew… he knew they weren’t Chisaki. Or Tengai. Or Ray. They weren’t like that. And he knew he was bad for even thinking that. He hoped Eraser couldn’t actually read his mind, because Deku would never be able to look at him in the face again.

Now, in the early morning on their first day of school, Yamada is guiding him through the room, careful not to wake the underground hero, even though he’s said Sho could probably sleep through a Texas Smash if he was tired enough. And Deku likes their room, now. It smells like them. Which is probably weird for him to notice, but… It smells like Deku’s scarf, and like Yamada’s soft sweaters. It looks like them too – its clear Yamada tries to keep the room neat and tidy, but there are case files and empty mugs littered around the room.

He pulls up a stool for Deku when they make it to the bathroom. It’s large, with two sinks, but Yamada’s things have taken over. He chatters about the different cleansers and moisturizer he’s using, about UA and how he’s excited to go back, about how he secretly likes his teaching job more than hero work. He asks Deku if he’s excited about seeing Hawks today, which Deku responds to with a blush and a quiet nod while he sips his smoothie.

By the time Yamada starts brushing his long hair; Deku is finished with his breakfast and sets the glass on the counter. He kicks his feet and nods and hums along with Yamada when he asks for his input on something. It’s nice, and it might be Deku’s favorite part of his day. He makes sure – he tries his hardest to stay here, in this moment. He’s never had a favorite part of the day, before. He doesn’t want to go away in his head.

A few minutes before they have to leave for the day, Deku gets up to go get dressed and runs straight into a stumbling Eraser. He looks like death warmed over – His eyes are redder than usual and his hair is sticking up – not as tall as Mic’s, but not for lack of trying.

“Oof.” The hero steps back, blinks at the sight of Yamada and Deku.

“Sorry!” Deku squeaks out an apology.

S’fine.” Eraser mumbles and steps back, letting Deku pass by.

Deku closes the door to his room and moves towards the outfit he set out the night before. It was still… strange, to have to pick things out like that. It could take him a while, so he’d made sure to do it the night before, while he had plenty of time.

It’s a simple flannel that he leaves unbuttoned with another, softer, long sleeve underneath. Yamada had warned him that it might be too hot, but Deku didn’t mind. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to wear short sleeves again. And besides, they’d be indoors most of the day, and Deku likes the flannel. It’s soft and he feels… nice, wearing it.

He leans over to slip on his shoes when he realizes –

“Y-Yamada!” He yells, panicked. He races back to their room and stops when the hero meets him in the hallway, his jacket only half on and equally panicked at the sound of his cry.

“What’s wrong?” The hero asks, looking him up and down, looking for the source of the problem.

Can I b-borrow your sh-sh-shoes?” he asks, desperately. He wishes now that he would’ve listened to the man when they were at the mall, when he tried to get him to look for another pair he liked besides the red ones.

“Huh? Why? They’re too big on you!” He asks, curious.

“B-Because! These – These are Hawks’ shoes!”

“I thought you liked them?” The hero asks, still not understanding.

“I do! But – it’s – it’s embarrassing!” Deku whines. Realization dawns on the hero’s face and he grins at him, sheepishly.

“Ah, I see. Well, um – I’m sorry kiddo, but-”

“Hizashi already spilled the beans. He sent a picture of you wearing them as soon as you walked out of the store.” Eraser says, behind his husband.

“What?!”

“Sorry little listener… He thought it was so cute, though!” Yamada tries to reassure him, but this makes it worse.

“It’s embarrassing.” Deku mutters, bright red.

He’s about to continue begging to borrow another pair, but is caught off guard by the sight of Eraserhead putting on his scarf, completing his hero outfit. Deku stops breathing for a moment – He could’ve sworn it was still in his bedroom, hanging on the back of his chair, but then he notices –

“Is that a new scarf?”

Eraser nods, “I commissioned a new one. So you can keep yours.”

A long moment stretches out between them, and -

“R-Really?” Deku is trying hard not to cry, but the heroes can see the tears already on their way.

“Of course. I told you – it’s yours.” Eraser says, glances at Yamada.

Deku can’t believe – he can’t hold back the tears much longer, so he wipes his eyes and stutters out, “I-I’m going to go f-finish getting r-re-ready.”

He walks quickly back to his room, before the heroes can try and stop him. Not that they would - they always let him cry if he needs to, or be alone if he needs to. He’s just still not used to that luxury, is used to retreating as soon as he sees an opening. Even before Chisaki, when he would cry, his mom…

Cry if you want – that doesn’t fucking change anything. Wait – ugh, such a snotty fucking brat. Fucking… stop that!”

Deku wipes his eyes and slips on his shoes that Hawks is apparently already aware he owns. He’s still a little embarrassed about that, but that feeling is overshadowed by a different one, when he slips the scarf over his head. He hasn’t figured this feeling out yet, doesn’t have a name for it, but he’s working on it.

He’d thought that all this time, he was only borrowing the scarf, despite Eraser’s assurances. He was nervous about today for a few reasons, but spending a good portion of it without the scarf was pretty high up on the list. The fact that Eraser got a whole brand new one just so he didn’t have to part with it was… Well. Deku didn’t really know.

“Ready?” Eraser asks when Deku joins them in the kitchen. Deku nods, but when Yamada rounds the corner - 

“Present Mic!” He points and exclaims, startling the hero. 

”Yeah, little listener?” He asks, confused at Deku’s star-struck reaction. 

“You- Costume! And Speakers!” Deku splutters out and walks closer, examining the support item. 

“So cool! Is it on? How does it work, exactly? Do you have to turn it on and off manually? Is there a way to pitch the frequencies so only some people can hear it? Or people with animal based quirks? Can you-“

”You think I’m cool?!” Mic’s lip wobbles and his watery eyes are doing their best impression of Deku’s.

”He won’t talk about anything else for the rest of the day, now.” Eraser glares at Deku, but it’s half-hearted.

”Tch - Don’t be jealous, Sho! I told you, your costume is too boring!” 

“N-No! I just haven’t seen yours in person!” Deku turns back to Yamada in time to see him tossing something to his husband, who catches it with minimal effort. 

Eraser uses his teeth to tear it open and shoot it back, leaving Yamada to roll his eyes at the action.

”What is that?” Deku asks, curious. 

“Sho’s inevitable cause of death.” Yamada deadpans. Eraser rolls his eyes.

”Breakfast,” The hero corrects, “Jelly packet. Want one?” He grabs a handful from behind Yamada and tosses one in Deku’s direction. Strawberry. 

He opens it, curious, and looks at it. It looks okay enough, he should be able to eat it without a problem. He holds it to his lips and takes a sip - only to cough and regret it immediately.

”Too sweet!” He complains and purses his lips. The hero rolls his eyes and holds his hand out for Deku to give it back, which he does. The man finishes it in one slurp.

”See?! He has the biggest sweet tooth, and even he knows it’s disgusting.” Yamada teases. 

“No such thing.” Eraser argues.

”Tch. Speak for yourself! But kiddo - while we have you here!” Yamada turns to face Deku with a knowing smirk. He crosses the room and stops in front of him. 

“This is for you!” Mic holds out his hand and drops something into Deku’s. It’s…

“Wh-What?! I – I can’t –“

“You can. And you will.” Eraser cuts him off with a stern and knowing look.

“B-But this – this is too much!”

Deku holds the brand new phone in his hands, gingerly, staring at the screen with a good amount of trepidation.

“Honestly, this is more for us than you. We want to be able to get in contact with you, and it’ll make us feel a lot better about leaving if you have some way to reach out to us.” Mic admits.

“Our numbers are already in there. And Hawks’. He was very persistent.” Eraser mutters, rolling his eyes.

“B-But – this – this is too much…” Deku mumbles, plays with the screen. The background has already been set – it’s a picture of a rare moment of calm between the two cats – Roko and Mia cuddling together and looking up at the camera, in sync.

“Sorry, kiddo, but this one isn’t a compromise. We’ve got to be able to reach you.” Mic says.

“You can do what you want with it. We changed our data plan recently,” Eraser glances at Yamada as he says this, “So don’t worry about that. Do what you want. Just try and respond in a timely manner if we call or text, so we won’t worry.”

“Of course!” Deku promises. His fingers hover over the screen, already on the internet browser. He bites his lip.

“Thank you.” He says, and looks up with a smile. He hopes it comes through, and that they can see his gratitude.

“Of course, little listener! It’s going to be hard enough not having you around today – I can’t imagine not being able to talk to you for eight whole hours!” Yamada complains.

Deku huffs, blushes, “You’re exaggerating”

“Please don’t get him started.” Eraser warns.

“It’s true! I would rather have an eight hour meeting with Nedzu than go eight hours without talking to you! I’d rather go on a date with Nemuri, or eat nothing but jelly packets for a week, or help Sho with one of his gruesome murder cases than not talk to you!” Yamada whines and complains loudly on their way to the car. Deku knows the man is teasing, but he blushes anyways at the idea. 

“You would not rather have an eight hour meeting with Nedzu. You can barely handle thirty minutes with him.” Eraser argues and buckles in, puts Hawks’ address into their GPS.

”I would too! That’s just how much I’d miss you, kid!” Yamada, or Present Mic as he is now, turns to give him a thumbs up. He looks at him through dark glasses, but Deku can still make out bright green eyes. 

Deku sits quietly in the back, fidgets with his phone but doesn’t use it. He has no idea what he wants to search. He kind of wants to search himself, or Chisaki- but he knows those are both bad ideas. So he sets it down and listens to the two heroes go on about their prospective classes. 

“And I swear, ‘Zashi, I’m not holding back this year. I don’t care who his parents are.” Deku catches. Yamada hums, thoughtfully. 

“Do you ever hold back?” He ends up asking. 

“No. And I don’t plan on starting now.” He says, and Yamada giggles.

”You’re too hard on them Sho - they’re just kids!”

”Exactly. They’re my responsibility, and I won’t have them in a situation I don’t believe they can succeed in.” 

“What do they call you?” Deku asks, wondering. Do their students use their hero names? Or their given names? Do they know their real names? That doesn’t sound safe...

”Eraser. Or Aizawa-Sensei, if I let them.” 

“If he likes them enough,” Yamada corrects, “Usually it’s just Mic for me.”

Deku hums and leans back. He wonders, if he was his student, would the hero let him call him that? Aizawa-Sensei? He still couldn’t call him anything but Eraser, but... that seemed a little easier, for some reason. 

It’s a few more minutes before they arrive at Hawks’ building. He isn’t too far from them, really, Deku probably could’ve walked here. But he’s glad they didn’t make him, because now that it’s time to leave, he finds that he really doesn’t want to.

”I’m going to let Sho walk you up, kay?” Yamada says, looks at him. Deku nods, swallows around a tight lump in his throat. What if this is the last time he sees him? What if he realizes during the day that his students are way better than Deku ever could be - they aren’t broken and scarred - they don’t have nightmares and they don’t wake him up and break his things. 

“Have a good day with Hawks, okay? And you can text me whenever you need to! Or if you just want to! I may be teaching, but I’ll reply when I can. And if you really need something you can call and I’ll pick up immediately, okay?” He repeats what he’d told Deku last night. He’d also told him that after today, he’d be taking the rest of the week off to spend with him. Deku felt bad for making him miss so much, but Mic assured him he has lots of people that could cover his class while him and Eraser figured out a way to care for Deku during the week. 

“O-Okay. Bye, Yamada. Have a good day.” Deku smiles but he doesn’t think it reaches his eyes. He doesn’t think it can. 

Somehow he makes it in the building. He doesn’t remember greeting the door man, or using the elevator, or finding the heroes suite on the top floor. But now they’re here, Eraser by his side, and Deku can’t breathe. 

Eraser raises a hand to knock on the door, while Deku tries not to act as nervous as he feels. This is the first time Deku will be apart from him since he was underground. The last time he was away from him was when he was still Chisaki’s. The bruises on his neck have healed since then, but Deku can feel them all of a sudden, like a collar around his neck. That’s what they were, he realizes.

“Wait.” Deku speaks before he has time to stop himself. He blinks, isn’t sure how many times. When he can focus again, Eraser has crouched down next to him, with one knee touching the floor.

“Kid?”

Eraser isn’t hiding his concern; his hand is hovering just over Deku’s shoulder. He takes it back, holds it by his side. Deku feels his eyes water.

“Are you coming back?” He whispers.

Eraser blinks once, twice. He looks over the kid, studies his face. He nods.

“I am. I promise.”

“...And – And ‘Zashi?” The nickname slips out but Deku doesn’t notice. The hero nods again.

“We’re both coming back. I promise.”

Deku desperately wants to believe him. The heroes haven’t lied to him. But that doesn’t mean they won’t.

“What if…” Deku sniffs, “What if Chisaki comes back?” He whispers. Eraser doesn’t hesitate.

“He won’t. He’s in a max security facility, with some of the strongest guards and sidekicks watching him.”

“But – He’s stronger. He could.” Deku argues.

Eraser hesitates, looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but settles on - “If Chisaki managed to escape, Hawks would protect you. And every top hero in the area would be looking for him, and subdue him. And there’s no way he’d make it out with his eardrums, once ‘Zashi finished with him.” He smiles, ruefully. 

Deku feels a little better, once Eraserhead walks him through it. The hero doesn’t lie. And he’s logical - those are the two things Deku can say with certainty after living with him for almost two weeks.

“Are you ready?” He asks. Deku nods. He’s not, but he’s as close as he’ll ever be. 

Eraser stands from his crouch, stretches, and knocks on the door.

**********

Hawks answers the door with his signature smile, pointed with full force in Deku’s direction.

“Hey there, green bean! Good morning!” He yawns the last part and rolls his shoulders, shaking out his wings. It’s obvious he hasn’t been awake for very long.

“Good morning.”

“Ready to have some fun? We’ll go flying, and we’ll fight some villains, we’ll put our fingers in the electric sockets, and –“

“Very funny.” Eraser deadpans. Hawks grins and lets them inside.

Hawks’ apartment is… not what Deku was expecting. Hawks had told him once that he had money, and being the number three hero with the kind of popularity and endorsements he seems to have, Deku believes him. But this apartment is… cozy. It has high ceilings, and a loft above the living space that holds his bed. But it’s also a little messy – there are cups and mugs on every available surface, video game controllers sit next to a half-empty bag of chips on the couch, and Deku can see what looks like an entire wardrobe resting on the kitchen table. Deku remembers, then, that Hawks is young – he’s not even ten years older than Deku.

Hawks and Eraser have been talking, probably about him, but Deku is busy soaking everything in. There’s a large television hanging on the wall across from a long couch that separates the room from the kitchen. The kitchen itself is clean – clean enough, at least. There are a few dishes on the counter, and the fridge is littered with newspaper clippings of another pro – Mirko. There’s a lot of writing on top of the clippings that Deku can’t make out from here. And when Deku peeks around Eraser, he can see –

Deku starts for the balcony before he realizes it. He knew they were high up, and he knows Hawks must appreciate heights and scenery more than most, but the view is… beautiful.

The apartment overlooks a park – It must be behind the building, which is why Deku didn’t see. It looks like some kind of manmade park, maybe, because it’s too pretty and deliberate to have occurred naturally. There’s even – a waterfall! And tall trees that create something like a canopy, shading the park from the outside. It’s… maybe the prettiest thing Deku has seen, since he’s been aboveground.

“Well. I can’t be late for the first day.” Eraser speaks up. Deku thinks he was probably trying to get his attention for a while, and he winces.

Deku looks up at the man, the hero, and tries to keep it together. He feels like a child, being dropped off with a babysitter – and he guesses that’s exactly what he is. But he forces a smile – he can do this.

“H-Have a good day. Aizawa-Sensei.”

Eraser smiles.

“Have a good day, kid. We’ll see you at five.”

There are no hugs or waves, and Deku definitely doesn’t watch him leave too closely – he’s definitely not trying to memorize the way Eraser looks this morning, just in case…

**********

So did Yamada give you my message?” Hawks breaks the silence.

Deku nods. Yamada had told him late last night before bed to be thinking about what he wanted to do today, and to prepare for even more shopping. Deku had been a little flustered at that – what else could he possibly need? But he did think of something he wanted to do.

“I was wondering… C-Can we, maybe, um… I’d like to make d-dinner. For them. For their first day.”

Hawks grins and reaches out, pinches Deku’s cheeks. Deku yelps and swats the hero’s hands away from his face.

“So freaking sweet! Of course, kiddo! But I can tell you right now – I’m a terrible cook. We may have to call my friend Rumi to help…” He trails off.

“Ah- okay! Th-Thanks, Hawks-kun. But, um… when you say Rumi… do you mean Mirko?” Deku wonders, thinking back to the hero’s fridge.

Before he met Chisaki, Mirko had been a fairly new hero. She’d debuted right when Deku entered middle school, but it didn’t take her long to rise up the ranks. Her single minded dedication to being the strongest, to defeating villains and to look good doing it, had always reminded Deku of Kacchan. Deku was happy to learn that she’d broke the top ten a few years ago, when he was still underground.

“I do! She’s my best friend!” Hawks smiles, fondly, “We met right after I debuted – there was a pretty nasty villain attack at one of the local news stations – I know, right, they’d wanted to get famous quick, so figured getting caught on television was the way to do it. Idiots,” Hawks rolls his eyes, “But yeah – They were stupid, but they were strong. After Rumi and I had taken care of clean up and everything, she’d insisted on taking me out for a drink – saying some dumb shit about how us animals need to stick together.”

“Ah, that’s nice.” Deku smiles. He can see how much the hero cares about his friends, and for a brief moment, Deku feels another new emotion he doesn’t have a name for, yet. It makes him feel… empty.

“What about you? What were your friends like, before?” Hawks asks and leads them to the living room. Hawks plops down on the couch, kicks his feet up and tucks his wings behind him. Deku follows, sits on the other end.

“Ah… I didn’t really… have a lot of friends.” Deku rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“Oh?! But – why not?! You’re so adorable! I thought you’d be the most popular, for sure!” Hawks sounds genuine, but it doesn’t feel that way. Deku pushes the thought aside.

“Um… I just… I didn’t. I kind of, you know, mumble a lot and – and my stutter, and… uh…” Deku trails off.

“Was it your quirk? Sometimes, kids can be really mean about that.” Hawks holds his chin in his hand, looks at him thoughtfully. Deku flushes – the hero really was perceptive.

“Um… something like that.” Deku forces a laugh. Hawks continues studying him, quietly. He opens his mouth to ask another question, so Deku cuts him off.

“But, growing up – I did have a friend. Kacchan.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm! We were best friends! Our moms were friends, and we’re the same age, so we hung out a lot. We both liked heroes, and All-Might, so… yeah. We… we kind of grew apart when we got older, but he was… he was my first friend. So, he was special.”

“He sounds like a great friend to have.” Hawks comments, smiles.

If you want a quirk so bad, go take a swan dive off the roof, and maybe you’ll have one in your next life

“He… he was.” Deku nods.

It wasn’t Kacchan’s fault that he was quirkless. Kacchan was strong – And Deku would’ve only brought him down, would’ve weakened him. It was Deku’s fault that he couldn’t take the hint – had forced Kacchan’s hand into showing him he wasn’t wanted anymore.

“Well – what would you like to do first today? Dinner isn’t for a while. And we’re still definitely going shopping – so don’t think you can get out of that.”

“What – I don’t know – I really don’t need anything else!”

“Yeah, huh! Clothes are one thing, but you still need things, too! Stuff for your room, and just like – stuff to do. What do you like to do? Besides save lives and play with cats?”

“Ah! I don’t – I usually just, um… like, try and sleep? Or, um, we’ve been watching a lot of television. Yamada says I have a lot to catch up on.”

“Those are things you do to relax, though! What about for fun?”

“Hm…” Deku thinks.

He hasn’t spent a lot of time thinking about before. In the beginning, when he believed he had a chance, that was all he would think of. About before – about his mom and his teachers, if they were looking for him. He would think about Kacchan, and warm days spent running in the park, days they would spend wondering what kind of hero duo they would make once their quirks manifested.

But after he tried to escape and what happened… after that, he’d shut that door and locked it. He wouldn’t waste time imagining something he would never get back. And the more those thoughts would slip under those cracks in the door, like smoke that would find its way to him no matter how hard he tried catch it, the more he realized that he didn’t want it back. All he ever really wanted was for everything – his mom, his teachers, Kacchan, days wasted waiting for a latent quirk that would never appear – he wanted it all to stop.

But he doesn’t think Hawks wants to know that. And… Deku isn’t sure he wants that anymore. His days, right now, they’re okay. Even though his nightmares try their hardest to push him in the direction of desperation, reminding him that he’s a burden at worst, a warm body that can bleed and cry at best.

“I… Don’t know.” He says, eventually.

Hawks has been staring at him the whole time, studying his expression. Deku can only imagine what they are. He’s never been good at hiding his emotions. He never did learn that lesson, despite how often it would get him into trouble.

“You seem to like heroes, based off what Eraser has said.” Hawks mentions. Deku nods at this.

“I – I do. When I was younger, that’s all I wanted was to be a hero! To save people with a smile like All-Might.” Deku recites his childhood dream, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Because there’s another voice in the back of his head now – All heroes get nightmares… and that includes you.

“Was All-Might your favorite?”

“He was, yeah! But… ah, right before – like, right before, I met him and… uh. Well. He’s not really my favorite anymore.”

I’m sorry – I can’t tell you that you can be a hero without a quirk.

“Oh? Do I need to have a talk with him?” Hawks sits up straight, serious.

“N-No! Please don’t, he pr-probably doesn’t even remember meeting me.” Deku stammers. The hero crosses his arms, not convinced. But eventually he drops it long enough to tease,

“So – I’m your favorite now, right? I mean, you’ve got my merch and everything.” Hawks smirks, looks pointedly at the shoes sitting by his front door.

“Ah- I – I m-mean, I don’t –I d-“ Deku stutters his way through an answer for a good minute before Hawks takes pity on him and even pushes his shoulder, playfully.

“Just teasing, kiddo! I understand – Eraser is a hard one to beat.” Hawks winks and Deku blushes further. Hawks laughs, brushes his hair back.

“So – heroes, huh? Like – collecting merch and stuff?” Hawks asks, circling back to his original question.

“Um, kind of. I couldn’t really afford a whole lot, but… Oh!” Deku remembers, “I think…maybe… maybe I like to draw.”

He remembers designing his own hero costume – a poor imitation of his childhood hero’s. He remembers sketching in the corners of his notebooks – Eraser’s scarf that he’s currently wearing, Endeavor’s flames, Kamui Woods’ branches, and Ryuku’s scales. He remembers the way his brain would quiet, just for a moment, while he focused on what was in front of him.

“Yeah? What kind of stuff?” Hawks gets up from the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, but still listens.

“Usually hero stuff. I used to have, like, notebooks and stuff on different heroes and their quirks. I had different books for different ones - I liked breaking down their abilities and I would stay up and watch their fights and stuff online. I had a lot on All-Might growing up – now that I’m older I really don’t even know why he was my favorite – do you have any idea how much he could save the city of infrastructure and transportation impairment costs if he would just focus his quirk a little more? And I know he can – he’s done it before – like that one fight when he first debuted against the villain with the Particle Quirk and he was able to funnel all his energy into even the super small parts of the villain when he started breaking off – but he doesn’t, I guess because the big smashes are flashier and better for his image, but… Ah – sorry. Sorry, I was rambling again.” Deku takes the glass of water Hawks has brought for him and takes a sip, embarrassed.

“You have an analytical quirk?” Hawks asks, tilts his head.

“N-No. I just like it.”

“Hm… what about me, then?”

“What?”

“Have you analyzed me?”

“Oh! I actually, um, hadn’t heard of you before. When did you debut?” Deku asks, crosses his legs as he gets more comfortable on the couch. He fights the urge to check his phone, to check the time. Are Eraser and Mic already at school?

“Two summers ago!”

“Hm… You didn’t go to UA.” Deku notes. He would’ve remembered seeing him during the graduation’s heroes to watch segment.

“Nope! I was… Hm, homeschooled? Private school? The commission trained me.”

“You didn’t want to go to UA?” Deku asks. Hawks tenses, hesitates, before forcing on a practiced smile.

“Did you?”

“I… Yeah. I did. But… I don’t know if I would’ve applied.” Deku says.

He guesses that’s a lie, because he knows he wouldn’t have the chance, if that day on the rooftop had gone to plan. But maybe in another world, if he hadn’t met All-Might… maybe.

“Why not?”

“…They wouldn’t have accepted me.”

“Oh? Why not?”

Deku knows that Hawks is unaware that this subject is still sore, for him. He’s accepted the impossibility of him becoming a hero, but doesn’t mean it doesn’t ache when it’s brought up.

“They just… wouldn’t. Not before and definitely not now.” Deku says, looking down.

Hawks bites his own lip, sighs sympathetically. “Well, then – they’re idiots.”

Deku huffs, rolls his eyes. But he can’t ignore the way that sentiment makes him feel just a little bit better.

**********

“Hawks-Kun! Please – This is way too much! You can’t!”

Deku is struggling to keep up with the hero, whose arms are overflowing with bags, evidence of their extensive shopping trip the last few hours.

“I can – I did – too late! Final sale, no returns!”

“No one said that! I don’t need this many blankets or – or rugs – and there’s so many pillows! And curtains and – what is this? An oil diffuser?” Deku peeks in one of the bags now that he’s caught up.

Yeah! I got lavender, eucalyptus, and lemongrass - Rumi said they’re good for stress.”

“And I definitely don’t need a laptop! I’m – What am I even going to –“

“So you can start doing your hero analysis!”

“But I have a phone now!”

“You can’t analyze in a small screen like that! You need to have all of your tabs and watch your videos and stuff!”

“I… W-Wait! Hawks! Stop!”

Deku freezes at the sound of his own voice. He’d just... yelled at the hero. He’d just raised his voice, after he was so nice to him. He’s never raised his voice like this to anyone - not his mom, not Chisaki, not even to his bullies at school! What was wrong with him, now? What was happening? He feels hot and on fire - like something is burning through him. It feels like that one time the nurse at the hospital kept pushing him to eat, and he just wanted her to stop but she didn’t listen - no one listens and no one ever stops even when he gives in and begs.

The fire is doused quickly when the reality of his situation sets in, and his knees hit the floor. There’s a similar sound that follows, and Deku looks up to see the winged hero fluttering around in front of him. 

“Kiddo?! Hey, you okay?? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry kiddo I shouldn’t have pushed - I knew better and I’m sorry okay we can - we can go return it if you want - we can return everything I promise, just breathe okay?”

Deku can’t breathe, he hasn’t been able to breathe since Eraser left - he left him because Deku can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he can’t do anything human - because maybe he isn’t human, maybe he never was, maybe -

Deku spits something out of his mouth - a feather?

”Wha-?” Deku spits again, looks up and sees nothing but the color red, and Hawks’ golden eyes. 

The hero has made them their own safe space in the middle of the store. His wings are fall and wide enough to completely shield Deku from anything and everything outside of this moment - just them two. He reaches out a hand, unthinking, and just like in the hospital, he settles - soft.

”Kid?”

Hawks is worried. He has his phone out, his hand hovering over Yamada’s icon. Deku shakes his head.

”S-sorry.” He whispers. Hawks shakes his own head.

”You don’t need to apologize kid. Promise. This is on me, okay? I should’ve respected what you said - when you said you didn’t want me to buy stuff. We can go return it all, okay? I’m really sorry.” Hawks puts his phone away and continues,

“I just... I have a lot of money. And I never had that, growing up, so when there’s someone I like - I just want to spend it all on them, you know?” He offers. No, Deku doesn’t know, but he can see it’s important to the hero. He hesitates, and,

”It’s... it’s okay. We don’t have to r-ret-return it. Just. Um. No more, okay?” 

Hawks looks relieved and says, “Yeah, okay kid. Whatever you need.”

**********

Deku is tired after that, but he still can’t sleep. After going to the mall, they run to get groceries and ingredients for dinner that night. The rest of the day is spent lounging on the couch and Hawks introducing Deku to some of his favorite video games. 

Spending time with Hawks is different than spending it with Eraser, or even Yamada. It’s easy, and fun, and he doesn’t get uncomfortable if Hawks gets too close. Hawks cracks jokes and teases Deku constantly, and it’s a nice change from careful glances and nervous exchanges.

That doesn’t mean Deku hasn’t stopped watching the clock all day, or that he didn’t spend the heroes’ lunch hour on the phone with them, Yamada asking about his day while Eraser could be heard snoring from somewhere in the room.

Finally, it was almost four, and Deku was exhausted. His breakdown he’d had earlier in the day had taken a lot out of him, not to mention his usual lack of sleep. But four was the time Hawks and he had agreed to start cooking, so. 

“Yamada mentioned you haven’t been sleeping.” Hawks brings up, while Deku washes the vegetables. He must look even worse than he feels. Deku shakes his head.

“Can’t.”

“Hm… nightmares?”

“Y-Yeah. And… other stuff.” Deku hands Hawks the knife, doesn’t trust himself when he’s this tired. 

“Oh? Like what?”

“Bed.”

“It’s uncomfortable?” Hawks asks, chopping the carrots. 

“Don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

Deku rubs his wrists, absentmindedly, while Hawks pulls out his phone.

“Hands itch.”

“Huh?”

“Hands. Or arms. They… hurt. Or -  I don’t know. They feel weird.” Deku fills a large pot with water to boil.

“Are you like… allergic to something?”

“N-No. I…” Deku trails off, loses his train of thought.

What was he saying? Or thinking? Something about his arms? Is it possible for a human to fall asleep standing up? He wonders...

“What’s up, bitch?! I’m fucking busy!” Deku startles and wakes up a bit when he hears a voice he’s only heard on television.

“Watch it, Rumi! I’ve got the kid here!”

“Oh?! Shit, sorry kiddo! How’s it going?” Her voice smoothes out when she talks to him.

“Rumiii!”

“Bitch what?!” And her attitude is back.

“You’re being so mean! You’re making me look bad!”

“Tch – You’ve looked worse.” Deku can hear fighting in the background and realizes she must be working.

“I need you to tell me how to make katsudon.”

“What?! Why?!” Rumi exclaims, incredulously. Hawks rolls his eyes at her antics.

“Come on Rumi – The kid wants to make dinner for Mic and Eraser since it’s their first day at school!” Hawks explains. There’s a cooing on the other end of the line that has Hawks holding the phone away from him, looking horrified.

“Awww! That’s so fucking sweet, kiddo! Of course I’ll tell you!” Deku can hear her smile from here.

“The fuck did you just do?! Did someone take over your body?! What kind of villains are you fighting – they have a mind control quirk?”

“Bitch I can be nice!”

“Since when?!”

Much of the conversation continues like this, with Rumi interjecting helpful tips and tricks in one sentence, while insulting the winged hero in the other. She would sprinkle in praise and compliment the kid when appropriate, which only unsettled Hawks even more.

“I don’t know where the fuck she’s been hiding that maternal instinct.” He mutters, once he’s hung up.

“She seems nice.” Deku giggles, argues.

Deku flushes a bright red once the sounds escapes him. He slaps a hand over his mouth and glances at Hawks, who smiles, wide.

“Damn, that was cute! Can you do it again? I need to get a video!” He holds his phone up.

“No way!” Deku flails and nearly pushes the plate of food over, but the hero catches it.

“Sorry!” Deku apologizes, but Hawks is already shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it kiddo. Damn, you are tired, huh? How much have you actually slept?” Hawks asks, puts the dishes they’ve already used in the sink.

“Um… I don’t know. I can’t really fall asleep, and when I do I still wake up a lot.”

“Hm… well let’s go rest then, while we wait for them to get here!”

Deku nods and finally caves, looking at his phone. He has a message from both Mic and Eraser – both from a few minutes ago letting him know that they’re on their way. His nerves settle. He sends a smiling emoji back to both of them.

“So why can’t you fall asleep? What were you saying about your wrists?” Hawks asks. 

That’s another difference between Hawks and his guardians. Hawks pushes, and prods, and isn’t afraid of the answers he may find. 

“It’s… I… I r-ran. Once. Or, tried to. In the beginning.” Deku says. He doesn’t want tohink about that right, though – what happened after that. But he can tell him,

“After that – every night, I had to.. um… He had to, um, like, tie me? To the bed. And to… to him.” Deku remembers the first time he’d realized he couldn’t even go to he bathroom anymore at night, would have to hold it until Chisaki woke.

“What do you mean?” Hawks asks, seriously. Somehow he’s gotten a hand around Deku’s waist without him noticing, which is impressive. The hero tugs, just a bit, and Deku follows.

“Like… my – my left hand he tied to the bed. But the right one – he tied it to his wrist, too. So he could feel it if I… if I moved.”

Deku is flush against the hero’s side now. The hero is warm, and he’s soft underneath his muscles. He’s brushing a hand up and down his arm, soothingly.

“So… now your wrists feel – tingly, and… itchy…”

“I think because… because they’re, like, free? I’m not used to it.” Deku admits.

“I thought about finding something to use to kind of… do it myself? But, I tried it, and I didn’t like it. Which is stupid, because I don’t like it without it either. But when I tried I just… panicked.” Deku continues.

The hero hums, then shifts.

“Wait here – I have an idea.” He says, and runs upstairs to the loft, his wings aiding him to go even faster. 

Deku checks the time again - twenty minutes 'till five. He's antsy, waiting for Mic and Eraser. But he's also exhausted. He did a lot more today than he's used to doing - maybe more than he's done in years.

Chapter Text

Shota gets a text when they pull up to the building.

(16:58) Hawks: Let yourselves in & be quiet

He shows his husband, who’d been driving, and he nods, mimes the zipping of his lips. Shota rolls his eyes. If only it were that easy.

Shota gets out of the car and burrows his own face in his scarf, reflecting on the day. He can feel the anticipation rolling off his husband, nervous to see how the kid did without them. Shota had been nervous too – extremely so. It was a lot harder to leave the kid than he thought it’d be, and nearly every spare moment that wasn’t spent teaching was spent on him – wondering what he was doing, how he was doing, if he’d eaten yet, if Hawks really was going to take him flying even though he hadn’t finished healing, what he would do to Hawks if he hurt him – no matter how minor or accidental.

Shota blamed his anxiety on the nightmares. He’d had a surge of sleepless nights this past week, his mind content to replay the events of the raid on a constant loop. He’d inevitably get up, make a cup of coffee, and stay awake as long as he could. He’d tried to fight the urge initially, but eventually, every night, he would give in. He’d check on the kid, usually find him already awake, and sit with him until Yamada woke up for the day. Just to make sure he was okay – and safe, and not alone. Shota really didn’t want to leave him alone again.

When his mind got bored of reliving the actual event, it moved on to other scenarios. Dreams of what could’ve happened if Shota hadn’t made it out in time, or if Chisaki hadn’t been defeated, or even if he had, but Hawks hadn’t made it to the hospital in time.

So, yeah. Shota is ready to see the kid.

Once they reach the top floor, Yamada wastes no time in following Hawks instructions and letting himself right in. He all but skips into the apartment, eyes searching for a mess of green hair and a tentative smile. When he stops, halfway across the room, and freezes – Shota quickly shuts the door behind them and walks quickly over to him. Only to see…

“Take the picture now – I’ll kill you if you don’t I swear – I can’t get a good angle!” Hawks whispers threateningly, pleading and glaring at his husband.

Shota huffs out a laugh at the scene in front of him. His kid… No. The kid is currently using the number three hero as nothing more than a bed – complete with a heavily muscled pillow and brightly colored blanket in the form of one of Hawk’s wings. The kid has his fingers clutching the feathers as he holds it under his chin. He’s breathing deep and steady, and Shota can even see a little bit of drool on his chin. Shota hasn’t seen the kid sleep this hard since the hospital.

Yamada snaps a picture – multiple pictures, in multiple angles. Hawks poses for them – some candid shots, some of him throwing up a peace sign, some of him pretending to also be asleep. Shota rolls his eyes. Then his stomach growls and he realizes he smells…

“He wanted to make you both dinner,” Hawks whispers as he carefully untangles himself from the kid that has tried his best to physically melt into the hero.

“Wha-?!” Shota quickly nullifies his husband’s impending quirk and casts a quick glare in his direction. Hizashi slaps his hand over his mouth, still holding the phone, and drops it.

A red feather catches it before it hits the floor, stopping it in time before the resounding crash could’ve woken up the kid. He must really be sleeping hard, if Hizashi’s squeal didn’t wake him before.

“Sorry!” His husband yells in a whisper, as quietly as he can.

Hawks nods his head in the direction of the kitchen, and both heroes follow. Shota sees the evidence of their cooking in the multiple pots and pans, – too many, really – the rice cooker on warm, a sweet smell coming from the stove, and something savory near the fryer.

“He wanted to make you guys dinner, for your first day.” Hawks says again, a little louder this time now that they’re far enough away. Shota and his husband both speak at the same time.

“So sweet!”

“Do you even know how to cook?”

Yamada shoves him, huffs. Hawks laughs a little, quietly, and shakes his head.

“No, but Mirko does. We called her and she walked us through it. I think it smells okay, and the kid seemed really proud.” He explains.

“So fucking sweet!” Hizashi says, again.

“How was he, today?” Shota asks.

Hawks hesitates, thinks before answering. Shota can appreciate that, but he feels a little nervous, now. He was hoping for an immediate, positive reaction. He wasn’t expecting…

“Have you guys thought about getting him into therapy?”

This brings both heroes up short. They glance at each other.

“Yes,” Eraser nods, “We were trying to let him acclimate to the new environment, first. Make sure he wanted to stay, that we were a good fit for him.” He explains. Hawks nods.

“Well, I don’t think he’s going anywhere.” Hawks observes. Eraser nods, hesitantly. Despite the nightmares, and the… episodes, the kid had sometimes, where he would seemingly disappear somewhere neither hero could see, there was no doubt that things were good with him in their home.

“It might be a good idea to start looking for someone.” He suggests. Eraser opens his mouth, but his husband beats him to it.

“I’ve been looking, searching online and asking for recommendations. But, to be honest, I haven’t found anyone appropriate to deal with his level of… trauma.” Hizashi admits. Hawks nods, understanding.

“Did something happen?” Shota asks. Hawks hesitates again, before nodding.

“Just… I mean, you already know he hasn’t been sleeping. He kinda talked to me about it, a little bit…”

“Really?!” Yamada asks, a little too loudly, before wincing in apology.

Shota doesn’t blame him for being surprised. The kid wasn’t mute, but he chose his words carefully. He never gave away too much of himself – Shota wasn’t sure if this was due to his fear of being a burden, or his fear of them finding out his identity. The only time he’d really opened up to either of them was that night Shota had found him hesitating outside of their bedroom.

“It’s… really fucked. To be honest. I mean, we knew it would be, but…” Hawks bites his lip, uncertain.

“Is it something we need to know?” Shota asks. He understands Hawks hesitance – not wanting to betray the kid’s trust, since this is the first time he’s opened up.

“Probably… Ah, okay. He said Chisaki used to tie him up, before they went to bed every night. Said he tried to run once, in the beginning, so that was his way of keeping him close.”

Shota activates his quirk, preemptively looking at his husband just in time before he opened his mouth. It opens, wide, but no sound comes out.

“Yeah. So, he said he hasn’t been able to get, like, still? He’s used to being tied up, so… I gave him some of my old wristbands, and I think that helped a little bit…”

“Is that a good idea? He shouldn’t be comfortable with that…” Hizashi wonders.

“I don’t think we’re in a position to dictate what should and shouldn’t make him comfortable.” Shota says. Hawks nods.

“He said he thought about tying himself up… I thought this was a better way, than that.”

Shota imagines that, and immediately regrets it. The kid being so desperate to fall asleep that he willingly binds himself to the bed, like his captor did, just to relax. He shakes his head, tries to rid the thought from his mind.

“Yeah… Okay, you’re right. Thanks, Hawks-Kun.” Hizashi says.

“Of course. But, something else kind of happened, too…” Hawks says, and scratches the back of his head. Sheepish. Guilty. Shota’s eyes narrow.

“What did you do.”

“Nothing! Or – well – okay, yeah, I kind of upset him. But I already feel like shit about it, and we already talked it out, and I apologized.” He rushes out, tenses, as if Shota would really hit him. He rolls his eyes, instead. He would only deck the hero if he deserved it, and with how much he seems to care about the kid, Shota highly doubts that. Hizashi, on the other hand…

“The fuck did you do?!” His husband spits out, surprising both him and Hawks. The winged hero raises his hands, defensively.

“Hey! It wasn’t that bad, okay?! We went shopping, like I said, and I… may have gone a bit overboard. In hindsight.” He admits. Hizashi relaxes, barely.

“Oh. Yeah, he isn’t a big fan of people buying things for him.”

“Yeah, I knew that, but… I couldn’t help it!” Hawks whines.

“So what happened?” Shota asks, wondering what it was that had the hero looking so guilty.

“Ah… We were still out, at the mall, and the kid got… angry.” He settles on, after thinking about it. Both Shota and his husband raise their brows.

“Angry?” Hizashi clarifies. Hawks nods.

“Like… pissed. He kept telling me to stop and wait and stuff, but I was ignoring him, and then he yelled-”

“Yelled?!”

“Yeah! I know, it surprised me too. I don’t recommend it, by the way. When I realized he was angry enough to yell at me, and then he started crying… Yeah. That’s shitty.” Hawks mumbles and crosses his arms.

Shota can imagine. If he upset the kid enough to make him break through that meticulously crafted exterior, and if started crying because of him? Shota would probably never get over it.

“It didn’t last very long. He had a panic attack pretty much right after that. But… Yeah, you may want to get him someone to talk to.” Hawks shrugs. Both Shota and Hizashi share a look.

“I can talk to Nedzu tomorrow – ask if he knows of anyone that can help.” Shota says. Hawks nods, relieved, and offers another smile.

“It was a good day though, besides that. We had a lot of fun. He’s funny as hell, when he remembers to relax. And smart as hell, too.”

“He is! Super smart – Smarter than half the kids in my class.” Hizashi complains. Shota can relate.

The three of them chat a little bit more, about their respective days. Hawks shows them everything he bought for the kid, leaving Shota to wonder if they can even fit all of it in their car. He’s pleased, though. Even if the kid wasn’t comfortable with it, Shota couldn’t deny the fact that he shared the same need to get the kid anything and everything. Even if it resulted in Hawks getting yelled at, he was glad someone had taken the hit and spoiled the kid.

They wake him, even if they just wanted to let him sleep. But the kid cooked dinner for them, and he’d be upset if they started without him – even if he himself couldn’t eat it.

The look on the kid’s face when Hizashi woke him up nearly broke Shota. He’d told the kid they were coming back – he’d promised him – but the surprise and subsequent smile told him that the kid hadn’t been convinced. Shota turns away when the kid sits up, rubs his eyes and yawns. It isn’t fair to him that Shota feels a twinge of something like disappointment that he hadn’t believed him.

Dinner is quick – the kid actually falls asleep sitting up, at one point. His face nearly lands in his own meal – a bowl of soup that Hawks had heated up real quick.

“It’s delicious, little listener! You’ll have to show me how you made it!” Hizashi exclaims, after taking a bite. Shota has to agree – it’s a lot better than he was expecting.

“Um, Mirko helped a lot, actually.”

“Hey! What about me?!” Hawks puffs up, indigent.

“Of course! I couldn’t have done it without you!” The kid assures him, placating him for the time being.

“Why’d you pick katsu?” Shota asks, curious.

“Oh! Um… I didn’t really know what your favorites are. But… you guys are always asking what I like, so… Um. I like katsudon. It’s – was – my favorite. My mom used to make it, when I was little.” The kid manages. Suddenly, the meal tastes ten times better.

“Aw, I didn’t know that!” Hawks smiles, approving.

“Thank you for telling us, kiddo!” Hizashi’s face is red, and Shota sees him holding back tears behind his glasses.

After the kid falls asleep for a second time, his head propped up in his hand, they decide to call it a night. Hawks is able to use his feathers to help carry all of the kid’s new things downstairs, while Shota picks the kid up. He’s still so light – a little heavier than he was a few weeks ago, but still not enough.

“Thanks again, Hawks-Kun!” Hizashi says, once they’ve got the kid and the gifts in the car.

“Anytime! If something comes up and you need me to watch him again this week, just let me know.” Hawks offers.

Shota may still find the hero’s personality… difficult, at times, but he can’t deny how nice it is to have him around. For the kid.

“Thank you.” Shota says, seriously. Hawks grins.

“I have the rest of this week off – Just couldn’t miss the first day, you know?” Hizashi tells him.

“What’re you going to do when you have to go back?” Hawks asks.

“We’re… working on it.” Shota shrugs. Honestly, Hizashi and he had no idea.

“Well, let me know! I don’t mind dodging the commission for a while!”

“I don’t know how you still have a job, with as much as you torture those people.” Shota deadpans. Hawks laughs.

“I’m irreplaceable! I basically have tenure!” He says, and Shota rolls his eyes, opens the car door.

“Night, Hawks.” 

“Night, Hawks-Kun!” Hizashi waves as he settles in the passenger side.

The ride home is quiet, and they’re able to put the kid to bed without waking him. Eraser notes the bright red wristbands, and something in him sours, just a bit, looking at them. He hates that the kid feels the need to wear them. But Hawks is right - it’s better than the alternative.

Hizashi showers, while Sho prepares his coffee for the morning. He pours the grounds into the filter, sets the timer. He pulls his phone out to text Tsukauchi and lets him know about the kid’s apparent escape attempt. The detective is still struggling piecing together a timeline of everything, and probably needs all the help he can get.

When Shota finally makes it to bed, Hizashi is still in the shower. He changes out of his hero costume and drops it on the floor. That’ll probably piss his husband off, but he’s too tired to care right now. He slips on some sweatpants and decides its way too hot to put on anything else, right now. He slips into soft sheets and closes his eyes, feeling the weight of the day ease off of him, the more he relaxes.

He’s almost asleep when his husband gets out of the shower. He cracks open his eyes, appreciating the sight in front of him.

Hizashi’s hair is still damp as he brushes his product through long, blonde waves. He’s wearing a tight pair of briefs and nothing else. His tattoos that he usually keeps covered are on full display, and Shota finds his gaze roaming over them. His attention hovers over one in particular – the one Hizashi got with his very first paycheck, back when he was still a sidekick. On his chest, right over his heart, in bold, curling letters – Shota.

“You’re awake?” Hizashi asks, surprised, when he slips into bed beside him. Shota makes a noise and closes his eyes.

“No.”

“Hm…” Hizashi hums, doubtful.

“Are you still having trouble sleeping?” He asks, reaching over to turn off the light.

“Unfortunately.”

“Hmm… Want me to help with that?”

Suddenly, Shota is wide awake. Hizashi’s voice has taken on a tone he hasn’t heard in weeks – deep and teasing and full of a liquid fire that Shota loves being burned with. But…

“We can’t.” He admits, regretfully. Hizashi is doing something next to him – tying his hair back.

“Why not?”

“Can’t wake the kid.” He says, honestly. His husband hums.

“I don’t think he’s going to wake up, tonight. He seemed pretty deep asleep.” His husband points out, and starts moving a little closer.

“You’re too loud.” Shota argues, but it feels like he’s losing.

It starts to feel like he’s winning, when Hizashi parts his legs. Shota can feel himself growing hard through his sweatpants – they haven’t touched each other like this since before the raid – since before they brought the kid home.

“Hm… guess I’ll just have to keep my mouth busy, then.” Hizashi purrs, and slips his hand beneath his waistband. His breath hitches, when he realizes what he’s implying and why he tied his hair back. He holds back a groan at the thought.

“You… Ah – ‘Zashi.” He breathes out, when he can feel his husband’s mouth around him.

That night, Shota is the one that struggles to keep quiet.

**********

“No nightmares?” Hizashi asks, when he wakes up in the morning. He’s smirking, clearly proud of himself.

Shota doesn’t answer, but his husband doesn’t expect him to. When it’s this early in the morning, there’s only one thing on Shota’s mind. He stumbles towards it, in the kitchen, and reaches for the pot when he realizes… some of it is missing.

“G-Good morning. Aizawa-Sensei.”

Shota turns around to see the kid sitting at the kitchen table, with his new laptop. There’s a steaming cup next to him. He stands up, brings it over to the hero.

“I m-made your coffee. Two sugars, right?” He asks, hesitantly.

Shota is used to having little to no brain power in the mornings, but the kid has all but wiped his system, requiring a reboot in the form of a hug that Shota initiates.

“Oof!” The kid muffles against the hero’s chest.

Shota has reached out, wrapped an arm around the kid with one hand while he grabs the coffee with the other. He throws it back, feels a little more like himself once it’s almost gone.

“Oh? I didn’t get a morning hug!” Hizashi pouts when he enters the kitchen. Shota flushes when he realizes what he’s doing and he lets go of the kid, who is just as red.

“You didn’t make my coffee.” Shota points out, trying to distract him. He should’ve known better.

“Oh?! So sweet! You already noticed that’s really the way to Sho’s heart, huh?” Hizashi coos and pinches Shota’s cheek. He smacks the hand away and goes to make a second cup.

“Did you sleep okay?” Hizashi asks the kid, noting the laptop.

“I did, actually! I just woke up, too. No bad dreams.” The kid smiles, proud.

“That’s great, kid.” Eraser says, genuine. The kid brightens, reminds Shota of his husband.

“Wh-When do you have to leave?” He asks.

“Seven.”

“Oh?! But, that was ten minutes ago!” The kid says, glancing back at his laptop. Shota blinks.

“’Zashi!” Shota complains, rushes to the bedroom to get his costume.

“I’ve been trying to wake you up forever, Sho! I’m not a miracle worker!” Hizashi complains. Shota rolls his eyes, but he knows his husband is probably telling the truth. It’s a process, waking him up.

Shota feels a little better today, knowing the kid will be at home with his husband. And since he seemed okay yesterday, he isn’t quite as worried. But he still doesn’t like leaving him, knows today will be another difficult one when he isn’t busy yelling at his new batch of problem children.

“H-Have a good day.” The kid says, on his way out. Aizawa pauses at the door. Thinks about reaching out. He doesn’t.

“You too, kid. I’ll see you at five.” He promises. The kid nods, a little more confidently than he did the day before.

“Love you.” Hizashi leans over and kisses his cheek. Shota starts, glances over at the kid. Lately, they haven’t really shown each other the usual level of affection they normally would. They weren’t sure how the kid would react. But he surprises Shota, not even batting an eye. He sips his smoothie and waves goodbye.

“Love you, too.” Shota says.

**********

Eraser arrives at UA with enough time to stop by the staff room for a cup or two of coffee. He’s able to dodge most of the students, nodding at one or two more persistent ones that try and catch his attention. Once he gets to the teacher’s lounge, however, he doesn’t stand a chance of going unnoticed.

“Eraseeer! Where’s Mic?!” Midnight asks, after looking over his shoulder and seeing no one.

“With the kid.”

“Oh? For how long?” Thirteen asks, pausing on his way out the door.

“Rest of the week.” Eraser grunts, finding a mug that was probably clean, and pouring the coffee to the brim.

“How is he doing?” Snipe asks from behind his mask. Eraser shrugs, adds his sugar.

“He’s… okay. Got a full night of sleep, last night.”

“That’s great!” Midnight smiles.

“Mhm.” Eraser hums and take a sip of his coffee. It’s not as good as the cup the kid made him, earlier, but it’ll do. He nods to everyone on his way out the door, not wanting to be any later than he already is. He’s joined by another homeroom teacher.

“How’s your class, this year?” Vlad King follows him out. Eraser shrugs again.

“Loud.”

“Ah, same. Better behaved than last year’s, but it’s still early.” The other homeroom teacher sighs.

“I haven’t expelled anyone yet, but it was a close call yesterday.” Eraser admits, thinking back on Mineta’s abysmal performance during the quirk apprehension test. Vlad King lets out a chuckle.

“You’re getting soft.” He notes. Eraser hums, thinks on his husband and the kid he left at home.

“Maybe.”

The heroes part ways, when they get to their respective classrooms. Eraser takes a breath and another sip of coffee. He can hear his class from outside the closed door, and readies himself for the day.

Eraser hadn’t been exaggerating, when he’d said his class was loud. Bakugo was a migraine all on his own – loud and brash and confrontational, but powerful and sharp as hell. Kaminari wasn’t necessarily loud, but he tended to invite the wrath of the former as form of entertainment. And when he and the acid girl, Ashido, got together… It reminded him of Mic and Midnight, back in their own days at UA.

Then, there was Monoma. At first, Aizawa had him lumped together with the likes of Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, and Jiro – quiet, reserved, observant. Then, after the first assessment on their first day, he’d quickly moved him to the other end up of the spectrum along with Bakugo, Kirishima, and Ashido – reckless, disruptive, and alarmingly perceptive.

“Try doing it with your quirk. Feel free to do whatever you want, just stay in the circle.” Eraser had instructed Bakugo. He had him go first, because he was sure to intimidate the rest of the students, to force their hand and push them to their limits.

He didn’t disappoint.

“DIE!!!” Bakugo used the full force of his quirk when he reared his arm back, threw the ball hard with everything he had.

An explosion, a cocky smirk, and –

“Seven hundred and fifty meters.”

The boy’s smirk only intensified, grew dark and smugger, if possible. Eraser is glad he’s been admitted to UA – he would’ve made a terrifying villain.

“Monoma, you’re up.” Eraser announces.

The boy struts up, long legs carrying him past Bakugo. He pats his shoulder, as they pass each other, earning a disgruntled bark from the explosion user. Monoma just laughs, light and airy.

“What was it you said? Die?” Monoma smirks. He stretches, rears back, and –

BOOM

“Oi?! The fuck?! The fuck did you just do, you shitty fucking copycat?!” Bakugo roars and only Kirishima’s hand on his shoulder stops him from advancing.

“Five hundred meters.” Eraser announces, and Monoma winces, rolls his shoulder.

“Hm… I would’ve liked a little farther, but I guess I’m not used to practicing with such a… straight-forward quirk, as that.” Monoma ponders, leaving Bakugo fuming.

“If you can copy anyone’s in the class, why not Ochako’s? Hers will surely float the farthest.” Eraser points out. Ochako blushes and earns a glare from Bakugo.

“Oh, because. I wanted to see the look on this one’s face,” Monoma points a thumb in Bakugo’s direction and then pouts, “I missed it though. I was too focused on radiating the same murderous energy; to see if that had any effect on the strength of the quirk. It doesn’t, in case in you’re curious, Sensei.”

“OH?! YOU WANNA FUCKING GO, COPYCAT?! I’LL EXPLODE YOUR FUCKING ARMS SO FAR, SEVEN HUNDRED METERS IS NOTHING!”

“Ah, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not super into pain, and we haven't even talked safe words…” Monoma scratches his head, bashfully, which only infuriates Bakugo further. Eraser sees a smirk tugging at the edge of Monoma's lips the whole time, completely aware of the affect he’s having on Bakugo. He's purposely provoking him, which is when Eraser realizes… Monoma Nieto is a menace.

Now, though, as Eraser walks into the classroom, he can see that Bakugo and Monoma have formed a united front. Because if there’s one thing they seemingly hate more than each other, it’s –

“Oi – Purple fuck. You say shit like that again, and I’ll blow your fucking dick off – got it?” Bakugo has his arms crossed, but Eraser can see the smoke coming off of them from his spot in the doorway.

Monoma laughs, deceivingly light, and adds, “Actually, you say anything to her again, and I’ll rip those… balls of yours off your head, and let you choke on them. Got it?” He winks.

Mineta has grown pale behind them, and Eraser is curious as to what could have possibly garnered that kind of reaction. Bakugo and Monoma are loud and obnoxious, but Bakugo’s threats tend to be empty, while Monoma prefers to tease and jab.

Eraser sighs. It’s going be a long week, and it’s only Tuesday.

**********

“I’ll admit, Eraser, I was surprised to receive your message.” The principal greets him, opening the door to his office.

Eraser doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t usually say much, when it’s just them two. Eraser doesn’t like the feeling of being so heavily scrutinized, and the Principal’s eyes have always been a little too… sharp, for his liking.

“I wanted to apologize in person, for my absence during the entrance exams.” He starts. The principal waves one of his paws.

“No need, Mic explained everything to me. How is the kid?” He asks.

“He’s… adjusting.”

“That’s good to hear.” Nedzu says, sincere. Eraser hums in agreement.

“I assume that’s not all you’re here for?” The principal prompts.

“It’s not… I – We – Mic and I wanted to know if you knew of any psychologists that you might recommend? Yamada has been looking, but it’s been difficult to find someone that can actually help the kid. His case isn’t exactly… standard.” Eraser settles on.

Eraser doesn’t even know what the kid’s case is, to be honest. He isn’t sure the kid knows, either. Even with the nightmares and the increasingly frequent dissociative episodes, it’s clear that he’s handling everything a little too perfectly. He’s been avoiding things, and though Shota doesn’t want to admit it, he’s worried his husband may be right about the kid suppressing his emotions.

“I understand. I do have some that I may be able to reach out to. I don’t know them personally, but I know their work and reputation, and believe there are a few that could help.” The principal says, and pauses for a sip of his tea.

“May I ask - what do I need to consider? He’s obviously been through a trauma, so that’s of course going to be a consideration. Is there anything else you think a prospective counselor should be aware of?” He asks.

Eraser thinks back to the marks on his neck, the first time they met. The way he was so terrified of him and Hizashi’s bedroom, for the first few days. The fact that Chisaki shared a bed with him for three years, would keep him tied to him physically as well as emotionally. The fact that the kid knew without a doubt that he hadn’t been drugged with those smoothies, because, “Chisaki likes me clean”.

“Definite sexual abuse. I’m not sure about the extent, but I have a feeling it was… severe. Physical abuse. He can’t… eat certain things. Or, anything, really. He has nightmares, and he spaces out a lot. I think even before he was taken, his home life wasn’t great. He’s terrified of going back. But honestly, I don’t… I don’t really know. He doesn’t tell us much.” Eraser admits. The principal nods, taking a mental note.

“There is someone I think may be able to help. I can reach out to them after our meeting, and see if they would be interested.” He says. Eraser feels a weight roll off his shoulders.

“Thank you.” He says, sincere. The principal waves a paw.

“No thanks necessary. From what I hear, the kid saved one of UA’s finest teachers! And Snipe sure does keep going on about him, when he’s brought up.” Nedzu says. Eraser frowns at this. Just how often is he being brought up?

“While you’re here – I have to ask. Do you and Mic know what you’re going to do when next week rolls around? I assume he’s not yet at a place to be left alone for a period of time.”

“He’s… no, he’s not,” Eraser sighs, “Honestly, Yamada has been thinking of leaving, for a while. A few months leave, maybe. He has the time, but… I don’t want him to give up his job, either.”

Hizashi loves his job – has loved it from his very first day. He makes an incredible hero, but Shota has always thought he was destined to be a teacher. He’s patient, kind, smart, and funny. He knows when to take things seriously, and when to give someone a break. He hates the idea of him having to give that up, even though he knows he would do it for the kid in a heartbeat.

“That’s certainly an option. UA would, of course, accept him back when he was ready to return. But, as an alternative, have you considered simply… bringing the kid with you?” Nedzu asks. Shota stills.

“Like… as a student? I don’t… We don’t know that he’s ready to be back in school, yet.” He admits. Nedzu shakes his head.

“He could shadow your classes, as a prospective student. We’ve had applicants do so in the past.”

“Yes, but for a day or two. Not indefinitely.”

“Not indefinitely. But for a few weeks, or months. As you said, his circumstances certainly aren’t standard. But I don’t see an issue with him learning, as an observer. It may make the transition back into school a little easier for him, in the end.” 

“It… would,” Eraser concedes, “But what exactly are you getting out of this?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. The principal rarely does things for reasons outside of his own self-interest, even when it comes to the students. Especially when it comes to the students.

“Like I said – Snipe sure does go on about him. And Yagi does too, for that matter. I have to admit, I’m curious to see if he lives up to the hype.” He smiles. Eraser frowns.

“He does.” He says, almost petulant and irritated that anyone would think differently.

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” Nedzu offers. Eraser thinks for a moment.

“…I’ll bring it up to Mic. We’ll talk to the kid, see what he thinks.”

“Excellent!” The principal smiles.

Eraser checks the time, and sees he’s running a few minutes late to his next class. All-Might’s class, technically, but as homeroom teacher he wants to be there for himself, to see this first battle between his class.

“I have to go. But thank you, principal.” He bows, slightly.

“Of course! Good luck with your students.” He sings.

Eraser rolls his eyes, but thanks him. He’s going to need it.

**********

Eraser notices something about Bakugo, when he watches him from the stands, next to All-Might. The kid is the definition of all bark, with no bite. He yells a lot, curses even more, and Eraser has to wonder how his eyes haven’t simply fallen out of their sockets with how often he rolls them. But the kid also knows when to be quiet – he never yells too close to Uraraka, or Shoji. He always makes sure to stand on Todoroki’s right side, well within his field of vision. He even caught him signing with Koda once, after the quiet kid had admitted he was more comfortable with JSL. Eraser had made a note of that too, to brush up on his.

With that being said, however, Eraser can see the way this fight ends from a mile away. He openly glares at All-Might, wondering what the hell the man is thinking by pairing up such evenly matched and unstable students.

“Young Bakugo and Iida – You will be playing the villains. And – Ah, Young Todoroki and Monoma – you will be the heroes.”

Monoma’s face breaks into a smile at these turn of events. He reaches out for Bakugo’s hand, who quickly dodges out of the way.

“Don’t even think about it, fuck-face.”

Monoma pouts, but quickly recovers, glancing around the room for his next target.

“You’re sure this is a good idea, All-Might?” Eraser turns to face the man.

“I’m sure it will be fine, Eraser! I think it will be interesting to see how young Bakugo and Todoroki will do – two long range offensive quirks inside a relatively confined space. And I believe Iida will take direction very well from Bakugo. And Monoma… well…” All-Might hesitates.

Eraser feels something brush against him, but turns to see nothing there. He adjusts his scarf and leans back, ready to watch his train wreck of a class take a few years off his life.

They take closer to a decade.

The moment the timer starts, there’s an explosion. Eraser really shouldn’t have been surprised, but he thought Bakugo would’ve had a bit more restraint. Luckily, his target was someone that had the ability to form a wall of ice as a shield. And who had the foresight not to use right side of his body in the face of the explosion.

The defense didn’t stop Bakugo, who appeared to have a one mind track when it came to this game of villains and heroes – and that was to absolutely demolish the heroes.

“Come on, you candy cane bastard! Don’t hold back on me now!” Bakugo smiled, and it was feral, and Shota could nearly feel the adrenaline rush from his spot in the viewing room.

Todoroki hadn’t appeared to inherit his father’s temper, which Shota was thankful for. He wasn’t even phased by the other boy’s taunts, and only slid farther away on the ice, drawing Bakugo out and farther away from the his side of the building.

Iida had decided to stay with the bomb, but was frantically speaking into the com system he was sharing with Bakugo. Eraser turned up the volume so they could hear it in the viewing room.

“No sign of Monoma – You’re sure he isn’t there with you? I don’t even hear him!”

“No that fucker isn’t here! He isn’t getting past me!” Bakugo yells and blasts off, his gauntlets propelling him forward into another wall of ice that Todoroki has built – only to crash through it, shatter it, taking Todoroki by surprise.

Eraser realizes, then, that Monoma isn’t anywhere. He scans all the cameras, looking for him, when he spots something. A training uniform, seemingly floating down one of the halls. Krishima speaks up.

“Is he even here?” He asks out loud what everyone else is wondering.

But then there’s a quiet giggle from somewhere in the room, and Eraser’s eyes find Hagakure’s signature pair of gloves hovering somewhere where her mouth might be, covering the sound. He raises his eyebrows, almost impressed. The kid was smart, too.

“STOP FUCKING – RUNNING – AWAY!” Bakugo is yelling and blasting and Todoroki is sweating now, trying to hold him back.

“Tch – so mean! You’ll never make friends with that attitude!” Monoma’s voice sounds from somewhere close to the two heroes, and Bakugo starts.

“You – MONOMA!” Bakugo starts swinging at nothing, and this only spurs Monoma on.

“How embarrassing! It’s so easy to rile you up; you don’t even make it a challenge!” He laughs.

Bakugo turns murderous at this, his face a bright red. He starts laughing, somewhat maniacally, and cracks his neck. Todoroki starts using his quirk as an offense, but Bakugo blasts each attempt out of the way without so much as batting an eye.

“You little – “

“Monoma.” Todoroki says, and it’s the first word Eraser’s even heard the kid say, since introducing himself to the class. But it seems to do the trick, because Monoma stops laughing.

Hagakure’s quirk disappears, and Monoma appears a few feet away from both of the other heroes - far enough away that he’s safe from any immediate physical retribution from Bakugo. But it’s not far enough from his long-range attack, and Monoma has to hit the floor to avoid being blasted.

“All-Might.” Eraser turns to the other teacher, who is watching the training with rapt attention, as if this is entertaining for him.

“Todoroki can manage a hit like that, but not him.” Eraser says. All-Might turns to him,

“He just did!” He argues. Aizawa grimaces.

“You mother – stop fucking – OI!” Bakugo is so focused on Monoma that he doesn’t notice one of Todoroki’s attacks.

It hits Bakugo’s feet, rooting him to the spot, and the boy nearly falls over. He rights himself, gears up for another one of his large attacks – the kind that Eraser knows requires the sweat stored in those gauntlets that aren’t just for show. And with how much he’s been moving, fighting Todoroki – and how much Monoma has been taunting him – Aizawa can only imagine the kind of power this blast will have.

“All-Might, you need to stop this.” He says. All-Might shushes him – shushes him. Eraser feels his hackles rise, gets ready to put a stop to it himself. But he won’t get there in time, he realizes. Bakugo is getting angrier, and Monoma is grinning, and Todoroki is watching the exchange with a laser focused kind of attention.

Bakugo snarls, raises one gauntlet at Monoma while the others is pointed down, towards the ground he’s currently trapped in.

Eraser grabs the microphone that’s connected to the loud speakers, yells out, “Stop! Now!” at the same time the gauntlets start to smoke, and the same time Todoroki lets out his own yell, “Now!”

Just as Bakugo is about to let off the blast, it fizzles. Dies. There’s a pause, where Bakugo looks down at the gauntlets, shakes them. Eraser is just as confused, until he sees the way Monoma’s hair is standing up a little straighter, the way his red, unblinking eyes are focused on Bakugo. He remembers something brushing up against him earlier, but not seeing anything near him.

Damn.

“You!” Bakugo is furious now, and Todoroki moves quickly.

Todoroki doesn’t finish subduing Bakugo with the ice, like Eraser expects. Bakugo is able to break through it, before he reaches him. With Monoma’s glare still focused on the explosive blonde, it’s nothing more than brutal hand to hand combat. Bakugo is clearly more skilled than Todoroki in this area, and Eraser wonders if maybe they’d counted on Bakugo relying too heavily on his quirk to be good at anything else. If so, they were wrong.

Still, Todoroki puts up a fight. He’s able to hold his own, but he’s losing ground, and Eraser wonders where exactly they’re going with this. He can see Bakugo’s sweat from here, running down from his temple and his arms, the gauntlets must be full at this point. If Monoma blinks, for even a moment…

“Tch. You done, pretty boy?” Bakugo stands over Todoroki, with a boot on the boy’s chest that’s heaving hard, up and down. Even Todoroki is sweating now – he’s having trouble regulating his temperature. Eraser makes a note of that.

Bakugo raises a hand, ready to use his capture tape to subdue the boy, when Todoroki moves. He throws his own hand up, which Bakugo goes to block – but that’s exactly what the other hero was counting on. Another plume of ice is holding Bakugo’s arm up, just so, and Monoma is running, towards them, fast – and he blinks.

All of the nitroglycerin the gauntlet had stored, from before and after Bakugo’s quirk was erased, explodes at once. And it’s all pointed up, towards the second level, where the bomb is being kept.

As soon as Monoma blinks, he’s floating. Ochako gasps – she must not have known he’d bumped into her at some point in the last ten minutes. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s able to float just out of reach of one of Bakugo’s explosions from the other gauntlet – but it misses, and now both are out of commission.

Todoroki speeds up next to him, riding a wave of ice that spirals up and through the second floor. Him and Monoma land, facing a very surprised Iida, who is yelling frantically into the comms for Bakugo. But Bakugo is out of sweat, and has to take the stairs up to the second floor, yelling the whole way up. Monoma blinks, disappears while tearing off his own costume, and Todoroki attacks.

It’s over soon, after that. Iida is unable to fend off Todoroki and search for an invisible Monoma, who appears, fully clothed, after a red faced Iida had handed them to him from their spot on the floor, once the match had been called.

They’re all exhausted, Bakugo and Todoroki especially so. They’re both red faced and panting, gasping for air and downing a large bottle of water each.

“Incredible! Class – who can tell me what the heroes did that led to their victory?” All-Might asks, earning an eye roll from Bakugo.

“Teamwork!” Ashido speaks up. All-Might nods.

“Yes! Young Todoroki and Monoma made quite the team, even if they didn’t speak up much. Young Bakugo and Iida, however, did not communicate, which is what led to their ultimate defeat.”

“But… if this were real, they shouldn’t have tried to blow up the bomb, right? If it was an actual bomb, it would’ve detonated.” Jiro speaks up, twirling an earplug. All-Might stutters at the same time Eraser speaks.

“Ah – well…”

“Correct. If that were a real bomb, everyone – including them – would’ve died.” Eraser confirms. Todoroki looks a little chagrined at this, but Monoma just takes it all in stride.

“Yeah – We would’ve kicked your ass if you hadn’t used your fucking copycat quirk to cheat.” Bakugo snarls, standing up from his spot on Todoroki’s right. Only to get up and plop right back down on his left and glare at anyone else that tries to take his previous spot. If Todoroki notices, he doesn’t make it known.

“It’s not cheating, Young Bakugo. Monoma is using his quirk the same as you do yours.” All-Might reminds him. Bakugo mutters out some more unintelligible cursing, before All-Might relents.

“Okay. Next – Kirishima and Sero are the heroes – Ochako and Asui, you will be the villains.”

Luckily, Shota’s phone saves him from having to sit through another life-draining training exercise. He feels it vibrate in his pocket and looks down to see his husband calling. He stomach falls, nervous, until he realizes the time. It’s nearly noon.

“Hey, Sho! Someone was missing you, but was too shy to call you on his own.” His husband sings. Eraser can hear a lot of flustered choking in the background.

“Hm. Is that someone you?” Eraser teases and exits the viewing room.

“HA! Whoops – sorry, kiddo. Sho, when have I ever been shy?” Hizashi asks.

“Hm… Well, the first time that we-”

“YOU’RE ON SPEAKER, SHO!” Eraser winces as his phone tries to cut out at the sudden volume.

“Hey, kiddo.” Shota greets. There’s some shuffling, and,

“H-Hi. Aizawa-Sensei. Um, h-how’s your second day?”

Eraser doesn’t realize he’s smiling, but he feels that familiar happiness float up somewhere in his chest.

“It’s awful. I wish my problem children were more like you.” He says, half joking. It gets the reaction he was hoping for, though, when the kid stutters out,

“Wh-What?! No way!”

“Is Hizashi behaving?” He asks. A huff of air, an attempt at a laugh.

“No.” The kid says, and Eraser can hear a smile in his voice.

“What?! Yes, I am!”

“He had a jelly packet for breakfast.” The kid stage whispers. Shota laughs.

“You said you wouldn’t tell him!” Eraser can hear Hizashi complain.

“No, you asked me not to tell him.” The kid argues.

His husband and him go back and forth for a while – for Shota’s entire lunch, actually. He’d been planning on taking a nap for an hour, but… as he listens to his two favorite people instead, he realizes there might be some things worth losing sleep over.

Chapter Text

Hizashi wakes up alone – something that’s taken time to get used to. In the beginning of their relationship, when he and Shota were just starting out, it was a rarity for them to have the same time to sleep. It had become something of a habit to sprawl out in the large, empty bed, without having to worry about flailing limbs or loud snores. Then, when Hizashi started his own radio show – Hands Up! Radio – the opportunities to fall asleep together became nonexistent. It was only when him and Shota started working at UA, teaching more than anything else, that a new habit formed. Hizashi has been spoiled the last few years into falling asleep and waking up next to his favorite person. Shota still took an odd case here and there that may have him working nights, but for the most part – they were together.

Since they’ve brought the kid home, Hizashi has been waking up alone only to walk out and find his husband lounging next to the kid, as close as he dares, waiting for Hizashi to relieve him. Hizashi spends his mornings with the kid, chatting about heroes or his radio show, trying to learn about the kid without pushing him too far. But today, when he’d woken up, it was to find that the kid was actually still sleeping. Hizashi had been surprised, but pleased, and had slipped back into bed after his husband left for work.

Now, though, he was sure the kid had to be awake. The light filtering in through the window was too bright, and Hizashi stumbled out of bed, berating himself for sleeping so late. He knew the kid waited for him to wake, to pull him out of whatever nightmares were still floating around in his head, and he’d totally dropped the ball this time around.

He throws on one of Shota’s softer shirts, shakes his legs into some sweats, and hurries out the door. He usually doesn’t make it more than a few steps before the kid races over, stopping just short of completely colliding with him. It’s cute as hell, and never fails to make Hizashi smile. But today, he’s nowhere to be found.

“Kid?” Hizashi calls out, nervous. He doesn’t get a response, but as he walks, he starts to smell something that has his stomach growling, loudly.

He reaches the kitchen and finds the kid with his back facing him. He can see why he didn’t response to Hizashi. He has a bright red pair of headphones on his head - Hawks’ of course, even though Mic’s was much better quality, and he’s cooking something that smells really, really good.

“What’re you making, listener?” Mic calls out. The kid starts, but doesn’t panic, which Hizashi takes as a good sign.

“G-Good morning, Yamada!” He says, and takes his headphones off to set them on the counter.

“Good morning! Whatcha doing?” He repeats. He looks around the kid to see what it is that smells so good.

“Um… Y-You were still asleep, and you always make me my sm-smoothies in the morning, so… I th-thought today, I could make you b-b-breakfast.” The kid gets out, wringing his hands, nervously.

“Really?!” Hizashi stands up a little straighter and walks over. The kid nods, bites his lip.

“Um… it’s just omurice. I k-kind of remembered how to make it, b-but I used my phone to look up a recipe.”

Hizashi is overcome with a rush of emotion – gratitude, affection, and maybe something a little stronger that he’s refusing to give a name to, so soon.

“Aw, thank you kiddo! You’re so thoughtful! Is it ready?” He asks to distract from the kid’s apparent discomfort at being complimented. The kid nods.

“Can you still make my smoothie? It’s not as good when I make it...” The kid admits. Hizashi smiles.

“Of course!”

They eat breakfast at the table together, with Hizashi calling out name after name, trying to get the kid to crack. With an answer or a smile – Hizashi isn’t picky. After that, the kid takes a sketchbook and some pencils that Hawks had bought him the other day to the small patio right outside their apartment, while Hizashi starts doing some chores around the house.

More often than not, this has become the routine. The kid loves sitting outside – whether he’s sketching, reading, or just taking a nap in the sunlight with Mia and Roko curled up next to him. Hizashi has an embarrassing amount of pictures of that exact situation saved on his phone.

Hizashi hums as he picks up some laundry around the home. The kid’s door is open, so he peeks in to see if he has any clothes that need to be added. He has a few in his laundry basket, so Hizashi adds them to the pile. He spots the capture scarf hanging off the back of the desk chair and adds that as well, after realizing it probably hasn’t been washed since just after the raid.

Hizashi likes spending time with the kid. He really likes waking up and spending his mornings with him, he likes eating lunch together and waiting for Sho to get home. But Hizashi really misses his students, too. He’s loved being a teacher since his very first day, and while he really doesn’t mind putting in on hold for a few months while the kid adjusts to his new life, he can’t ignore the longing.

When Shota had come to him with Principal Nedzu’s suggestion – Having the kid shadow Eraser at school, having him sit in classes – he’d been hesitant. He wasn’t sure throwing him into something so soon was a good idea. But Eraser had pointed out that he could start acclimating to school life without the actual pressure of performance or expectation, and had also pointed out that it would probably be a good thing for the kid to start interacting with other peers that were his own age.

When Hizashi and Shota had brought it to the kid, he’d been… anxious, to say the least.

“B-But I – I can’t go to UA! I – I don’t even think I’d be able to f-f-finish the entrance exams! And I can’t – I don’t - can’t be a hero! It isn’t fair! Th-There are probably o-other kids that are – that are better than me – they should be there instead!” He’d argued.

“You wouldn’t be… going to UA, necessarily.” Hizashi explains. Shota nods and adds,

“You would be shadowing the class. Seeing how you like it – and learning, so you can take whatever entrance exams you want, wherever you want.”

“Yeah, kiddo! You don’t have to go to UA, if you don’t want! And if you do, it doesn’t have to be in the hero course!”

“There are general studies, as well.” Eraser agrees.

The kid’s eyes start to water, and his breathing grows shallow – after spending enough time with the kid, Hizashi knows he’s starting to get overwhelmed. His hand sinks into his pocket, and Hizashi wonders if the feather or the snack bar are even in one piece at this point, with how often he holds onto them.

“You don’t need to give us an answer right now.” Shota reminds him. Hizashi  nods.

“And if you decide you don’t want to try it – that’s fine! We just wanted to give you the option.” Hizashi tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Wh…What’s going to happen, if I don’t want to?” He asks, not looking at them.

“Then I’ll stay here with you!” Hizashi tells him. The kid looks up at this, worrying his bottom lip and hunching over.

“B-But… You like teaching.” He says. His wide, green eyes are searching for something in Hizashi’s.

“I do. But, I like you too.” Hizashi says, simply. The kid’s eyes widen further, disbelieving.

In the end, the kid hadn’t made a decision. He’d mumbled, “I can think about it?” just loud enough for them to hear. When they’d told him that yes, he could, he’d looked only marginally more relieved.

That had been night before last – It was Thursday now, and Hizashi had one more day off before he had to give the Principal an answer. Friday, Hizashi would have to take the kid to his first check-up since being released from the hospital, and he was nervous as to how the kid would react - if it would drag him back a few steps. Hopefully the kid would have an answer before then, but if not, Hizashi was already prepared to kick it at home with him for a while.

Today, though, he felt like he was going a bit crazy. He’d only been home for two full days, but after the last few weeks of staying in with his husband and the kid, it felt like an eternity. He was growing restless just sitting around – and the apartment had never been this clean since they’d first moved into it, years before.

Hizashi checks the time – barely ten in the morning – and sends a quick text over to one of his sidekicks at the station. Maybe he could take the kid out for a few hours to kill some time, while also getting a little bit of work in. He could check in with his staff, at least, who he’d definitely been neglecting the last few weeks. Not that they complained – if anything, they were glad he was finally taking time off. But still, he had to admit, he missed the studio.

While he waits for a response, he decides to be brave and attempt to clean up Sho’s study, since the man would never do it himself. He passes by the kid, still on the patio, and opens the door. He’d expected something far more gruesome – usually there were pictures of dead bodies or body parts strewn across his desk, or dropped on the floor. There would be case files with haunting details that would sometimes give Hizashi literal nightmares. But his husband must have cleaned up all the more disturbing evidence of his underground work in case the kid got curious, because while it wasn’t clean, it also wasn’t awful.

Hizashi should have just left it at that, but one of Shota’s half empty coffee cups were sitting on his desk, next to a heavy looking case file. He rolls his eyes as he walks across the room and bends over to grab the cup. His eyes catch the title of the file – it’s hard not to, in big letters –

DEKU (FILE #1)

Hizashi bites his lip and hesitates. He knows his husband has more of the details than he does. Not that there are many – the police still hadn’t been able to break Chisaki’s file on the kid – but enough that Hizashi didn’t want to know about them. Now, though, that he’s seen the effect his nightmares have on him – now that he’s seen the slightest, most innocuous phrases or actions trigger him into a kind of episode – he wondered if maybe knowing more would help. Maybe he could know what to watch for, what not to say, if he knew a little more about what happened in the first place.

He glances up at the open door, but he hasn’t heard the kid come in, so he’s probably still outside. He sits down in the rolling chair, slowly, and opens the file.

The first page is a copy of the SANE exam findings. It looks like they’d just come in a few days ago, and Shota had added them to the file. Hizashi reads over the results, not really wanting to linger on some of the details or phrases that were used to describe the findings. His gaze does linger over the one section that went over common STIs :

HIV/AIDS:  Not detected

Chlamydia: Not detected

Trichomoniasis: Not detected

Genital Herpes: Not detected

Hizashi’s eyes widen. He… hadn’t even realized that was something they may have had to be concerned with. It hadn’t crossed his mind that since the kid had been abused, it was a very real possibility he could’ve experienced the physical repercussions of those instances – not just emotional. He swallows past a lump in his throat, is grateful the results are negative, and moves down the page.

There’s a lot more medical jargon he’s unfamiliar with, though most of it he can piece together through context. The initial exam had come back non-acute, and after a quick Google search he learned that meant that sexual abuse was not likely within the last twenty four hours of the exam. Further down, however, there was an addendum on the page – the kid’s oral swabs had come back positive for male DNA – and it wasn’t Chisaki’s. His husband had put a star next to this piece of information, with a note – Have Tsukauchi run ASAP

Hizashi’s heart grows a little heavier at the knowledge that not long before throwing himself in front of his husband, before dying twice on the operating table – the kid had been abused. It was hard to imagine, even with the obvious trauma that hovered over the kid. He was still so… peaceful, yet full of life. He smiled now – and had even started teasing Hizashi a little bit. He wasn’t sure how this was the same kid that had gone through that, but if there was one thing Hizashi had learned at the workshop he’d attended at the university, it’s that kids were resilient.

The next page has details of some of the more minor injuries sustained from the raid, along with pictures. Hizashi doesn’t linger on those. They’re all captioned at the bottom – Deku Side Left, Deku Side Right, Deku Quad 1… Deku, Deku, Deku. It eats at Hizashi, a little bit. Couldn’t the hospital have used something else to identify the kid?

Before he can get much further into the file, he gets a response from his sidekick. He smiles, is glad for an excuse to shut the file and try his hardest not to think about it anymore. He doesn’t know how his husband is able to have that kind of knowledge about the kid and not break down or fly into a rage at the drop of a hat, but Hizashi supposed he’s always been made of tougher steel than himself.

He searches for the kid, hears the sliding glass door closing just in time to meet him on his way inside. Hizashi smiles, waves to catch his attention so the kid can pause whatever he’s listening to with his new headphones.

“Hey, kiddo! I was thinking – Would you wanna go on a field trip? Maybe visit the studio with me today?”

The kid nearly drops his sketchbook, has to bend down to catch it before it hits the floor. He looks up from his crouched position with wide, green eyes. His expression quickly moves from surprise to excitement, with only a hint of nerves showing through.

“R-Really?! Your studio?!”

“Yeah! I have to check on some stuff and check in with my interns, so I figured I could give you a tour!”

“Really?!”

The kid is standing now, and is nearly vibrating with what looks like excitement. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, pushes his hair out of his face and behind his ears, so Hizashi can see a slight blush forming on freckled cheeks.

“Yeah!”

“When?!”

“Whenever you’re-” The kid rushes off before he can finish his sentence, and Hizashi laughs.

He texts Shota to let him know about his plan and finishes the laundry before he starts getting ready. He transfers everything from the wash to the dryer, and Shota replies with a simple, Have fun.

Hizashi turns on the bathroom light and glances at his reflection. He doesn’t always have his hair up when he visits, especially if he isn’t actually working, but he kind of wants to give the kid the whole Present Mic experience. And since he’s sprung this idea on the kid out of nowhere, he knows it’s going to take a while for the kid to pick out something to wear and get ready himself.

But he hasn’t even finished running product through his hair when there’s a call from the other side of the apartment.

“Yamada?!” It sounds a little more urgent than usual, so he sets down his brush and sprints down the hall.

“What’s wrong?” Hizashi skids around the corner and stops just before he gets to the kid’s door, nearly running into him.

The kid is barely holding it together – worried and panicked tears are threatening to overflow bright green eyes.

“H-Have you seen my sc-scarf? I’m – I don’t know where it is! I thought I put it on – on the – on the chair, but I can’t find it now!” He wails. His scarred hands are running through and pulling on his hair.

“Oh!” Yamada smiles and sighs with relief before continuing, “I took it – Don’t worry kiddo!”

There’s a moment – a brief one – in which Hizashi realizes just how badly he’s messed up, before the coming storm. It’s when the kid stills – an actual, full body freeze, to the point where Hizashi’s not sure the kid is even breathing. Hizashi feels something heavy sink in his gut, and when the kid blinks, once, twice, three times before the color drains from his face, Hizashi panics.

“I- I mean – I didn’t, like, take it! It’s still yours! I…” Hizashi trails off when the kid still isn’t moving – he’s not even crying, which usually becomes his default setting when he’s upset.

“But… you promised?” The kid whispers, questions. Hizashi panics.

“I did! I do! It’s still your scarf kiddo, I promise! I just washed it – it hasn’t been washed since you came home, and-”

“But, you promised! You promised! You promised!” The kid is hyperventilating, and his pale skin has started coloring, and Hizashi tries to diffuse the situation, but he knows it’s too late.

The kid is holding on to his own forearms, hunched over, looking at him with such a look of betrayal, Hizashi thinks he can feel his heart actually breaking. He waves his hands, which sends the kid into a full body flinch, his hands rising defensively, in front of his face.

“Shit, kid – I promise, I just washed it – okay? It’s still yours; no one is taking it from you! I promise!”

“I want it! You said – you said it was mine!” The kid backs up, still looks fucking terrified, and is watching Hizashi’s movements with a practiced eye.

“It is! But it’s in the dryer! You can have it, you just have to-”

“NO! NO! I DON’T WANT -  I DON’T WANT TO – YOU PROMISED!”

Hizashi starts, takes his own step back. The kid’s face is bright red now, and he’s crying – completely overwhelmed. His little chest is heaving, his hands are shaking, his eyes are wild and he’s so fucking distressed that Hizashi is afraid he’s going to pass out before he can get to him.

“Shh, kid – it’s okay, I promise. It’s in the dryer, it’s wet right now, but I… shit, okay, let me just get it. Just…” Hizashi really doesn’t want to leave the kid alone right now, even for the few seconds it’ll take him to run to the laundry room.

“Okay, why don’t you come with me and I’ll get it for you, okay?” Hizashi offers, but something he’s said has triggered the kid even further, because he flinches back so hard it’s like Hizashi may as well have slapped him across the face.

And the kid breaks.

He crumples to the ground with big, heaving sobs breaking him apart from somewhere Hizashi will never see, will never be able to comprehend.

“Y-You promised – You – You said – You wouldn’t – I don’t - I don’t want to –“ The kid manages between gasping for air and choking on his own saliva.

Fuck.

Hizashi crouches to the ground, maintaining his distance. He pulls out his phone with his own shaking hands and hesitates – would Shota make this better or worse? He decides to try, one more time, to explain.

“Kid,” He whispers, just loud enough to hear over the awful crying, “You don’t have to do anything. Okay? I’m really, really sorry. I was doing laundry, and I saw the scarf in your room, so I-”

The kid stops crying, abruptly, and snaps his head up to look at him. Hizashi’s breath catches in his throat at the look of… heartbreak that’s coming from the kid. Now it’s his turn to freeze – unsure of what to do or say.

“But…” The kid has stopped crying long enough to gasp, “You – you went in my – my room?” He questions, so fucking confused.

Hizashi thinks back to the first time he’d been in there with the kid, when he’d looked up at Hizashi – terrified to ask,

This is… This is really where I’ll sleep?

To which Hizashi had replied, emphatically, yes. He’d assured the kid that this was his room – his safe space – and neither he nor his husband would come in without his permission.

Hizashi’s own eyes widen, and he might be crying too, because they’re burning.

“I…Deku, I…”

Hizashi freezes. He feels his eyes widen – he feels his heart stop. His hands cover his mouth, but it’s too late – he can’t take it back.

The kid winces, another sob breaks through, and then he’s scrambling back on all fours, panicked. He’s shaking his head; Hizashi can just make out the no, no, no that makes it up for air, between silent cries.

Hizashi stills – he has no idea what to do. And then it doesn’t matter, because once the kid has crossed the threshold, he’s slamming the door shut – hard.

And if Hizashi thought the kid had been crying before – it’s nothing to what he hears once there’s a door between them.

The kid screams.

He’s screaming and crying and Hizashi knows – he knows that he’s never coming back from this. Whatever progress he’d made with the kid has been ruined, because Hizashi ruined it. He called him… fuck… He called him the one thing he promised he wouldn’t – he called him what Chisaki had called him for years – and it had just slipped out like it was nothing.

He doesn’t hesitate before calling his husband, and he’s definitely crying when Shota picks up on the first ring.

“Hizashi? Hizashi, what’s wrong?” His husband’s panicked voice breaks through the one in Hizashi’s head. He swallows down his distress, and gets out –

“You need to come home now. Please. Please, Shota – I fucked up – the kid-“

A moment passes, and, “I’m leaving now. Is he hurt?”

“No – No, I just – I fucked up Sho, I really fucked up, I-”

“Are you hurt?”

“No – no one’s hurt. I just-”

There’s a crash that comes from the kid’s side, and another sob cracks through the apartment, like lightening during a storm.

“Is that him?” Shota asks. Hizashi nods, realizes he can’t see him.

“Y-Yes.” He manages. He can hear his husband getting in the car, on his way. If he speeds, which he will, he’ll be here in under ten minutes.

“Okay. Hizashi, you need to try and calm him – make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

“I can’t – Sho, he’s fucking terrified of me!” He explains, frantic. His husband curses, but Hizashi can hear the car engine working overtime from here.

“Okay. Okay – just – keep an eye on him, okay? Or an ear. Keep talking to him – he may not know where he is. Okay?” Shota’s voice is the only thing Hizashi is focusing on – he can’t focus on the noises he hears from the other side of the door.

The kid is retching now, so overwhelmed that his body is physically rejecting the situation, and Hizashi can hear the small whimpers that are spaced out in between the heaving and subsequent rasping coughs.

“Fuck. Fuck – okay. I’m going to go. Just please, hurry, Sho.” Hizashi begs.

The retching has stopped, but there are still quiet whimpers and cries that he can hear. Hizashi wipes his own eyes, takes a breath. He needs to get it together. He needs to be here for the kid – now. He can fall apart later.

“Kid. Kid it’s – it’s me, it’s Mic. Do you – Do you know where you are, kiddo?” He asks, pushed up against the door.

There’s no reply, but the crying doesn’t get any louder, either.

“You’re home – you’re safe. You’re with me and Sho. And Roko, and Mia.” He adds.

“I kn-know!” The kid cries out, which is probably the worst thing he could’ve said. Because the kid knows where he is, and he doesn’t feel safe.

“O-Okay. Um – Sho is on his way, okay?” He offers. He doesn’t get a response at this, but the crying continues.

Hizashi knows it can’t be more than a handful of minutes, but it feels like an eternity before he hears the key jiggle in the lock of their front door. He looks up from his spot, sitting against the kid’s door, and sees his husband rush in – barely stopping to close the front door before he crosses the apartment.

He kneels down, sees Hizashi’s distraught expression, and holds a hand against his face, wipes his tears.

“What happened?” He asks, looking behind him at the kid’s door. Hizashi shakes his head.

“I’ll – Later. Just – Just help him.” He gets out and moves out of the way of the door. He stands, walks back on shaking legs. His husband glances at him once before nodding. He puts a hand on the doorknob, but Hizashi panics.

“Don’t! He – Don’t go in without asking.” Hizashi says.

“If he’s hurt-”

“Just knock, first.” Hizashi pleads. His husband does, against his better judgment. He knocks twice, still with a hand on the doorknob, and leans in to the door, further.

“Kid? It’s Eraser. Can I come in?” He asks, lowly. There’s no response, but the crying dies down just a bit.

“Kid, I’m coming in. Okay?” Is all the warning he gives, before opening the door.

Hizashi stills, nervous, and whatever Shota sees is enough to stop him from walking in further. He glances at Hizashi,

“He’s okay.” He whispers, and Hizashi feels relief settle in his limbs. He nods and wipes his face.

“Hey, kid. It’s just me.” Shota whispers, assures him, before walking in his room and closing the door behind him.

Hizashi all but runs to the bedroom, slams the door shut and sobs.

He makes sure the kid doesn’t hear. It’s hard – it’s so hard to control his quirk when he’s emotional like this. But he doesn’t want the kid thinking any of this his fault – Hizashi is the failure, here, not him.

Hizashi called him Deku.

He knows why – he’d been looking at the kid’s files, the name repeated over and over, and it’d slipped out in his panicked state, with no other name to give. But that’s no excuse – Shota was the one who put those files together, and he’s never called the kid the very thing that’s defined his imprisonment for the last three years. He would never… he would never hurt the kid, like Hizashi just did.

And in between Hizashi’s own crying, in between his own gasps for air, he realizes why the kid hadn’t taken more than a minute to get dressed, before he started looking for the scarf.

It must have been an easy decision for him, to pick out the hoodie that Hizashi hadn’t even realized the kid owned. He must have had Hawks buy it for him, when they went shopping. Because Hizashi definitely would have remembered the kid picking out his own Present Mic merch.

Chapter Text

“Hey, kid. It’s just me.”

Shota closes the door behind him and kneels, immediately. The kid is pushed all the way underneath the desk with his back to the wall, his legs curled up awkwardly beneath him. His arms are wrapped around his knees, and his head is burrowed between them. There’s something that looks like vomit a few feet in front of the desk.

The mirror that sits above his nightstand has been torn off the wall and smashed into dozens of pieces just a few inches from where Shota is currently on the floor. He doesn’t see any blood, which he’s grateful for.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, just in case. He doesn’t get a response.

“You’re okay – you’re safe. You’re safe with me. No one is upset with you, or mad at you. I promise.” He tries. He gets a flinch at that last word, but no other sign that the kid is even conscious, let alone listening.

Shota takes a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. He leans back against the door and stretches out long legs. He cracks his neck and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“I’m not going to come any closer. But I’m not leaving, either. Unless you ask…” He leaves it open for the kid to speak up, say something, but he doesn’t. Eraser hums.

“Okay, then… Do you… want to talk about it?” He tries. The silence is enough of an answer for him, and he sighs again.

“Guess I should’ve known that. Hm… well… Damn. I’m… really not the best at talking. That’s ‘Zashi’s specialty.” He admits. He watches the kid for a reaction to his husband’s name, but there’s nothing. Now that he’s in here, he can hear the sniffling and heavy breathing coming from under the desk, but nothing else.

“Let’s see… I could tell you about the class? If you decide you want to meet them, you should probably go in prepared. They’re… Well. They’re all right.” He concedes, now that he’s had a few days to get to know them.

“Yaoyorozu is nice – I think you would like her. She’s quiet. And Todoroki. Endeavor’s kid, actually. I… don’t think I’ve heard you talk about Endeavor, have you? Do you not like him, either?” Shota wonders.

“Personally, I hate working with him the most. His kid, though, seems nice enough. Not as angry…” He muses. Actually, Shota might prefer it if the kid did get a little pissed now and then. So far, he’d seemed reserved to the point that Eraser had already made a note to keep an eye on him, in case there was something deeper to his stoicism.

“Hmm… I think you’d like their quirks, too. You could probably fill an entire notebook each with my students. Yaoyorozu – She’ll probably tell you to call her Momo. Her quirk is creation. And Todoroki is half-cold, half-hot.”

Eraser thinks about the other students he might like to hear about it. He realizes that if he’s meeting the class, that means he’s going to meet Bakugo, so Eraser opens his mouth to start talking about him, when –

“What are you doing.”

Eraser has to strain to hear the whisper. It’s resigned, and empty of any kind of emotion that he’s started associating with the kid – wonder, hope, the occasional irritation – even fear and sadness.

“Telling you about my st-”

“Stop.” This command comes out a little louder – but no less heartbreaking. It’s rough and jagged around the edges of his voice. Eraser has never heard him like this, not even after a nightmare.

Shota stops. He sits against the door, across the room from the kid, and closes his eyes. For once, he isn’t tired – the adrenaline hadn’t really stopped since his husband had called him, crying and frantically telling him to come home.

He isn’t sure how long he sits there. He can’t see the clock from here, and he doesn’t want to check his phone. He doesn’t want to move. They’ve created this tense, dangerously precious atmosphere that Shota is terrified to break, and he’s going to wait for the kid to make the first move.

Shota notices the kid is crying again as soon as it starts. It’s quiet, muffled, but it quickly moves straight into hyperventilation. The kid scrambles out from under the desk all at once, startling Shota, before moving even farther away. He’s clutching at his Present Mic hoodie that’s covered in vomit, and he’s holding his chest – struggling to breathe.

“H-Help.” He begs, looking at Shota.

Shota stands, quickly. Maybe too quickly, given the flinch, but the kid is struggling to get off the hoodie and is barely getting a breath in while fumbling around in jerky movements and trying to stand – trying and failing to use the wall behind him as a support.

“What do you need?” Eraser asks, once he’s close enough to reach out.

“Off. Off – Get this, g-get this off! Off I – I want if off, please!” The kid cries.

Shota moves almost mechanically, he grabs the bottom of the material and pulls it over the kid’s head before throwing it across the room. The kid breathes a little easier and leans his head back.

The kid is wearing one of his few short sleeves that he owns under the hoodie. The scars that are still of an unknown origin are bright against his pale skin. They run up and down his arms – from his shoulders to his wrists, before continuing onto his hands. The detectives, the doctors – no one knows where they’re from, or what made them. Only that, based on the scars themselves, they’ve happened at some point during his times in the precepts.

The kids hands are covering his face, but Shota is able to glimpse how red and swollen his breakdown has made him. His shoulders are heaving, he’s started gasping again. Shota contemplates calling Recovery Girl, afraid he’s going to pass out if he keeps this up.

“Don’t… Don’t want… I’m sorry – sorry, sorry, sorry I don’t – I can’t – Please don’t make me-” The kid manages, and Shota stops him.

“Kid. Hey, kid. Look at me.”

Shota’s tone leaves no room for argument. The kid’s hands still hover near his face, but he meets the hero’s eyes, nervously. Scratch that – the kid is terrified. Shota hesitates, figures out how to phrase this without pushing the kid over the edge that he’s already started walking over.

“Do you remember…. When we were underground?” He starts. The kid nods, barely, but it’s enough for Shota to keep going. He swallows.

“I told you I’d get you out. Remember?”

The kid isn’t even blinking, now. He’s so attuned to Shota – every breath and hesitation is picked up and noted by smart, green eyes that have seen way too much in their short time.

“I just told you that you needed to trust me…”

The kid nods again, barely. He’s still crying, silently now. And god it seems like forever, but also like no time at all since he met this kid. He still cries, still grows quiet and nervous, he still won’t open up to him or his husband. But in such a short time, he’s also learned that it’s safe to cry, here – with them. He’s grown more confident and comfortable. He smiles more, and it’s impossible not to notice the adoration on the kid’s face anytime he’s near Hizashi.

“And we did it – right? Together? We got out?”

The kid nods, again. His hands lower into fists at his side. Shota nods along with him.

“Right. Well… I need you to trust me again, okay? Because – I really, really need you to believe me when I tell you – that we, Hizashi and I, we will never make you do anything. Ever. We will never ask you to do something that you don’t want to do. And if anyone – us included – ever makes you feel that way – you have people, that you can tell now. You can tell Hawks, or the detective, or the doctor. And you will not be in trouble. Okay? Because we never, ever want to make you feel that way.” Eraser finishes, and the kid’s stopped crying, but only because he’s frozen still – wide eyes and an slightly open mouth gaping at the hero in front of him. Then all at once, his face crumples, and –

“Oof.” Shota takes a step back with the force of the bone crushing hold the kid has on him.

The kid is crying, but there are no tears. Only the sound of him gasping, whimpering as if he’s in pain. He holds on tight – probably as tight as he can – with small arms not quite wrapped all the way around Shota’s torso. But Shota makes up for the distance, and holds him back. He has one arm wrapped around the kid’s shoulders, the other on his back, with his face burrowed in dark green curls.

The kid’s legs eventually start to shake, and Shota eases them to the ground, only for the kid to crawl completely in his lap. Deceptively long legs are sprawled on the ground, and he maintains his hold around the hero’s chest, face burrowed into the crook of his neck. Shota holds him just as tight – wishes he could think of something to say – but all he can do is rock the kid back and forth, trying to convey the thoughts running through his head through physical touch – I’ve got you, you’re safe, I’ve got you, I love you…

**********

An hour later and the kid has finally passed out, slumped against him. His breathing has evened out, the sniffling has stopped, and surprisingly strong arms have moved from his chest to curl around his neck, with scarred fingers wrapped around coarse, black hair.

Shota dares to move, now. He stands, slowly, and gently lays the kid on his bed. The kid grimaces, huffs, but stays asleep. Shota picks up the glass on the floor, the remnants of the kid’s mirror, and lets the pieces fall quietly into the trash. He grabs a towel from the bathroom and wipes up the vomit on the floor before tossing the towel in the laundry basket.

When Shota picks up his phone, there are two messages from Nemuri – both complaining about how awful his class is since he left them to her rather abruptly – and that’s it. None from Hizashi, even though looking at the time, over two hours have passed since he came home.

He closes the kid’s door quietly on his way out, and stops for a quick glass of water before continuing on to his own shared room.

“’Zashi?” He knocks and pushes open the door, slightly.

To put it kindly, his husband looks like shit. Shota doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so… miserable. Not even before that one mission that Shota went on, where he’d had to be undercover for four months.

Hizashi is sitting on the edge of the bed, with his arms resting on his legs. His head is hung low, but he tilts it to look at Shota, when he enters the room.

“He’s asleep.” Shota tells him, before coming to kneel once more on the floor, between long legs that have a slight tremor to them.

Shota runs a hand up his thigh, soothing, grounding his husband, while another hand snakes its way up his neck, before resting at the base of his neck. He rubs it, gently, feels his husband relax just a bit.

“I fucked up.” Hizashi rasps out. That’s what he’d repeated to Shota on the phone – over and over.

“What happened?” He asks. Hizashi’s brows pinch together, like the memory causes him a physical pain.

“I…” Hizashi trails off, stares unseeing at something Shota can’t understand – not unless he tells him.

“Hey. ‘Zashi.” Shota takes both hands to place on each side of his husband’s face, runs his thumbs over wet cheeks.

“He’s okay. He’s asleep, and he’s okay.” He tells him, eyes only inches apart. Hizashi takes a deep breath, nods.

“I washed the scarf.” He closes his eyes and lets it out with a breath of air.

“Okay.” Eraser says, waits for him to continue.

“I didn’t tell him – though. I… I didn’t realize… I should have realized… Obviously, it would upset him. You know how much that means to him.” He opens his eyes now, and the guilt written over them has Shota’s heart breaking for his husband. But even that shouldn’t have caused that kind of reaction that Shota had come home to.

“And he – he asked me – I told him I’d gone in his room to get it. And he… Sho, he fucking… he lost it. I mean, he was already upset – but… I promised him Sho – I promised him I wouldn’t go in there. And I just… I wasn’t thinking – Why wasn’t I thinking?” His husband is crying now. Shota quickly moves up to the bed, holds his head against his neck, much like he did with the kid a few moments before.

“Shh, ‘Zashi. It’s okay. It was a mistake, an accident – You didn’t mean it.” Shota tells him, runs his hands through long blonde hair.

“That’s not – It isn’t… Shota” He’s crying in earnest now, and he tightens his hold around his husband.

“I called him Deku.” His voice breaks, and Shota stills. He…

“I didn’t – I didn’t m-mean to. I was in your office, cleaning, and I was looking at his file. When he started freaking out, I started freaking out – and it – it fucking slipped but – Shota who does that? What’s wrong with me?!” Hizashi pulls away and stands, leaving Shota to sit on the bed, alone.

“’Zashi, baby, nothing’s wrong with you. You didn’t-”

Shota is cut off by a familiar cry. The kid is awake. He hesitates, looks between his husband and the door. His husband waves him away.

“Go. Please, just… Be with him, okay? I kind of… I want to be alone, right now, anyways.” Hizashi wraps his arms around himself and slumps back in the bed.

Shota hates to leave his husband, but the crying from the other side of the apartment is growing louder. He pauses on his way out the door to place a quick kiss on his husbands head, murmurs an, “I love you” before leaving.

The crying stops as he gets to the kid’s room, and before he can open the door it’s being pulled open by the kid himself. They both stand there, surprised by each other, before the kid grab’s Eraser and pulls, crashing into him again.

“Don’t – Please don’t l-leave.” He asks, his voice wrecked by the sobbing and screaming that have defined this afternoon.

Shota is able to convince the kid to go back to sleep – but the kid relents only on the condition that Eraser stays with him. Which is what he does – curled up on the couch with the kid, half listening to the television playing some hero special in the background. The kid’s been asleep for hours in Shota’s lap, the small back to the hero’s chest, as both lay horizontally on the furniture. The kid wakes once an hour or so, panics before remembering where he is, and sinks further into the hero.

Shota eventually dozes off as well, wakes up to the sound of a camera. He opens one eye, glares at his husband who is smiling, sadly, with his phone still held up.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just… cute.” He shrugs. Shota clears his throat.

“Timesit?” He asks, noticing the light is gone outside.

“Nearly eight. I wanted to make a smoothie for the kid, but, I don’t want the noise to wake him.” He says, looking sadly at the kid in question. Eraser hums, is able to untangle himself from the mess of limbs and roll over the back of the couch without waking him.

“Very graceful.” His husband comments. Shota huffs and rolls his eyes. He takes Hizashi’s hand and leads him into the kitchen.

“You okay?” He asks, once they’re alone. Hizashi swallows, looks away.

“No… but… you should stay with him, tonight.” He says, nodding towards the living room.

“And…” He continues, bites his lip, “I think you should stay home tomorrow. I’ll cover your classes.” He says.

“That’s… are you sure?”

“I… He has his appointment tomorrow. That’s going to be nerve wracking enough for him. I think it would be better if you were there instead.” He admits. Shota thinks for a moment before he nods, reluctantly.

“Okay.”

Hizashi smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He grabs a hold of Shota’s hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. He lets it go.

“I’m going to try and sleep. You should too.” He says.

“Okay. But, Hizashi-” Shota stops him before he turns to walk away.

“You know… I love you. And… I’m not upset with you.” He says.

Hizashi’s lip trembles. He bites it, hard, before forcing a smile.

“I love you too.”

**********

Shota buckles up and waits for the kid to do the same before reversing out of their complex. He rubs his tired eyes – he’d been awoken every few hours to the kid panicking when he couldn’t find him – only for the boy to pick himself up and plop himself down right into the hero’s lap before falling asleep again. Shota would wait for his breathing to even out before placing him back down on the larger couch, then moving back to his own recliner. Then, a little while later, the process would repeat.

Hizashi had left for work looking normal – but he hadn’t said much to Shota and had completely avoided the kid. Shota had ended up making the kid’s breakfast smoothie and sitting with him while they ate in silence. He couldn’t help but feel like he was doing a terrible job compared to Hizashi.

The kid hadn’t said one word since waking up for the final time this morning, just as Hizashi was on his way out the door. He’d looked a little embarrassed, once the memories of yesterday and last night had appeared to come back to him, but if he was then he hadn’t voiced it. He would nod and shake his head if Shota spoke to him directly, but he didn’t offer anything else. It felt like they were back at the beginning, when he was still in the hospital. But even then, he wasn’t this quiet.

Shota wasn’t sure if this silence was due to the events of yesterday, or the doctor’s appointment they were on their way to. Probably both, he figured. When they’d reminded him at the beginning of the week about the appointment scheduled for early in the morning, the kid had been visibly flustered and shaken, even if he’d tried to shrug it off. And clearly yesterday was… traumatic, for the kid. Because for the first time since the hospital, he’d chosen not to wear the scarf.

Eraser tried not to let it bother him. He knew it was probably an unhealthy attachment the kid had formed to the support item in a moment of instability and change, but… when he’d offered it to the kid, only for the kid to physically turn away and shake his head… yeah. That had hurt.

“We’re here.” Shota announces, if only to fill the silence.

The kid still doesn’t say anything, even when they walk through the doors of the very same hospital they’d been at last time. The doctors had offered to refer him to an outpatient office, but both Eraser and the kid had felt more comfortable with the staff they were already familiar with. And Dr. Toru was more than willing to continue to be his provider, as he was familiar and a bit attached to the case.

“Hey, kiddo!” One of the nurses, Lilly, recognizes him and waves. The kid looks over and he doesn’t smile back, but he does give an attempt at a wave.

“Here for your checkup?” She asks, and Eraser nods.

“Okey Doke! You can follow me if you want - he cleared his morning for you guys, so he’s ready now!” She says, bouncing as she walks. The kid tenses next to him and holds out his hand to grab Shota’s before hesitating and pulling away.

Lilly leads them to one of the larger, private exam rooms, where Dr. Toru was busy typing away at something on his laptop. He looks up when he hears them enter, and offers his own attempt at a smile.

“Hey, Eraser. Kid.” He acknowledges them both and closes his laptop, only to log into the larger computer on his desk.

“Hey, Toru.” Eraser greets him and Lilly closes the door behind them, but stays in the room.

“I just sent an email out to Yuan – she’ll be over when we’re finished here.” He tells them. Eraser nods, grateful they were able to schedule with the nutritionist on the same day.

“How’re you feeling, kiddo?” The doctor asks, and motions for the kid to take a seat on the exam table. The kid hesitates, glances over to Shota.

“Come on.” Shota nods over to the table and walks with him. The kid hops on, and Shota leans against it, close enough that the kid can feel him.

“How’s the side?” The doctor asks, puts on his gloves. The kid flinches at the sound.

“…It’s good. No sign of infection, and we’ve just about finished the antibiotics.” Eraser says, when it’s clear the kid won’t be answering.

“Good, good. May I?” The doctor points to the kid’s shirt, and motions for him to lift it.

The kid looks to Eraser, again. He looks a little more desperate this time, looking for something specific that Shota doesn’t know to give.

“You… don’t have to. But, if you do, then the doctor can make sure you’re still healing well.” He says. Luckily, this must have been the right thing to say, because while the kid clearly isn’t happy about it, he relents and pulls up his shirt, just high enough for the doctor to complete his exam.

“Good – You’re right, Eraser. Everything looks to be healing just fine.” The doctor says, after he’s finished.

The kid is pale, and shaking, and Eraser doesn’t hesitate before reaching out and grabbing his hand, holding it in his. The kid starts, glances up at him, but doesn’t pull away.

“Now – I know you don’t like this part, but we’re going to need to draw some blood. All right? A lot of your levels were off when you first came in, and we need to make sure that everything is correcting now that you’re getting the appropriate medical care.” The doctor informs him. The kid’s lip wobbles, but he nods. Shota and Hizashi had gone over everything they would be doing today, in detail, so the kid could prepare for it.

The kid motions towards Shota, who also came prepared. Apparently Hawks had mentioned that some people calmed down when they listened to music, and the kid had been trying to do something similar when he got scared or overwhelmed. So Shota pulled the kid’s phone and headphones out of one of his pockets and passed them over, before the needles came out.

He glanced over at what the kid put on, and nearly called Hizashi right then and there to tell him. Because apparently, the kid was on episode thirty of Present Mic’s very own podcast. And he was hitting play, turning up the volume, when they started drawing blood.

The kid was biting his lip so hard it started bleeding, and Shota was surprised his hand hadn’t broken with how hard his hand was being crushed. The kid turned up the volume louder, louder, until Shota could hear his husband’s raucous laughter even through the headphones.

But two vials later, and they were done. The kid wiped the tears off his face that had started while Shota was busy flailing internally at the sight of the kid choosing his husband’s podcast to seemingly self soothe.

“You did great, kid.” Shota tells him. The kid turns bright red, but squeezes his hand one more time before he lets it go.

“You did. Now, is there anything else you’d like to bring up while we’re here? Any questions you have?” The doctor asks. The kid doesn’t hesitate before shaking his head.

“All right. Well, I’ll see you in a few weeks, then. You still have my number, if you ever do have any questions?” The doctor asks. The kid nods.

“Good. Then, I’ll let Yuan know you’re ready for her, okay?” He asks, and both he and Eraser say their goodbyes.

Eraser clears his throat when it’s just them two. He’s dying, internally, desperate to bring up the podcast. But he doesn’t want to embarrass the kid, so he shoots a quick over to Hawks, instead, asking him he knew. He wants to tell Hizashi in person, to see his reaction.

The kid opens his mouth, and then closes it. There’s something he wants to say, or ask, but he’s struggling. It reminds Shota of the last time we were in the hospital, when he didn’t know how to ask for things.

The nutritionist comes bustling in before Shota can ask the kid about it, so he makes a mental note to wait until they’ve left. This doctor, Yuan, is much more high energy than Toru. She has a thousand and one questions that the kid is refusing to answer, leaving Eraser to describe his eating habits. He lets her know that they’ve been following the diet so far – lots of fruits and vegetables, soy or coconut milk, lots of nutritional supplements to make up for the fat and protein he’s missing out on.

“Good! That’s great, kid! I’ve noticed you’ve put on a few pounds since last time, which is great! But your BMI is still pretty low – so I’ve put together a slightly altered plan I want you to try, okay?” She explains, looking at the kid, who currently looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I know you don’t like anything too heavy, but we’re going to have to get you to that point eventually. With the way your growth and development has been stunted the last few years, it’s really important for us to get you a healthy, wholly balanced diet, okay?”

The kid grimaces and looks to Shota for help.

“Let’s just hear what she has to say.” He says, and the kid slumps down in his chair.

“Basically, you’ll still have your smoothies. But we’re going to start introducing more warm soups and stews into your diet as well. I’ve already made a list of the ingredients and broken down the preparation and alternatives you can switch out if something doesn’t work. But we’re still keeping things light for now – okay? I don’t want you getting sick any more than you do.” She explains.

The kid still doesn’t like this, but it’s clearly better than he was expecting. He nods, begrudgingly, and sits up a little. He plays with his phone while Yuan and Eraser speak a little bit more about his current health goals and expectations, and by the time they’re ready to go, he looks exhausted.

“Allright, kid. Ready to go home?” Eraser asks, looking at the passenger seat, at the kid that’s still twirling his hair, nervous.

He hesitates, swallows loudly before turning and looking directly at Shota. His eyes are sharp, determined, but his skin is pale and his hands are trembling.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Shota asks. He doesn’t actually expect a response, but…

“Does…” The kid starts, and all of his bravery seemingly washes out of him when he asks, shaking,

“Does ‘Zashi hate me?”

Shota is taken by surprise, not expecting him to say anything – but definitely not that.

“Why do you think that?” He asks. The kid licks his lips, bites them.

“He didn’t make my smoothie this morning.” He says. Shota’s eyebrows raise.

“And… he… he didn’t say bye.” The kid admits, like this is a secret he’s giving away.

“Hizashi doesn’t hate you,” Shota starts, “He didn’t want to upset you, this morning. He was giving you space.” He explains. The kid frowns, disbelieving.

“Do… do you hate me?” He asks. Shota shakes his head.

“I don’t.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“I… I made ‘Zashi cry.” The kid says, his own tears threatening to start.

“Oh… kid. That wasn’t your fault.” Shota explains, sits up a little straighter and faces the kid, who is shaking his head.

“It is. I… I don’t know why I did that. I don’t… understand what – what happened. I know… He didn’t… I didn’t mean to make him upset.” He says, desperate for Shota to understand.

“Kid, I promise, you didn’t upset him. Okay?” Shota says, seriously.

“He knew he hurt your feelings, and he was upset with himself. But he was never upset with you.” Shota promises. The kid bites his lip.

“But…”

“No buts. This isn’t on you, kid.” Shota tells him.

The kid is flushed, clearly distressed and still disbelieving. Shota feels for him, he didn’t realize that his silence had manifested out of guilt.

“Um…” The kid starts again. He glances at the clock on the dashboard – not quite ten in the morning.

“…Yes?” Shota prompts, after a long moment of silence. The kid starts fidgeting again, nervous.

“Um… we have to go to the grocery store, right? For my nutrition stuff?” He asks. Shota frowns, not knowing where he’s going with this.

“Yes.” He nods.

“Then… um… do you – do you think we could… maybe we could make ‘Zashi lunch? And – um… do you think… do you think he wants to see me?” The kid asks, flushed red and not meeting his eyes. Shota smiles, fondly.

“Are you asking if we can bring him lunch to work?” He asks. The kid nods.

“I think he’d really love that, kid.” He tells him, seriously. Then…

“There’s only one problem.” He tells him. The kid turns to look at him now, curious.

“I can’t cook.”

The kid huffs out what could be a laugh, and even rolls his eyes. Shota grins, again.

“I thought maybe we could make k-katsudon? Since I – I already know how to m-make it. And he seemed to like it, before.”

“He did. He would love that.” Shota tells him. The kid bites his lip, shy, and lets out a breath.

“O-Okay. Um, well then – let’s go. I’m ready.” He says.

“Yes sir.” Shota teases. The kid rolls his eyes again before putting one earphone in and leaning against the window. Shota glances over and smiles when he sees the kid starting episode thirty one.

Chapter Text

The bell rings for lunch, and Shota’s class from hell gets up all at once. Really, Hizashi doesn’t know how his husband is able to keep these kids in line. Even with Hizashi’s quirk that’s able to get their attention and bring them back to the lesson, it’s still a struggle.

To be fair, Hizashi hasn’t been having the best day, and hasn’t been trying too hard to keep their attention in the first place. He’s just been trying to get through the lessons without having a breakdown and without letting the students notice anything is off in the first place. He does well, for a while, but inevitably the image of the kid’s face, the sound of his scream invades Hizashi’s head, and then he’s back to square one.

His phone vibrates, bringing Hizashi back to the present. He checks the ID, sees Shota calling, and answers.

“Are you busy?” Is the first thing Shota asks.

“Uh… no. Just probably going to… I don’t know. Sulk for lunch, or something.” Hizashi admits, with his head in his hands. His husband hums on the other side of the phone that’s pushed up to his ear.

“If you aren’t busy, do you mind checking for my laptop in your car?” He asks. Hizashi groans, but stands up from his desk.

“Shotaaa, why is it in the car?”

“I was in a bit of a rush, yesterday.” Shota reminds him. Hizashi sighs.

“I guess that’s fair.” He concedes.  

“Mhm.”

“How was the doctor?” Hizashi asks. He’d been worried about the kid all morning – not just because of their… moment, yesterday, but because he knew how much he was dreading going back to the hospital.

“It was good. He’s still healing well. They did blood work, which he hated, but he did okay. You’d be proud of him.”

“I am proud of him.” Hizashi mutters, plays with the dials on the speakers resting around his neck. He opens the door to the staff parking lot and winces at the sunlight.

“Hm… You should tell him. It would mean more, coming from you.” Shota tells him, and Hizashi scoffs, rolls his eyes.

“You’re kidding, right? The kid loves you. And after yesterday… I don’t think I should open my mouth any more than necessary, around him.” Hizashi admits, bitter as he finishes his train of thought.

“’Zashi… you know he doesn’t want that.” Shota says, lowly.

“You didn’t see how he looked at me, Sho… He was… I fucking devastated the kid.” Hizashi stops in the parking lot, pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to hold back the tears that have been threatening to make an appearance all morning, ever since he got to work.

“Hizashi… are you still this bad at situational awareness? I hope you didn’t teach my class your sloppy observational skills, this morning.”

Hizashi blinks his eyes open, offended.

“Ex-CUSE ME?!”

“Tch. Look over here. To the right.”

Hizashi does, and stops the rant he could feel building up before it gets a chance to start. Shota is there, in his civilian wear, leaned against his car that’s still running. Hizashi blinks, confused, but jogs over to meet his husband.

“What are you doing here? Where’s the kid?” He asks, looks around for a mess of green curls.

“In the car.” He points behind him, where Hizashi can just make out someone in the backseat, through the heavily tinted windows.

“Why? What are you-”

“His idea.” Shota holds his hands up, in surrender.

“His?”

“Mhm. I told him I need to go meet with Nedzu, so, I’ll leave you two alone for a while.”

“What?! Don’t do that!” Hizashi grabs a hold of Shota, as if he could really stop him.

“You two need to talk.”

“But… What if I-“

“You won’t.” Shota says, seriously, looking through Hizashi and into his very thoughts, wrapping around them and erasing them as surely as he does with his quirk.

“…You’ll have your phone?” He checks. Shota nods.

“It’s even charged, too.” He tells him. This gets a chuckle out of Hizashi.

“For once.”

Shota rolls his eyes. He squeezes Hizashi’s hand that’s still holding onto the jacket, and Hizashi releases it.

Hizashi really shouldn’t be this terrified at the prospect of getting in the car. He was a hero, for crying out loud. He’d faced down awful villains, he’d run into literal burning buildings – he’d even been there for Shota that one time the coffee maker had broken after he’d been up for nearly seventy two hours. But for some reason, the thought of looking into those bright green eyes, only to see them looking back as they did yesterday – hurt, fearful, angry… that thought froze him to his core.

But Shota said this was the kid’s idea. So, Hizashi would take it. He could take the anger, the betrayal. It was the least he could do.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself, and then opens the door to the back driver’s side. The first thing he notices is the smell of… fried chicken?

“Hey, kiddo.” Hizashi hesitates, leaned over with one foot in the car.

He pauses when he sees the back seats have been folded over, and there’s a blanket on top. The kid is sitting cross legged on one side, and there are containers of food and a bottle of water opposite of him. It looks like…

“A picnic?” Hizashi asks, surprised. The kid bites his lip, nods his head.

“Oh! Wow… it… it smells great, kiddo.” Hizashi says, seriously. He finally gets in the car, sits across from the kid. He has to hunch a little, to fit, but he makes it work and closes the door behind him.

“Aizawa-Sensei said you – you like fried chicken. So instead of p-pork, I made chicken katsu.” The kid admits, wringing his hands.

“You made this?” Hizashi asks, surprised. The kid hesitates, nods.

“You… made me lunch?”

“I… Yeah.” The kid admits.

The tears that had been held back all morning finally break through their self imposed dam, and Hizashi wipes his eyes, furiously. The kid pales, holds up his hands.

“Oh! Oh n-no! Pl-Please d-don’t cry! I – I can, um, I can go!” The kid says, frantic. Hizashi startles, accidentally loses control of his quirk.

“NO! Ah, sorry! No, please! I’m not upset!” Hizashi assures him.

“They’re – I’m happy. They’re happy tears. I promise.” Hizashi explains. The kid still looks unconvinced, but he settles, just a bit.

“I just… I thought… Y-You didn’t say bye, this morning.” The kid bites his lip.

“I… I didn’t think you’d want that. I know I really upset you, yesterday…” Hizashi explains. The kid slumps forward, puts his hands in his lap.

“I… I don’t know why that happened.” He admits - whispers like he’s sharing a secret.

“Well…  I really upset you, kiddo. And you’ve been through a lot.” Hizashi tries. The kid shakes his head, looks up and away from the hero.

“But I… That’s never h-happened before.” The kid admits, shamefully. Hizashi shakes his head.

“You don’t need to explain yourself, kid. I upset you, and I was… I didn’t handle it well. It’s understandable, that you’d react to that.” Hizashi says. The kid sniffs, but doesn’t cry, which Hizashi is grateful for.

They both speak at the same time,

“I’m sorry.”

They both start; stare at each other for a moment, before Hizashi quickly recovers before the kid can start.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, kid.” He tells him. The kid shakes his head, wild curls bouncing with the motion.

“I… I m-made you cry.”

“Oh… Kid, no you didn’t. I cry a lot… And I was really upset with myself, for making you upset. It made me sad, to see you like that, and knowing I couldn’t do anything to help – because it was my fault. That doesn’t mean you made me sad, or cry.” Hizashi tries to explain. He fights the urge to reach out to the kid, across the lunch he’s set up for him.

“B-But I shouldn’t have b-been upset. Y-You were just being n-n-nice. I kn-know you wouldn’t… You wouldn’t do that. You washed it to be nice. I don’t know… I mean… I do, but…” The kid looks up, desperate for Hizashi to understand whatever is going on in his head. Hizashi doesn’t, but he knows the kid is trying to apologize, which he shouldn’t have to do.

“I was trying to be nice. But, I should have asked you before I touched your things. And I should have asked your permission before I went in your room.” He tells him.

“It’s your house.” The kid argues.

“It’s our house. And it’s your room. I meant that, what I told you after we brought you home. I still mean it. I just… I wasn’t thinking, and that’s not an excuse, but… From now on – I promise that I’ll ask before I go in. I respect your boundaries, kid, and I’m sorry for making you think for even a second that I didn’t.” Hizashi gets out, sniffs at the end, and wishes he had something to blow his nose.

The kid isn’t doing much better, because now he’s crying too. Jeez, what a pair they make. Hizashi doesn’t know how Shota is able to handle it, sometimes.

“I… I know. It’s – It wasn’t you. I didn’t… I’m sorry.” The kid finishes, hanging his head.

“Please – Don’t apologize. You really didn’t do anything wrong.” Hizashi tells him.

Another emotion flashes behind green eyes, startling Hizashi.

“Don’t.” The kid orders. Hizashi freezes, surprised.

“You… You can’t tell me that. If I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The kid tells him. Hizashi pauses, swallows thickly. He nods his head.

“Okay. You’re right. There’s nothing to forgive… But thank you. I accept your apology.” He tells him, seriously. He’s so proud of the kid for speaking up, honestly, he could explode on the spot. He’d probably agree to anything the kid told him, right now.

“Good… And… you too.” He says. He deflates just a bit from the way his chest had puffed up, expecting more of an argument from the hero.

Hizashi knows… he has to address the other mistake he made. A mistake is putting it lightly, Hizashi knows, but… The kid smiles, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, nervous. Hizashi nods and grins, encouraging, and picks up the container closest to him. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he got in the car.

The kid picks up his own lunch, a bowl of soup that Hizashi doesn’t recognize, and they eat together in silence, for the first few minutes. The kid speaks up first, surprising Hizashi.

“I… When I…” He starts and stops. His brows are furrowed in concentration, like he’s trying to figure out what he wants to say.

“When I met Chisaki…” He starts. Hizashi wills himself not to react.

“The first few weeks… He let me keep my stuff. My backpack… It didn’t really… It didn’t really have a lot. But… it was the only thing I had left…” He looks down as he speaks, eyes seeing something else that isn’t in the car with them.

“You… You know what he d-did, right?” He asks him. Hizashi hesitates.

“I know… I know he hurt you.” He settles on. The kid bites his lip. Shakes his head.

“Not that. The – The other stuff he d-did. To me. You know… You and Aizawa-Sensei know. R-Right?” He asks, still not looking up.

Hizashi nods, slowly, “Yeah.” He says, quiet. The kid flushes at this, bright red. He looks away, out the window.

“In the beginning… He… He liked it when I… When I fought him.” The kid gets out, trembles when he speaks. Hizashi’s heart sinks.

“But… After a while… I was so… I was tired.” The kid says, shoulders sagging.

“So I… I stopped. Fighting.” He says, wipes his nose with a long sleeve.

“So he… He tried to make me m-mad. But I didn’t… I didn’t really care, anymore. What he did.” He rubs both eyes with his sleeves that are covering small fists.

“But he… He thought m-maybe if he- if he took my stuff. That I’d be m-mad. I didn’t… I didn’t think I would. I didn’t… I didn’t really think, in the beginning. About anything. Stuff just… happened…” The kid stops to inhale, to try and calm himself down.

“But he… It worked. When I – When I saw him going through my things. I don’t know why, but it made me so… So mad. So he told me, if I… if I did what he w-wanted, and if I didn’t just… just l-lie there, that he’d let me k-keep it. My stuff.” He clarifies. Hizashi’s stomach drops.

“I… I know. You… That’s not what you m-meant. I’m… That’s why I’m really, really sorry, Y-Yamada. That’s why I don’t – I don’t know why I thought that. You don’t – You don’t d-do that.” The kid manages before he’s crying now, shaking, with his head in his hands, fingers pulling at his hair.

“Can I… Can I hold you, kid?” Hizashi somehow is able to ask through the emotion trying to silence him.

The kid nods, looks up,

“Please.”

Hizashi crosses the space in a heartbeat, reaches out and pulls the kid close to him. He holds him, rocking back and forth, and running a soothing hand up and down his back, his arms. The kid cries, and shakes, and Hizashi hushes and coos and murmurs into his hair,

“It’s okay kid, it’s okay. Thank you. Thank you for telling me. I believe you, kiddo, I believe you. It’s okay, you’re okay, thank you…”

Hizashi keeps muttering nonsense, trying to comfort the incredible kid in his arms. Eventually he’s able to calm him down enough to use his hero jacket to wipe his tears and rub at his face, leaving the kid spluttering.

“Y-You – Gross! Your jacket!” The kid exclaims, frantic after seeing the tears and snot on the sleeve.

“It’s seen worse, kiddo. Don’t worry.” Hizashi assures him. The kid sniffs, looks away, doubtful.

“Are you okay?” Hizashi asks, one hand still on the kid’s face, catching a stray tear with his thumb.

The kid hesitates, shrugs. Then after a moment, nods.

“I think so.” He says. Hizashi smiles.

“Good.”

“…Are… Are we okay?” The kid asks, worriedly. Hizashi answers with another hug. He isn’t sure when the kid will feel comfortable enough to let him close again, so he showers the kid with affection while he can.

“We’re okay, kid.” He says, sincerely. The kid relaxes a little bit more, nods into his jacket.

“Good.”

The kid’s stomach grumbles, snapping them both out of the moment. The kid flushes and Hizashi laughs, teasing at the kid’s sheepish expression.

“Let’s finish eating before I have to go back. It’s delicious, and I want to eat as much as I can!” Hizashi tells him, untangling himself from the kid. He misses him already.

“R-Really?” The kid asks. Hizashi nods.

“It’s so good! You’ll have to make it again, sometime.”

The kid smiles, pleased.

“I’m glad you like it.” He tells him.

They both hurry to finish their lunch after Hizashi notes the time. He only has a few more minutes before he has to get back to work, and the kid looks like he’s ready to fall over, he’s so exhausted. Hizashi wonders if he actually will, when the kid’s eyes start to droop and he wobbles, just a bit. But then something startles him awake.

 The kid reaches behind him, into his pocket, and pulls his phone out to check it. His eyes widen, and he panics.

“What’s wrong?” Hizashi asks and leans over.

It’s a news alert, a live stream of a villain fight that’s underway somewhere in downtown Musutafu. It’s hard to make out what’s happening – the video is blurry – but Hizashi is able to make out whose fighting.

“Hawks.”

Chapter Text

Dabi watches the kid hop back into the passenger seat after giving the voice hero a short, awkward hug. He hadn’t actually meant to run into the kid, but he was glad he did. He looked even better than the last time he saw him, a little over a week ago when he’d gone shopping with the heroes. Dabi had just about given away his position with the bark of laughter he’d covered with a cough when he saw the kid make a beeline for Hawks’ shoes. He’d got out his phone to text the hero, but stopped short, remembering that he couldn’t. Not yet.

When Toga had stolen his phone the night of the raid as payback for not finding out which hospital the kid was at, he’d just about had a heart attack. He’d singed a lock of her hair as punishment, much to the girl’s dismay, but the damage was already done.

“Text me when you get home?! I’m not trying to be his fucking mom!” He’d yelled. The girl had whined and pulled at her hair, curling her nose up at the smell.

“It’s sweet! It’s romantic, you stupid ugly-”

“I don’t want to be romantic!”

“Yeah huh!”

“You’re going to scare him off!”

“No way! He’s a hero, he’ll love it!”

“He’s going to know it wasn’t me!”

“Nu uh! I even added a curse word in there, just for you!” She’d argued.

Nearly three weeks later, and he still hadn’t gotten a reply from the bird. It pissed him off every time he thought about it. He was pissed at Toga, pissed at the hero for scaring so easily, pissed at himself for expecting anything different.

Dabi put out the cigarette he’d been smoking, crushing it under his boot. He sent a quick text to the girl meeting him in the middle of the fucking day, right outside of UA, and cursed Shigaraki for his shitty fucking ideas.

“You know where all of the security measures are. And no one will be looking for a villain.” The dusty freak had told him.

“That’s literally what they go to school for.” Dabi had argued. But Shigaraki had rolled his eyes, called him dramatic, and told him this was the only time the girl could meet this week. To which Dabi had thought, not my fucking problem.

But, unfortunately, it was his fucking problem. Because the girl was fucking terrified of everyone else in the league, and getting information from her was like pulling teeth for Dabi – he couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for anyone else.

“Dabi?”

A small voice comes from behind him, and he turns around. At least she’d showed up on time, though it was clear by the way she was breathing that she’d had to run to get here. Hopefully she hadn’t drawn much attention.

“Covert.” He nods in greeting.

“Thanks for meeting me here, I’m sure it wasn’t your first choice.” She says, tugging nervously at her uniform.

“How’s school going?” He smirks.

“It’s… fine.”

“Really? Just fine? You’re in the top hero school in Japan.” He scoffs. He can practically feel her eye roll from where he’s standing.

“It’s all right. Loud.”

“Tch. Well, you made it into 1A, which is good. Congrats.” He says, mockingly. She crosses her arms.

“Thanks. Do you want the rundown or not?” She asks, irritated.

“Not really. I don’t want to spend any more time here than necessary.”

“Then why meet?” She asks.

“Curiosity. Any potential recruits in 1A?” He wonders. He’s always known that a hero is just a villain with a license, and if the League can get another one of students on their side, they could start to build an actual, loyal group.

“Hm… Honestly, I’m not sure. There are definitely some you’d like, might want to keep an eye on.” She admits. Dabi motions for her to continue.

“Bakugo Katsuki, obviously. Explosion quirk. He’s already one step away from being a villain, anyways. Monoma Nieto, maybe… I don’t know if he’d turn, but his quirk is copy – and he seems to have a… suspiciously good grasp on it, already.”

“Hm… What about Endeavor’s kid?” Dabi asks. The girl hums.

“Not likely. He’s powerful, but I don’t think I’ve heard him say more than two words.” He admits. Dabi nods.

“Anyone else?”

“Actually… he’s not in our class. But… I’ve seen All-Might talking with one of the 3A kids a lot over the past few weeks. Like, a lot.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten close enough to find out, but… Supposedly the kid had a pretty standard permeation quirk until about a year ago. All of a sudden his quirk… evolved. Around the same time him and All-Might started being seen together.”

“That’s… interesting.” Dabi admits. Shigaraki would like to know that.

“I’ll keep an extra ear out, for them.” She says. Dabi nods.

“Anything else?”

“Not really… But – I think Eraser might have a kid?” She questions, scratching her head.

“Oh?” Dabi raises an eyebrow, amused.

“I don’t really know. But he mentioned something about a kid that might be coming to shadow our class for a while, and he seemed pretty… adamant about the fact that if any of us upset him, he’d expel us faster than we can say plus ultra.”

Dabi barks out a laugh at this, amused. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head.

“Good to know.” He says. The girl clearly doesn’t understand, isn’t in on the joke, so she puts a hand on her hip.

“Well. If that’s all. I have to get back to class, now. Lunch was over a few minutes ago.” She says. Dabi nods and waves her off.

“Yes, yes. Go make friends, study hard.” He teases. She mutters something Dabi can’t quiet catch under her breath, and then she’s gone.

Dabi lights another cigarette and makes his way off campus. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his phone, debating. He finger hovers over the bird’s contact information… He shouldn’t. The hero had made it painfully clear that Dabi’s – or, Toga’s – intentions were unwelcome. But still…

Dabi nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone rings. He drops his cigarette, nearly drops the phone, too. Because Hawks is calling him.

He hesitates for only a moment before answering.

“Long time no-“

“Rumi! Can you – fuck – can you come get me? Please?”

Dabi stills, and his smirk falls off his face. The hero is out of breath, and Dabi can hear sirens in the background.

“Where are you?” He asks. There’s a pause, and –

“Dabi?”

“Where are you?” He repeats. He can hear sirens from where he is currently, so he starts heading in the general direction.

“Shit – Shit, sorry I didn’t – I didn’t mean to call you.” Hawks explains, gasps and makes a small noise of discomfort.

“Clearly. You’re hurt?” Dabi asks, though he knows the answer already.

“I… Yeah. But it’s fine, I’m fine. I’ll call-”

“Where are you?” Dabi asks, one more time. Hawks hesitates, coughs, and it sounds… bad.

“You can’t show up here. There’s still heroes around the scene.”

“Hawks. I can keep a low profile.” He reminds him. Another cough, and –

“Shit. Shit, okay. I’m – I’m at first and thirty-third.”

Dabi looks up, notices the street sign he’s at. He isn’t far.

“I’m just a few blocks away. Don’t move.” Dabi orders and hangs up.

Dabi isn’t sure why he didn’t just tell the hero to fuck off and call whoever it was he was intending to. He isn’t sure why he walks a little faster once the dark, grey clouds that have been threatening overhead all afternoon start to rumble, and the air changes. All he is sure of is that he needs to get to the hero – now.

When he rounds the block, he spots him almost immediately. He was right, there are heroes everywhere, but none of them are paying attention to the small figure crouched between the dumpsters on the side of a condemned building.

“Hawks.” Dabi announces himself, quietly, and kneels down.

The hero starts, but relaxes when he recognizes him. Dabi tries to not let that get to his head.

“Dabi.” He winces and leans his head back against the brick, exposing the long column of his throat.

“Where are you… Shit, Hawks.” Dabi’s eyes widen when the hero moves his hand that’s been clutching his side, showing off an alarming amount of blood soaked through a white shirt.

“Hawks, you – You need a hospital.” Dabi realizes, looks around to get someone’s attention.

“No! No, Dabi – Please. It’s not - It’s not that bad. It’s just a lot of blood, but it’s shallow.” The hero promises.

“Hawks, I don’t-”

“Just – I just need to get to my apartment. It’s not far, but I can’t. I don’t think I can fly.” The hero admits, looking utterly defeated.

The clouds take this time to finally break, and the rain that pours is only making the blood run, looking worse.

“Let me see.” Dabi orders and moves closer. He lifts up the hero’s shirt before he can refuse, and winces at the sight.

The wounds do look shallow, but… there’s so many of them. And his side is already starting to bruise an ugly black and purple – he’s broken his ribs, too.

“The fuck happened?” Dabi asks, dropping the shirt back down.

“Get me home. Please. And I’ll tell you.” Hawks pants. Dabi rolls his eyes.

“You should know by now, you don’t have to convince me to take you home, birdie.” He teases. Hawks rolls his own eyes, but he smiles, just a bit.

“Fuck, you’re heavy. You’re so short – I thought you’d weigh less.” Dabi remarks as he supports most of the heroes weight. He has an arm around torso, careful of the wounds at his side, and guides him in the direction Hawks points out.

“It’s the wings.” He says. Dabi hums.

“Makes sense.”

“There – we need to cross here.” Hawks points.

Dabi already knows this – he knows exactly where Hawks lives, but he doesn’t think the hero would appreciate that information.

But it’s a good thing he knows this, because a few more steps, and suddenly they’re both tipping forwards under the hero’s weight.

“Wha?!” Dabi is able to catch the hero just in time, groaning and hefting him back up.

“Hawks?” He tries, but it’s no use. The hero is out cold.

“Gotta be fucking kidding me.” Dabi groans. But he shifts his weight, kneels down, and is able to throw the hero over his shoulder. He can feel the staples pulling, but he ignores the discomfort for now.

He’s able to get the hero in the building and into the elevator without anyone seeing – thank God. Everyone in the area seemed to have flocked to the scene of the fight, earlier, and the apartment building is quiet.

“What’s… fuck. I don’t remember. Hey – Birdie.” Dabi sets the hero down outside his door and catches his breath.

He pats his cheek, gently, but with enough force to get the hero’s attention. Hawks’ head lolls to the side and Dabi steadies it.

“Hey – What’s the code for your room?” Dabi asks. He knew it at one point, in the very beginning when he was scouting out the hero, but he hadn’t needed it other than that once, so he didn’t try and commit it to memory.

“Birdie. Hey.” Dabi snaps in front of his face, but the hero only gains consciousness for a moment before passing back out.

“Fucking… Fine, then. Don’t complain about this later.” The villain warns.

He stands up and leans over, picking the hero up and moving him a little farther from the door. He shakes out his hand, wincing at the pain he can already feel. He holds out his palm towards the door, and concentrates.

The metal lock and code panel shine bright for a few moments before they start to slip, melting off the door and splashing onto the ground below. Dabi grits his teeth through the heat that’s scorching down his arm, and as soon as the door gives under his weight, he releases his quirk.

He backs up until he hits the opposite wall, gasping and clutching his hand. Tears burn at the corners of his eyes, but he pushes them back.

More, Touya! If it doesn’t hurt, then it’s not worth it! You can go higher!

He lets out a shaky breath and walks towards the hero, who is now waking up. Dabi scoffs and rolls his eyes at the sight of gold eyes blinking up at him, dazed and confused.

“Really. Now you get up?”

“Hm?” The hero looks around, but his eyes are glassy and unfocused. Dabi adds a concussion to the list of injuries.

“Come on.” Dabi hefts him back up over his shoulder, and the hero startles.

“W-Wait. Dabi. Don’t –“

As soon as they’re in the apartment and Dabi kicks the door closed, he freezes. Because the hero makes a retching noise, and Dabi feels something wet run down his back. Hawks whimpers after the sound of vomit hits the floor.

Yeah. Definitely a concussion.

“Sh-Shit. Dabi. I think I threw up on you.” Hawks whines.

The villain closes his eyes and counts to ten. He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or rage, but he knows neither would be welcome in this situation.

“’Sfine.” He grits and walks a little farther into the apartment.

He sets the hero on the couch, gently, and immediately shrugs out of his soiled jacket. He throws it onto the floor a few feet away before turning to face the hero.

Hawks looks nervous. His eyes are still all over the place and he’s flushed a bright red. He’s clutching his side, still and is breathing heavy through the pain.

“Come on. Off.” Dabi sits next to him on the couch and motions towards his tan jacket and white shirt with his hands.

Hawks swallows once, before trying and failing to lift his hands over his head. Dabi huffs, taking pity on him, and helps him shrug out of the jacket. He tries lifting the hero’s shirt, but is never to get past his chest before Hawks is letting out little noises in pain.

“How much do you like this shirt?” Dabi asks. Hawks raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

Dabi takes a hold of it at the collar and pulls, ripping it down the middle to reveal a toned and muscled chest. A toned and muscled chest that’s still covered in drying blood.

“Whoa.” Hawks says, and Dabi looks up at him. He wishes he hadn’t. Because now Hawks is flushed for a very different reason, biting his lip and breathing shallow. Dabi smirks.

“Not how I pictured our first time.” Dabi teases, just to see that flush spread down the hero’s  throat as he swallows, hard.

“How did you picture it, then?” The hero surprises him, teasing. Dabi grins.

“Well. A lot less blood.”

“But still some?” Hawks notes, laughs. Dabi chuckles.

“Well I don’t know what you’re into, birdie.”

The hero laughs, winces. Dabi reaches out, runs a scarred hand down golden skin. He glances up, catches the hero’s gaze.

“You might need stitches.” He tells him. The hero nods.

“Bathroom.” He says. Dabi raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t like hospitals. And the commission always finds out, anyways, if I go. I’m not supposed to be treated by anyone but them.” He explains. Dabi’s face twists, like he’s tasted something sour.

“Why?”

Hawks shrugs, evading. Dabi sighs, but relents.

“Where’s the bathroom?” He asks, getting up.

“Down the hall, on the right.”

The thunder is still rolling throughout the sky as Dabi finds his way to the bathroom. He turns on the light and glances around briefly, before checking under the sink. There’s half a dozen discarded prescription bottles without any kind of labels, which Dabi notes. There’s a lot of face masks, too, which has Dabi rolling his eyes. There’s a few different colored nail polishes rolling around, some brightly colored headbands, and in the very back – the first aid kit.

He grabs a towel on his way out and runs it under warm water before he returns. Hawks is still sitting on the couch, running his hand through his soaked hair. His eyes track Dabi when he enters the room, and he tries to sit up a little straighter. His breath catches at the movement, and he gives up.

“Be still.” Dabi orders when he sits down. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“Yes sir.” He mocks. Dabi quirks an eyebrow.

“I like the sound of that.” He notes, only to have Hawks flush bright red again. He bites down on a smirk.

“What are you doing?” The hero questions, when Dabi leans forward.

“Cleaning you off, first. I can’t see where to sew, from here.” He explains.

“You – You don’t have to do that. I can do it.”

“Really?”

“I’ve done it before.” He says, almost proud.

“Hm. Well. I’m here, might as well.” Dabi says, not at all liking the idea of the hero having to stitch himself back together, alone.

He’s gentle, when he presses the soft towel against hardened skin. The hero inhales, sharp, but stays still as Dabi cleans off the blood from his chest and his side. He’s quiet, too, which is rare. Dabi wants to sneak a glance, to see what the hero’s face will give away, but he doesn’t want to distract from his current task, either.

He looks over the wounds – long gashes that wrap around his side and up his chest. They look almost like jellyfish stings, if the jellyfish were six feet long.

“Was some kind of – of support item. The girl’s quirk was just basic – speed enhancement. But, she had some kind of… whip? I don’t know. It was strong as hell, when she used it. Wrapped around and threw me into the fucking – ouch- fucking building.” Hawks explains, wincing when Dabi starts sewing together one of the deeper gashes.

“Kinky.” He mutters, concentrating.

“Don’t – Don’t make me laugh.” Hawks tells him, huffing out a breath. Dabi smirks.

“Don’t be so easy to please, then.”

“Tch. You like that I’m easy.”

“Hm… are you?” Dabi asks, finally looking up at him. Bright blue eyes study golden ones.

“Because you’ve been sending some mixed signals, birdie.” Dabi tells him, addressing this thing between them they haven’t put a name to. Flirting, teasing… To Dabi it felt like foreplay, but he wasn’t sure how the bird felt about it.

Hawks bites his lip, and Dabi tracks the movement. It’s not lost on the hero, whose eyes grow just a little heavier at the sight.

“I… Yeah. Sorry.” He apologizes. Dabi hums and looks down, finishes one line of stitches and ties a knot before continuing on to the other one that looks a little worse than the others.

They don’t say anything more, while Dabi continues working. The hero starts to nod off, eventually, but Dabi is mindful of the concussion that he most definitely has. After adding some antiseptic and wrapping his side, he gets another warm towel and wipes off some of the dirt and other evidence of his fight from his hands and his face.

“Yo, bird.” Dabi shakes the hero’s shoulder, waking him.

“Wha?”

“You have a concussion. Can’t stay asleep too long.” He tells him. Hawks blinks, reaches around for his phone.

“Sfine. I’ll set alarms.” He says, rubbing his eyes.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m staying.” Dabi tells him. Hawks blinks again, looks up. His wings flutter, just a little, behind him.

“You… You don’t have to do that.” He tells him. Dabi crosses his arms.

“Obviously.”

They stare at each other, for a brief moment. Hawks from his place on the couch, and Dabi looming over him. Dabi expects a bit of a fight, to be honest.

“Honestly… I’m way too tired to argue with you.” Hawks surprises him. Dabi snorts.

“Is that all it takes? I can think of better ways to wear you out.”

“Mm, I’m sure. Bed’s clean – I just washed the sheets yesterday.” Hawks tells him, and starts stretching his legs up and over the couch, settling in.

“Great. What are you doing?”

“Well… You’re staying. I’m not making you sleep on the couch.” Hawks says, as if that’s obvious.

“You have a concussion. And your ribs are broken – you’ll feel like shit if you sleep you here.”

“’Sfine. You’re the guest.” Hawks waves him off and sinks further down into the cushions.

“Tch.” Dabi rolls his eyes and walks over to the hero.

“Hey!” Hawks yells out when Dabi picks him up, bridal style, and carries him upstairs to the loft.

“What’re you going to do? Throw up on me?” Dabi asks. The hero flushes and splutters.

“I – I’m not – I didn’t mean to- Oof.” Dabi lays him down gently and tosses a pillow over his face, silencing him.

“Go to sleep. I’ll wake you in a couple hours.” He yawns and sets an alarm on his own phone, just in case he dozes off.

“Wait – Dabi!” Hawks sits up, winces and clutches at his head that must be spinning.

“Oi. Don’t move so fast, Christ.” Dabi walks back over and kneels, checking the hero’s eyes.

“Sorry. Just – You can sleep here, too. It’s… it’s a big bed.” Hawks says, a hand reaching out to hold onto a scarred wrist.

Dabi freezes, for a moment, before he recovers.

“Thanks. But, I’m good with the couch.” He lies. Hawks nods, seemingly understanding.

Dabi stands up and looks over the hero once more before making his way to the stairs. He’s stopped again, before he starts down them.

“Is it because… Because I didn’t text you back?” He asks, in a small voice that Dabi hasn’t heard before.

“That’s… no. I just… uh… don’t think it’s a great idea.” Dabi gets out.

“Oh. Okay.” Hawks nods, bites his lip.

“Not… Not that I don’t want to. Just… You seem like… Like you don’t know if you want to.”

“Oh.” Hawks eyes widen, truly understanding this time.

“It is about the text.” Hawks says. Dabi shakes his head.

“Just… forget about the texts. Please.”

“What? Why? I don’t want to.” Hawks crosses his arms and pouts. Dabi looks at him, incredulously. His eyes are glassy again, and he’s having a hard time staying awake.

“Jeez, you really did hit your head pretty hard, huh?” He muses.

“No.” The hero denies, stubborn. Dabi huffs.

“Okay. Well. I’m going to sleep on the couch, okay? I’ll see you in two hours.” He tells him, again. The hero clearly isn’t happy, but he relents, slipping down into clean sheets and resting a head on his pillow.

Downstairs, Dabi gathers up the hero’s jacket as well as his own before throwing them into the wash. He cleans up the vomit off the floor with a grimace, and decides to never let the hero forget about it. He tosses the scraps of the white shirt he’d torn off and clears the couch of its dozen fluffy pillows before settling in. He closes his eyes, tries to clear his mind, but…

It’s a long night.

Dabi doesn’t fall asleep a handful of minutes before being woken up again by his alarm. He trudges up the stairs, shakes the hero to make sure he’s still alive, and then stumbles back down the stairs to collapse on the couch. Only to struggle to turn off his brain, to clear his mind and find sleep once again.

He can’t stop wondering why the hell he’s here – in the hero’s home. He wouldn’t do this for a fuck buddy, not even one as pretty as Hawks. And him and the hero hadn’t even touched each other yet, let alone fucked. Christ, Toga was annoying when she was right. Did he want to romance the stupid bird? That couldn’t end well.

He was sure the hero didn’t know that Dabi knew about his master plan to infiltrate The League. Or, the Commission’s master plan. It’d been painfully obvious from the moment Dabi had noticed the hero trailing him, and rather than burning him to a crisp where he stood, he’d decided to play along. He would use whatever the bird was willing to give him in order to gain access, he’d hopefully get a good fuck out of it, and then he’d burn him to a crisp.

He hadn’t counted on the hero being so… good.

Dabi had met a lot of heroes, both before and after he’d rebranded himself as a villain. None of them had been good – not one. They were selfish, hypocritical – they were held to a different standard, thanks to society’s obsession with putting the powerful on pedestals. But even before Dabi had come face to face with Hawks, even after just trailing him for a few weeks, Dabi could tell… this hero wasn’t like the others.

“Wha – What’s happening?” Hawks rolls over, when Dabi wakes him, two hours later.

“Just making sure you’re okay. Go back to sleep.” Dabi mutters, rubbing his own eyes.

“W-Wait. Don’t – Just stay, Dabi.” Hawks is holding his hand in his, tight, but not so much that Dabi couldn’t pull away, if he wanted to.

He doesn’t want to.

“Are you… You’re sure?” Dabi asks, knows he’s going to give in, this time.

To Dabi, the hero has always looked more like an angel, than a bird. Not the kind in white robes and halos, but the real angels – vengeful and pure, beautiful and terrifying and so powerful you could barely stand to look at them without burning. And even bandaged and bruised, tonight is no exception.

“I’m sure. Come on.” Hawks whispers and shifts to the other side of the bed.

Dabi quickly slides under the covers, but keeps his distance. Hawks does, too. It doesn’t matter – Dabi can feel the tension and anticipation buzzing between them.

“Thank you, Dabi.” Hawks mumbles into his pillow.

Dabi tilts his head, just a bit, in time to see gold eyes flutter closed. Pink lips part and his breathing deepens. Dabi tries to stay awake, to commit the picture to memory. He’s not sure he’ll get another chance to see the hero so vulnerable. But eventually, despite his efforts, Dabi falls asleep.

**********

When Dabi wakes, he knows it’s been more than two hours. It was dark when he came upstairs, and there’s just barely a hint of pale light coming through the windows, now. Dabi starts, curses, but stops when he realizes the bed is empty. He reaches over, feels the warmth from where Hawks had been lying not too long ago. He grabs his phone and sees all the alarms had been turned off at some point – definitely not by him.

“…Promise kiddo, I’m fine. Yep! Mhm – I know! Right? I don’t know where she got something like that. But yeah, I’m okay. I had a friend come over and help me. No, Not Rumi… RUDE! I do have other friends! Ah, no – don’t apologize! Just teasing!”

Dabi groans and stretches, winces when his staples pull. He starts downstairs, following the sound of the heroes voice that is way too chipper for the early morning. He stops when he gets to the kitchen and realizes he can smell something sweet and savory coming from the room. He crooks an eyebrow, questioning, when he catches the hero’s attention.

“Mhm! Okay kiddo- I’ve got to go. But I’ll see you later, okay? Pick you up around five?” Hawks asks into the phone. Dabi walks a little further into the room and sees what looks like pancakes, sausage, eggs, and fruit all laid out on the counter. There’s too much food for just Hawks.

“Okay, see you then! Bye!”

Hawks hangs up and turns to face Dabi. He smiles, and looks a thousand times better than he did last night. That could be because he’s got a shirt on now that’s covering the worst of the injuries, but Dabi has a feeling the hero just has a natural ability to wake up pretty.

“Good morning! I made breakfast.”

“I see. Coffee?”

“Yep! How do you like it?”

“Just black is fine.”

“Hm, How did I know you were going to say that…?” Hawks teases, pouring Dabi a mug.

Dabi gulps, feels a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden. He shouldn’t – they didn’t even do anything last night. So why does this feel so… domestic?

“You okay?” Hawks asks, handing him the coffee. Dabi looks at him, incredulously.

“Me? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I had a great doctor.” Hawks waves him off. Dabi rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure.”

“Best medical care I’ve ever received, hands down!” Hawks gives him a thumbs up and Dabi mimes gagging into his coffee cup, getting a laugh out of the bird.

“I don’t know if you like pancakes, but… It’s kind of the only thing I can make. Rumi likes them, so I’ve made them a few times before…” He scratches his head.

“She your girlfriend?” Dabi asks, curious. He’s heard the bird mention her before, and he’s pretty sure that’s who he was trying to call instead of Dabi.

Hawks chokes on his own coffee at the question and waves his hands, frantically.

“Hell no! Fucking… gross. Absolutely not. I’m – I mean, we’re both gay. So… no. Even if I wasn’t, I don’t… I don’t think I could survive that.” He shudders at the thought.

“Hmm. Good to know.” Dabi takes another sip and stares over his coffee at the hero, whose paused mid sip.

“Y-Yeah. Um. Are you – Do you have a… um… someone? That you’re seeing?” Hawks asks, awkward and fumbling. Dabi fights the urge to smile.

“Not many people like to see me in the first place.” He responds. Hawks frowns at that.

“That’s… not an answer.”

“Hmm. Then no, Hawks. I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend.” Dabi clarifies.

The hero nods, still awkward, and his wings ruffle just a bit. Dabi has grown accustomed to telling more about the hero’s emotional state through his wings, versus his expression. Hawks has a decent poker face, but his wings tend to give him away. So even though Hawks is trying his best to act normal, Dabi knows he has him flustered.

“Why do you ask?” He pushes. Hawks flushes, just a bit.

“Just… Just making conversation. You asked me first!” He reminds him. Dabi hums.

Dabi wants to see just how flustered he can get him, this morning. He sets down his mug and walks over to the hero – slowly, but with intent. Hawks puts down his mug too, and tracks the villain’s movement with wide eyes and parted lips. He doesn’t stop him, when he gets close enough to reach out. But Dabi stops on his own – he wants to see if the hero will meet him halfway.

“I asked, because I wanted to know if that’s why you won’t just give in, already.” Dabi purrs. Hawks eyes widen – he clearly hadn’t expected the villain to address this thing between them.

“I… I don’t… That’s – That’s not why…” Hawks trails off; his eyes focused on the way Dabi’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Oh? So there is a reason…?” Dabi steps a little closer, against his better judgment. Hawks tenses.

“Dabi…” Hawks breathes out. Dabi likes the way he says his name, so he tells him as much. Hawks reacts, inhales sharply, but he stays where he is.

“Say it again.” Dabi takes another step. If Hawks won’t meet him, then Dabi will chase him down.

“Say…?” Hawks blinks, clearly not keeping up with the conversation. Dabi smirks and takes the last step forward.

He has Hawks pinned against the countertop. His hero’s wings are flush against the cabinets, and his back is arched away, but he has a hand fisted in Dabi’s shirt, holding him closer. Dabi’s hands are bracketing the hero, caging him in and having him stay exactly where he wants him. Right underneath him.

“Say my name, Hawks.” Dabi trails a hand up the hero’s arm, from his wrist to his shoulder, then holds his hand around his neck. He looks good even like this – even framed in Dabi’s scars.

Hawks doesn’t obey, but that’s okay. Because the hero closes the gap between them, and his lips are so, so soft.

Dabi was right in his assumption – that those too close to an angel like Hawks were begging to be burned – to be incinerated for daring to get close to something so pure. But for the first time in his life, Dabi doesn’t mind the heat – he welcomes the fire Hawks has started between them.

Because Hawks is standing on the tips of his toes, trying to make himself tall enough to wrap a hand in Dabi’s hair and he pulls, just right. He chases the angle, and Dabi lets himself be caught. He runs large, scarred hands down the hero’s side – mindful of his wound, and when he reaches the hero’s hips he grabs a hold and lifts him onto the countertop.

Dabi leans in further, now that he can reach the place he wants, and pulls down the hero’s shirt, exposing his neck. He leaves trails of fire along Hawk’s shoulder and his neck, and Hawks is panting and rolling his hips into Dabi’s, and he’s so fucking eager that he’s already hard, just from this.

“D-Dabi.” Hawks whimpers, and finds his mouth again.

Hawks kisses like he lives – bravely, without thinking twice about it. He’s all teeth and fumbling hands, but it’s so fucking good, that it takes a moment for Dabi to realize…

“Wait.”

Dabi’s hands still the hero’s movements; they grip strong hips that are peeking out of baggy sweatpants that are riding just low enough that Dabi can see a trail of golden hair disappear beneath them.

“Wh-What? Did I… Did I do something wrong?” Hawks asks.

And that’s exactly why Dabi stopped. Because Hawks was incredible, but he was also nervous and fumbling and just a bit too hesitant after he’d made the first move, and Dabi had to wonder…

“Have you done this before?” He asks, panting.

Hawks colors, even more than he already was, and his mouth sets in a hard line.

“I… no. So what?” He challenges, defensive. Dabi releases his hold, eases up just a bit.

“Hawks… was that… your first kiss?” Dabi asks, incredulous.

If the hero was defensive before, he’s completely walled himself off now. He crosses his arms and leans back, away from Dabi, who moves at the same time. He takes a long step back from the hero.

“So what?” He asks, again. And Dabi is… speechless. Almost.

“I thought… But you’re so…” Dabi tries to find the words without insulting the hero.

“What? A tease?” Hawks challenges, raises a brow. Dabi winces.

“I would’ve said flirt…” He scratches the back of his neck, awkward.

“Well! I mean – I was in the commission till I turned eighteen. And then I was a hero. And I… I mean. I had chances. But there wasn’t anyone I… wanted that with.” Hawks looks mortified to be telling Dabi this, but Dabi can’t even begin to understand, because…

“Then why the fuck did you kiss me?”

Hawks rears back like he’s been slapped. His eyes flash with something like hurt before they narrow in anger.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It… I mean, yeah, but fuck, Hawks…”

“Then I don’t see the problem.” Hawks hops off the counter, but stays far away.

“It’s… That’s not…” Dabi trails off.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do. Dabi doesn’t even remember his first kiss, but he’s a villain, he’s bad – he doesn’t matter the same way Hawks does. He shouldn’t have wasted his first kiss on someone like Dabi. And with what Dabi had felt when Hawks hips rolled into his, he would’ve let him do a lot more than just kiss.

“I have to go.” Dabi manages.

Hawks does look hurt at this, but he turns away. His arms are still crossed in front and his wings are tense behind him.

“Fine.”

“I… Hawks, I’m so-“

“Don’t fucking apologize. Just go, if you’re going!” Hawks nearly yells, and Dabi feels like the world’s biggest piece of shit.

But he leaves. He rushes out the kitchen, past the breakfast the hero had made for him. He doesn’t stop to get his jacket out of the dryer – he can just get a new one. It doesn’t really matter, honestly. All that matters is getting the fuck out of Hawks life as soon as possible. Fuck the mission – it wasn’t worth this familiar ache in Dabi’s chest .

Hawks deserved someone much better than Dabi, who’d planned to hurt him from the beginning.

Chapter Text

Hawks stares after Dabi’s form, retreating through his front door and disappearing just as quickly as he’d appeared in front of him the day before. He lets out a shaky breath, once he’s alone. His side is aching like hell and his head is still throbbing. His chest hurts too, but he’s pretty sure that has more to do with the villain than his injuries.

Hawks is not going to cry.

He hasn’t cried since… well, he couldn’t remember when. And he wasn’t going to start now, no matter how embarrassed and angry and… disappointed he was. Definitely not – not over a stupid villain with a stupid smile and stupid staples that somehow didn’t feel weird, when Hawks cupped his face.

Fuck, he was crying.

He double-checked his phone this time, before calling Rumi. Rumi – Not Dabi. God, what a mistake that had been.

…Had it? Dabi had been… surprisingly gentle. He’d been patient. He hadn’t even threatened to set him on fire after Hawks had thrown up on the guy. Christ, no wonder he’d literally run away from the hero.

“…Hawks? You there?” Rumi’s voice is muffled by sleep.

“Y-Yeah. Um… Good morning.” Hawks winces at the sound of his voice – wet and full of his stupid emotions.

“Hawks? Baby, you okay?” Rumi is suddenly much more alert now.

“Fine – I’m fine. Um… Do you – Do you want to come over?” Hawks practically begs.

There’s the sound of rustling sheets on the other side of the phone and Hawks can hear another sleepy voice that isn’t Rumi’s.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Rumi says to someone else, in a low voice.

“Shit – Sorry, Rumi. It’s not important, go back to-”

“It’s fine, Hawks,” Rumi yawns, “What’s up? You okay? I saw that fight on the news, yesterday.”

“Y-Yeah. Fine.  Um. You can really go, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not a bother, babe. I needed to get up anyway. This isn’t my house.” She admits with a giggle. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“Whose is it?”

“Ah… I can’t tell you.” She admits.

“What?! But you tell me everything! Even when I don’t want you to!” Hawks points out and wipes his eyes.

“Ha – Yeah. But uh… I had to sign like – an actual NDA for this one.” She giggles. Hawks gapes.

“Holy shit… You sure you want to be talking to me?” He asks.

“Not really, but, since you called.” She teases and laughs. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“What was that about coming over?” She asks. Hawks can hear the sound of keys jingling and she locks the door behind her.

“You have a key to their place? Rumi – what – How long have you-”

“I’ll tell you what I can when I see you. I need to get breakfast on the way, I’m fucking starving. Want anything?” She asks a little louder now that she isn’t trying to be quiet anymore.

“Actually, uh… I made pancakes.” He winces.

“Oh?! Shit – Why didn’t you say anything?! I’ll be there in ten!” She whoops, excited, and hangs up.

It’s hard not to catch her excitement, sometimes. Hawks feels a little better already until he remembers why he made the pancakes in the first place. Stupid… Of course, that would scare Dabi off. Not that he was trying to… imply anything, with the pancakes. They were just thank you pancakes. Thanks for coming to get me in the pouring rain, thanks for letting me puke on you, thanks for bandaging and cleaning me up, pancakes. Totally normal.

Then why the fuck did you kiss me?

“Ughh!” Hawks groans and wings droop in utter embarrassment.

Why the fuck did he kiss him? That definitely wasn’t out of gratitude, like the pancakes were. It wasn’t even something he really thought about – he’d just…

Okay. Yeah. He’d thought about it a lot.

He’d thought about it ever since the villain had ripped his fucking shirt open like it was nothing the night before. Bright eyes darkened with something like lust, staring up at him through long lashes. Staples that caught the light just so, when the villain would smirk. He’d wondered what it would feel like, to kiss him. Would it be as rough as it looked? Would it be soft? Would Dabi be the first one to break, or would Hawks eventually crumble at the villain’s feet, like he’d been dying to do since he first laid eyes on him?

Because, if he’s being honest, he’d thought about kissing the villain well before last night. Ever since he’d been thrown into a wall, since he’d heard that voice rasp against his ear,

You lost, little bird?

Hawks had been lost ever since he met Dabi. So when the villain had approached him this morning with his face still flushed from sleep, and his hair tousled from tossing and turning in Hawk’s bed all night… He’d finally crumbled. Only, not the way he’d wanted.

“Bitch! What happened to your door?!” Rumi squawks.

Hawks turns towards the commotion to see Rumi standing with wide eyes, pointing at the handle. Or, where the handle used to be. There was nothing there, now.

“What…?” Hawks goes over and sees a misshapen hunk of metal at the bottom of the door – the remnants of his lock. What the fuck, Dabi?

“I, uh… Don’t… Know.” Hawks tells her, half honest.

Her eyes narrow behind her colored glasses, and she looks down at him. Her ears twitch and she crosses her arms.

“You’re such a liar.” She tosses her head and walks through the door, straight for the kitchen.

Hawks sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He closes the door and notices on his way back in that the puddle of vomit that should have been in the entryway was… gone. Had Dabi cleaned?

“Yo! Earth to Hawks! You okay?” Rumi asks through a mouthful of pancakes.

His wings droop, just a bit.

“No.”

**********

“Wait, wait… You threw up on him?! And he still kissed you this morning?!”

“I brushed my teeth, first!”

“That’s not what I mean! I mean you literally got your nasty fluids all over him last night, and then he wanted your nasty fluids all over him this morning, too?!  And he stayed over? And cleaned?!” Rumi exclaims. Hawks groans and rakes his hands over his face.

“Gross, Rumi! Why do you have to say it like that?”

“Say it however you want, the facts are the same – It looks like he’s into you.” She says, matter-of-fact. Hawks shakes his head, disagreeing.

“You didn’t see him run out of here this morning.” He points out. She frowns, hums.

“Well… without knowing who he is… I mean, it’s kind of hard to hypothesize. But if he’s as experienced as you made him out to be… maybe your relative inexperience kind of startled him? Like, maybe it was a lot of pressure on him or something?” She wonders.

“Relative inexperience? You don’t have to sugarcoat it, Rumi. He found out I’m a virgin, he freaked, and he left.” Hawks deadpans. Rumi winces, an ear twitches, and she scratches the back of her head.

“Well… I wouldn’t have said it like that. Virginity is a societal construct, how many times do I have to beat it into you?! And if he’s as nice as you say he is, it’s probably not fair to assume that of him!”

“He’s not nice.”

“He was your knight in shining armor, yesterday.”

“He’s not nice.”

“He cleaned up your vomit! I’ve never even done that!”

“Yeah, I know.” Hawks rolls his eyes and receives a hard smack on the arm.

“Fuck off, brat. Listen, I’m just saying, I don’t know who this guy is – but I bet you’ll be hearing from him again. Sooner than you think.” She tells him. Hawks rubs his arm and sighs.

“But! With that being said… Fuck that bitch. You better make him fucking grovel for hurting your feelings like that.” She hits his other arm this time and ignores Hawks’ squawk of indignation.

“I’m serious! Don’t look at me like that. He knew it was your first kiss and he still left like that?! Nu-uh. Not cool. Whatever his issues are, he better not be taking them out on you again.” She continues.

“I’m surprised you’re not telling me to just drop him.” Hawks admits. She huffs.

“Well, I would if I thought you’d listen. But you seem pretty into him, too, so I figured that wasn’t an option.”

Hawks bites his lip and thinks about it. There was no denying that he was… into Dabi, as Rumi said. That wasn’t the problem. Their chemistry had never been the issue. The issue was that Hawks was a hero, and Dabi was a villain. Hawks was using him for information on The League and would have to hand him over to the authorities when his mission was over. Dabi was using Hawks for his information on the Commission, and would likely kill him when he found out he was betraying him like this.

But Rumi didn’t know any of this.

“Well… Enough about him,” Hawks sighs, relents, “Tell me about your new girlfriend.”

“We – We aren’t – We haven’t had that talk yet!” Rumi splutters. Hawks' eyes widen.

“Holy shit – You like like her?!” Hawks asks, surprised. Rumi colors, a little bit of pink showing through her dark caramel cheeks.

“I… I mean – obviously! I have a key to her place, don’t I?!” Rumi crosses her arms. Hawks laughs, catches himself when his side aches a little more than usual.

“What happened to the pro-heroes number one eternally eligible bachelorette?!”

“Well… She got dicked down, didn’t she?!” Rumi huffs, defensive. Hawks laughs, hard.

“Rumi, you have never been dicked down in your life.”

“Tch. It’s an expression, dumbass.” Rumi flushes. Hawks finishes chuckling and smiles at his friend, fondly.

“So… What can you tell me?” Hawks asks. Rumi shrugs.

“She’s a pro. Very high up. And she has a big personality and endorsements and stuff, but she’s not out. Hence, the NDA.” She explains. Hawks hums, thoughtfully.

“If I guess, will you tell me?”

“No.”

“Is she higher in the ranks than you?”

“No comment.”

Hawks laughs, reaches over, and ruffles her hair the way that she hates.

“Hey!”

“Cute.” Hawks sticks out his tongue. Rumi scowls.

“Yeah, yeah. Now let me see the damage.” She motions to Hawks’ chest. He sighs and pulls up his shirt so she can inspect Dabi’s handiwork.

“Oof – babe. That looks… ugly.” She says. Despite her words, her tone is sympathetic.

“Feels ugly.” He admits.

“Hm… Looks like he did a good job, though. Don’t think anything is infected. You didn’t want to get your ribs checked?” She lets his shirt fall and curls up a little on the couch, leaning against the cushions.

“No. The commission… they’d fix them.” He mutters, bitter. Rumi winces, sympathetically.

“Even just for something like that?”

“They’d probably fix a paper cut, honestly.” Hawks admits, defeated.

Rumi doesn’t know exactly why Hawks hates going to the commission’s doctor, but she knows enough not to push the issue.

“I’m sorry, babe.” Rumi reaches out and runs a large hand through his hair. Hawks leans into it, just as she pulls away.

“Gah! Gross! You need to shower!” She exclaims and makes a faux gagging noise as she shakes something like dried blood off her fingers.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry. I stink, huh?” He asks, going for a hug.

“I will fucking kick you so far out of this apartment Hawks, I swear.” She threatens, tenses her legs.

“But I’m injured!” He whines, getting up off the couch.

“And you fucking reek! Go shower!” She pinches her nose and Hawks laughs, rolls his eyes.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Tch. That’s right.” She tells him, already leaning back and scrolling through her phone.

Hawks pulls out his own phone on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t checked either one of them since waking up, except to respond to the kid’s dozen texts and missed calls. But he had a few other texts from the FUCK CHISAKI group, as well.

(13:52) Pencil Sharpener: Call the kid

(14:30) Pencil Sharpener: Call the kid

(15:00) Pencil Sharpener: If he starts crying one more time bc of u, I’m going to kick ur ass

(15:03) Pencil Sharpener: U ok?

(15:20) Yamadaddy: Sho jeez give him a sec!

(15:20) Yamadaddy: You okay though, Hawks-Kun? Kid is really worried about you!

(15:30) Pencil Sharpener: Apparently he has an alert set for u – Anytime ur in the news

(15:45) Yamadaddy: CUTE!!!

(15:46) Yamadaddy: He’s ur #1 Fan

Hawks reads over the messages from the day before and snorts in amusement.

(11:33) Hawks has changed his username to Green Bean’s Favorite Hero

(11:34) Green Bean’s Favorite Hero: Sorry guys – I’m alive

(11:34) Green Bean’s Favorite Hero: I talked to the kid already

(11:37) Pencil Sharpener: Did he ask if he could come over tonight?

(11:38) Pencil Sharpener has changed Green Bean’s Favorite Hero username to Green Bean’s Second Favorite Hero

(11:39) Green Bean’s Second Favorite Hero: Jealous much?

(11:40) Green Bean’s Second Favorite Hero: Yeah I told him I’d pick him up at 5 – that cool? I’ll bring him back after

(11:45) Yamadaddy: That’s fine!!!! Thanks Hawks-Kun he’s super excited!

(11:48) Yamadaddy has changed Green Bean’s Second Favorite Hero username to Green Bean’s Third Favorite Hero

(11:50) Yamadaddy: Sorry guys, but I’m the fav! HE LISTENS TO MY PODCAST!!!

(11:53) Green Bean’s Third Favorite Hero: You didn’t know?

(11:55) Yamadaddy: You did?! AND U DIDN’T TELL ME????!!!?!?!?!

(11:55) Green Bean’s Third Favorite Hero: Whoops! I thought you knew! He listens when he has nightmares

(11:59) Yamadaddy has changed Green Bean’s Third Favorite Hero username to Traitor

(12:00) Traitor: Ouch. How do u feel about Rumi tagging along tonight?

Hawks sets the phone down and starts to undress, careful to mind the stitches. He leaves the bandage around them and is careful not to pull on them. He checks in the mirror before he starts washing off the events of the last twelve hours.

They’ll probably scar, Hawks thinks. He trails his hands over the raised wounds and hisses when he pushes down too hard on his side. He wonders how long he’ll have the marks. He’ll have to be careful if he wants to keep them longer than a few weeks. And the commission will probably punish him when they see them, once they realized he didn’t come to them after being injured. But he doesn’t care. It can’t be worse than visiting Dr. Yuki.

Hawks showers quickly, his energy lagging now that the events of this morning start to feel a little farther away. He checks his phone again and yawns.

(12:15) Pencil Sharpener: Kid practically imploded when we asked.

(12:30) Traitor: In a good way or bad way?

(12:33) Yamadaddy: Rumi can come! Just make sure to catch him if he passes out when he meets her~

(12:35) Traitor: Will do!

“Rumi?” Hawks calls out through another yawn.

“What?” She asks from her spot on the couch.

“You busy tonight?”

“Nope! Why, wanna go out?” She asks, sitting up.

“Actually… The kid called and wants to come over for something. Wanna hang with us?”

“REALLY?! FUCK YES!” She fist pumps and Hawks laughs.

“Okay, cool. You mind if I knock out for a while first? I didn’t realize how tired I still was.”

“Sure! I may go home and change but I’ll be back.” She tells him. He nods and yawns again.

“Kay.”

Hawks walks up the stairs to his loft. He isn’t sure he could fly, like this. His wings pull on his side when he uses them, and he’d probably vomit again from the pain.

He sinks into his bed, only to freeze. His pillows and his sheets… They smell like wildfire. Like smoke and ash, like something barely contained – something humans foolishly think they have a chance against.

Hawks hesitates for a moment before deciding to forego any semblance of shame. He hugs the pillow Dabi had been using to his chest, inhaling the scent. He relaxes, just a bit, and dreams of chapped lips and warm hands.

**********

Hawks wakes up just in time to leave. He hadn’t meant to sleep the entire day, but he can’t deny that he feels a lot better than when he passed out in the first place.

“Thank God. I did not want to mess with waking your ass up, today.” Rumi says when he walks downstairs.

“Tch. I’m not that bad.” Hawks argues, stretching and shaking out his wings.

He heads to the bathroom, brushes his teeth again, and runs a brush through his bedhead. He reaches into the medicine cabinet to grab a hold of his quirk suppressants that are hidden in a plain white bottle without a label. He starts when he looks up to see Rumi looking at him, disapproving, leaning against the doorway.

“They still have you take that shit?” She asks, unimpressed. Her eyes narrow as he throws the pill back and washes it down with a handful of water from the sink.

“It’s for my-”

“Own good,” She interrupts, “But I still don’t get how.”

“Trust me. I feel like shit when I don’t take them.” He assures her. She continues glaring at the bottle as if it’s personally offended her.

“Have you thought any more about letting me take them somewhere? Just to see what’s in them? I have someone that can be discreet.”

Hawks shakes his head and walks past her, into the kitchen where his clothes had been piling up on the dinner table. Only, it’s clean now.

“They’ll know if I miss one – they keep track. And where’s my stuff?”

“Because that’s not alarming at all… And it’s where it should be – I put everything in your closet. I also started a new load of clothes for you and found… this?” Rumi holds up a dark leather jacket that she’d draped over the arm of the couch. Hawks flushes.

“Uh…”

“Doesn’t really seem like your style. I assume it’s…?”

“His. Yeah. Um… Shit, he’ll probably want it back.” Hawks realizes. He’s never seen the guy without it.

“Perfect! Now you have the perfect opportunity to see him again.” Rumi winks and sets it back down.

“Whatever. You ready to go?” Hawks asks.

Rumi nods and shrugs on her own denim jacket that’s covering a slightly cropped top. Her low-rise jeans make the shirt look a lot more cropped than it really is, but honestly, Hawks knows this is her trying to dress more modest for the kid’s sake.

Rumi hops over the mess of metal outside Hawks’ door. Hawks sighs and debates what to do with it, before deciding to kick it inside and close the door. The security in the building would let him know if someone tried to break in, and he needed to get a sturdier lock, anyways. Just how hot could Dabi’s fire really burn?

Rumi drives the short trip to Eraser and Mic’s apartment while Hawks is given a brief rundown by the underground hero.

“He seems better than he did yesterday, but he’s still pretty quiet compared to usual.” Eraserhead warns him, after giving him an update on his breakdown with Yamada.

“Okay! I’ll break him out of his shell in no time, don’t worry!”  Hawks grins. Eraser sighs.

“Yeah. I know. Thank you.” He concedes. Hawks blinks, surprised. He hadn’t actually expected any kind of thanks from the hero.

“Uh… Yeah. No problem. I’m just glad I’m able to get him to chill out a bit, you know?”

“Sap.” Rumi chimes in from the driver’s seat. Hawks flips her off.

“Did he say what he’s coming over for?” Hawks wonders. The kid had said there was something he wanted to do, but he wouldn’t tell him what it was.

“No idea.”

“Hm… okay, then! I’m fine with surprises.”

“Thanks again, Hawks. We… We appreciate it.” Eraser says, in a rare moment of sincerity.

“Of course! You and Mic need some alone time anyways, huh?” Hawks ruins the moment by teasing.

“Bye, Hawks.” Eraser hangs up immediately and the winged hero barks out a laugh.

Rumi looks at him sideways, suspicious. Hawks gives her a look back and rubs his side.

“What?” He asks, self-conscious.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Eraserhead.” She comments. Hawks laughs.

“We’re not friends – He tolerates me, for the kid.” He explains. Rumi hums, unconvinced.

“If you say so…”

“I do. Trust me.” Hawks shoots a quick text over to the kid to let him know they’re pulling into the parking lot.

“I’ll stay in the car.” Rumi tells him, and Hawks nods on his way out.

On the way inside, he toys with the idea of sending Dabi a message. About meeting Shigaraki, or the jacket. Or the fact that owes him a new door. Not about the incredibly hot, earth-shattering kiss, or the fact that they shared a bed the night before.

But he ends up deciding against it, pocketing the phone before he knocks on the door to the hero’s place.

“IT’S OPEN!” Yamada’s voice carries over and Hawks lets himself inside.

The kid skids around the corner just as Hawks closes the door behind him. It’s hard not to grin at the sight of the dark green, unruly hair pushed back in a plain black headband. Or the small grin tugging at freckled dimples. Or the fact that he’s still wearing Hawks’ bright red shoes, and the Present Mic hoodie that was the only thing he’d asked Hawks for on their shopping trip.

“Hey, kiddo!” He greets him with a wave.

“Hi!”

“Be honest, how much did Yamada pay you to wear that tonight?”

“RUDE!” Yamada’s voice comes from somewhere deeper in the apartment and Hawks lets out a laugh when the voice hero finally comes to greet him, looking very offended.

“H-He didn’t! I just w-wanted to… Um… I can change?” The kid offers.

“ABSOLutely not!” The hero’s quirk is erased when his husband comes out to greet Hawks, as well.

“Nah kiddo, I’m just teasing Yamada. You look great!” He assures him and gives him a thumbs up. The kid blushes, just a bit, and peeks behind him.

“Rumi is waiting in the car.” Hawks tells him.

“Oh – Okay!”

“When will you be back?” Eraser asks, looking at Hawks.

“In a few hours, I guess – not super late, right?” He checks, glancing at the kid. He still isn’t sure what exactly the boy has planned.

“Right.” He nods.

“No problem! Just have fun! Let us know when you’re on the way back, okay?” Yamada tells him, as Eraser walks the kid to the door.

“Don’t worry, we’ll knock first.” Hawks winks.

“That’s not what I meant!” Yamada shoves him, slightly, and Hawks winces at the sudden movement.

“Ah! Sorry! I forgot you’re hurt. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Yamada asks, eyes roving over Hawks as if he can see his injuries.

“Nah, I’m fine. Just kinda sore.”

“Hm… Well you know if you ever need anything, you can reach out, right? Shouta will never admit it, but you’ve grown on him a bit.” Yamada smiles. Hawks splutters.

“Th – Yamada! Don’t joke like that.” He grumbles, crosses his arms.

“I’m not joking! He would drop whatever he’s doing to come help you out if you ever need it. And I would too!” Yamada pats him on the arm as he leads him out of the apartment.

Hawks doesn’t really know what to say in response, so he settles on shuffling, awkward. The kid notices this and tilts his head.

“Ready, kiddo?” Hawks asks as a distraction. The kid nods, and after a few more clingy goodbyes and assurances by Yamada, Eraser is able to drag him back inside.

When they get to the elevator, Hawks reaches out a hand to guide the kid gently by the shoulders, which is when he notices…

“Where’s the scarf?”

“Oh! Uh… Um… I m-mean. It’s, um… It’s kinda h-hot today.” The kid stutters out. Hawks raises an eyebrow.

“You’re wearing a hoodie.” He points out.

“Um… I mean…”

Hawks stops him before they get to the elevator. He kneels to the kid’s height and places his hands on his shoulders. He relaxes his wings, blocking everything else out.

“Kid… They kinda told me a little bit about what happened, earlier this week. With the scarf. You don’t want to wear it anymore, or what?” Hawks asks, gently. The kid’s eyes widen and fill up with tears, quickly.

“I… I do. B-But…” He sniffs and looks away.

“I don’t deserve it.” He finally says, hanging his head.

“What? Why not?” Hawks questions, surprised.

“B-Because. I was m-mean. To Yamada. I h-hurt his feelings.”

“…I thought you guys talked it out, though? Did he tell you that you hurt his feelings?”

“N-No. But I know I did.” He shakes his head.

“Hm… So… you have a mind-reading quirk?” Hawks tilts his head. This catches the kid’s attention. He looks at him, confused.

“Huh?”

“Do you have a mind-reading quirk?” Hawks repeats. The kid shakes his head, slowly.

“N-No.”

“Do you have a lie detector quirk? Like that detective?”

“N-No.”

“Some kind of emotional-based quirk? An empathy type?”

“No… Hawks, why-”

“Then how do you know that you hurt his feelings?”

The kid’s eyes widen in realization, “B-Because. I just do.”

“Hm… so Yamada was lying, then…” Hawks muses. The kid shakes his head, quick to disagree.

“N-No!”

“Oh. Then you just know better than him…”

“No! I don’t-”

“Then why are you ignoring what he said? He told you that you didn’t hurt his feelings. We’ve eliminated all other options, so… what’s the deal?”

“I… B-But I s-still made him cry.” The kid tries to explain.

Hawks squints, and debates for a moment, before reaching up and flicking him on the nose, gently, but with intent.

“Wh- Hey!” The kid holds his face and gapes up at the hero, struck speechless. Hawks would take a picture if he was quick enough.

“You didn’t make him cry – I know he told you that. And I’m not going over everything with you again…” Hawks starts walking back towards the door they’d just come out of,

“Either you believe him or you don’t, but either way – what does that have to with you deserving the scarf? Eraser didn’t give it to you because he thought you deserved it – he gave it to you because he wanted you to feel better. Do you know how many people he would do that for? Two. Yamada, and you.” Hawks knocks on the door, much to the kid’s distress.

“Wh-What are you doing?!”

“Hawks?” Yamada opens the door, surprised. He’s flushed and his hair is piled high up on his head, where before it had been long and flowing.

“Well, that didn’t take long.” Hawks muses, smirking. Yamada flushes a bright red,

“Is everything okay?” He asks, peeking around at the kid.

“Yeah, just forgot something. Where’s the kid’s room?” Hawks asks.

“Uh, right outside ours down the hall.”

“Your door is closed, I hope.” Hawks mutters as he moves past the hero. He can hear the kid try and yell out,

“You don’t have to!”

Hawks rolls his eyes and waves him off, “Yeah, yeah.”

He reaches the kid’s door and stops. He hesitates.

“Hey!” He yells out. Footsteps, and then green eyes are blinking up at him from down the hall.

“I can go in here, right? Or do you wanna get it.”

The kid hesitates and then nods.

“You can go in.”

It feels important when the kid tells him that. That he trusts him enough to enter his space, to grab his most prized possession and bring it out to him. Hawks is feeling humbled enough to not mention the fact that he found it under the kid’s pillow. Plus, if Eraser knew that, he’d never shut up about being the kid’s favorite.

“Here.” He drops the scarf on the kid’s head and smirks at the sense of calm that settles over the kid, right away.

“Please let me take a picture.” Hawks begs. The kid flushes.

“No way!”

“Come on! You’re wearing my shoes, Mic’s hoodie, and Eraser’s scarf! That’s too fucking much!” Hawks whines. The kid shakes his head and then stops. He bites his lip.

“Only if we can go flying again when you feel better.” He says. Hawks grins.

“You’ve got a deal.” He holds out his hand, and the kid shakes it. From somewhere behind Mic’s closed door, Eraser yells just loud enough to hear,

“Absolutely not!”

Chapter Text

“I KNOW! And then – AND THEN – Do you know what he asked?! He asked if Hawks would chew up his food and SPIT IN HIS MOUTH! LIKE A BABY BIRD!” Miruko is red in the face, yelling across Hawks' kitchen table in her excitement.

“RUMIII!” Hawks' wings ruffle , just a bit.

“AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID?! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BAR?!”

“Wh-What?” Deku is on the edge of his seat.

“HE DID IT!” She screams and laughs, nearly falling back in her chair. Hawks is bright red and is covering his face with his hands.

“It was my first time being drunk – I couldn’t hold my liquor!”

“I never spat in anyone’s mouth the first time I got wasted!”

“Not for lack of trying!”

“Fuck off! Listen kid, long story short, Hawks has the craziest fucking fans!”

Deku can’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. No, he can’t remember the last time he laughed. It must have been well before the precepts, well before the rooftop. If the kid he used be could see him now – eating dinner across from the number five hero, sitting next to the number three hero… Maybe he wouldn’t have jumped.

“Rumiii! You’re never hanging out with us again!” Hawks crosses his arms and pouts, sticks his tongue out at the hero, who flips him off in return.

“HA! Fine, then we’ll hang out without you – won’t we, cutie?” Miruko winks at Deku.

“Wha?! No way! I’m his favorite hero – not you!” Hawks crosses his arms, petulantly.

“Says who?!”

“Says the shoes! Kid – Do you have any Miruko merch?!”  Hawks leans forward, desperate. Miruko waves him off before he can answer.

“Not yet, he doesn’t! I already texted my manager to set some stuff aside for the next time we hang out.” She winks, cheekily.

“R-Really? You didn’t have to – Hey! Hawks!” Deku notices the phone that’s been recording since before he started laughing, and he swats it away.

“Why are you always taking pictures of me?!”

“Because you’re too cute!” Both Hawks and Miruko talk at the same time. They glare at each other for a brief moment, and then -

“JINKS!”

“JIN- BITCH I SAID IT FIRST!”

“Sorry, that’s what happens when you go against the fastest hero!” Hawks smiles his signature smile and throws up a peace sign. Miruko huffs and kicks his chair hard enough to tip him over, forcing him to brace on the armrests to keep his balance.

“Hey!”

Deku chuckles, and plays with the headband that Yamada had let him borrow.

“Ugh. Well, kid, it’s starting to get kinda late. Someone took forever at the grocery store.” Hawks rolls his eyes and gets smacked for his efforts.

“Hey! I’ve told you – if you don’t have good ingredients, then how do you expect to have good food?! I bet your soup is extra delicious now, isn’t it kid?”

“Yeah, yeah. I think you just like spending money.” Hawks answers for him.

“Well… That too.” Miruko rolls her eyes and puts down her phone she’d been scrolling through.

“So – do I get to know the big secret now? What’d you wanna do, kid?” Hawks asks, rests his head on his hand.

Hawks looks tired, Deku can tell. He kind of feels bad for calling him, earlier, and asking him if he could come over. But he didn’t know who else to ask, that could actually help him. And if he was being honest, he really wanted to see the hero for himself, after re-watching the video of his villain fight he’d been in the day before. It looked like the villain had thrown him a lot harder than he made it out to be.

“Um… I… Well, I told Yamada and Aizawa-Sensei that, um… I want to try and go to UA. To sh-shadow, like they said.”

“That’s great, kid!” Hawks smiles.

“Th-Thanks. But… um… I wanted…” He looks up, questioning.

“What is it, kiddo?”

“Um… I, I don’t want to embarrass them. When I go. And, um, my h-hair. It’s… It’s too long.” Deku admits, biting his lip nervously.

Hawks blinks, surprised. Then, he looks worried.

“Uh, kid…”

“I just thought, since… Um… since it’s y-you… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? If you… If you cut it for me?” He tries, hesitantly.

“Ah… Kid. I don’t – I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Um…” Hawks looks visibly uncomfortable, and Deku feels terrible for bringing it up. He tries to smile at the hero, reassuring, but he knows it doesn’t translate.

“That’s okay! S-Sorry, um, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no,” Hawks cuts him off, “You can always ask me for anything, kid. I just don’t know if that’s a good idea because of… um… last time.”He winces apologetically.

Deku nods, understanding but disheartened all the same. He’d hoped that maybe that time spent in the hospital, when Hawks had reached out to ruffle his hair, had been a fluke. But if that were the case, Deku figured he probably wouldn’t have been so nervous bringing it up.

“What’s the problem?” Miruko speaks up. Hawks looks over at Deku, who nods, just a little nervous.

“Kiddo isn’t a big fan of people messing with his hair.” He explains. Miruko hums, understanding.

“Like, anyone? Or is it just dudes?” She asks, her sharp eyes working hard and assessing the situation.

“Um… I don’t know. It’s… it never bothered me, before. So um… I don’t know.” Deku admits, shrugs helplessly.

“Well… why don’t I give it a shot, then?” She suggests, perking up a bit.

Hawks glances back at Deku, worrying. They speak at the same time –

“I don’t know if-”

“Really?”

Deku doesn’t mean to cut the hero off, and he tenses when he does. But Hawks only looks more worried, he doesn’t get angry or get up or move towards him – like Deku had shamefully been afraid though.

“Yeah! I used to cut all my siblings hair growing up, and I used to do mine too! I gotcha, kiddo!”

“Rumi…” Hawks starts.

“Can we use your bathroom?” She turns to look at the winged hero. Her arms are crossed, one brow arched, daring him to tell her no. He sighs, though, and relents.

“I have a razor in there you can use.”

“Great! Wanna try it out now?” She asks. Deku looks over at Hawks, who reassures him.

“It’s fine, kid. But if you start to get uncomfortable, we’re stopping. Okay?”

“Okay.” Deku nods.

“Great! Hawks – Go away.” She shoos the hero and gets up, stretching. Deku follows, not as confidently.

“What? Why?!”

“Because – You get to have the kid all to yourself all the time – styling is serious business.” She tells him and winks at the kid.

“You just don’t want me to tell him if you mess up.”

“I won’t mess up!”

“You better not! Eraser will take that scarf and –tshk!” Hawks mimes wrapping the scarf around something and pulling – hard. Miruko pales a bit.

“He wouldn’t!” Deku assures her. She doesn’t look convinced.

“Speaking of scarves though, why don’t you let me hold onto it, so you don’t get hair everywhere?” Hawks suggests and holds his hand out. Deku glares at him, half-heartedly. After all the trouble they’d gone through to get the scarf tonight…

“I’ll lay it on the couch; I promise I won’t mess with it!” He promises and motions to where there’s already another piece of clothing lying on the couch. A jacket that looks really familiar for some reason.

“Is that yours?” He asks, walking over to it. Hawks tenses and Rumi laughs.

“That’s his boyfriend’s.” She teases. Hawks flushes a bright red.

“He’s not! He’s not my boyfriend.” He crosses his arms.

“Okay – Your friends with benefits.” She rolls her eyes.

“We’re not friends!” He argues.

“Fine – Your fu-”

“RUMI!” He yells, but she’s still laughing. Deku, though…

“Who is he?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?!” Rumi calls out from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

“Uh… I’m not, um… Why do you ask?” Hawks hesitates.

“It just looks… familiar. I feel like I’ve seen it.” Deku reaches out, his hand brushing the soft leather.

“Well… I mean, it’s just a leather jacket. You could’ve seen tons of people wearing them!” Hawks points out. Deku agrees for the moment, but he still feels like he’s forgetting something.

“Maybe…”

**********

“So how do you want it styled?” Rumi asks, and sits cross legged on the floor in front of him, so she’s eye level with him.

“Um…” Deku hasn’t actually thought that far ahead. He’d been so nervous about the act itself, he has no idea. He says as much and she hums.

“Well, if you don’t like people messing with your hair, it could always be shorter. But I’d hate to buzz it; it’s such a pretty color.” She says.

She reaches out, slowly, to twirl a strand. She never loses eye contact with him, gauging his reaction with her sharp, red eyes.

He tenses, but… nothing happens. He’s still in Hawk’s bathroom, with the number five hero sitting on the cool tile in front of him. Her tall ears twitch, slightly, and he tracks the movement.

Deku has never had short hair. He’s always had something for people to tug on – His mom, Kacchan, Chisaki… Tengai… But he doesn’t know that he would feel like himself, whoever that is, without it.

“Then… how about something like this…?” Rumi says, and Deku realizes he’d been mumbling again.

She reaches out with her phone and shows him a picture of someone with long hair on the top of their head, slightly shifted to the side, with the bottom shaved a little shorter. He could still keep his curls, while having less surface area to grab a hold of.

“We can clean it up a bit; make it a little shorter, but still show off those pretty curls.” She smiles, mirroring his own thoughts. Deku smiles, nods.

“Okay.”

She stays sitting on the floor the entire time, which genuinely surprises Deku. Sometimes she’ll have him hold a mirror up behind him, so she can get a better angle, but she never stands. She talks about Hawks, and her not-girlfriend (who Deku has narrowed down to two or three top pro-heroes, based on her vague descriptions). She talks about her family growing up, and the first time she cut her sister’s hair.

“Don’t worry – I’ve gotten a lot better since then.” She giggles.

At one point, Deku nearly falls asleep. The feeling of her hands gently massaging his scalp as she works has put him in a kind of daze, and his eyes slip closed before realizes.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before?”

“I-I  haven’t!”

“Tch… I don’t believe you. Pretty face like that? People must be lining up to ruin it.”

Deku starts forward, jolting himself awake and nearly running into the scissors that Miruko started using at some point. He’s breathing hard, has to blink several times to clear his head, but he can’t –

“I – I promise I don’t – I don’t know what to -“

“Fine. Just hold still then.” Chisaki orders, grabs a handful of wild, green curls.

”Kid!” Miruko finally gets his attention, snapping in front of his face multiple times until his eyes sharpen and his breathing slows. He looks around, remembers where he is - 

“Don’t tell Hawks.” He gasps, eyes wide.

Miruko hesitates – She looks at him with an expression he’s recently become all too familiar with. He’s grown used to recognizing pity on nearly everyone’s face – Eraser, Mic, even Hawks – and now her.

“Please. I want to keep going.” His eyes bore into hers. She hesitates, and then holds up a hand.

“One second.” She promises, and then runs out of the room. Deku doesn’t have more than a few moments to worry before she’s back.

“What’s that?” He’s shaking, now, but tries to hide it. He eyes the jar of product in her hands. It looks similar to one that he’s seen in Mic’s pile of face masks and serums at home.

“No idea – something good for your skin. But here – it has eucalyptus.” She opens the jar and holds it out, towards Deku. He takes it, hesitantly, before smelling it. His eyes water and he realizes that, yeah – Mic has the same one.

“It’s… strong.” He winces.

“Exactly! If you start to slip again, take a whiff or something. Or I’ll hold it up for you.” She says, and plops back down. His brows furrow, confused, and the shaking in his hands starts to slow.

“Why?”

“Smell is a super powerful sense – A lot of people tend to forget about it! But it has a super strong attachment to stuff like memories. Maybe if you get a little lost, the smell can help ground you.” She says, and gestures with the scissors. He nods for her to continue.

“You’re sure? We can figure something out if you need to stop.” She offers. He shakes his head.

“How… How did you think of that?” He asks. But for once tonight, it’s silent.

It’s quiet now, in the apartment. The sound of scissors snipping every few moments has replaced her deep, soothing voice. She’s concentrating, Deku can tell. But she’s also thinking really hard about something. Her nose twitches along with her ears, and he can see her biting the inside of her cheek. He doesn’t think she’s going to answer him, so it’s a surprise when she speaks up and says,

“When I graduated from UA… When I was still a sidekick at a local agency… I had a really shitty manager.”

“I thought he was one of the best. Had a lot of experience, all with other strong female heroes like me. Great recommendations from all of them…”

Deku squints when a lock of hair falls into his eyes, but he keeps listening.

“So as soon as I turned eighteen and started making a name for myself, I booked him right away. And he even waived a big portion of the fee and stuff for me, since I was just starting out. Called it an investment in Japan’s future, by helping a hero like me…” She says, bitterly. Deku winces, sympathetically. He’s afraid he knows the direction of the story she’s telling.

“Then, after we’d been working together for a few weeks, we stayed late one night at his office. We were going over preparations for an interview I had the next day. We’d just finished up going over questions, started picking up our takeout containers… We’d ordered some Thai from around the corner…” She’s still cutting his hair, still gentle, but her voice has gotten smaller, until she remembers herself.

“I won’t go into details. And I know it’s nothing compared to what you’ve been though. But, I… I can understand, to an extent, what it’s like to have someone that feels more… powerful than you, take advantage. And I’ve had enough counseling since then to know that someone that makes you do something like that – something you don’t want… they aren’t powerful at all. They’re just… a person. That did something awful. And that what they did has no bearing on you – as a person…” She stops cutting his hair now, is looking at him.

“Especially as a kid.” She says, quietly.

She clears her throat.

“But anyways… You weren’t asking for me to start off on a tangent. Ah, long story short – I couldn’t even smell Thai food for over a year after that without vomiting. My therapist said it has something to do with the olfactory nerves and emotional connection or something – I don’t know. I just know that it can work the other way too – sometimes certain smells are so strong or alien that they can ground you in a good way.”

She smiles, sad. And Deku doesn’t know what to do. Because Miruko might be the strongest person he’s ever been in the same room with – and even she was… taken advantage of.

“You okay? Should I… Should I not have said anything?” She asks, worrying. He shakes his head, quickly.

“N-No. I’m sorry. I was just… thinking…” He tries to explain.

“Does H-Hawks know?” He wonders. She shakes her head.

“It was before I met him. And by the time we became friends, that chapter of my life was starting to close. Not that it ever will, completely. But… enough that I didn’t feel like opening it back up. You know?”

“… Thank you. Miruko. For telling me. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Deku says, sincere. She pauses, eyes widening slightly. She sniffs.

“I think you can call me Rumi, now.”

“R-Rumi.” He feels himself blush.

“I… I used to want to be a hero.” He admits, softly. Rumi looks up at him.

“But, um… I d-didn’t think I – that I could. I mean – I can’t. I know that. But… um…” He starts and stops a few times before figuring out what he wants to say.

“Thank you. B-Because now I know that… um… it wouldn’t be because of that, that I couldn’t be one.” He scratches his nose, where some of his hair has fallen.

“Uh… Thank you, but - You lost me, kid.” She admits, tilting her head.

“I can’t be one. But not because of… what h-he did t-t-to me.” Deku gets out. He wrings his hands, starts shaking his leg. He doesn’t want to talk about him – not here in Hawks’ apartment. But Rumi told him her story. And he thinks, maybe, she might understand if he did tell her a little bit.

“That’s true, kid. What someone does to you has no bearing on how heroic you are,” She nods, “…But then, why can’t you be a hero?” She asks.

Deku bites his lip. His eyes water and burn a little bit, all of a sudden. He looks down at the scarred hands in his lap. He answers in a way he knows she won’t understand.

“I… I think… I think I don’t – I don’t like people touching my hair. B-Because… The last person that… did that. He… died.”

“I like you on your knees because I like knowing I can take the most important thing to the leader of the Shie Hassaika from right underneath him.”

 “And I – I saw it happen. And he had just… he had just been grabbing my hair. So when I – when I saw him just… gone… I don’t know. I think maybe… Maybe that’s why…” He trails off, and he can feel his face heating.

“Maybe that’s why I don’t l-like people touching my – my hair, now. Because he did. And then he… he died.” He ends up whispering. He can’t look at Rumi, even if he wanted to. His eyes are watering and it’s taking everything to keep the tears back where they belong.

“Kid… That doesn’t mean you aren’t a hero.” She tries to tell him.

He shakes his head… She won’t understand. Because he can’t tell her that he asked for it.

If I’m good… Can I have some rice?

“Rumi! What’d you say?! I leave you alone for ten minutes!” Hawks comes barging in the bathroom, making Deku and her both start. Deku wipes his eyes and she retreats with the scissors.

“Tch  - We’re having a fucking moment! Get out.” She says, and holds the scissors up, menacing. Deku shakes his head.

“N-No. It’s okay. Um, do you – do you want to f-finish?” He asks, and puts his hand up to his head. Only to find… most of his curls are missing!

“Damn, Rumi! You did a great job!” Hawks says appreciatively, now that he’s sure Deku isn’t having a breakdown. And he seems to mean it, based on how he’s grinning and how proud he looks.

“Thanks, babe!” She smiles and stands, finally, stretching her legs.

“We’re done?” Deku asks, surprised. It hadn’t actually taken as long as he thought it would.

“Yup! But kid, we can keep talking!” She says, looking at him meaningfully. And he knows she means well, but…

“N-No. Thank you, Rumi. Um… C-Can I see, now?” He asks, nervous.

“Of course! Hawks, get out.” She punches his arm, playfully. He still winces and gapes dramatically.

“Ouch! Why?!”

“Give him a moment, jeez!” Rumi twirls the towel in her hand and poises it, ready to smack whatever part of the winged hero that she can reach.

“Okay, Okay!” Hawks all but runs away. She rolls her eyes and smiles at Deku.

“We’ll give you a minute.” She tells him.

Honestly, Deku isn’t sure what for. Maybe she was worried he wouldn’t like it, or didn’t want to see his reaction. Maybe it actually didn’t look good, and they were just messing with him. But when he towels off the rest of the loose hairs that had fallen around his face and his neck, when he turns to face the mirror – He’s glad he’s alone.

He looks like… like him. Like a green eyed boy from Musutafu who had grown up with a best friend. Like the kid who’d gone to school to learn and have fun, who’d filled notebooks with quirk analysis on all his favorite heroes. He looks like a boy with a mother and father, who would tuck him into bed and give him kisses on his freckled cheeks. He looks like…

“I…Izu…” He tries to say it. He wants to say it.

“I’m…” He swallows, staring at himself in the mirror.

He’s still thinner than he used to be. And he’s never even had his hair styled like this before. So why does he look so familiar to himself? Is it because he can see his face? Because he looks more his age? Or maybe because for the first time in years, this is what he wants to look like?

“My name is…”

Come on – It shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t be hard at all. It’s his name!

“M-Midoriya.” He whispers, though it may as well be a shout for how hard it hits him.

“What’s this?” Chisaki pulls out a notebook from the torn and weathered backpack he’s been dangling in front of Izuku for hours now, trying to get him to react.

“Property of… Deku?” Chisaki arches a brow, skeptically looking up and down the boy that’s lying in his bed.

“That’s not your name… Though, it is fitting. Deku… Tch. Sounds accurate, actually. You can’t even be useful enough to pretend… to be annoyed that you’re only being kept alive for my… entertainment?” Chisaki pretends to think about it.

Izuku does react to this. It’s slight – hardly noticeable. But with how long this has been going on – With the hours Chisaki has spent trying to get something – anything out of the kid, he picks up on it.

“Deku… A nickname? You were bullied, weren’t you? Isn’t that how we met? Deku?” Chisaki asks, grinning maniacally when Izuku starts to redden. He steps a little closer.

“Deku… Deku… Deku…” He taunts, kneels on the bed. Izuku can feel it dip just a little bit lower.

“Let’s see… Looks like your actual name has been… burned out? Is that what this is?” he asks, looking at where an explosion had charred the front of the notebook. Above the blackened material, someone had written in DEKU in big, red letters. Izuku had a feeling he knew exactly who was responsible.

“Looks like they had the right idea. Burning out the past. Rewriting the future. Isn’t that what I’m trying to do, with society?” He muses. He runs a gloved hand down the boy’s face, cups his chin a little too forcefully.

“Maybe we should do that with you. Hm? Deku?”

“M-Midoriya.” He repeats, looks at himself. He’s wearing hero merch, he’s still a little small for his age… He could be himself, if he wanted to… right?

“Come here, Deku.”

A pale neck shifts in the moonlight, defiantly turned away. Izuku speaks up, inviting the inevitable pain.

“I don’t know who that is.” He says, quiet, but assured. A moment, and then –

SMACK!

“M… My name is… M-M…”

Why can’t he say it? He wants to. He wants to be able to walk up to Aizawa-Sensei and tell him – to have the courage to hope that maybe – maybe they wouldn’t send him back to his mom. Maybe they wouldn’t care if he was quirkless.

“My name is M-Mido-Midoriya…”

“OI! Shitty Deku! Shut the fuck up with the muttering, already!”

“My name is M-Midoriya. Midoriya Iz… Iz…”

Izuku, sweetie… I don’t… I don’t think your dad is coming home, this time.

“M-Midoriya Izu…”

Why does his chest hurt? Is his heart working okay? It feels like maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s stopped all together – or maybe it’s racing so fast that he can’t tell the difference.

He huffs, frustrated, and reaches another hand to tug at a curl. His palm hits the light, just so that he can see the pale scars and raised lines that decorate most of his arms.

“Deku… did you really think you could get away, so easily?”

“I did. I did. It’s – That’s not – My name.” Deku holds on to the countertop, so he doesn’t fall. His breathing is out of control now, but at least he’s found the little air left in the room. He looks back up at his reflection – is surprised to see how angry he looks. He doesn’t recognize that expression on his face. He doesn’t like it.

“My n-name. It’s.” He gasps, takes a deep breath.

Hizashi’s eyes widen, and in his haste to comfort him, it slips out – “I… Deku, I…”

Fists wrapped in a Present Mic hoodie that’s too long rub the tears away from his eyes. It hurts to think about that.

“We’re not going to call you that.” The doctor assures him.

“That’s… a nickname.” The detective corrects.

“N-Name. My name is…” He sniffs, rubs his eyes one more time. He stands up, straightens his back. One day, maybe, he can say this to them. To Aizawa-Sensei, to Yamada, to Hawks. 

“My name is Midoriya…”

“You didn’t have to. You chose to. Like a hero would.”

“Izuku.”

Chapter Text

“Hawks definitely thought he interrupted us.” Hizashi says, re-entering their bedroom. Shota looks up from his spot on the floor, hair half-up and out of his eyes so he can untangle the mess of a hammock his husband had bought for the kid.

“He did.” Shota complains and waits for Hizashi to come back and finish what he started.

“How did you make it worse?!”

Shota grumbles and stands up when Hizashi takes over untangling the ropes, so he can go back to what he was doing in the first place - assembling the easel that Hizashi had also bought for the kid.

“You’re sure he won’t be upset we bought him stuff?” Shota asks, nervous.

“I already told him he had some surprises coming soon! He said it was okay, only because he has one too.” Hawks grins.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, Shota – It’s a surprise!” Hizashi says, as if it’s obvious. Shota rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Is that why he asked to go over to Hawks’?” He asks, grabbing the screwdriver he’d let fall to the floor earlier.

“I think so! He didn’t really say, he just asked if he could. I thought it was because of the villain fight yesterday, but then he started doing that cute muttering thing and biting his lip – So I’m pretty sure there’s something he wants to ask him for.” Hizashi comments and holds up the completed hammock.

“How did you do that?” Shota asks, frustrated. Hizashi just grins.

“Magic!”

**********

“No! Sho, you can’t just put it wherever you want!”

“Then where the hell should I put it?”

“Here! Over here, so he can still see the window and the door!”

“There isn’t enough room here – you’ll have to move the desk.”

“But I like it there!”

“Well then, I can’t hang up the hammock.”

“You have to! Okay, what about… here?”

“…That’s where I just had it, Yamada.”

“Yamada?!”

“You’re annoying.”

“Am not!”

“A little bit.”

“I’ll show you annoying…”

**********

“…And you’re sure he won’t be upset?” Shota asks, for the hundredth time that night. Hizashi, the patient man he is, doesn’t miss a beat.

“Promise! I already talked to him. I asked him if we could move some of his stuff around for the surprise and I promised that we wouldn’t take anything out of his room. I told him if he doesn’t like it, we’ll put everything back!”

“Okay… I just don’t want him to… You know…” Shota trails off, glancing at his husband.

“Shota… I wouldn’t do anything to make him upset, like before.” He says, suddenly insecure and muttering.

“I know, ‘Zashi. I know you wouldn’t. Sorry, it’s just me being… paranoid, I guess.” Shota runs a hand through his hair that’s sweaty and tangled after moving around the furniture.

“I just thought… since Hawks said he hates the bed. Maybe if he had this, too, it would be different enough? Maybe he can take naps or something, at least.” Hizashi sighs.

Shota turns to look at his husband – really look at him. Hizashi has been doing a good job at keeping the atmosphere comfortable and light since the… incident. But he knows that’s for the kid’s benefit – and probably Shota’s. Hizashi hates worrying him about anything, and he knows this is no exception. And he’s still upset with himself, too. Shota has seen him staring off into space more than once, has seen him be just a little more careful around the kid than he was before.

“I think it’s a great idea, ‘Zashi. You’re very thoughtful.” Shota tells him, places a hand on his arm. It may have sounded placating coming from anyone else, but Hizashi knows that Shota doesn’t speak half-heartedly, and he knows that he really means it.

“Thanks, Sho.” He leans over and kisses him, chaste, on the lips.

Shota catches him before he can back up – holds onto the back of his neck and pulls him in for another, longer kiss. With his other hand he reaches out, rests a hand on his husband’s hip – gentle, but purposeful. Hizashi takes the direction, steps a little closer and starts melting into the embrace. Until…

“Sho,” He whispers against his lips, “You stink.”

Shota rolls his eyes and pushes at Hizashi, playfully. His husband grins, cheekily, and laughs. He bends over to start picking up the pieces of plastic and paper instructions that came with the tools for the hammock. Shota admires the view of Hizashi like this – carefree and playful. It’s been a while since he’s seen him so comfortable as himself, without having to be mindful of the volume of his voice or the words he says.

Hizashi stands back up and Shota takes the opportunity to circle him from behind, hands running down his sides – from his toned chest, to his small waist, and back to those hips that were made for Shota to grab onto.

“Sho! I’m serious, you stink!” Hizashi exclaims, caught off guard by his husband’s roaming hands.

“Hm… Let’s shower, then.” He mutters into a pierced ear. He feels Hizashi’s breath catch, can hear him swallow, loudly. Shota’s tongue darts out to smooth over his favorite earring – one that he can tug on, just a bit, if he wants to hear his husband groan.

“N-Now?”

“If you want. We’re alone… You can be as loud as you want when I make you come.” Shota grips that hip a little harder, and rolls his own just enough for his husband to feel how much he wants him.

“Fuck. Sh-Shota.” Hizashi groans and spins around, throws his hands around his husband’s neck and walks him back out of the room, lips and teeth attacking whatever part of him they can reach.

“I thought I smelled.” Shota teases, when Hizashi has them down the hall and him pinned against the door to their bedroom in the blink of an eye.

Blonde hair has fallen down from the messy bun it’d been in before, so Shota reaches out and tugs, bringing him closer. Green eyes are kindling with a fire Shota hadn’t realized he’d been missing quite so strongly, until this moment.

“You do.” Hizashi mutters against his jaw, nipping just hard enough to have Shota’s hips jerking forward.

“Ah – ‘Zashi.” Shota’s lips find his again, and he reaches behind to find the doorknob, before pushing back and opening the door to their room.

“Come on – Let’s get you cleaned up, then.” Hizashi grins, guiding him to their bathroom.

Shota doesn’t know how they always end up like this. No matter who initiates it, it always ends the same – Hizashi grabbing a hold of Shota, taking him apart piece by piece, until he’s nothing but feeling – Always feeling so, so good with his partner leaning over him.

“So good baby, so fucking good for me – I love you so much Shota, shit -“ Hizashi rambles underneath the spray of the shower.

Shota hums in acknowledgement; his mouth is a little busy. This only makes Hizashi ramble louder, makes the fingers in his hair tighten, just enough to relax Shota even further.

“So good, so good, love. So beautiful for me, Sho. You look so beautiful from up here.” Hizashi compliments and Shota feels himself grow almost painfully hard at the praise. He leans back, mouth falling open, and looks up at his husband with flushed cheeks and damp hair stuck to the sides of his face. He can’t imagine he looks beautiful at all, but when Hizashi makes him feel this good… It’s hard for even Sho to doubt him.

“Can I – Can we – fuck, Sho, I want to fuck you. Please, can I?” Hizashi all but begs. And as much as Shota likes hearing it, it’s not necessary.

“Yes, ‘Zashi – please.” He stands and is being pulled back into strong arms, eager lips, and green eyes filled to the brim with so much love and adoration – It’s almost too much for Shota to look back. Sometimes looking at Hizashi is like looking into the sun.

Hizashi hums, happy, and rolls his hips into Shota’s, causing a spark to dance between them.

“Bed – now.” Hizashi pants and Shota is all too eager to comply.

Hizashi towels off, quickly, and then dries Shota off, too. His hands linger at certain spots on Shota’s body that are guaranteed to make him squirm. He drapes the towel around Shota’s hair, dries it gently and detangles the mess of waves. Then he wraps a lock of hair around his hand, once, and pulls.

“’Zashi!” Shota doesn’t whine, but later Hizashi will tease him about the noise he makes.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please – Want you.” He closes his eyes.

“Hmm… What do you want, Shota?” He asks, lips finding a sensitive spot near his collarbone and biting – hard.

“F-Fuck. Anything, ‘Zashi.” Shota says, shamefully honest.

“Fuck, I love it when you get like this. So fucking chatty for me, aren’t you?” Hizashi stops mauling his neck only to grab a hold of his hands, instead, pulling him out of the bathroom and towards the bed.

Shota doesn’t get the chance to answer, because his husband’s tongue finds its way into his mouth, effectively cutting off any thought processes he could’ve had. His eyes slip closed, and so he trusts Hizashi to guide them. Strong hands turn them, so Shota is walking back until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Familiar arms that feel like home wrap around him, pushing him into the sheets. A voice much more familiar than his own sings praises and commands in a tone that Shota has never once doubted.

And after, when they’re both pleasantly warm and relaxed, with Hizashi’s head resting on Shota’s chest, they speak at the same time –

I love you

Chapter Text

Yamada and Aizawa-Sensei had liked their surprise, he’s pretty sure.

“OH MY GOd kid – You look amazing!” Yamada had yelled immediately upon opening the door, leaving Aizawa-Sensei to quiet him before he woke up the rest of the building.

“You did this?” Eraser had asked, skeptical, looking at Hawks.

“Rumi did! Uh – Miruko, she said I could call her Rumi!” Izuku says, excitedly.

“They’re best friends.”Hawks says, pouting and crossing his arms.

“She gave me her number, too – So we can hang out! If – If that’s okay.” He tacks on at the end.

“We’d have to talk to her first, but I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem.” Eraser says, and shares a look with Hawks.

“It really does look great, kid! Aw – Look at you! Can I take a picture?” Yamada already has his phone out before Izuku can tell him no.

“Don’t worry; I’ve got about a hundred I’ve added tonight. I’ll send them.” Hawks assures him.

“Thank, Hawks-Kun!” Yamada smiles, gleefully. Izuku rolls his eyes.

“Is this the surprise?” Eraser asks. Izuku nods, nervous. The hero looks at him – really looks at him, before giving him one of his special smiles.

“You look really nice, kid. I’m proud of you.” He says, knowing it couldn’t have been easy to sit while someone ran their hands through his hair – even if that someone was a trusted top hero.

Izuku freezes at that statement. He feels like he did in the hospital – when Eraser had dropped his scarf on top of his shoulders, for the first time. Like it was familiar, something natural – when in reality, it had taken Izuku’s perception of reality up to that point and tore it down the middle.

Because Izuku was thinking really, really hard right now… But he couldn’t remember… if anyone had said that to him, before.

“S-Sorry.” Izuku apologizes when he realizes they’ve ushered him inside, because he was crying in the doorway.

“You don’t need to be.” Aizawa-Sensei says, simply. Izuku sniffs.

“Do you want to see your surprise?” Yamada asks, once Izuku has wiped his face.

“I do!” Hawks speaks up.

“Right this way, little listener!” Yamada announces, leading them back to his room.

Izuku notices a reddening mark on Aizawa-Sensei’s shoulder, when he passes him on his way to follow Yamada. He blushes, when he realizes what it is, and nearly trips down the hall. He knows, logically, that Yamada and Aizawa-Sensei are married… They told him as much in the hospital. So, of course they do… that stuff. But they never acted like that around Izuku – It was easy to forget sometimes. Did they hide it, just for his sake? That morning nearly a week ago, when Yamada kissed him goodbye before work, was the only time he’d ever seen them act like they were a couple.

“And remember, if you don’t like it – It’s totally okay! All you have to do is say the word, and it’ll be out of there so fast! Okay?” Yamada says for the fifth or sixth time since he asked Izuku about adding something to his room the day before.

“Okay.” Izuku nods when they get in front of the door.

“Okay, close your eyes!” Yamada sings.

Close your eyes – it’ll be easier that way.

Izuku obeys, even though he really doesn’t want to. But he’s with Yamada, and Aizawa-Sensei, and Hawks. He’s safe.

“And… Ta-da!” He hears Yamada push the door open with a flourish, and he steps into his room.

At first, he doesn’t notice it. It just looks like they moved his desk around a little bit, until he sees…

“Is it… A hammock?” Izuku asks, confused.

“Since you’ve been having trouble sleeping… I thought if… Maybe if you didn’t like the bed – You could try and see if this would help?” Yamada explains. He’s nervous – Izuku can tell. He’s looking at him, apprehensively waiting for his reaction.

“…You… You did this f-for me?” Izuku asks, shocked.

He really didn’t think his childish fear of the bed was that big of a deal – Certainly not enough to warrant going out and buying an alternative. He could get over it, if he really tried. Obviously, this wasn’t the same bed he’d shared with Chisaki. And Yamada and Eraser had already done so much to remind him of that – Soft sheets, piles of blankets, even a stuffed animal that looked a lot like Roko… That he would still try and make him feel safe, even after Izuku didn’t deserve it…

He didn’t even see the easel before bursting into tears, again.

**********

For the first time since recovering after the hospital, Izuku sleeps through the night in his room, surrounded by gifts from his favorite people. He doesn’t have nightmares, like he was afraid of after his talk with Rumi. He doesn’t even dream. And when he wakes up, it’s to the sound of Hizashi singing along to the radio. When he opens his door and walks out, yawning, it’s to the sight of Eraser leaned back on the couch, his laptop propped in his lap, going over lesson plans for the upcoming week.

“Good morning, Aizawa.” Izuku mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t realize what he says, until the man chokes on his coffee.

“Sensei! Aizawa-Sensei.” Izuku corrects, blushing. The man clears his throat.

“Good morning, kid.” He greets, letting Izuku off without mentioning his slip.

“Good morning, kiddo!” Yamada greets from the kitchen. Izuku waves and walks up to where he’s setting out two plates and one cup for Izuku’s smoothie.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks.

“Good. No bad dreams.”

“Aw, that’s great kiddo! I’m so happy.” He grins. Izuku returns the smile and takes his glass, once his smoothie is made.

The rest of the day is passed without much excitement. Even though he slept, Izuku snoozes on the patio with Mia for a few hours. He thinks about what he wants to paint first, with the easel that Yamada got for him. He wonders if he’s allowed to bring a notebook tomorrow – to write about all the new quirks he’s going to see. And then he realizes… he’s going to UA tomorrow.

“What if they don’t like me?” He asks Eraser, after Yamada has gone to bed.

He’s pretty sure Aizawa-Sense is tired, too. The bags under his eye are a little heavier than usual, and Izuku wonders if he’s nervous about tomorrow, as well.

“Then I’ll expel them.”

“No!”

“They’ll like you, kid. Kinda hard not do.”

“…But-”

“No buts. You’re going to be great, kid. I know I complain a lot about them, but… They’re all right.” He admits, begrudgingly.

Izuku knows that he should let the man go to bed. It’s late, well past their bed times, and Izuku has a big day ahead of him tomorrow. But he remembers the last time he was in class, with other kids his age. How he’d followed the steps of his hallway to the steps to the roof. How he’d taken that step off the ledge only to fall into the grips of the Precepts.

The last time he was in school, he wasn’t Izuku. He was Deku. To his peers, to his teachers, to his mother.

“Aizawa-Sensei…” He tries. The man raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“…What if… What if you didn’t like me?” He asks, peering up from his curled position on the edge of the couch. He’s burrowed in the man’s scarf, peeking out from under the fabric.

“What do you mean, kid?” He asks, leaning back on his own arm of the couch.

“I mean… What if – What if you did know who I was…? And you didn’t like me. What… What would happen to me?”

Eraser sits up, a little more awake now. He even leans over to turn on the lamp closest to him, so he can see.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“… I just…”Izuku doesn’t answer. He can’t answer – he doesn’t know why this is so important to him.

“Kid… I do know you. And I like who you are.”

“B-But you don’t. I haven’t - I haven’t even told you my n-name.”

“Does your name define you?”

Izuku blinks back tears that are stuck in his lashes.

“It… It did.” He whispers, admits out loud the realization he’d come to, staring at himself in the mirror in Hawks’ bathroom.

“Does it, now?”He asks, gently. Izuku shrugs.

“I think the only thing that defines you, is you. And what I’ve seen of you since we met is that… Honestly, kid… You’re incredible. And it’s… I feel really lucky, to have you here. To watch you grow.”

Izuku sniffs and burrows deeper in the scarf, closing his eyes.

“B-But, I’m n-not.” He argues. Eraser doesn’t know – He doesn’t know that he’s none of those things.

“You are. And… Hizashi and I would really love to know your name, one day. When you’re ready to tell us. But until then, we’re happy getting to know who you are now.”

“Wh-What if. I’m never ready?”

“I think you will be.”

Izuku gulps. He desperately wants for right now to be that day, but the words are stuck in his throat. My name is Midoriya Izuku. I’m quirkless. Please don’t leave me.

“Do you want to stay out here, tonight?” Eraser asks.

“…Can you stay with me?” Izuku asks, nervously. Aizawa smiles.

“Always.”

**********

This Monday morning is similar, and very different from, the last. Izuku wakes up on the couch, though this time he’s not alone. Eraser is sprawled out on the opposite end, long hair hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. Izuku squints to see the time and sees – He overslept! There’s a light peeking under their bedroom door that tells him Yamada is already awake. So he gets up, knocks, and waits.

“Come in!” Yamada’s voice carries through the door.

Izuku enters in time to see Yamada turn into Present Mic. He slips a shirt on over a slim waist, and Izuku notices a flash of color against tanned skin.

“You have tattoos?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I do! I just usually have them covered for teaching and hero work.” He explains, picking up his jacket.

“You have a lot?”  Izuku wonders.

“Kind of, yeah.” Yamada admits, grinning.

“It didn’t hurt?”

“Some of them did, yeah!”

“Then why did you want them?”

“Because, they’re pretty. And important to me.  I don’t mind a little pain if it’s something I love, that I get to carry with me forever. You know?” He shrugs on the jacket and looks around for his speaker. Izuku points it out on the dresser.

“Which one is your favorite?”

Hizashi pulls down the collar of his shirt, just a bit, so that Izuku can see the name – Shota – in swirling letters on Hizashi’s chest, right over his heart. Yamada hadn’t even hesitated in his answer. Izuku smiles.

**********

“Got everything, kiddo? Where’s the scarf?” Yamada asks on their way out.

“Backpack.”Izuku answers. He hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to himself than he knew he already would, but he also didn’t want to leave without it.

“Great! And you’ve got your notebooks, pens, pencils, phone, charger, keys…”

“He’s fine, Hizashi.” Eraser reassures him, coming out of the bedroom. He’d gotten ready even faster than Izuku. It looks like he hasn’t brushed his hair at all – Just stepped into his hero outfit and called it a day.

“I have everything.” Izuku confirms, in a small voice.

“Well, then… Let’s go! Kaminari knows to get there early, right?” Yamada asks his husband. Eraser hums, affirmative, and follows his husband and Izuku out the door.

“I still don’t know why you picked him.” Yamada whispers – or tires to. Eraser shrugs on their way out. He leans into his husband to whisper, but Izuku can still hear his response.

“He reminds me of you. Thought he’d be more comfortable with him.”

Yamada coos and pinches his cheeks, much to Eraser’s displeasure. He’d been running late enough that he barely had time to gulp down one cup of coffee before leaving, so his patience was thin.

“Shota explained everything, right?” Yamada turns to ask once they’re outside.

“Mhm. Kaminari Denki is meeting us in the staff room. Um, he’s nice – but loud, sometimes. He’s going to sh-show me around UA, while I’m There. And if I n-need anything, I should let him know.” Izuku recites. Yamada gives him a thumbs up as they buckle into the car.

Izuku thinks that Aizawa-Sensei asked for Kaminari to be his guide around UA because he remembered that his mom, Charge, was also a pro-hero that Izuku remembered, from before.

“Yep! And if we’re there, of course you can ask us too! Or text us! But we figured it would be a little easier to have a specific person you can go to while you’re still getting to know everyone else.”

“I don’t want to b-bother you.” Izuku admits as they start the too-short drive to school.

“You won’t, kid. Trust me. After an hour with my class, you’ll see how much of bother you aren’t.” Eraser assures him.

“HA! Yeah, that’s true. If you get overwhelmed or anything you can let Kaminari know that, too! He can seem a little… um…”

“Difficult.”

“Sho! I was going to say obtuse. But he has a good heart, and is a lot more observant that he seems! You’ll be good with him, kiddo. And he’s friends with some of the… louder students in the class. So if they bother you, he won’t have a problem standing up to them.”

Izuku has heard them talk about some of those louder students, over the last week. Monoma, Kirishima, Mina… Kaminari.

The two heroes talk a little more about their classes, but mostly to each other. It gives Izuku time to stare out the car window and properly work himself into a nervous wreck. He never would’ve imagined passing through the gates of UA like this. Not even when he’d come to terms with his quirkless future – Even then he’d thought, maybe, he could get into the general studies class. Maybe he could prove himself, somehow, by transferring into the hero course – Like Eraserhead said he had done, when he was at UA.

“I’m afraid there’s no hope for him. As you can see by the extra toe joint, here – He has no hope of ever developing a quirk.”

But he hadn’t thought it would ever be like this. He hadn’t imagined passing through as little more than a ghost, clinging onto the backs of other students his own age, because he was too weak and broken to spend more than a short amount of time away from his guardians.

 “Kiddo? You okay?”

Izuku glances up to see Yamada studying him, nervous. He plasters on his best version of a smile and nods.

“Sorry. Just thinking…”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that you can be a hero without a quirk… You should just give up.”

The grounds are quiet, given how early they’ve arrived. The heroes wanted to give him and Kaminari plenty of time to make their way round campus before it got too crowded. They also wanted him to have time to meet the teachers and staff.

“What’re you thinking about” Yamada pushes, surprising Izuku into an honest answer.

“All-Might.”

“Oh? You know, he teaches here as well! Did we tell you that already?”

“H-He does?”

“Unfortunately.” Eraser mutters from the front seat. Yamada rolls his eyes.

“He’s not that bad, Sho!”

“Hmph.”

They park in the same spot they had a few days before, where Izuku and Yamada had lunch. Izuku grows even more uncomfortable than before, thinking about the symbol of peace being in the same building. But he’s sure All-Might doesn’t remember him. He doesn’t remember who he was before, at least. He surely remembers Deku – the dying kid he’d helped rescue from the precepts.

They exit the car just as the fog on the grounds starts to roll out. It’s humid outside, and Izuku is grateful for his shorter hair.

“Ready?” Yamada asks, again. Izuku almost wishes he would stop asking – He doesn’t like lying to them. But he also knows he doesn’t have a choice. So he nods.

“Ready.”

**********

“You got a haircut!” Is the first thing The R-Rated Hero says, when Izuku follows Eraser into the teacher’s lounge.

“Um…” Izuku pauses, eyes widening when he’s faced with the actual hero in person. When he sees the Space Hero – Thirteen, and the Blood Hero – Vlad King, his brain starts working so fast that it nearly stalls. He’d been so nervous about meeting everyone, he hadn’t even thought about the fact that he was going to be able to meet his actual heroes he looked up to, when he was younger!

“He did! Miruko gave him a nice little makeover the other day!” Yamada brags.

“Oh? You know Miruko?” Midnight asks. Izuku nods, still a little star struck. Until he realizes,

“H-How did you know I got a haircut?”

“Oh, those two are always showing off pictures of you.” Midnight waves like it’s nothing.

“What?!” Izuku turns to look at the two heroes in question, who are sheepishly looking at anything but him.

“Um…” Yamada scrambles, tries to think of something to say. He’s saved from explaining when the Clone Hero, Ectoplasm, opens the door.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He apologizes.

“You must be Mic’s kid.” He says, by way of greeting. Izuku blushes and tries to stutter out a denial, but he isn’t successful.

“Ah, well, um…” Yamada looks between Izuku and Eraser, also unsure of what to say.

“We’re his guardians.” Eraserhead corrects.

“Ah, yes. I apologize. It’s early.” Ectoplasm complains, going straight for the coffee. Eraser hums in agreement and follows behind him.

“Ah- Anyways. Yes! The kiddo will be shadowing Class 1A for a while, so please take care of him!” Mic announces to the room. Midnight grins.

“Of course! I’m excited to have you, kid! I’m Kayama Nemuri, but you can call me Midnight while we’re in school! It’s very nice to finally meet you!” She greets, standing and reaching out a hand to shake. Izuku does, nervous.

“N-Nice to m-meet you. Um. I’m a big fan, Midnight-Sensei.”

“Oh?! Really??”

“Mhm! I r-remember reading about your interaction with, um… Suicide Bomber – That villain from a few years ago. If – If you hadn’t acted so quickly, a lot of people could’ve g-gotten hurt. But you thought so fast, and were able to incapacitate him before E-Endeavor was able to intervene. Um, that’s when, when I realized how incredible you are! You have such a big personality in the media, it’s easy to forget how level headed you are when you’re working – I wish you could’ve been there at the Kanagawa Prefecture when All-Might fought that one villain with the mind control quirk, but you were with Queen Bee then – right? When you used your M.K.O. move for the first time? I was wondering if you were going to – If your quirk would let you. Based on your own time at UA, at the sports festival in third year, it seemed like you would be able to pull off incapacitating mass groups – but you never used it once you got into hero work! I guess that was to protect yourself too, huh? If the government thought you could just knock out tons of people at once, I guess you’d have more oversight, but-“

“Kid. Breathe.” Eraser is back, sipping a cup of coffee and looking amused at the face Midnight is making – completely taken off guard, gaping at Izuku.

“Oh! S-Sorry, I’m so sorry Midnight-Sensei. I, um, forget to slow down, sometimes. Um…”

“It’s fine, kiddo! It’s so rare for Nemuri to stop talking for more than a few seconds; this is actually a really relaxing morning!” Yamada teases, snapping Midnight back into action.

“Why aren’t you enrolling here, for real?!” She flails, looking accusingly at both Eraserhead and Present Mic.

“Oh! Um, I c-can’t. I don’t… I haven’t r-really, um, gone to school in… A while. I’m pretty behind.” Izuku admits.

“Sure, but you’re clearly smart enough to catch up.” Vlad King comments. Izuku blushes.

“Th-Thank you. Um…” Izuku isn’t sure how to address the man.

“Kan Sekijiro. Vlad King. It’s nice to meet you.” The man nods, but stays where he is.

“N-Nice to meet you.” Izuku greets.

“Go Ju-San. Thirteen.” The other hero in the room waves from their spot next to the Blood Hero.

“H-Hi.” Izuku waves in return.

“What would you like us to call you? Unfortunately, if we just call you ‘kid’, there are about a dozen other students that will look our way, as well.” Midnight brings up, tilts her head.

“Oh… Um…” Izuku pauses, thinking. He… He’d been thinking, lately. He wants to tell Aizawa-Sensei and Yamada, but… if he can’t even do that, how is he supposed to tell anyone else?

“Hawks calls him Green-Bean.” Eraser says, unhelpfully.

“Ha! Cute – But I don’t think you’d like that.” Midnight comments. Izuku shakes his head, agreeing.

Izuku is saved from answering when the sound of the door being thrown open against the wall startles everyone in the room. A flushed blonde comes barreling through the door, panting and looking for someone. When he notices Eraserhead he winces and bows, apologizing.

“Aizawa-Sensei! I’m so sorry I’m late! I promise I woke up on time, but then my sister needed help packing up too – And then my mom needed help with breakfast and so I totally missed the bus, so I ran here as fast as I can but, I don’t know how Iida does it, because running so far in the morning totally sucks!” The kid complains and bends over, resting his elbows on his knees and breathing heavy.

“It’s fine, Kaminari. We just arrived, as well.” Eraser assures him. The kid breaks into a relieved grin at this and stands up, stretching long arms above his head.

“Oh, good! I was so worried!” He admits, scratching his hair. He notices Izuku, then, and smiles.

“Hi! You must be sensei’s kid! I’m Kaminari Denki!” The blonde bounces over to Izuku with a hand outstretched. Izuku takes it, hesitant, and gasps when he feels something sharp against his fingers.

“Ah! Damn, sorry! I’m still out of breath, I didn’t mean to shock you!” He apologizes, looking worried.

“I-It’s okay. Just surprised me. Um – You have an electrification quirk, right?” Izuku asks. He nods, runs a hand through his hair that’s still mussed from sleep.

“Yeah! Ah, my mom is actually the hero Charge! Mine works a little different from hers, but it’s the same principle!” He explains.

“That’s so cool!” Izuku brightens, thinking of the possibilities.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

“No! I mean, she is – But I meant you! B-Because quirks passed down are more powerful, right? And if it’s the same principle, you can probably produce a lot more power than her, right? But you have kind of a blueprint for how the quirk works, so a lot of the time you would spend figuring that out can be spent on actually perfecting and strengthening your quirk! What kind of range does your quirk have? Do you get struck by lightning a lot? Can you charge every day appliances, too, or does that require too much specification for it to really be useful? Could you-“

“Wah, you’re so smart! Aizawa-Sensei, you didn’t tell me! Now I’m going to look so dumb in front of him, I won’t be able to answer any of his questions!” Kaminari whines.

“Wh-What? I’m sure that’s not true!” Izuku protests.

“It’s not.” Eraser confirms, making Kaminari blush just a bit.

“Thanks, sensei.” He kicks his feet, suddenly bashful, where before he’d been energetic.

“Well, are you two listeners ready? Thank you Kaminari, for doing this! You’re the best!” Present Mic holds two thumbs up, and Kaminari brightens. They really do complement each other, Izuku thinks.

“I’m ready! What about you?” Kaminari turns to Izuku.

Izuku swallows, suddenly nervous now that he remembers why he’s here. He’d been caught up in the feeling of being around so many heroes, and then someone with such a cool quirk as Kaminari’s, that he’d forgotten he’d be actually going to UA, kind of. He’d be walking the halls with other students, not quite one himself. He doesn’t notice when Yamada walks over until he crouches down in front of him.

“Kiddo?” He asks, quiet. He takes off his glasses, so Izuku can see those bright green eyes, pinched with worry.

“S-Sorry. Um. I’m ready.” Izuku says, just as quiet. Yamada hesitates, searching his face for a lie. Unfortunately, he doesn’t find one, because Izuku is very good at hiding.

“Okay. You have your phone?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“You can use it whenever you need. We’ll always be in the school, too, if you need us.” Yamada reminds him.

Izuku hesitates, rocking forward, before finally giving in and wrapping his arms around Present Mic’s neck.

“Oof.” Yamada is almost knocked over in his surprise, and has to steady himself with a hand touching the ground behind him. Izuku doesn’t care.

Once he’s sure he isn’t going to fall over, Yamada returns the hug. He holds on tight – too tight, probably, but Izuku doesn’t mind. He has to move his face just a little, so it isn’t squished into the side of the speakers around his guardian’s neck, but that just moves him further into the familiar jacket.

“Have a good day, kiddo.” Yamada squeezes a little tighter, before letting go completely.

Izuku takes a step back and tries to ignore the looks he gets from the other teachers, and especially from Kaminari, at his sudden display. But he can’t bring himself to regret it – He feels better, already.

“Y-You too, Yamada.” He says. He looks up and sees Eraser paused in his conversation with the other homeroom teacher. They catch each other’s gaze, though neither moves closer.

“I’ll see you, later.” Eraser reminds him. Izuku nods, holds onto the straps of his backpack that is storing the hero’s capture scarf, bundled around notebooks and other things.

“Okay… I’m ready.”

**********

“…And here’s the cafeteria! But we usually eat outside, when it’s nice! The lunch rush can be pretty noisy, sometimes, and Jiro gets migraines if it’s too loud!” Kaminari gestures towards two double doors that open to the lunch room. Izuku is glad he won’t have to enter. He has enough bad memories of his own in middle school.

“Jiro?” He asks.

“Jiro Kyoka! She has an earphone jack quirk! So she can be kind of sensitive to noises and stuff! Honestly, our class must be hard for her sometimes…” He thinks, trailing off.

“Oh! I didn’t even ask, what’s your quirk?” Kaminari questions, stopping in the hall. Izuku blushes and looks away.

“Um…”

“Kamiii!” There’s a squeal from somewhere behind Izuku, and he startles when he hears footsteps running in their direction.

He turns in time to see someone sprinting down the hallway, and steps back before they collide. The pink girl runs through where he’d been standing before jumping on Kaminari’s shoulders, hugging him tight.

“Hey, Kaminari!” Another, deeper voice is joined by a sharp smile and bright red hair.

“Hey, Kiri! Mina! This is Eraser’s kid!” He introduces, and Mina squeaks again.

“Oh?! Oh my gosh, hi! Good morning!” The girl, Mina, greets and shrugs off of Kaminari before jumping in front of Izuku, forcing him back a step.

“Ashido Mina! Acid quirk! It’s nice to meet you!” She holds a hand out. Izuku hesitates, but grabs a hold of it and shakes.

“N-Nice to meet you.”

“Are you really Eraser’s kid?” She asks.

“N-No. Um. He’s my guardian.”

“Oh!”

“He told us that last week, Mina.” The red head explains, patiently, before reaching out his own hand.

“Kirishima Eijiro – Hardening quirk.” He grins, and it reminds Izuku of Hawks just a little bit – genuine, but teasing all the same.

“H-Hi.” Izuku shakes his hand.

“Is Kaminari giving you a tour?” He asks. Izuku nods.

“Great! Can we come, too?” Mina begs, yellow eyes wide and earnest.

“S-Sure.” Izuku agrees.

“Awesome!” Kirishima pumps his fist and whoops, way too excited for it being so early in the morning.

“We’re almost done – I was just going to show him the gym before we head to class!” Kaminari tells them, once he starts walking again.

“What do you think? Do you like it?” Mina asks, walking backwards so she can face Izuku.

“Y-Yeah. Um. It’s r-r-really n-nice.” Izuku stutters out and flushes a bright red – almost as bright as Kirishima’s hair.

“Are you going to apply?” Kirishima asks. Izuku shakes his head.

“Um, I don’t t-think so. I’m really behind.” Izuku admits, for the second time that morning.

“Oh, yeah. Sensei said something about that…” Mina trails off, remembering. Izuku feels his stomach fall, just a bit.

“Wh-What did he say?” He asks, afraid of the answer.

“Nothing bad!” Kirishima is quick to assure him.

“Guys, don’t freak him out! Eraser will kick me out so fast!” Kaminari warns. Izuku shakes his head, frantic.

“N-No way! I wouldn’t let him!” He assures him.

“Wha?! Would he listen to you?!” Kaminari asks, surprised.

“Um… Maybe?” Izuku shrugs.

“Does he talk about us?”

“Do you live with Mic-Sensei, too?”

“Of course he does – they’re boyfriends!”

“No way – I still don’t see it.”

“That’s because your gay-dar is busted, Kiri!”

“Does Mic-Sensei talk about us?”

“Who’s his favorite?”

“Who’s his least favorite?”

“Mineta, obviously.” Mina rolls her eyes and gags, getting a laugh out of the other two.

“Who is he going to expel?”

“Is he going to? Did he tell you?”

“Is he still mad that I shorted out the video we were supposed to watch, last week?”

Izuku tries to keep up with the line of questioning and the shared jokes in between them, but before long he’s overwhelmed, and that familiar buzzing sensation under his skin is back.

“Oh, sorry, man! Guys, give him a sec.”

Izuku’s eyes are shut tight, and he really wishes he had his capture scarf to hide in, right now. His fingers twitch, itching to unzip the pack and take it out, to be surrounded by that familiar smell of coffee and the fabric softener that Mic always uses.

“You okay, dude? Please don’t freak out – Eraser will kill me!”

“Don’t be insensitive, Kami!”

“I… I’m fine. S-Sorry.” Izuku manages, once it’s a little quieter in the hall.

“No dude, no worries! Eraser did give us a heads up; we shouldn’t have overwhelmed you like that.” Kirishima winces apologetically. Izuku sniffs, is proud of himself for keeping the tears at bay.

There’s the sound of a locker closing somewhere close by, and Izuku realizes that they’ve passed enough time on the tour for school to be starting, soon. He can hear the sound of raised voices, music, lots of banging into the lockers and walls. Laughing and shrieking and reprimanding by the students.

“You wanna skip the gym? We can just go to the classroom now, if you want. I can always show you later.” Kaminari offers. Izuku nods, grateful.

He feels bad that on their walk back, the three heroes in training are much more subdued. They still include him in their conversation, but it’s done carefully and quietly. What exactly did Eraser tell them about him? He asks, and gets an awkward glance between the three of them, in response.

“I mean… Not much. But enough that we kinda have an idea.” Kirishima admits.

“Like what?” Izuku presses. Mina answers, reluctantly.

“Um… just that he’s your guardian. And that you haven’t been in school, or anywhere really, for a few years. That we shouldn’t be too loud and stuff. And to not ask you too many questions. And to respect your personal space. And that if we upset you, he’ll expel us faster than we can say plus ultra!” Mina adds. Kirishima and Kaminari nod, serious, at the last part.

“He will.” Kirishima emphasizes. Izuku huffs, and bites his lip, looking away.

So he doesn’t see it when he runs into someone much taller and broader than himself.

“Oh!” A hand reaches out to grab Izuku’s own, right before he hits the ground.

Blue eyes meet green, and Izuku blinks. This boy is looking at Izuku, above him, and then he pulls him up so they’re on equal footing. Izuku trips at the sudden pull, and has to grab a hold of the boy in order to not completely run into him.

“I apologize, I didn’t see you!” He says, without breaking eye contact.

“Hey, Momo!” Mina greets. The boy rolls his eyes and finally looks away, towards the girl.

“You can’t call me that. We already have a Momo.” He reminds her, and looks back at Izuku. He looks confused, almost, and looks at where their skin is touching – his hand on Izuku’s shoulder, where the light pink, oversized sweater has slipped down, just a bit.

“I don’t recognize you.” He mentions, and Izuku realizes he’s still holding onto the boy’s jacket. He lets go all at once and takes a step back. The boy seems to gravitate back towards him, leaning forward to follow, before stopping himself.

“This is sensei’s kid.” Kaminari explains. The other boy hums in realization and nods, before looking at Izuku with an intensity he isn’t used to.

“Ah, I see. I don’t see the resemblance.” He comments, his gaze roaming over Izuku’s freckled face, that’s surely burning red now.

“Foster kid.” Mina corrects.

“Ah. That makes more sense. I didn’t think Sensei would be able to have someone so cute related to him.” Monoma winks.

“Momo!” Mina swats his arm, playfully. Izuku is tongue tied, couldn’t speak even if he knew what to say.

“Um…” He manages, and the boy’s smirk turns into a full smile. He holds out his hand.

“Monoma Nieto. Copy quirk. Class 1A. It’s very nice to meet you...?”

Izuku takes his hand, like he never had a choice and replies,

“I-Izuku. Nice to-“ Izuku eyes widen and he gasps, slapping a hand over his mouth. Monoma is taken back by this reaction, blinks confusedly.

“…Yes?” He cocks his head to the side, blonde hair falling over his eyes.

“Wahh, can we call you Izuku, too? What about Izu-kun?” Mina asks, bouncing excitedly. Kaminari and Kirishima share a look when Izuku bursts out,

“N-No! You can’t – Can’t tell anyone! I shouldn’t have-”He starts hyperventilating, breaths coming short and shallow. How had that happened? He was tongue tied, looking at Monoma, and... had it really just slipped out? Like it was nothing? It was everything! It was the only thing he had, and - 

“Oh, hey! It’s okay! We won’t tell anyone!” Kirishima assures him, panicked. Izuku didn't realize he'd been mumbling, close to tears.

“Totally! We’re friends, and friends don’t secrets!” Mina exclaims. Her statement is enough to give Izuku pause. He looks over at her and blinks, not understanding.

“…Friends?”

“Yeah, dude! I mean, you’re going to be in our class, right? And you seem super cool! Super manly!” Kirishima gives him a thumbs up and reassuring smile. And Izuku… has never had friends before. He doesn’t know if they’re serious – if he can trust them. But they keep talking, not giving him time to panic further.

Kaminari nods and adds, “He’s super smart, too! Do you have an analytical quirk or something?” He asks, titling his head. Monoma opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't get the chance.

“Oh, um… Oof – sorry!” Izuku runs into someone else when they start walking, a tall boy with purple hair. The boy doesn’t say anything, but nods and keeps walking. Izuku notices the way Kaminari’s eyes linger on the boy as he walks the opposite direction.

“Kami! You’re such a slut!” Mina teases and shoves the boy, who flushes.

“Am not! He was cute!” He wails, offended.

“You think everyone is cute.” Monoma comments.

“Well, they are! He was extra cute though, who was he?? I didn’t recognize him!”

“Dunno,” Kirishima shrugs, “Maybe someone from general studies?”

“Want me to get his number for you?” Monoma offers, eyes twinkling with mischief. Kaminari turns bright red and whirls towards him, holding out a finger.

“Don’t you dare!” He yells, startling Izuku, who had been busy trying not to panic once he saw the “1A” sign above a classroom door.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Kaminari apologizes.

“If you startle him, how’s he going to be around Bakugo? Maybe you should sit next to me, so I can protect you from the monster.” Monoma winks at Izuku and opens the door to 1A, holding it open for the four of them to pass though, before him.

Izuku misses a step, has to hold onto the doorframe so he doesn’t face plant into the classroom. Because it sounded like Monoma just said…

“I SAID NO ALREADY, FOUR EYES! STOP FUCKING ASKING ME, ALREADY!”

“But Bakugo, your presence in the class is already disruptive as is, I’m simply asking you to not-”

“And I’m simply asking you to fuck off!”

“Bakugo, don’t be so mean to Iida! He’s just trying to help!”

“How is that my fucking problem?! If Sensei’s kid is such a fucking scaredy cat, why the fuck is he at UA?!”

“Scared, Deku?” Red eyes glint as a small explosion sets off in rough and callused palms. Deku raises his head, defiantly.

“No.” He lies.

“Hey, you okay?” Kirishima looks at Izuku, worried. But Izuku isn’t looking at him, isn’t looking at anything. Because he’s not at UA. He’s at Aldera Junior High – In the bathroom, in the classroom, in the hallway, on the stairs – and Bakugo is there.

“Hey, Bakubro – Chill out!” Kaminari yells from his spot next to Izuku.

“Kid?” Eraser’s voice comes from behind him, startling Izuku into action. He drags his attention from the explosive blonde, meets dark, familiar eyes. But he’s inevitably tugged back in Bakugo’s direction when the blonde yells,

“THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY, DUNCE FACE?!”

Bakugo whips his head around in their direction, face drawn up in a half hearted snarl and ready to continue yelling at Kaminari. But when he notices who else is standing there in the doorway, he freezes. It’s almost comical, Izuku will look back and realize, the way that every feature in Bakugo’s face freezes all at once – like he’s been turned to stone. The color in his face drains, his mouth falls open. And then he’s standing up all at once. He hasn’t gone anywhere, but is chest is heaving. Red eyes are blown wide with shock, and something else.

“Izu…ku?”

There’s a moment of silence. Izuku hears Eraser’s breath catch from behind him, but the rest of the class is deathly quiet. There are at least twenty pairs of eyes all looking right at him – at Izuku – seeing straight through him.

Izuku runs.

“Kid!” Eraser reaches out to grab his arm, but all that training he’d done his last weeks in the Precepts kicks in, and it’s easy to dodge out of the way.

Izuku keeps running. He runs faster, and farther, until he can’t even hear anyone yelling for him anymore. And he knows no one will chase him – No one will want to, when they find out who he is. And they will find out who he is. Because Bakugo will tell them.

How could he be so stupid? Kacchan was the same age as him – they were in the same grade. If Izuku is going into high school, of course Kacchan is. And Kacchan is one of the smartest and strongest people Izuku knows – obviously he got into UA. Obviously he’s in Eraserhead’s class, because Eraserhead teaches the best students, and Kacchan has always been the best. How did Izuku not realize – How did he not think? How come Eraser and Mic had never talked about him? Did they? Did he not hear them? Why was he so stupid?

Izuku crashes through the door to a bathroom, desperate to be alone – to think. But he can’t think. He can’t do anything – He’s ruined everything. Aizawa is going to find out who he is – He’s Midoriya Izuku. He’s quirkless. His own mother hated him, didn’t want him, and when he found that out Aizawa would kick him out, too. Why couldn’t Izuku tell them, before they found out like this? Before they found out he was a liar?

“Whoa, are you okay?”

Another voice in the bathroom startles Izuku so hard that he falls back, into one of the stalls. It’s the same purple haired boy from earlier.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

Izuku sweetie, did you get hurt again? How are you always so clumsy? You know… You know you can tell me anything, right? I won’t tell your mom.

“Hey – What’s your name?” The boy asks, kneels on the ground.

His name. What’s his name? Deku. No, Izuku. Izuku. Midoriya Izuku. And Aizawa-Sensei knows that now, which means he’ll have to leave. He’ll have to go back to his mom, and – oh… he’ll have to go back to his mom.

“N-Don’t – Don’t want – Please-“ Izuku thinks maybe he’s talking, or crying, or screaming. He isn’t sure. The edges of his vision go black, and his stomach rolls.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay, kid. Come here.” The boy beckons him with his hand. He kind of looks like Aizawa-Sensei, Izuku realizes.

Someone else bursts into the bathroom, much like Izuku had. Izuku moves farther away, into the stall. Kaminari comes into view, breathing hard.

“Thank God! Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling next to the other, taller boy.

“He’s having a panic attack.” The purple haired boy murmurs. Kaminari looks panicked, himself.

“Ah! I don’t – What do we do?”

“Get a teacher.”

“He’s already on his way.”

“N-No. No, no, no don’t wantdon’twanttogobackplease, I’msorrysorrysorryI’msorryIliedI- didn’tmeantoIdidn’tmeantolieI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryplease-” Izuku is crying now, he’s sure. He’s cold, he’s freezing, he’s too hot – he’s dying.

“You’re not dying. You’re okay. You’re having a panic attack.” The boy repeats in the same, monotone voice.

“Don’t crowd him!” Kaminari’s voice rises and Izuku opens his eyes to make out the other boy crawling closer.

“Hey. Kid. Look at me.” He says, ignoring the blonde.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. Can you do something for me?” He asks. Izuku nods. He’ll do anything – anything as long as he doesn’t have to go back. He can’t – he doesn’t want to leave Aizawa-Sensei, or Yamada. Or Mia, or Roko. But they’ll make him – they’ll take him away and kick him out, and they’re going to be so mad at him.

“Great. I need you to find five things you can see, and tell me what they are.” He says, calm as ever. Izuku can barely hear him over the sound of his own heartbeat that’s pounding in his head. But he can do this – He can do this, and maybe he won’t be useless. Maybe they’ll keep him if he can prove he can do something.

“Y-You. K-Kaminari.” He manages, and it comes out in an embarrassing whine.

“Good. What else?”

“L-Light. T-Tile. S-S-Sink.” He gasps.

“Good. That’s really good. What are four things you can hear? Can you tell me?”

“H-Hear?”

“Mhm.”

“Um… I don’t. I don’t know!” He wails, panicking. The boy hushes him, gently.

“Concentrate.” He orders. Izuku closes his eyes, concentrates.

“M-Me. Talking.”

“Good.”

“Um… The – The water in the p-pipes. You. And – And, um, I don’t – the sink!” He exclaims and opens his eye to see that Kaminari had turned on the water.

“That’s great. You’re doing really good.” He repeats. Izuku feels the panic start to recede, just a bit. And then the bathroom door slams open, again, and he hears a gruff, familiar voice.

“Kid?” Eraser rounds the corner to join them, and whatever progress he’d made is lost. Izuku panics – again.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to I’m sorry please – Please don’t leave I’ll do anything I promise I can do – I can do anything I’ll be good – I’ll be so good pleasepleasepleaseletmestayI’msorryI’msorry!” Izuku can’t breathe – He can’t even see. He squeezes his eyes shut, feels his lungs burn and his forearms ache from how hard he’s digging into them.

“I can’t believe you thought it would be that easy…” Chisaki pets his hair, brushes it out of his eyes. Deku closes them shut.

“You thought I’d let you die? Like this? You… Really underestimate how much you mean to me, Deku.” Chisaki sighs, sad. He rolls over, swings a long leg over Deku’s hip and pulls him close.

“And one day, you’ll see how much I mean to you, too. Who else would love you, like this? Quirkless, friendless, lifeless…” Chisaki traces his lips over the fresh marks on Deku’s forearm – The ones Chisaki had given him, as punishment. The one’s he’s refused to remake, that Deku will wear for the rest of his life.

And Izuku can’t even hear properly anymore – his ears are ringing and he feels like he’s in a tunnel with bad reception. He can barely make out Eraser speaking… He thinks it’s Eraser, at least…“Kid – Hey, you’re okay – you – Kaminari… Recovery Girl… now… you…? Move…”

Izuku doesn’t feel it when he falls, this time.

Chapter Text

When Shinso Hitoshi had rolled out of bed twenty minutes late, he knew his Monday morning was going to go downhill, fast. He’d stumbled down old, creaking steps fast enough that his head rushed from how exhausted how he was, after another sleepless night. He waited until his foster mom had finished feeding the rest of the kids before she unlocked his mask and sent him on his way with an icy stare.

Which meant his face was still a bit red, from the mask. Muzzle. Whatever.

The only thing that had made him think that, hey, maybe today wouldn’t totally suck like all the rest, was when the Kaminari kid form 1A had very obviously checked him out, after he ran into the green haired kid he didn’t recognize. But even those butterflies were squished, when a pair of upperclassmen had recognized him and started taunting him, offering him twenty bucks to make one of the brighter students in their class do their homework for them. Shinso had declined, which was clearly not what they were expecting, and he’d ducked into the nearest room available after losing sight of them.

Then, even that small moment of peace had been obliterated, when the green haired kid from earlier had all about fallen into his arms, stumbling into the bathroom. He’d been so panicked and shaken, at first Shinso was afraid he was hurt. Then he recognized the all too familiar signs of a severe panic attack – the shaking hands, shallow breaths, the look in his eyes that told Shinso he probably wasn’t even aware of where he was at all.

“Thank god! Are you okay?!” Kaminari is here, but his eyes are focused on the green eyed kid having a meltdown in front of them.

“He’s having a panic attack.” Shinso had told him. Which, honestly, was probably putting it mildly.

It looked like the kid was having some kind of episode that Shinso really didn’t know how to handle. But it looked similar enough to what some of the other kids in the home had experienced. Eri would get like this sometimes, after a nightmare. So Shinso knew what he could try to calm him down.

And it had worked. The kid had slowly started coming back to the present moment, eyes locked on Shinso’s. He’d even reached out for Shinso, scarred hand reaching out blindly. Shinso had reached his own hand out to meet his, to pull him closer and try and ground him. Then, the teacher had come in and all that hard work was lost.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to I’m sorry please –“ The kid had regressed, scrambling back until he hit the toilet behind him. Shinso huffed, frustrated, and glared at the man he recognized as Eraserhead – the 1A homeroom teacher and underground hero.

“Kid – It’s me. You’re okay” He’d tried reassuring; stepping closer. He took a look at Shinso, and –

“Move.” He orders.

Shinso doesn’t move.

Which is for the best, because that’s about when the kid’s panicked rambling slows to a halt and his eyes roll back in his head. He falls forward, and Shinso is able to move quick enough to catch him, cushioning his head in his lap before he hits the ground.

“Kaminari – Get Recovery Girl, now.” The teacher orders, and the other student speeds out of the restroom.

“What’s your name?” Eraserhead asks, now that it’s just them two.

“Shinso Hitoshi. Class 1C.” He answers.

“Shinso. I need you to move, so I can get to him. I’m his guardian.” He reassures him, speaking in calm, soothing tones, despite the panic Shinso can feel emanating off the man.

A gasp startles both of them, and Shinso looks down to see those wide green eyes open, once more. They’re looking anywhere and everywhere – trying to find something to hold onto. When his gaze locks onto the teacher’s, he starts panicking again. Shinso holds him a little tighter and turns to face the teacher, blocking the kid from view.

“Sorry, sensei. But you’re upsetting him.” He glares.

Eraserhead starts, then his lips curl up into a snarl. His eyes flash, and he takes a step forward. Shinso straightens his back, blocks the kid entirely.

“I’m his guardian. That’s my kid. Move.” He orders.

“I don’t care who you are. You’re scaring him.” Shinso shifts, stabilizing the kid on the ground so he doesn’t drop him, when he stands.

Shinso really doesn’t want to brainwash a teacher – if he even can. He knows how Eraserhead’s quirk works. If he even senses Shinso trying to use his, this confrontation will be over before Recovery Girl will make it here. But luckily, what Shinso says strikes a chord with the man, because he hesitates. He looks down at the kid behind him, and swallows once – hard. Some of the tension leaves his body and he takes a step back. He looks… sad.

“I’m so sorry, ‘Zawa-Sensei I’m sorry – Please don’t – Please don’t be mad!” The kid starts talking, crying again, and Shinso crouches down to comfort him. He glares at the teacher as he does so. See?

“I’m not mad, kid. I promise. No one is mad at you.” The hero crouches down, too, and turns his head just in time to see Kaminari bursting back into the bathroom, Recovery Girl in tow.

“Chiyo.” Eraserhead breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the heroine entering, medical bag in tow.

“What’s happened?” The nurse asks, looking at the scene in front of her.

“Panic attack. Or… something.” Shinso tries.

“How long has he been like this?” She asks. She tries to get closer, but the kid whines at the sight of her, and she stops.

“Can’t have been more than a few minutes.” Kaminari says, running a hand through short, blonde hair.

“He passed out.” Eraserhead says. Recovery Girl glances at him, worried.

“P-Please don’t – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ll be good, I promise – I’ll do whatever you want, s-sensei I’m – I’m sorry, I’m sorry – P-Please d-d-don’t s-send me a-away.” The kid is sobbing, now. Big, heaving sobs into Shinso’s white shirt that’s been stained with tears and snot.

“If he doesn’t calm down, we’re going to need to sedate him.” Recovery Girl says. Eraserhead winces, looks helplessly between the kid and Shinso.

“Can we get Midnight? He hates needles.” He says, over the awful sounds the kid is making.

“No. His nervous system is already at its limit – We don’t need to add quirk addled chemicals into the mix.”

“Shit.” Eraserhead hangs his head, runs a hand through his hair. He looks absolutely devastated, looking at the green haired kid who’s started heaving, now.

“Hey. Hey, kid.” Shinso is muttering in his hair, runs soothing hands up and down his back.

“You’re okay, kid. No one is mad at you, okay? I won’t let anyone send you away. You’re okay, you’re safe.” He mutters, low enough for just the kid to hear. He thinks for a second about using his quirk, but quickly discards the idea. He doesn’t know where this kid’s head is at – He doesn’t want to fuck it up even further.

“I – I – I’m going to-“ The kid gets out before turning around and aiming into the toilet, just in time, before he vomits. This only stresses him further, though, because now the shaking has increased with each heave of his stomach, and Shinso doesn’t know what to do.

He nods his head at Recovery Girl, scooting just far enough away while maintaining physical contact for her to walk forward with the syringe she’d already prepared. He’s glad he still has a hold on the kid, because he wasn’t prepared for him to flail at the press of the needle into skin – he wasn’t prepared for how strong he was either.

“Chiyo!” Eraserhead catches her before she falls back, and Shinso is able to restrain the kid just in time to stop him from landing a hit on the older woman.

“Stop! Stop – Don’t – Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Don’t -  I don’t – I don’t want it!” The kid is screaming, and it turns Shinso’s blood to ice. His instinct is to do exactly what the kid says – to drop his hands and scoot away. But with the way the kid is flailing, he’s genuinely afraid he’ll hurt himself again if he lets him go. Every muscle in his body is tense – pushed to its limit with the way he’s trying to get away from Shinso.

“Kid! Kid, calm down! Kaminari – where’s his backpack?” Eraserhead raises his voice, startling the other student into action.

“Uh – Here – Here!” Kaminari throws the bright yellow pack at the teacher from across the room. Eraserhead catches it, opens it, and dumps out the contents.

Shinso struggles to keep a hold on the kid. For being so small, he’s deceptively strong – especially since he’s terrified. His eyes have started rolling, again, and Shinso can’t even understand anything coming out of his mouth anymore – all he knows is that it’s terrified – more terrified than Shinso has ever been in his life.

“Here.” Eraser tosses something in their direction, and Shinso catches it.

“Put it on him.” The hero orders and Shinso releases his hold on the kid’s arms just long enough to dump the pile of fabric on top.

Whatever it is works, after a few moments. Shinso has a moment to catch his breath, to ease his grip that will surely leave bruises on pale skin, before the kid is shaking again.

“Chiyo.” Eraser whispers, quiet. She steps forward again, and Shinso is better prepared this time.

“Nngh!” The kid exclaims, but Shinso has enough of a hold on him this time to keep him still, while Recovery Girl sedates him.

“N-No, no, no, no, no…” The kid holds on tighter, and Shinso wraps long arms around the kid’s waist.

A few moments pass of the kid’s muttered pleas, and then… A sigh of relief leaves all of them at once. The kid is out.

Eraser falls to a crouch, defeated. He wipes a hand over his face, looks at Recovery Girl with red rimmed eyes. He clears his throat, struggles to speak.

“Shinso.” He manages.

Violet eyes leave their gaze from the kid’s crumpled form. The underground hero is looking at him with the same glare from earlier, though it’s softened – just a bit. Enough to remind him that he directly disobeyed a teacher. A hero course teacher, at that.

“Can you bring him to Recovery Girl’s office?” He asks, surprising him. Shinso clears his own throat. Nothing comes out. So he nods.

“How long will he be asleep?” The hero asks the nurse, standing up slowly.

“A few hours, at least. He won’t wake before then.” She assures him. Eraser hesitates.

“He gets nightmares…”

“He won’t, with this. I gave him a fast acting version of Diazepam. It’s a common sedative used in panic disorders.”

Eraser nods, reluctant. Kaminari takes this time to speak up.

“I can stay with him, Aizawa-Sensei. Since I’m his guide.”

“…Thank you, Kaminari. That would be helpful.” He admits. The kid preens, just a bit, and nods – determined.

“I’m staying, too.” Shinso easily picks up the strong kid who doesn’t weigh nearly enough for someone his age. Eraser hesitates, but nods.

“Who’s your homeroom teacher?”

“Power Loader.”

“I’ll let him know.” Eraser tells him. Shinso nods. He’s pretty sure it won’t matter, anyways. There’s no way he isn’t getting expelled, after this.

“And where are you going?” Recovery Girl asks, sharply.

“I need to see my other students. Bakugo, especially. The police will be here, soon, to talk to him.”

“Is he in trouble?” Kaminari asks, worried. Eraser shakes his head.

“No, he’s not in any trouble. He just might have some answers to a lot of questions we’ve been having, about the kid.” He assures him. Kaminari nods, relieved.

“I’m sure Mic will meet you there, but he’ll have to cover my class until the kid wakes up.” Eraser tells Recovery Girl. She nods.

“Let’s get going, then. I want to check his vitals, after an episode like that.” She says.

Eraserhead hesitates, once they exit the bathroom. He makes an aborted motion towards the kid that has Shinso tensing, instinctively, before relaxing. He knows the teacher doesn’t mean any harm, now that the kid is calmed down. Not that he meant any harm before – He clearly cares about him. The kid just didn’t know that, at the time.

Eraserhead steps closer, when he’s sure Shinso will let him. He reaches out a hand and brushes the kid’s dark and sweaty hair out of his face, gently. He adjusts the scarf, just a bit so it isn’t bunched underneath him. He blinks once, twice, before collecting himself.

“Call me as soon as he wakes.” He tells Recovery Girl. She nods.

“I promise, Shota. It won’t be for a long while.” She assures him. He nods, looking at the kid once more, before walking back to his class.

“Are you two okay?” Recovery Girl addresses him and Kaminari directly, when it’s just them.

“Yeah, just worried…” Kaminari looks over the kid. Shinso nods, but doesn’t say anything. Recovery Girl doesn’t look convinced by either of them, but she sighs, relenting.

“Come on, then. I think we all need a sit, after that.” She leads them back to her office, to the infirmary.

Kaminari is fidgeting, next to him, the whole walk back. With his hair, with his piercings, with his uniform. It’s driving Shinso crazy.

“Can you stop that?” He asks, quiet and careful not to wake the kid in his arms. Kaminari starts, looks at him.

“What?”

“Moving.”

“…We’re walking?” He says, confused. Shinso rolls his eyes.

“Here.” Recovery Girl guides them to a clean bed and moves the curtain back, so Shinso can set him down.

“There – Yes. Thank you, lad. What’s your name, again?” Recovery Girl asks.

“Shinso Hitoshi.”

“Thank you, Shinso. Why don’t you and Kaminari have a seat, I’m sure soon we’ll be joined by – Ah, Hizashi.” Recovery Girl tenses upon the door opening behind them.

A blur, and then –

“Chiyo! Is he okay?! What happened?! Sho called – and then Nedzu, and Vlad – they said something happened!”

Present Mic is frantic in front of them. Shinso has never once seen the man so disheveled. His face is bright red, he’s crying, his speaker is half hanging off of his neck. He looks at the kid with the same emotion Eraserhead had shown, only amplified by about a thousand.

“He’s fine, Hizashi. I was just about to check his vitals. I believe he had a panic attack, or perhaps a flashback by the looks of it, but he’s okay.” She reassures him, puts a gentle hand on his arm.

“What – What happened?” He asks. Recovery Girl shrugs, before nodding at Shinso and Kaminari, who’d both paused in the middle of sitting when Present Mic had run in.

“Oh! Kids! Ah – Hi, listeners – Sorry. Totally didn’t know you would be here.” Present Mic wipes his face and tries to put on his best, professional smile.

It doesn’t work.

“I believe Shota will have more information. He said he’d be talking to the police, now.” Recovery Girl tells him. Present Mic blinks, confused.

“Police?”

“I’m not sure what happened, exactly, but that’s what he told me.”

“Were you there, Kaminari?” Present Mic asks, looking at the other blonde.

“Um, yes, Mic-Sensei.  I, uh, he was totally fine all morning! And then when we went in the classroom, Bakugo and him… I think they knew each other, maybe? Bakugo called him Izuku, and got super quiet.” He explains. Present Mic looks confused for another moment before his expression clears with understanding.

“Oh… Izuku.” He whispers, looking back at the kid.

He smiles, sadly. It sounds like it’s the first time he’s said the kid’s name, which Shinso has a hard time believing based on how much he seems to care for him.

There’s a quiet moment, when Present Mic reaches out and brushes his hair back in the same way Eraserhead had done. He wipes the wet tears off the kid’s face. He sniffs, and rubs at his own eyes, turned away from his students.

“…Shota mentioned you would need to cover his class.” Recovery Girl mentions. Present Mic clears his throat, nods his head.

“R-Right. I, uh… Yeah. I probably do need to do that.” He gets out.

“I told Shota, already. But I had to sedate him, so he’ll be out for a few hours.”

“Sedate him?!” Mic turns to glare at her, accusingly. Recovery Girls holds steady.

“He was going to hurt himself, Hizashi. Or someone else.” She says, calm.

Present Mic pales, just a bit. He looks back over the kid, eyes searching for something behind dark tinted glasses.

“I’ll call you, as soon as he wakes. Shota, too.” She assures him.

“…Okay. Just… Yeah, okay.” Mic sighs, defeated.

Shinso watches the exchange between heroes like he’s learning something new. He is, he supposes. He doesn’t know that he’s ever seen that kind of love from a parent, before. Or that kind of commitment from a teacher - to leave their kid in the hands of others, so they can tend to their own students.

“We’ll be here too, Mic-Sensei!” Kaminari chimes in. Present Mic huffs out an appreciative laugh at this, and smiles.

“Thanks, listener. You too, Shinso?” He asks.

His green eyes linger over Shinso’s face, narrowing in on his cheek. Shinso covers it, instinctually, with a seemingly benign itch. He knows that’s where the muzzle digs in a bit, when he sleeps.

 “Yes.” Shinso answers.

Present Mic doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Shinso starts to get a little nervous. If he had just woken up on time, he could’ve gotten it off earlier. But finally the hero clears his throat, smiles appreciatively.

 “Thanks, you two! You know you don’t have to – if you want to go back to class, you can.” He tells them. Both he and Kaminari shrug at the same time. The voice hero laughs at the gesture, but Shinso knows it’s just for their benefit. He still looks absolutely ruined.

“Well. I’ll probably be back at lunch, unless Sho needs me.” Present Mic tells the nurse. She nods, knowingly, taking the green eyed kid’s blood pressure.

“Yes, yes. I’ll see you then.” She waves him off.

He extracts himself from the room slowly, betraying just how little desire he has to leave the kid. He comes up with a half dozen excuses to stay – asking about his blood pressure readings, his temperature, what kind of sedative she used, what she’s having for lunch, if he should bring her lunch and what she would like…

“Out, Hizashi. Now!” She finally shoos him away, much to Kaminari’s amusement. She sighs.

“I’ll get you two something to drink.” She tells the two students, after the hero has left.

“Thanks, Recovery Girl! Want some help?” Kaminari asks, standing. The heroine waves him away, motioning for him to sit back down, which he does.

“No, no. Rest – You’ve had quite the morning, too.” She comments.

And then it’s just them two. The kid, Izuku, is still out – like Recovery Girl said he would be. He’s breathing deep and even, now. Not like he had been before, clinging on to Shinso like he was afraid he’d disappear without him. Shinso sighs, kicks out his feet and stretches long legs. He tries to ignore the exuberant blonde beside him, but it’s hard when he keeps opening and closing his mouth, clearly trying and failing to speak up.

“What?” Shinso finally gives, and turns to look at him.

The blonde blinks, surprised. He smiles, shy, and a faint coloring of pink touches his cheeks. He plays with one of his earrings, a nervous habit that Shinso has noticed in the short time he’s met him.

“Um. We haven’t actually met. I’m in 1A - Daminari Kenki.” The blonde says, confident. Until he realizes what he’s just said.

“No! Oh, my god.” The blonde groans and burns a bright red before sliding down in the chair, in embarrassment. Shinso bites the inside of his cheek in order not to laugh. The blonde notices.

“Why am I so stupid?!” Kaminari whines, embarrassed. Shinso actually does huff out a laugh, now.

“Bit dramatic, Kenki.” He comments. The blonde whips his head around, still flushed.

“Denki! It’s… It’s Denki.” He corrects.

“I know who you are, Kaminari.” Shinso tells him.

The blonde’s eyes widen, dramatically. Shinso finds himself staring a bit too long into them, seemingly mesmerized by the dark golden hue. He would be embarrassed, but Kaminari isn’t moving either.

“Shinso Hitoshi.” He gives him his own name. He holds out a hand, waiting to see if Kaminari will take it. He does, and he smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Shinso.”

Chapter Text

After settling down his students and sending his homeroom to their next class period, Shota gets a text from his husband.

(21:20) Hizashi: Meet me @ our spot

Shota isn’t ashamed to admit he drops what he’s doing to walk to the 3C bathroom, immediately.

He gets there before Hizashi, with enough time to check the stalls and to make sure they’re alone. They always are – They’ve never been interrupted in the past. Not even when they were students, sneaking in to do much more… indecent things than this. But still, he makes sure.

“Sho?” His husband comes through the door, looking exactly how Aizawa feels. But Shota must look awful too, because whatever Hizashi sees is enough to give him pause.

Shota tries to speak up – To reassure him. But there’s a lump in his throat that refuses to clear.

Hizashi closes the distance between them. When he gets close enough, he reaches out to grab a hold of one of Shota’s hands, pulling him closer into him. The other hand finds his dark, unruly hair that he uses to push into the crook of his neck. Shota welcomes the smell of eucalyptus and green tea. He breathes it in and is reminded of home.

He tries again, to reassure his husband that the kid is fine – he’s fine, everything is fine. But all that comes out is a shaky breath of air that puffs against his husband’s neck where the directional speakers have fallen loose.

“It’s okay, Shota. He’s okay. We’re okay.” His husband hushes him, strokes his long hair the way Aizawa likes best.

Shota’s hands find the soft leather of Hizashi’s jacket, and they hold on tight to the front of the material. His fists clench, holding on so that he doesn’t completely fall apart. He’s shaking, he realizes.

“I’ve got you, Sho.” His husband whispers, lips soft against his temple.

That’s all he needs to finally relax, going boneless in Hizashi’s arms. He hadn’t realized the adrenaline had yet to leave his system, until this moment. He inhales, rasping, and holds back the tears he can feel burning at the edges of his vision. He can’t fall apart. Not here, not now.

“I have to meet with Nedzu.” He’s able to manage. Hizashi nods against him.

“I know. Just take a minute for yourself, babe.”

Shota holds on tighter.

“Can’t. I need to be there. For Bakugo.” He gets out, reluctant. The stroking of his hair pauses for a moment before it resumes.

“…What happened?” Hizashi asks.

Bakugo’s head whips around, fast – He’s ready to snap at Kaminari for telling him what to do. But he freezes, at the last second. Red eyes fill with something that looks like fear – It doesn’t look right, on Bakugo’s face.

“Izu…ku?”

“Bakugo and the kid. They know each other. Or, knew. From before, I think. I don’t – I don’t really know. Once I made sure Bakugo was all right, I ran after the kid.”

“…Izuku?” Hizashi asks. It’s more an exhale than a question. Shota’s chest tightens. He nods against Hizashi.

“Izuku.”

“Hm… It’s a pretty name. It suits him.” His husband comments. Shota’s lungs are burning when he speaks.

“It is. I just. Wish he could’ve been the one to tell us.” He admits.

Shota had been so sure he was going to tell them, soon. He thought he could see the kid thinking about it, this past weekend. He wanted to tell them, Shota could tell. He just… hadn’t been ready, yet. And that was fine. Shota meant what he’d told the kid – He didn’t mind waiting. But, now…

“Me too.” Hizashi admits, his own voice full of emotion.

Shota gives in and wraps his arms around Hizashi’s middle. His husband hums and sniffs, holding him tighter.

“I love you.” He whispers. Shota’s eyes close tight.

“Love you, too.”

**********

By the time Eraser makes it to the principal’s office, he’s the last one there. Nedzu is sitting at his desk and has pulled up an extra seat for Hound Dog. Detective Tsukauchi and another officer that Eraser doesn’t recognize are both sitting on one of the long couches. And Bakugo is sitting opposite of them, on another of the principal’s plush office chairs. He’s on the phone, speaking loudly into the device at his… mother?

“Yes, you fucking hag – I’m fucking fine, all right? Yeah, yeah – You always say that… Tch. Sensei just got here, it’s not like I’m alone.” He says, when everyone notices Eraser enter the room.

“Yeah... All right… Kay. Christ, I won’t! Okay?! Fucking - Bye, already.” He rolls his eyes and stands up, all but shoving the device back at the detective.

“Ah, Mrs. Bakugo… I take it to mean we have your permission? Perfect, thank you. When will you be… Yes, that’s fine. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning... Thank you.” The detective ends the call much nicer than the woman’s own son, and gives a polite smile towards Shota as he tucks it back in his pocket.

“Eraser.” He greets.

“Detective.”

“This is Detective Kim, he’s just been recruited to help assist on the case.” He introduces the younger man with an extra set of eyes sitting next to him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eraserhead. I’ve heard a lot of great stuff from this guy.” He smiles, nudging Tsukauchi.

“I look forward to working with you.” He replies, before going and taking the open seat next to Bakugo.

The kid is quiet, despite his explosive outburst over the phone. And really, for Bakugo, that was subdued compared to some of the stuff Eraser has heard come out of his mouth in class.

“Well, now that we’re all here. If you no longer require my services, I’ll be covering one of your classes, Eraserhead, so Present Mic can attend his.” The principal announces, hopping out of his chair.

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Principal.” Detective Tsukauchi bows, slightly.

“Hound Dog will stay, as we discussed. I’d feel more comfortable having a counselor involved, if one of my students is going to be questioned.” Nedzu reminds him. The detective nods.

“Of course.”

Shota nods at the principal on his way out. When the door closes, the atmosphere shifts. It had been tense, before, but now…

“What do you wanna know.” Bakugo starts the conversation, because of course he does. Tsukauchi clears his throat before he begins.

“Well, first off, I want to thank you for agreeing to speak with us today. And despite what the principal said, this is not an official questioning. You aren’t in any kind of trouble – You just appear to have some information we’ve been looking for.”

“About Izuku.”

“Yes. I can’t tell you too much, as he is part of an ongoing investigation, but I can tell you that it appears he has been missing for an undetermined amount of time. A few years, at least. And up until this morning, we didn’t even have a name to call him.” Tsukauchi explains. Bakugo nods, attentive. He’s slouched over on the couch, leaned towards the detectives with his elbows on his knees.

“So what do you wanna know.” Bakugo repeats, a little more resigned this time around.

“How do you know Midoriya?” The new detective, Kim, speaks up.

Bakugo tenses at this question. His face flushes all the way down his neck, until it disappears under his uniform. His mouth is drawn in a tight line. But he doesn’t look angry, Shota notices. Just… some other kind of emotion that Shota can’t pinpoint.

“We went to school together.”

“For how long?” Tsukauchi opens his notebook.

“Since we were little – elementary up until middle school. He stopped coming at the end of sixth grade.”

“What Middle School did you two attend?”

“Aldera.”

This gives the detective pause. He looks up from his notebook, surprised.

“Here? In Musutafu?”

“Yeah… Why?”

Tsukauchi hesitates, but… “We assumed he was from somewhere farther away. We ran missing person’s reports and combed through our databases looking for a match of his description, but we were unsuccessful.”

“Well… He wasn’t missing.” Bakugo admits, uncomfortable. He sits up, now.

“What do you mean?”

“We… I mean. We were told he moved.”

“Who told you?”

“My mom. And our teacher.”

“Who told them?”

“His mom.”

There’s another silence that spreads throughout the room just long enough to settle, before Tsukauchi asks,

“Do you know his mother’s name?”

“Inko.”

“Midoriya, as well?”

“Yeah.” Bakugo grunts. He looks a little more uncomfortable than he did a moment ago.

“And his father?”

“I… I don’t actually know his name. He left when we were still really young.” Bakugo scratches his head, trying to remember.

“That’s fine. Thank you. Do you know if Mrs. Midoriya ever told anyone where she moved to?”

“That’s… I don’t know that either. My mom might. They hung out a lot.” Bakugo tells them. The detective nods, smiles politely.

“That’s fine. We’ll be meeting with her tomorrow morning, when she returns, so she may be able to give us more information.” He says, placating Aizawa’s student.

Bakugo is starting to sweat, Aizawa notices. Just a bit, at his hairline and near his temple. His hands are fidgeting, and he wipes them on the fabric of his uniformed pants.

“Do you remember his last day at school?” The detective asks. Bakugo freezes. His muscles tense, but he grits out…

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember what day it was?”

“I don’t.”

“But you remember the day, itself?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you remember about that day? Do you remember how Midoriya may have been acting?” The detective pauses for a sip of water, and lets Bakugo find an answer.

“It was towards the end of the school year, close to summer. He… It was... Honestly, it was… just like any other day for him.” He finally breathes out, looking down. And Shota is finally able to place the expression that looks so unfamiliar on Bakugo’s face… It’s guilt.

“How do you mean?” Detective Kim joins and asks. Bakugo hesitates.

“He was… bullied. A lot. So… he was pretty quiet, usually.” He says. Detective Kim makes a knowing noise.

“Why was he bullied?” Shota speaks without meaning to. He glances at the detective.

“Because… He’s quirkless.” Bakugo says, quietly.

Detective Tsukauchi, for his part, remains professional. As if this kid didn’t just answer a whole lot of questions for them, didn’t just confirm what the Commission knew all along.

“I see. What about his parents?” The detective continues without missing a step.

Bakugo shakes his head. “No. His mom had a quirk. She could attract small objects. His dad did too, but I don’t know what it was. Heard some of the parents talking about it being an elemental quirk, maybe.”

“You said his mom had a quirk?” Tsukauchi emphasizes. Bakugo shrugs.

“I haven’t seen her since they left. So… Like three years? I don’t know. Haven’t talked to them.”

“Did you talk to them often, before?”

“My mom did. We were neighbors, too. Lived next door to each other.”

The detective perks up a bit at this information, sits up in his chair a little taller.

“I see. Do you remember the day they moved?” He asks. Bakugo shakes his head.

“Not the exact day. It was about a month after Izuku stopped showing up.”

“And you didn’t ask why?” Detective Kim speaks up, confused. Bakugo glares at the man.

“No.”

“Why not? If you were friends, -“

“I never said we were friends.” Bakugo corrects, loudly. His tone takes them all aback, for a moment. Eraser recovers quicker than the rest.

“Bakugo. Do you need a break?” He mutters, quietly. He gets the reaction he’d expected – red eyes burning with defiance as he whips his head around.

“Do I look like I need a fucking break?”

“Yes.” Shota answers, simply. The kid huffs and rolls his eyes.

“I don’t.” He spits out.

A moment, and then Detective Tsukauchi speaks up, “If you’re sure…”

“I’m fucking sure.” Bakugo leans back into the cushions, crossing his arms.

“..All right, then. Thank you, Bakugo. You’re giving us a lot of information we weren’t aware of before, so we appreciate you talking with us.” Tsukauchi thanks him, again. Bakugo rolls his eyes but lets the obvious ass kissing go, for now.

“Yeah, Yeah. What else do you wanna know about the nerd?” Bakugo tenses, again, eyes shift over to Shota’s.

“Actually… What can you tell us about his mother? Inko?” Detective Kim asks, sitting up.

Bakugo shifts, uncomfortable with the new line of questioning. He shrugs.

“She was… fine.”

“Fine?”

“Normal.”

“Define normal.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, “She was fucking fine. She was a single mom. Didn’t go to a lot of school stuff, but went to all the parent conferences and shit. Made sure he didn’t stay out late, drove him to school if he missed the bus.”

“Did you ever visit their house, when you were neighbors?”

“… When I was a kid, yeah.”

“What did you think of it?”

“Of their house?”

“Yes.”

“… Look,” Bakugo sighs and runs two hands down his face, “I know what you’re fucking asking me. And I don’t know if she ever hit him.”

Both detectives blink, surprised. They glance at each other, and Tsukauchi writes in his notebook. Shota’s stomach starts sour, just a bit.

“Why do you think we were trying to ask you that?”

“Because, you’re not that fucking subtle about it. And she was… She was normal, like I said. I didn’t ever see anything. But… My mom didn’t like her.” He says.

“Oh? I thought you said they spent a lot of time together.” The detective looks back in his notes. Bakugo nods.

“They did. But not because she liked her. She was always worried about Izuku.”

“How so?”

Bakugo shrugs.

“She’d always pack an extra lunch and make me give it to him. She’d fucking kill me if I didn’t. I forgot once, and I thought she was going to fucking explode.” Bakugo’s words are harsh, but his tone is anything but. Shota recognizes that guilt making a reappearance.

“What else?”

“She always asked him if he was okay. If anyone was hurting him and stuff. He got bullied, like I said, and he was clumsy as hell. So he always had lots of bruises and shit. That’s what he told her, anyways.”

“That’s what Izuku would tell your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“…Do you know if she ever reported any of this?”

“Dunno. Like I said, he didn’t tell her anything.” Bakugo shrugs, again. The detective nods, understanding, but Shota’s hands are clenched into fists.

“Thank you, Bakugo. I know we’ll have more questions, once we’re able to find out a little bit more. But this is a great starting point, for us. Is there anything we didn’t cover that you think we should know? Anything you remember about Izuku or his last couple of days before he went missing?”

Bakugo hesitates. His eyes cut towards Shota’s again before flitting away.

“He was…He was quirkless. And quiet. But… He was smart. Wanted to be a hero. And even though he got bullied a lot, he never… He was always nice. To me.” Bakugo admits, looking down. His eyes are red around the rims, and his mouth is pressed into a tight line.

“Thank you, Bakugo.” Tsukauchi says, gently. Bakugo nods, but doesn’t look up.

“Is that all?” Eraser asks, speaking to the detectives. They nod in unison, so Shota stands to talk to Tsukauchi, alone.

“Sensei?” Bakugo speaks up, quietly. Shota turns to face the kid, who’s finally looking at him now. His face is red and splotchy from trying not to cry or scream, probably. But his eyes are wide and vulnerable. He looks like a kid for the first time since Shota has met him.

“Yes?”

“Can you… Can I talk to you, for a second?”

Shota nods, glances at the detectives before speaking, “Hound Dog, do you mind walking them out?”

He gets a rough bark in reply, and the large hero stands up out of his seat to walk towards the door.

“I’ll call you.” Tsukauchi says to Eraser, on his way out.

“Thanks.”

When everyone leaves and it’s just Eraser and Bakugo, Shota moves to where the detectives had been sitting, before. It looks like Bakugo needs the space and, honestly, so does Shota. The kid… Izuku’s reactions so far to the mention of his mother had been alarming enough on their own. To know that another adult, another parent, had noticed the signs first hand and had gone so far as to talk to him about it was enough for Shota to start calling in ever favor he had to find the best lawyer in Japan if the woman ever thought about trying to come back into the kid’s life.

“Is he okay?” Is the first thing Bakugo asks. It wasn’t what Shota had been expecting.

“He’s…” Shota doesn’t know what to say. He won’t lie to the kid, but he also doesn’t know how much of the truth he can handle at this point. He can’t tell him that Izuku had been so panicked, so terrified of the thought of being left alone that he’d passed out right in front of him. He can’t tell him that the very sight of Aizawa had the kid scrambling for cover behind a stranger. He can’t describe the way his small body had strained and jerked and moved like a frightened animal at the sight and feel of a needle.

“He will be.” Shota settles on. Because Shota will make sure of it.

“I didn’t mean to upset him.” Bakugo says, and Shota knows enough about the explosive kid to know that’s the closest he’ll come to an apology.

“I know.” He says, because he means it. Bakugo couldn’t have known Izuku would react that way. Shota couldn’t have, either. He could’ve imagined the kid being upset, but going into a… fit, like that?

“Are you going to expel me?”

“…Why would I do that?” Shota asks, confused.

Bakugo rolls his eyes and suddenly the fifteen year old kid is gone, replaced by the angry and explosive boy that Shota has started to know.

“You know the fuck why.”

“Elaborate.”

“No.”

“Then I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Just – Fucking – Ugh.” Small explosions dance up the kid’s hands, but Shota doesn’t think he even realizes.

“I’m a dick.” He says, bluntly.

“And? If being a dick was cause for expulsion, Endeavor wouldn’t have made it past the entrance exams.”

Bakugo huffs, rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“…Bakugo-“

“You know I did it. That.” He spits out, angry.

“Did what?” Eraser pushes, just to see what will happen. If he’ll talk to him.

He does.

Bakugo stands up out of his chair, knocking it to the ground and walks up to him, until he’s barely a step away. He looks like he’s going to deck him, and Shota tenses, instinctively, ready to dodge if he needs to. But he doesn’t, because as soon as Bakugo sees this, he freezes. He looks at Shota, guiltily, and takes a step back. The tears are back, now, and closer to spilling over than they were before.

“I fucking bullied him.” He spits out, venom coating every word. Shota lets the admission sit in between them, for a moment.

“I assumed as much, based on your reactions.” He tells him, calmly. Bakugo clenches his teeth.

“So fucking do it already.”

“What?”

“Expel me.”

“…Do you want me to?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“Because I fucking deserve it!” Bakugo exclaims, uncrossing his arms and holding them at his side.

He’s breathing heavy, chest heaving up and down under his school uniform. He looks like a prisoner awaiting their sentence.

“Why?”

“Because, I – I just fucking told you!”

“Bakugo. Sit down.”

The boy looks like he has something he wants to say, or yell, in return. But he holds himself back. He huffs and turns around, picks up the chair he’d kicked over. He plops back down into it, crossing his arms.

“Why don’t you explain. And when you’re done, I’ll give you my answer.” Eraser offers. Bakugo looks at him, nervous, but he accepts his offer.

“What…What do you want me to tell you?” He hedges.

“…Why did you do it?” He settles on.

There’s a thousand and one questions he could have asked, that he’d like to know the answers to. How could he hurt someone so pure and kindhearted as Izuku? What was he thinking, wanting to be a hero, and bullying the weak? Did his mom not stop him? Did she know? What exactly did he say to his kid that has him feeling so guilty, all these years later? What did he do to him? Did he hurt him? Did he make him cry? Did he use his quirk? Why didn’t he help him?

“My therapist thinks it’s a byproduct of my quirk. Some shit about compensating for the blood pressure and shit pumped out from the Nitroglycerin. But. Honestly, that just sounds like a fucking cop out.” Bakugo answers.

“Your therapist?”

“Yeah. After… After Izuku left, I… I thought, maybe… He… left. Because of me.” Bakugo admits, and rubs his eyes before Shota can see the tears spill over.

“So I told my parents I needed to see someone. ‘Cause I didn’t… I always wanted to be a hero. Like All-Might. But All-Might would never bully a quirkless kid.”

“That’s… very mature of you, Bakugo.” Eraser admits, surprised.

“It’s fucking not. It’s literally the bare fucking minimum.” He growls. Eraser rolls his eyes.

“Still. Not many twelve year olds have the level of introspection to find their faults, admit them, and fix them.”

“Well. I’ve never been afraid of a challenge.” He tries to joke, but it falls flat.

“You said your therapist thinks it’s your quirk. What do you think?” Shota asks. Bakugo looks away.

“Honestly… I think… I was just a bad kid.” He admits, quiet.

“There’s no such thing, Bakugo.” Eraser tells him. Bakugo shrugs.

“Whatever. I had a powerful quirk, and no one told me no, until I got to UA. Until I met you, really. The teachers didn’t give a shit if I was mean to him. My mom didn’t believe the ones that did bring it up. So… Why the fuck would I give a shit about a quirkless nobody?” He says, honestly.

Shota tenses at the phrasing. He has to stop himself from lashing out verbally. Because this is what he asked, from Bakugo. He wants to understand.

“It was just Midoriya? That you bullied?” He asks. Bakugo shrugs.

“Like I said. I’ve always been a dick. Not very fucking heroic.”

“Then… if that’s the case… Why didn’t you attack Todoroki’s right, in the first simulation fight?”

Bakugo blinks, confused. He tilts his head, struggling to follow the line of questioning that Shota has just pulled out of thin air.

“Huh?”

“During the fight against him and Monoma. There were multiple opportunities during the hand to hand that you could have taken in order to end the fight early and win. But you didn’t.”

Bakugo shifts, uncomfortable.

“…I don’t think his vision is as good. On that side.” He admits.

“It’s not.” Shota confirms, he’d seen the same thing himself after a few days.

“Then I’m not gonna fucking exploit it!” Bakugo exclaims, defensive.

“Why not?”

“The fuck do you mean why not? We were playing the villains, doesn’t mean I wanna fucking be one!”

“So you went easy on him?”

“FUCK NO!”

“You let him win, then?”

“YOU WANNA FUCKING SAY THAT SHIT AGAIN?!”

“I’m just trying to understand why you wouldn’t use an opponent’s weakness to your advantage.”

“Because it’s not a fucking weakness, jackass! And it clearly makes him uncomfortable when he can’t see shit coming – I’m not gonnna fucking trigger his candy cane ass just for a fucking simulation! Fuck!” Bakugo yells loud enough that Shota actually leans back. He’s glad he did, because the explosions coming off of the boy have picked up in their intensity. Shota coughs when the smoke hits him.

“Right. Then. No, Bakugo. I’m not going to expel you.” Shota says, calmly.

It takes Bakugo a moment to calm back down. When he does, he looks even more defeated than when they started this conversation.

“Are you still seeing a therapist?” Shota asks. Bakugo shakes his head.

“Not for a while.”

“… I’d like you to talk to Hound Dog, today. Before you return to any classes. You’re welcome to take the rest of today off, but he needs to clear you before you come back tomorrow.”

He expects a fight out of the boy at this, and he almost gets one. But he ends up surprising Shota, nodding.

“Yeah. Okay.” He concedes, shoulders slumping forward. Shota lets him think, for a moment, before speaking.

“Is there anything else you’d like to talk about? Any questions you have?”

“…No. Just… I can leave, if you want. 1A, I mean. He’s your fucking kid, and I’m going to make him uncomfortable.” He admits. Shota’s brows disappear under his hair, at this offer.

“…Thank you, Bakugo. But you’re also my student. Mic and I will figure something out.” He tells him. Bakugo nods. He looks around the room, and pales when he sees the chair he’d tipped over.

“Uh… Sensei?”

“…What?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“…”

“Any chance you could say this was you?” Bakugo lifts up the chair enough for Shota to see two burn marks scorched into the arms. The kid looks nervous, and Shota would do anything for his students, but even he has a line to draw… Admitting to the principal that one of his favorite, antique, stupidly overpriced chairs was ruined…

“Good luck, Bakugo.”

**********

After Aizawa and Bakugo run out of Nedzu’s office and he drops the kid off with Hound Dog, he makes his way back to the infirmary. He sends a quick text to Hizashi, letting him know that the police had left and that he’d be heading back to check on the kid. On Izuku, he corrects.

He pulls up the school’s database on his phone, while he walks. Shinso had looked familiar to him, for some reason. He couldn’t place it at the time, but after typing in his information , he remembers. Shota tends to remember other kids with mentalist quirks, like himself. And Shinso’s quirk was rare enough to stand out.

He scrolls through the kid’s page. Looks over the scant details about his quirk. He notes that he’s in foster care, which surprises Shota only because of how expensive he knows UA to be. But then he sees he was awarded one of the three scholarships offered by the school, and realizes he’s not just defiant to a fault. He’s smart about it, too.

“How is he?” Shota puts his phone away and stops to ask Recovery Girl, before continuing on to the sick room just past her office.

“Ah, Shota. Fine. Stable. He’ll likely be quite doozy and out of it, when he wakes. If you’d like him somewhere more familiar, you’re welcome to take him home when you’re ready.” She tells him. Shota nods, grateful.

“We’ll do that. What if… Will this happen again?” He asks. She sighs, shrugs her small shoulders.

“Hopefully not. The medication should keep him from having another episode at least through the night. If this happens again, you can call me.” She offers.

“Thank you, Chiyo.”

“Mhm. And now that you’re here, please, send those two away.” She says, waving in the direction of the two students he’d left with Izuku.

“Are they misbehaving?” He asks, serious. She huffs.

“They remind me of a certain pair I knew when they were in high school.” She says, eyes narrowing in meaningfully. Eraser almost smiles.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He feigns, innocently. He receives a light smack on the arm.

“You and Hizashi – You liked to act like he was the one that drug you around campus by the ear, but I know you had your own share of bad ideas.” She lectures. Shota bites down on a smirk.

“Definitely not. If it wasn’t for me, who knows what he would’ve gotten into?”

“Well, thanks to you, I know exactly who he’s gotten into. Don’t think I forgot about the time I caught you two-“

“Chiyo!” Shota coughs, flustered and embarrassed. She laughs at his reaction, eyes crinkling as she wipes tears from the corners.

“Ah, Eraser. Go get your kid.” She teases and orders, pushing him away.

“Gladly.” He mutters, still red in the face.

He collects himself before he walks in, interrupting whatever it was that Kaminari and Shinso had been arguing about in hushed whispers.

“Sensei!” Kaminari perks up, and Shinso smacks him on the arm, hushing him.

“Sorry!” Kaminari winces and whispers.

“Thank you two, for staying. I’ll get your absences today excused.” Shota tells them.

Kaminari smiles, grateful. The other kid just stares – For a moment it feels like Shota is looking into a mirror.

“Will he be okay?” Kaminari asks, looking back over at Izuku under the sheets. Shota nods.

“He’ll be fine. Bakugo, as well.” He adds, before the kid can ask.

“Good.” Kaminari sighs, relieved, and runs a hand through his hair. Shota notes the way Shinso glances over at the action.

“You can be excused for the rest of the day, if you’d like. And Hound Dog will be available to talk, if necessary.”

“I’ll be okay, sensei. Can I go back to class?” He wonders. Shota nods. There’s only a few hours left in the school day, but the kid probably wants to be with his friends.

“Great. Well… Um. I’ll see you around, Shinso.” Kaminari turns to the purple-haired kid, who smirks in response.

“See you around, Kenki.”

The blonde splutters out a few unintelligible words, but eventually rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh. He sticks out his tongue on the way out.

The general studies student stands up after he’s left, ready to follow him out. Shota stops him.

“Shinso. I’d like to talk to you.” He says. Shinso sighs, but sits back down. He almost looks nervous, underneath his calm exterior.

“Thank you. For helping, today.” Shota says.

This, at least, gets a reaction out of the kid. He looks u at him so fast, Shota is afraid he’s hurt his neck. But wide, surprised eyes quickly narrow into distrust, and his demeanor shifts back.

“I disobeyed you.” He points out.

“You did,” Eraser agrees, “It was the right call.”

One violet brow raises, skeptical.

“So… You’re not expelling me?” He asks. Shota almost feels bad at this point, for the reputation he’s built. Almost.

“I’m not your teacher.” He points out.

“You’re still a teacher.”

Shota shrugs, crosses his arms, “Too much paperwork.”

The kid snorts at this, amused.

“What’d you want to talk about, then?” He asks. Shota takes the seat next to him, that Kaminari had left.

“You didn’t use your quirk, earlier.” Shota notes. The kid’s expression changes, just a bit. He’s not amused anymore.

“What do you mean.”

“On the kid – To calm him down. Or on me.”

“…No.”

“Why not?”

Shinso shrugs, uncomfortable. Tired eyes glance to the side before meeting Shota’s, head on.

“Didn’t know where the kid’s head was at, or if he was hurt. Didn’t seem like a good idea to go messing around in it.”

“Hm… And me?”

“…Didn’t seem like the right call.”

“Why?”

Shinso huffs, annoyed.

“The kid clearly knew you, even if he was scared out of his mind.  Didn’t want to put you under and freak him out even more. Plus, didn’t know if I could. Harder with mentalist quirks like yours.” He tells him.

Shota takes this in, thinks about it. He looks at the kid – Really, this time. He’s in the first year as well, same as his class. He’s a lot taller than most of them, but he seems a bit thin, for as large as he is. His quirk – Brainwashing, Shota has learned since this morning – appears to have left him rather alienated from his peers. And the bags under his eyes rival Shota’s own.

“Why aren’t you in the hero course?” He asks. Shinso tenses, forces himself to relax. He’s good at that, Shota notes. At making others feel more comfortable around him.

“Robots don’t have brains to order around.”

“No. But the other prospective students do.” Shota points out. Shinso frowns, shifts in his seat.

“I… Thought about it. But my quirk already makes people uncomfortable. If my first impression at UA is brainwashing all the cute, optimistic kiddos, I may not have even made it to general studies.” He points out. Shota frowns, at that. The kid isn’t wrong.

“You want to be a hero?” Shota asks. The kid shrugs.

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

“…I have a villain’s quirk.” He says, simply. Shota raises a brow, motions for him to continue. Is this what it’s like for Hizashi to hold a conversation with him all the time?

“I could be a lot of help with sensitive missions. Stuff other heroes don’t want to do.”

“Like what?”

“Undercover, infiltration. Information gathering. Hostage situations.”

“…Those things don’t make good press. Or money.”

Shinso shrugs, again.

“I just want to help.”

“What do you want your hero name to be, Shota?!”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be in the spotlight. I just want to help.”

“Hmm… What about… Eraserhead?!”

Shota hums, thoughtful. The kid shifts just a bit in his seat, not used to the intense staring that comes at the price of being Aizawa’s student.

“Meet me at the front gates, the day after tomorrow. Six o’ Clock. Don’t be late, or I’ll leave.” Shota tells him, and stands up. Shinso mirrors the action, crossing his arms.

“…Why?”

“If you’re going to be in my class, you have a lot of catching up to, physically. And you’ll need to be ready to transfer before the provisional licensing exams in a few months.”

“You – You want to train me?!” Shinso exclaims. It’s the first time Aizawa has heard the kid’s voice grow louder than a murmur, including when he was ready to fight him, earlier.

“Do you want me to train you?” Shota counters. There’s no hesitation before the kid is nodding.

“Yes.”

“Good. I won’t go easy on you.” He warns. The kid’s grin is full of a narrow-minded determination that, for a brief moment, reminds him of Bakugo.

“I can take it.”

“If you can’t, we stop. I won’t waste my time on someone I don’t think can succeed.”

Shinso nods, eyes glinting.

Shota’s phone buzzes and he looks down to see a new message from Hawks. He has a feeling he knows exactly what it’s going to say.

(14:34) Hawks : Commission knows about the kid. Will call when I have more info.

(14:34) Hawks: How is he?

Shota rubs his face, exhausted.

(14:35) Pencil Sharpener: Thanks. Not good. You should stop by soon.

(14:35) Hawks: Things are tight here, but I’ll see what I can do.

Hizashi takes this time to make his appearance. He notes the tense atmosphere in the room and pauses, a brow raised. He glances over at Izuku, still sleeping.

“He hasn’t moved.” Shinso tells him. Hizashi smiles, relieved.

“I take it you haven’t, either?”

Shinso shakes his head. Hizashi hums, studying the kid. His husband glances over to Shota, but it’s too quick for him to interpret the look.

“Why don’t I walk you out, kiddo?” Hizashi offers.

Shinso tenses, looking visibly uncomfortable, but agrees. Shota watches after them, confused. What was that about?

Shota’s phone rings and he answers without looking.

“Hawks.”

“Not quite!” Comes the polite, chipper reply. Shota pauses. Clears his throat.

“Principal.”

“How is he?”

“He’s… still sleeping.”

“Hm. For the best, I suppose.” He comments. Shota hums in agreement, walks over and pulls up a chair so he can sit closer to the kid.

“Power Loader has offered to cover both you and Present Mic’s classes for the rest of the day. I expect one of you will want to call in tomorrow, as well.”

“Yes. I… apologize, Nedzu. I know this has been challenging.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your acknowledgement. But no apologies are necessary. You and Mic both have more than enough time to spare.”

“Did you ever hear back from your friend? The counselor?” Shota asks.

“Yes! That is actually the reason for my call. I’ve explained the situation to them, and they’re interested in meeting the child. I told them I would forward you their information, so you can get in touch.”

Hizashi comes back, looking more bothered than he did before. He walks over and rests his head on top of Shota’s. He reaches around and holds the kid’s hand in his own. Pale, scarred fingers are wrapped protectively in gold.

“That’s great, principal. Thank you.”

“Of course. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks.”

Hizashi moves so he isn’t hanging off of Shota anymore, but still has a hold of the kid’s hand. He’s able to look at Shota now, to really see him.

“What did Nedzu say?”

“The counselor he recommended is interested. He said he’ll forward their information.”

“Oh! Good! That’s… Great, actually. That makes me feel a lot better.” Hizashi sighs, relieved.

“Why did you walk Shinso out?”

“Oh. Um…” His husband looks uncomfortable, now. His free hand is messing with the piercings on his ear.

“I thought… This morning, it looked like he had a mark. On his cheek. Looked like…” Hizashi trails off, holds a hand to his own cheek.

“Like?”

“Where a muzzle would go, maybe…”

Shota’s heart drops at the statement.

“Did he say anything to you?”

Hizashi shakes his head, “No. Said he must have slept funny. I told him… If he ever needs anything, or needs to talk… I gave him my number. Just in case he ever… needs someone.”

Shota nods, grateful that his husband had noticed. Hopefully it was nothing, something Hizashi was already sensitive to had maybe looked like something it wasn’t. But with a quirk like Shinso’s…

“I offered to train him.”

“You did?!”

“Mhm.”

“Why?!” Hizashi asks, and Shota nearly has to erase his quirk.

Not that Shota can blame him. Since Shota had become Eraserhead, he’d never once had an intern. Or a partner. Or an agency. Or a sidekick. Shota worked alone.

“He got between me and the kid today.”

“Huh?!”

“In the bathroom, when the kid was panicking. I told him to move, so I could go to him. Shinso blocked me. Nearly used his quirk.”

“But – He would’ve been expelled!”

“Mhm.”

“…And you’re happy about this because?”

“Because. The kid… Izuku... He was scared. So Shinso protected him.”

“Hmm… Well, at least you can keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s really okay.” Hizashi bites the inside of his cheek. He clearly has more to say, but he lets it go.

“What happened with Bakugo?” He asks, instead.

“That’s… a long conversation.” Shota admits, gaze trailing over Izuku. He hates that this is the most relaxed he’s seen him, in a few days.

“Why don’t we get the kid home, first?” Shota offers. Hizashi nods in agreement, relieved.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

“Kacchan? You got your quirk?!” Green eyes widen even further, like that’s possible. Freckled cheeks are flushed red after running side by side all the way to their favorite park. Katsuki drops the smaller boy’s hand in order to show off an explosion.

“Whoa!” Green eyes glitter in excitement. The boy is bouncing in place, too animated to ever stay still for too long.

“Does it hurt?” Izuku asks, concerned all of a sudden. Katsuki shakes his head and grins.

“Nope! But I bet it’ll hurt all the villains I beat up!”

“Wah! So cool! Did you tell your mom?”

“Yep! She’s making tantanmen to celebrate! Wanna come over?!”

“Yeah! But I have to ask my mom, too! She’s been sad since dad left for his trip.” Izuku frowns for a moment.

“It’s okay, Zuku! When you get your quirk, we’ll be the best heroes ever! We’ll be better than All-Might!”

“You think so?!”

“Of course! We’ll be partners, like Nighteye! And then your mom will be so happy – She definitely won’t be sad anymore!”

Izuku jumps, squeals in excitement, before launching himself at Katsuki. Small arms wrap around his neck as he hugs him, close.

“I can’t wait, Kacchan!”

Izuku lets go of him and takes a step back. But that wide grin falls, just a bit. He grows taller, right in front of Katsuki’s eyes. And they aren’t in the park anymore. They’re in Izuku’s kitchen.

“You still haven’t gotten it, yet?” Katsuki asks. Izuku shakes his head and bites his lip, worried. He messes with the fresh scratch on his cheek as he admits,

“Wh-What if I don’t? Kacchan? What if I’m…”

“You’re not. Do you know how rare it is to be quirkless?? There’s no way, Izuku. Don’t worry – I bet it’s taking so long to show up because it’s going to be awesome! The best quirk there is!” Katsuki pats him on the back and smiles and Izuku returns it tenfold. But in the back of his mind, Katsuki wonders… what if…

“Katsuki? Why are you still here? It’s late.” Izuku’s mom comes from around the corner and it’s impossible to miss the way his friend tenses at the sound of her voice.

“Sorry, Mrs. Midoriya – I was just leaving!” He assures her. She doesn’t say anything else, just glances at Izuku and frowns.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kacchan.”

“Yeah… See you.”

Katsuki takes one last look at the pair of them before he walks out the front door. But when he opens the door, instead of walking to the street, they’re in their park again. And Izuku is crying.

“Th-They said I – I d-d-don’t have one. A quirk. Th-They said I – I have the extra -  Extra t-toe joint. K-Kacchan, I’m – I’m so sorry.”

Katsuki is frozen – what is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to say? He wants to ask his friend if he’s sure – If the shitty doctor that told him this shitty news is even qualified. But Katsuki has known for a while now…

“You’re quirkless?”

He doesn’t recognize his own voice. Not when he talks to Izuku, at least. All the other shitty extras that like to get on his nerves – sure. He doesn’t mind putting them in their place.  But never Izuku.

The green haired boy doesn’t say anything. He steps forward towards Katsuki, for a hug. Katsuki pushes him away.

“You’re kidding, right? You – How could you – Why?! Why you?!” Katsuki yells, and feels his palms tingling.

Izuku looks confused, for a moment. Then he blinks away his tears and his lip wobbles.

“I – I’m sorry, Kacch-”

“Don’t fucking call me that! Quirkless?! Damn it Izuku – You ruined everything!” Katsuki rages and Izuku actually takes a step away from him. He’s scared.

“I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry! Fuck! Can’t you – Can’t you fucking do anything right?! Fucking – Useless!”

Izuku’s brows furrow and his eyes pinch tight. His hands clench into fists as his side.

“Stop, Kacchan! I’m not-”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT! I’M NOT YOUR FUCKING KACCHAN – YOU – YOU – YOU THINK A FUCKING DEKU LIKE YOU GETS TO CALL ME THAT?!”

Katsuki shoves him away and Deku hits the ground, unprepared for the outburst. He looks up at Katsuki in shock. Eyes that used to look up at him in wonder are full of betrayal. Katsuki can see the tears from his place above him.

“Kach-“

Katsuki lets lose an explosion and he finally gets his point across. Deku finally shuts up – closes that mouth that had been hanging open. He closes his eyes and hangs his head, so Katsuki can only see the top of his head.

And Katsuki sees everything, in this moment. He can see everything that Deku has ruined. They could have been unstoppable together – they could have made the best Hero Duo that Japan had ever seen! They could have been best friends, together, forever!

Katsuki runs.

He runs so fast that he trips, falls into their shared classroom at Aldera Junior High. Deku is sitting quietly at his desk – Well, as quiet as a muttering nerd can. He sighs, and plays with a lock of green hair that Katsuki can still remember the feel of. When he stretches, Katsuki notices the weight he’s lost, recently, that his old hag had been going on about.

“Oi – Shitty Deku.”

Deku looks around for him, tenses when he sees Katsuki approaching.

Katsuki slams a smoking fist down onto the nerd’s desk and picks up the journal he’d been writing in. He takes a glance at the pages and scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Still think you can be a fucking hero, Deku?” He asks, before he sets the book on fire.

“Don’t!” Deku jumps up, but Katsuki shoves him back down into his seat. His green eyes water when he tries to get back up, but two of the extras Katsuki has been hanging around make themselves useful and hold down the nerd.

“Eh? You trying to tell me what to do?” Katsuki puts a leg up on Deku’s desk and leans over, menacing. He grins at the look of fear he gets in return. He reaches over and plucks the red pen Deku had been using right out of his hand.

“Let’s see. Property of… Midoriya? Tch. Stupid. What’re you going to do if you ever lose this? No one will know who it belongs to if it says this shit.” He says, and uses his teeth to rip the cap off of the pen.

“Here… That’s better, nerd.” He grins and it’s all teeth as he shows off his work. Around the blackened stationary, he’s replaced Midoriya’s name with bold, red letters – DEKU

The group laughs and they let the nerd go when Katsuki leans back and tosses the notebook out the window. Deku starts and runs over, to look over the edge. When he looks back at Katsuki, it’s with those same stupid eyes that Katsuki thought he’d always get to look at, forever.  But that adoration and worship has been replaced with grief – and anger.

Katsuki hates it.

“What? Do you have something to say? Deku?” He re-enters the classroom, stalks over to where the nerd is still holding on to the windowsill.

Katsuki looks out to where Deku’s eyes are locked on the notebook that’s fallen into the pond. Katsuki snorts, rolls his eyes. He puts a hand on Deku’s shoulder, activates his quirk like he breathes in air. He nods out the window, towards the ground.

“You can study and write as much as you want, shitty Deku. You’ll never be a hero without a quirk… ” Katsuki feels the shoulder of Deku’s jacket start to disintegrate when he leans in.

“So let me give you some advice… If you want a quirk so bad, go take a swan dive off the roof, and maybe you’ll have one in your next life.”

Katsuki smells the burning material, can smell when he lets his palm linger a little too long so that it burns pale and freckled skin.

It’s burning, and it doesn’t stop.

Katsuki backs up, eyes wide. He isn’t touching him – He’s not even near the fucking nerd anymore but the boy is still burning. He’s screaming, being devoured in the flames that Katsuki didn’t mean to create. He didn’t mean to lose control – He didn’t. But it doesn’t matter, because he did. Deku is burning and he’s screaming, and Katsuki can’t fucking help him.

**********

“OI – WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU LITTLE DELINQUENT! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

Katsuki gasps when he’s pulled from his dream and he inhales the sweet smell of his quirk. He’s propped on his forearms, head hung below them, trying to get a grasp on himself. He shakes his head, trying to shake away the familiar blend of memories and nightmares that wouldn’t let him rest.

“Fuck.” He whispers to an empty room and sits up, slowly.

He shakes out his hands, an old habit that never really works. He uses his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow and he cringes when he smells his sheets. He’d been tossing and turning all night, and his fucking quirk clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that it wasn’t fucking needed. Sweat and burned cotton have stained them, ruined them.

He leans over to fumble for his cell phone and barks out a curse when he realizes the time. The hag was right – he is going to be late.

He scrambles out of bed and all but runs to the bathroom, showering just quick enough to pass for clean. He brushes his teeth while stumbling down the stairs, looking around for his backpack. His mom hands it to him, when they meet.

“You look like shit.” She raises a brow. Katsuki rolls his eyes and flips her off, dodges a half-hearted smack.

He spits in the sink the way he knows she hates and is rewarded with an expletive filled squawk. He smirks when he turns around.

“How was Tokyo?” He asks while he looks around the kitchen for something to eat on his way out.

“Fine. How was home?”

“Fine.”

“Tch. A little worse than fine, huh?” She crosses her arms and slumps to one side against the fridge, looking at him. She still has her heavy makeup on from her shoot.

“It was… I don’t fucking know. Weird.” He admits, shrugging. She gives him a skeptical look and doesn’t let it go.

“It was awful.” She supplies, instead.  He sighs.

“The fuck do you want me to say, huh? It fucking sucked, all right?” He admits, defensive.

“Well, it’s my turn in an hour or so. The detectives were nice? They treated you good?” She asks, standing up a little straighter.

“They were fine. The fuck you meeting them so early for? Didn’t you just get here?” He questions, finding a snack bar he can make do with until lunch.

He glances back at her and sees how tired she looks, slumping forward just a bit. Her shoot had taken a lot longer than she’d anticipated, and she’d made it home hours after her flight was supposed to land.

“Yup. But, I won’t be able to sleep anyways ‘till I talk to them.” She admits, brushing her hair back.

“Hm.” Katsuki acknowledges before checking the time again. He’d gotten ready quick enough – He has a minute or two to spare.

“…How did he look?” She asks, cautious.

And Katsuki… doesn’t know how to answer that, honestly. If it wasn’t for the nerd’s signature hair color, Katsuki wouldn’t have recognized him at first glance, for a few reasons. The main one being how fucking ill he looked. Way too thin and even paler than Katsuki remembered. His skin was sallow, dark rings haunted his eyes and washed out what little color remained.

But the other reason he had to do a double take was because, despite how sick he looked, for the first time since they were kids – He’d looked… okay. Content? Happy? No – not happy. He’d looked fucking terrified to be staring at Katsuki.

“Safe.” He settles on, after a moment. His mother’s face twists into a grimace, confused.

“Hah? The fuck does that mean?”

Katsuki shrugs, “Dunno. He just looked okay. Had clothes that fit him, for once. I think… He’s staying with Eraserhead, so... He’s probably being taken care of.” He explains, tossing the granola bar from one hand to the other while he thinks.

“Tch. For once.” She rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone, scrolling through it.

Katsuki looks at his mom, at the woman that had cared far more about De-Izuku than she did her own son.

“…Did you really think Auntie Inko hurt him?”

His mom looks up, her signature magenta eyes narrowing before she speaks.

“Did they ask you that?”

“Kind of beat them to it.” Katsuki shrugs.

“Hm… Well. Hopefully she stays gone, so we don’t ever have to know.” She settles on. Katsuki frowns.

“Where did she go, anyways?” He wonders, on his way out the door.

“Dunno.” She shrugs.

Katsuki pauses.

“You don’t know?”

“Nope.” His mother sighs.

“…I thought she told you?”

“I don’t know anything more than you do, Kat.” His mom says, shrugging.

“The… The fuck does that mean? You -  Why didn’t you fucking ask?” Katsuki wonders, and he can physically feel his blood pressure rising.

“How could I do that? She disconnected her numbers.”

“She – Why didn’t you – Why didn’t you say something, then?! Did you go to the cops?” He asks, incredulous.

“And tell them what?! That a woman and her son decided to leave town? The fuck would they have done, Katsuki?”

“Fucking something! He was out of school for a whole month before they moved!” He yells, and his mother shifts just a bit.

“I know! I assumed the school reported it!”

“They didn’t! They told us he moved, too!”

“Well… Yeah! That’s what I fucking told them! They still should’ve-”

“WHAT?!”

“Why the fuck are you acting like this?! You fucking hated the kid – Now you feel bad all of a sudden?! Give me a fucking break! The school called asking to get a hold of Inko and I told them she moved! It’s the fucking truth!” She shouts and Katsuki sees red.

“YOU – I thought you fucking cared about him! What the FUCK?!”

“DON’T YOU RAISE YOUR FUCKING VOICE AT ME – I CARED ABOUT HIM MORE THAN YOU FUCKING DID!”

“I WAS A KID!”

“YOU WERE A FUCKING BRAT, IS WHAT YOU WERE!”

“WONDER WHERE I LEARNED THAT FROM?!”

A creaking on the steps interrupts them before they can escalate. Both mother and son are breathing heavy, glaring at each other with no small amount of derision.

“Good morning, loves.” Katsuki’s father comes downstairs, stretching and yawning. He walks between them to press a kiss to his mother’s cheek.

Katsuki closes his eyes. Counts to ten. Opens his eyes and still sees red.

“FUCK!” He yells and wrenches open the front door, setting off explosions on his way out.

**********

Katsuki’s first mistake after leaving the house that morning was looking up Midoriya Izuku online, just to see what there was.

There was nothing.

No missing person’s reports or news articles, nothing about a kid that had gone missing seemingly overnight only to resurface years later.

How the fuck could that happen? How could a kid just fucking… vanish? Would that have happened if he’d had a quirk? Katsuki can’t imagine it would. There were always huge searches on television when kid’s went missing – even if their quirks seemed pretty lame, in compared to others. Katsuki couldn’t remember if he’d ever heard about a quirkless kid, or even person, ever going missing. But surely they did… right?

Katsuki’s second mistake was ignoring all the calls and texts from his friends that had built up since the day before, because when he finally got to class…

“Bakubro! Are you okay?”

“What happened?!”

“How did you know sensei’s kid?”

“Are you okay?”

“You two were friends?”

“Did you have to talk to the cops?”

“Why’d he freak out like that?”

“Did sensei yell at you?”

“Are you expelled?”

“Are you oka-”

“OI!” Finally Katsuki can’t take it anymore, so he stands up out of his seat and takes a look around the room. Almost everyone is there, minus a handful of extras who wouldn’t give a shit anyways.

“I’ll say this once, and only once… Shut the FUCK up before I blast you into fucking space!” He exclaims and sits back down in his seat.

There’s a moment of silence that passes, with a few shared glances between his classmates. Until Monoma finally speaks up.

“That didn’t actually answer any of our que-”

“I’LL KILL Y-“

“GOOD MOOORNING, LITTLE LISTENERS!” Katsuki winces at the volume their teacher greets them with. He isn’t the only one.

“Mic-Sensei! Is Midoriya-San okay?” Iida is the first to speak up.

“Of course! He’s totally fine – Just taking a day to rest!” He assures them, but Katsuki can see the way his words are forced out of him.

“Will he be coming back?” Kaminari speaks up.

“Hm… Not sure, yet! We’ll have to see what he’s comfortable with!”

“Does he live with you?” Mina pipes up, and Present Mic hesitates.

“Um…”

“He lives with Eraserhead, so that must mean he lives with you too – right?” She asks, head tilted.

“Haha, well that’s…”

“None of your fucking business, Raccoon Eyes.” Bakugo snaps, and Mina frowns.

“Anyways! I’ll be covering for Eraser today, obviously! Aaand it looks like we’ll be sparring today – without quirks! So you all can pair up and meet up in the gym in ten minutes, okay?” He announces, looking at whatever notes Eraser had scribbled for him.

“Awesome! Wanna be my partner Baku…go?” Kirishima trails off, because Katsuki is already making a beeline for the only fucking extra he can probably handle being around today.

A mismatched pair of eyes blink up at him, surprise breaking through their usual vacant stare.

“Icyhot. Let’s go.”

“…Go where?”

“The fucking gym, dumbass.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and grabs his shoulder, pulling up him by his jacket.

“You want to spar with me?” He asks, curious.

“Fucking obviously.”

“…Why?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“Because I can count on you not talking my fucking ear off today. Come on.” He barks out the command and turns around, not looking behind to see if the boy is following him.

“Whaa Bakubro, I wanted to spar!” Kirishima whines.

“You’re too fucking noisy.”

“I could be quiet!” Kaminari chimes in, earning an actual chuckle out of Katsuki.

“Not fucking likely.”

“What about-” Sero jumps in, but Katsuki cuts him off.

“See?! Noisy.” Katsuki complains.

There are a few more grumbles from the group that have Katsuki rolling his eyes, but eventually they quiet down and start pairing off, excited to be sparring all the same. Honestly, they’re just excited to be out of the classroom. Katsuki especially, after yesterday. Sensei thought he let Todoroki win, the first time they fought?

Hell no. He’d fucking show him.

**********

“Fuck!” Katsuki lands on his back - again.

Todoroki is staring down at him, breathing heavy. He quirks an eyebrow before walking over and holding out a hand. Katsuki bats it away like he’s done every other time in the last hour.

“You’re distracted.” Todoroki comments, when they break for water.

“No shit.” Katsuki murmurs, looking away.

Katsuki may have underestimated the stupid effect that half n’ half bastard had on him, when he looked too long. His soft hair, his flushed cheeks, his two colored eyes that seemed to be in a constant struggle to understand the simplest things around them. How serious he would get, when he put his mind to something – like kicking Katsuki’s ass.

But even that didn’t explain Katsuki’s performance today. He knew what it was that was really holding him back, making him hesitate and making him sloppy. Every time he advanced on Todoroki, he remembered the dream he’d had the night before. Instead of advancing towards Todoroki, he was stalking towards Izuku – Shoving him to the ground, shoving him away, yelling and cursing at his friend.

“Bakugo?” Todoroki looks over at him, head tilted to the side. Katsuki grunts in acknowledgement.

Todoroki hesitates, scrunches his nose in a way that really shouldn’t be cute. But before he can continue, he’s cut off by an infuriating blonde.

“Bakuhoe!” Monoma plops down between them, looking serious. It’s so out of character for him, Katsuki almost doesn’t realize what he’d just said. Almost.

“The fuck you call me?!” He asks, already pissed.

Present Mic is making his way over, likely to tell them to pack up for the day, and he winces. He really didn’t want to end his fighting on such a shitty note.

“How do you know Izuku?” Monoma asks, instead.

“Hah?! The fuck you calling Izuku?! Who said you could call him that?!” Katsuki leans over and grabs Monoma by the shirt. The other boy doesn’t so much as flinch.

“He did, when he introduced himself.” He says, simply.

“He what?” Katsuki and Present Mic both speak at the same time. One of them looks confused, while the other looks devastated.

Monoma glances up at their teacher, confused by the reaction. He answers, slowly.

“Yesterday… When we met. He introduced himself as Izuku.” He says.

There’s another moment of tense, awkward silence as Present Mic clearly tries to keep himself together, before clearing his throat. Judging by the way Todoroki has paused in capping his water, even he can tell something is wrong.

“Um. You guys can go clean up, okay? Good work today.” The teacher smiles and gives his signature thumbs up, but it falls flat.

Katsuki, Monoma, and Todoroki all share a glance between each other before doing exactly that. Katsuki doesn’t even notice when he accepts Todoroki’s hand, this time, until he feels how soft and cool it is when it’s not trying to knock him out.

“Anyways. How do you know him?” Monoma continues on their way to the locker rooms.

“The fuck do you wanna know for?”

“Just curious!”

“Then you can ask him yourself.” Katsuki tells him, and Monoma actually pouts.

“It’s not fair of you to keep him to yourself, Bakugo!” He whines. Katsuki whips around, red in the face.

“It’s not fucking like that, and you know it!” He exclaims.

“I don’t know, because you won’t tell me!”

“It’s not my shit to tell.” Katsuki answers, honestly.

“I’m not asking for a tragic back story, I’m just asking like… What’s he like? He’s our age, right? What’s his favorite color? Do you think he likes flowers? Or chocolate?” Monoma wonders.

Katsuki rolls his eyes once he realizes why he’s being questioned, “You know he’s sensei’s kid, right?”

“Yup!”

“…”

“What?”

Katsuki sighs, “You’re fucking hopeless, Monoma.”

**********

The rest of the day passes much as it had started. Katsuki’s pissed at everyone and everything, as usual, and he tries his best not to take it out on anyone that doesn’t deserve it. He’s marginally successful. As usual.

“Finally! I’m so ready to go home and sleep!” Kirishima groans when their last class has ended. Bakugo grunts in agreement. He hopes he’ll be able to get more than a few hours at a time, tonight.

“Kami? Where are you going?” Mina speaks up, standing on her toes to try and track him through the crowd. He turns around, flustered, before giving them a grin.

“No where! Just forgot something. I’ll see you guys, tomorrow!” He disappears in the sea of students, heading towards the 1C hallway.

“What’re you doing tonight, Bakugo?” Kirishima asks. Katsuki shrugs.

“Dunno. Sleep, I guess. Homework.”

Kirishima snickers at this, “So boring, Bakugo.”

“Oi? Who are you calling boring?” He frowns when he gets to his locker, putting away all the books he won’t need overnight.

“I figured you’d be lighting fires or punching out bad guys.” Kirishima admits. Bakugo rolls his eyes, but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

“He only does that on the weekends, I’m pretty sure.” Mina giggles.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, losers.” Katsuki rolls his eyes.

He walks in between the two classmates on their way out of the building. A few more join them, on their way to the bus stop. Sero and Jiro both end up walking with them, and even Aoyama. They’re way too loud for Bakugo, whose already got a migraine coming on thanks to his lack of sleep and subsequent ass kicking.

“I heard we’re going off campus, soon! For a training!” Mina pipes up, always ready to gossip when given half an opportunity.

“Oh? Where?” Kirishima wonders.

“It’s not off campus, it’s just usually off-limits.” Jiro corrects.

“Oh?!” Aoyama pipes up, intrigued.

“Where is it?” Sero asks.

“Dunno. Somewhere cool, I think! I heard Thirteen talking about it with All-Might Sensei, before lunch!” Mina explains.

“Damn, I hope so! I hate all this classroom work. I thought there’d be more… I dunno. Hero stuff!” Kirishima complains.

“Tch. Classroom stuff is just as important as physical training, dumbass.” Katsuki interjects.

The group continues to debate this statement most of the way to the bus stop. Katsuki rolls his shoulders, willing the knots to disappear on their own. He wonders how his mom’s talk with the cops went, this morning. He hadn’t heard from her since he shouted his way out the door earlier in the morning. Maybe that was a good thing?

 “Bakugo.” Todoroki startles him, appearing suddenly behind his shoulder. No one else seems to notice his arrival.

“Fucking! What?!” Katsuki doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing.

“…I won, today.”

Katsuki stops, mid-step, forcing Todoroki to skid to a halt so that he doesn’t run into his back. Katsuki whips around, explosions already popping off.

“HAH?! THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?!”

“It was a fluke.” He says, calmly.

“Damn right it was!”

“Are you busy this Friday? After class.”

“None of your business.” Katsuki glares.

Todoroki isn’t phased. He never is.

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a stop bothering me.”

“…Am I bothering you?” He asks, head tilted again.

Some of the white strands of hair fall into his turquoise gaze. A strange part of Katsuki wants to reach out, to brush it away so he can see him better.

“Bakugo?”

“Huh?”

“Am I bothering you?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, flustered.

“Oh. I apologize.” Todoroki looks slightly distressed by this admission. Katsuki doesn’t like it.

“Well, you’ve already annoyed me. So the fuck do you want?”

Todoroki hesitates, before shaking his head.

“…Nothing. Sorry.” He tries to leave, but Katsuki doesn’t let him.

“Oi! You’re even more fucking annoying if you don’t spit it out, already!” He scowls. The other boy frowns, tries to brush too short hair behind an ear.

“Are you busy Friday? After class.” He repeats.

“Depends.”

“I’d like to train with you.” He blurts out, looking only slightly apprehensive.

“Huh?!”

“Friday.”

“The fuck would I do that for?!”

“Practice.”

“I don’t need to practice! You got lucky today – Like you said!”

“Not for you. For me.” He says, calmly. Katsuki narrows his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“I need to practice. Today was… If you weren’t distracted then I would’ve lost. Every time.”

“Damn right.”

“And if it hadn’t been for Monoma, I would’ve lost in the simulation.”

“Fuck Monoma.” Katsuki grunts and starts walking again, catching up with the group ahead of them.

“We have similar fighting styles when it comes to our quirks. But you’re much more developed at hand to hand. My father… He’ll want to continue training me, if I don’t get better soon.”

“The fuck would I care about that for? Wouldn’t being trained by fucking Endeavor be better than getting your ass kicked by me?”

“You would get to train, too.” Todoroki says, ignoring half of Katsuki’s question.

“No, I’d get to waste a Friday afternoon. You don’t even count as competition.”

Katsuki plans to end the conversation there. He doesn’t need to waste his afternoon teaching someone else, when he could focus on getting better himself. Especially when that someone is Todoroki. Katsuki didn’t like the way his head fucking emptied around the boy.

But then, the bastard speaks up.

“Oh. Okay. I was just under the impression you wanted to be the best. But, I guess, second-best isn’t bad either.”

Katsuki freezes. Turns around slowly.

“What did you just say.”

“Well… the Sports Festival is coming up in a few weeks, correct? We both know it’ll come down to the two of us. But if you beat me knowing that you won only because you didn’t want to face me at my best, that you could’ve fought me as a tougher opponent… Well… Then you’re taking the easy way out, right? So… would it really count as a win?” He asks, feigning innocence.

“…”

“Almost like you’re taking the easy-”

“FIVE O’CLOCK! FRIDAY, AT THE GYM. IF YOU’RE ONE MINUTE LATE, I’M FUCKING LEAVING!” Katsuki shouts before he catches up with his group at the bus stop.

Fucking half n’ half bastard. Katsuki would fucking make him the best, worthiest fucking opponent that he’s ever seen. And then, when he kicked his fucking ass in front of all of UA, he’d be the best there ever was.

He’d show everyone. Bakugo Katsuki was going to be number one.

Chapter Text

Hawks lands at the entrance to the Hero Public Safety Commission with a flourish. His feet are heavy as he drags them through the doors – almost as heavy as the pit in his stomach. Not long ago, he’d received a call from one of the higher-ranking Commissioners requiring his immediate presence for a meeting. Not ten minutes after that, he’d received a call from his handler explaining the most recent developments with the kid. Now known as Midoriya Izuku.

“And how did the commission find out about this?” Hawks had asked, pacing back and forth in his apartment.

“One of the detectives gave us a call.” Hana explained, again. Hawks stopped walking and ran a hand through his hair.

“I thought Tsukauchi didn’t like to share.”

“It wasn’t him – Some newer cop.”

Hawks had tried to reign in his irritation, but failed when she told him the second half of the news –

“And we were right. He’s quirkless.”

A pause, and… “So… What does that mean. For us.” He clarified, all business.

“Well. Nothing, unfortunately. Um, I mean, if we had gotten a hold of him earlier, maybe we could have brought him in. But, Eraserhead’s guardianship is completely, legally sound. The commission doesn’t have precedence unless the child is a danger to the community as a byproduct of their quirk. So…”

Hawks snorts at this, rolls his eyes. Hana sighs, sadly.

“Hawks-San… You know your situation was… different. Your mother-”

“I know.” He cuts her off, tone clipped tight.

There’s another pause, another sigh on both ends. Hawks could hear someone else speaking in the background and knew he’d get another call soon if he didn’t show up, already.

“I’ll see you soon, X.” He hung up, just after his handler’s icy reply –

“Goodbye, Asset.”

Hawks has to check in with the commission regularly, even now that he’s moved away. He steps in once every one or two weeks – as long as he can get away with not showing up. So he should be used to this, by now. He should have been used to the frosted glass doors that shut him in every night for twelve years. He shouldn’t have avoided eye contact with the familiar faces that greeted him at the front desk, knowing that they were little more than an extra set of eyes and ears for those upstairs.

But he wasn’t used to it, even now. He only was only able to keep his feathers from ruffling after years of practice at masking his emotions. Even so, his hands shook just a bit when he reached into his jacket for the badge that would give him access to an employee-only elevator. So he didn’t notice when someone beat him to it.

“Oh! Endeavor-San!” Hawks steps back, startled, when the Number Two hero uses his own badge to open the doors.

The hero is still larger than life, even though Hawks has grown up seeing him roam the hallways, smashing and groaning about things that upset him to his own handlers. Really, Hawks thinks that his have always had it better. The flame hero’s image in the media was only slightly more positive than it was in real life.

“Hawks.” The hero grunts, without looking up from his phone.

The number two hero does nothing to quell Hawks’ nerves – If anything, they only worsen. Despite how often he’s caught glimpses and shared half-hearted pleasantries, he can’t remember the last time they stood side by side, like this. It makes him feel even smaller than usually does, standing next to someone so much larger than him – in height, in width, in fame and popularity, in conviction and strength.

“Are you getting in?” He grunts, one eyebrow raised.

Hawks nods his head. He hadn’t realized he’d been standing still while Endeavor waited in the elevator that had opened without Hawks knowing.

He flushes, just a bit, and hides behind the collar of his jacket.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, berating himself internally.

There’s an awkward silence between them, as the elevator rises. Endeavor has pressed the button for the highest floor in the building – the same one Hawks is being summoned to.

“What’re you here for?” Hawks asks, trying to sound normal, like the totally ordinary and not hyper-obsessed fanboy he is.

“Performance review.” The hero grunts, glancing up for a moment before returning to his furious texting.

“Ah, fun. I hate those, personally.” Hawks comments. Endeavor grunts again, and Hawks has to catch himself from quirking a smile. He really is a caveman.

“I do, also.” He admits.

The number two hero sighs and finally lowers his phone. He tilts his head back, looking up. He looks… stressed, Hawks thinks. Like something is weighing on him. Hawks can only imagine, being the number two hero. Number three was more than enough pressure for Hawks.

“…Everything okay?” Hawks asks, wincing at the uncertain lilt to his voice. Damn, the kid’s niceties were rubbing off on him.

Hawks didn’t actually expect an answer, and he doesn’t get one for a long while. The elevator rises, slowly but surely letting people on and off again. He recognizes an underground hero that’s been tangled up with the commission for the last decade or so and is surprised enough to greet him.

“Ito-Kun?”

A pale face turns towards him, brows furrowed until he recognizes the voice. His features relax, and he gives Hawks a ghost of a smile.

“Hawks.”

“I didn’t know you were back!” He exclaims. The man nods.

“It’s been, what… Four years? Five?” Hawks wonders, excited beyond belief to see one of the only people that worked for the commission that had ever treated Hawks with unselfish kindness. Hawks would reach for him, but the way the man is holding himself screams discomfort.

“Almost five, yes. It’s good to see you.” He says, sincere.

“How are you? How long have you been back?” Hawks asks, curious.

Koki Ito, Hair Fracture Quirk, had been on an undercover operation for the Commission since before Hawks went pro. Hawks never did learn where he went, but he knew it was extensive and incredibly dangerous. Hawks wasn’t sure if he would ever see the hero again, but he couldn’t contain his hesitation as he studied this man he nearly didn’t recognize.

Where before Ito had been fun and youthful despite him being older than Hawks, now he seemed to carry a physical weight on his shoulders. His long, whip-like hair that was courtesy of his quirk used to be his pride and joy. Now it was dull and broken in some places. He’d lost quite a bit of weight and muscle and he didn’t seem to be able to settle for very long. Cleary, his mission had changed him.

“Not long. A few weeks.” He shrugs.

“Do you still have my number? It hasn’t changed – Call me when you want to hang out! I can drink now!” Hawks says, excitedly.

The last night before Ito’s mission all that time ago, Hawks hadn’t been able to go out to the bar with him and his older friends. Ito and he had still spent time together, hanging out and playing the video games Ito would smuggle into the commission for the teen. But when it was time to go, he’d had to leave Hawks behind.

Endeavor snorts from somewhere in the elevator, much to Hawks' embarrassment. He feels himself flush, but Ito just smiles.

“That would be great, Hawks. I’ll do that.” He says.

Ito steps off the elevator along with a few others until it’s just the number two and number three heroes standing side by side. Hawks notices the older man staring at him, head tilted in scrutiny. Hawks actually leans back, self-conscious.

“What?” He asks, patting himself down as if searching for whatever it is that’s distressed the man so badly.

“How old are you?” Endeavor asks, blunt.

And, wow, that really shouldn’t make him flush the way it does. Teenage Hawks would have probably exploded on the spot. More than a few fantasies in his youth had inadvertently starred Endeavor, and many had started out this way. Exactly this way, actually, the more he thinks about it… Elevators were a predominant theme in the teenager’s dreams at the time, for whatever reason.

“Twenty-Three!” He manages, not high-pitched at all.

“Hm… My son… He’s fifteen…” He trails off, thinking. Hawks quirks an eyebrow and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Oh?”

“He’s… He won’t return my texts.” Endeavor says, almost dejectedly.

Hawks' eyebrows raise high until they’ve disappeared under a mess of windswept hair.

“Oh? Ah, I mean… What are you texting him?” He asks, curious. Endeavor hesitates before he unlocks his phone and passes it to Hawks like this is a totally normal thing that they do. He can’t wait to tell Rumi about this.

Hawks clears his throat and walks a few steps closer, leans over to read the messages. When he does, he’s unable to hold back the bark of laughter that leaves him without his permission.

Endeavor visibly flusters and wrenches his hand back, crossing his arms and looking away.

“No, no! I’m sorry! It’s just  - Well… No kid is going to respond to that, especially not to their dad.” He explains, still chuckling over the dozens of texts in a row that had been sent at least a few times an hour for the past few days. Just the same word, over and over – Shoto.

“He doesn’t respond no matter what I text him.” He complains, grumbling as the elevator doors finally open to their destination

“Hm… Well, have you tried talking to him in person?” Hawks asks, stepping out of the elevator and closer to the board room that he knows is currently full of people waiting on him.

“Of course. He won’t respond to that, either.” Endeavor remarks.

“Hm…” Hawks hums, thoughtfully, procrastinating even further.

“Well, if he doesn’t want to talk, maybe just respect that for now? I mean, he’s fifteen, like you said. As long as he isn’t getting into any kind of trouble, just give him space.” Hawks suggests, shrugging.

Endeavor clearly doesn’t like that answer, frowns, and crosses his arms again. Hawks shrugs, again.

“But, I mean, you know your kid best. Just a thought.”

“Of course…. Thank you, Hawks.” Endeavor says, somewhat begrudgingly. Hawks throws up a mock salute.

“Any time, Endeavor-San!” He grins, cheekily, before making his way to the meeting he’s probably very late for.

He’s stopped by his handler.

“Oh – X.” He says, surprised at her sudden appearance.

“Asset. You’re early.” She says, fidgeting. Hawks furrows his brows, confused, and looks beyond her to the room full of high-level commissioners.

“Doesn’t look like it.” He says and moves to go around her. She steps to the side, blocking him.

“That meeting is just wrapping up. Yours will be starting shortly.” She explains with wide eyes, willing him to listen. He doesn’t.

“Then why are they all here? I’m always invited.” He almost pouts, but his curiosity is piqued.

“Asset, please. Just… wait a few moments.” She asks. His eyes narrow.

“Asset!” She reaches out when he walks around her, walks towards whatever it is that’s so important and secretive they can’t let their favorite puppet in on.

“Sorry, I’m late!” He puts on a wide smile as he walks through the door, cocky and light-hearted as always.

Whoever is in charge of the slideshow on the screen is just a little slow. Hawks can make out the title – (Potential) Phase 2 Recruits – and a few pictures underneath. They’re all younger-looking kids and teenagers – There’s a younger teen girl with pink dreads, a purple-haired boy that must have been about Izuku’s age, a young child with long, light-colored hair and a horn on her right side, another young girl with dark brown hair and long bangs. There are more pictures that look like headshots, but the screen goes blank before Hawks can see more.

There’s a brief moment of silence, in which the commissioners at the table look like they’ve been caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar. Which, it looks to Hawks is exactly what’s happened. Because he knows for a fact that he was the Phase 1 Recruit.

Finally, the president of The Commission herself clears her throat and speaks up.

“Asset. You were supposed to wait outside.” She glares behind him, and he assumes Hana is trembling somewhere by the door.

“Whoops! Well, you told me to get here immediately so… I assumed I was running late.” He forces a casual grin.

“Please, wait outside. We’ll summon you when we’re ready.” She turns her glare to him, now. He doesn’t move.

“Or perhaps you can go downstairs and check in with Dr. Yuki before our meeting? I believe you missed your check-in after your most recent villain fight.” She proposes.

Hawks maintains the smile through sheer willpower.

“I’ll wait outside, thanks.” He gets out, before turning and all but running out of the room.

He’s shaking as he sits down. He doesn’t know why. He does know why – But he doesn’t know which part. Would Izuku have been up there, on that slideshow, if Eraser had been just a little slower in taking guardianship? Was Hawks up there, twelve years ago? How could he avoid seeing Dr. Yuki today? Should he tell Eraserhead about this? Could he do something?

“I told you.” Hana whispers and sits down next to him, once they’re back in the waiting room.

“You didn’t.”  He bites back, resisting the urge to gulp in a breath of air.

“I told you to wait.”

“What are they doing?” He asks, turning to look at his handler.

She’s not much older than him, he thinks. She may actually be a few months younger. It shows when she brushes her tangled hair back and over her shoulder. She jostles her legs up and down, nervous. She adjusts her glasses, an old habit, and starts to bite her nails.

“Hana.” He gets her attention and grabs her hand, pulling it away from her face. She starts and blinks, angrily.

“Asset.” She bites out, purposefully. He frowns, mouth pulling down.

“X.” He says back, just as angrily.

They stare at each other for a moment and it gives them both time to calm down. She caves first, like she always does, and looks down. Her shoulders slump.

“Sorry… Just… You know I can’t tell you that.” She says, exhausted.

Hawks opens his mouth to argue, to demand her to tell him everything she knows, but of course, the commissioners decide to finish their meeting and retrieve him, now that it suits them.

“Asset. Let’s go.” One of them nods towards the room.

It’s not a request, Hawks knows. It never has been. So he smiles as he stands, and pretends everything is okay. Even though it never has been.

**********

“How are things going with The League?”

Hawks doesn’t fight the surprise he can feel spreading across his features. He leans back in his rolling chair and scratches the back of his head. He tilts his head at the President, Kinoshita, who had asked him to take on this undercover task in the first place.

“Huh? Is that what this is about?” He asks, curious.

“Have you made any progress since your last update with your handler?” Someone else, another board member, speaks up. Hawks frowns.

“This couldn’t be done over a phone call?” He wonders. He’s a little flustered, now. He could have avoided showing up altogether if that were the case.

“No, it couldn’t. We’d like an update and report on what you’ve learned, so far.” The president commands, sitting up in her chair and folding her hands on the table.

What he’s learned… He’s learned Dabi is an exceptionally great kisser. And Hawks is pretty sure that doesn’t even have anything to do with his own inexperience – he could have kissed a thousand people and never be as consumed as he was when Dabi’s lips met his.

He’s also learned the sounds that Dabi makes when Hawks pulls him closer – The way he groans when his tongue brushes against Hawks’. How he feels underneath his heavy leather jacket – solid, and warm. He’s learned what it feels like when Dabi pulls away suddenly, leaving him cold and confused.

But that’s probably not what the commission wants to know.

“Well… We were right in our assumption that Dabi is the primary recruiter. He doesn’t talk a lot about the other members, yet. He hasn’t been given a great reason to trust me. But, as I told my handler, I’ve received an invitation to meet with their leader – Shigaraki.” He reports.

“And when will that be?”

“The meeting?”

“Yes. That was well over a week ago – nearing two. And we haven’t been updated, since.” Kinoshita looks down at him from across the table. She looks exceptionally unhappy today. Her dull, blonde hair is flat on her head, and her mouth is turned down in a grimace.

“Well. I didn’t want to seem too… eager.” He winces at the phrasing.

Then why the fuck did you kiss me?

“Why not? Would it not make sense for a potential recruit to jump at the opportunity?” Kinoshita wonders. Hawks forces himself not to glare.

“I suppose. I can… set something up.” He admits, reluctantly. They must notice this reluctance because the President’s eyes narrow even further.

“Asset. If you are not up to this task, you can easily be replaced.” She reminds him.

Hawks swallows. If this were any other time or mission, he would hear that for the threat it is. But really, right now, it feels like a life vest. He’s been restless since he accepted this task – since he’d met Dabi. He hadn’t slept a full night for however long it’s been since the villain stayed over in his apartment.

Bright eyes darkened with some unnamed emotion, staring up at him through long lashes. A smirk, a laugh laced with nicotine. Hands that burn right through his skin, melting until he’s nothing more than a pile of ash.

“Is that an option?” The question leaves him before he’s given it permission to.

The room is silent, at this admission. Hawks looks up, meets the eyes of the President behind his own tinted glasses. If she’s surprised, or upset, she isn’t showing it. She isn’t showing anything. But then again, she never does.

“Are you refusing?” She asks, instead. Hawks gulps, nervous all of a sudden. He’s never refused The Commission – Not for anything.

“That’s… No, of course not. I wouldn’t… Just… If there’s maybe someone else that could do this, instead… Ito just got back from an op, didn’t he?” He asks, thinking about the quiet man that had just resurfaced after years undercover somewhere in Japan.

“…Ito is not currently operable.” She tells him. Hawks winces, scratches his head.

“I… I mean… I can, but…”

“Great. Then you’ll continue as usual, and you will meet with Shigaraki. Report back to your handler once you’ve done so.” She sits up, goes to stand.

“But, I-” Hawks leans forward and is stopped by a cold glare. The woman sits back down and the room tenses, just a bit. Hawks still isn’t sure what exactly her quirk is, because she’s never needed to use it. Her words have always done more damage than a physical blow. Today is no different.

“How’s your mother, Asset?”

“B-But, I don’t wanna, mommy!” He cries, wings drooping as he’s tugged forward gently, by the hand.

“Listen, sweetie. I know. But if you don’t do this, daddy is going to be upset. And I can’t help you when he’s upset – Do you understand?” Bright eyes are unfocused and glazed, and he wonders if she even knows who he is. She forgets, sometimes. But that’s okay. Because he always reminds her.

“I – I understand.” He nods, wipes his tears.

“Good. You have your doll?” She asks, reaching out her hands and checking.

“Y-Yeah.” He holds it out for her to feel since her eyes have started drooping.

“Good. He’ll protect you. Okay? He always does, doesn’t he?”

“Mhm.” He sniffs and hugs his Endeavor doll a little closer to his chest. His mother smiles.

“That’s right. So go, now – Okay? I’ll see you later.” She hugs him close before letting him go.

“Okay… I’ll see you later, mommy.”

“She’s fine.” He responds, flatly.

“Hm… That’s great to hear. I believe in her most recent report; they noted she hasn’t had an episode in… quite a few weeks.” She tilts her head, scrutinizing him for a reaction. He doesn’t give her the satisfaction.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh? You know they’re available, if you’d like to-”

“I wouldn’t.” He interrupts. She smiles, but it isn’t genuine – it’s always been an act.

“Of course. I know your relationship is still… tenuous. I’m so grateful that The Commission was able to find a facility to meet her needs, despite the… cost it has imbued us.” She allows. Hawks tenses, eyes narrow.

“I’m well aware of the cost, Kinoshita-San.”

A moment passes between them before she smiles – practiced and professional.

“Great. Well, I’m glad to hear she’s still improving.” She stands this time, and Hawks doesn’t stop her.

Her standing signals to everyone else that their meeting is over – Hawks included. He’s stopped on his way out the door by his handler. She holds a hand out, hovering but not quite touching his chest. Her eyes are hardened but her tone is apologetic.

“Dr. Yuki is expecting you.”

Hawks freezes. Wishes for a villain attack. Wishes for an earthquake, for some other natural disaster. Wishes, once again, that he had a portal quirk.

Instead, his phone rings. His personal one. From an unknown number.

“This is Hawks.” He answers, wondering who the hell could have gotten a hold of this number that didn’t already have it. His question is answered immediately when a deep, graveling voice greets him.

“You sound even younger than you do on television, hero.”

“…Shigaraki.” Hawks hesitates, glances at his handler who is looking back with wide eyes.

“I heard you’re interested in learning more about our group.” He says, without introduction. If Hawks hadn’t spent as much time researching and prepping for this mission as he did, he may not have recognized the rasping voice, slightly muffled by what Hawks knew was most likely a severed hand.

“I am. I heard you’re interested in meeting.” He replies.

“I am.”

“…Great. When?”

A laugh and, “Eager, aren’t you?”

Hawks clears his throat. Wonders… “Did Dabi give you this number?”

“Unfortunately, I had to steal Hottie’s phone when he wasn’t paying attention. He’s been keeping you all to himself.” The man says, barely-there teasing underneath his threatening tone.

“I see. Well… When would you like to meet, then?” Hawks asks, again.

“Today.” The villain responds quickly, all teasing gone.

“Where?”

“I’ll send you the location. No later than an hour from now.” He orders.

Hawks smirks. Looks like he’ll get to avoid Yuki, after all.

“Perfect.”

Chapter Text

The first time Izuku wakes, it’s to a pounding head and a dry mouth. He forces his eyelids to open under the weight of whatever drugs Chisaki has given him and tries to blink himself into awareness. He hates this – the disorientation. He hates not knowing what room he’s in, he hates finding out what Chisaki is doing not with his eyes, but with the feeling of rough hands or biting teeth.

But he can’t do it. He isn’t strong enough. His eyes flutter once, and he can see the light outside, which doesn’t make any sense. It’s always dark underground.

When Izuku wakes a second time, it’s with a gasp.

Hands clench at his sides, at the cushions he’s been laid on top of. He isn’t restrained, luckily, but his movements are still too sluggish to fight back. His throat is dry and he coughs with the effort to plead, to beg Chisaki to just give him a minute – please, just a minute to breathe.

“Here, kid – drink this.”

Something is being pressed against chapped lips, and he opens his mouth dutifully. He splutters and coughs when cool water floods his mouth. He was expecting something else – something warm and sticky that still made him nauseous, sometimes.

“Shit, here – sit up.” Warm hands at his sides are pushing him up, gently.

They’re too gentle. Chisaki must be in a mood, and the thought makes him shiver with dread.

Izuku’s head rushes when he’s up to sitting, and he whimpers. He clutches at his hair, pulling the curls that are tangled in scarred and mangled hands. It’s then that he notices his hair doesn’t… feel right. It’s different – shorter.

“Kid?”

Izuku opens his eyes against the pounding behind them. Chisaki never calls him that. He doesn’t actually like being reminded of the fact that Deku is so much younger than him, and his lips curl up in disgust at anyone that doesn’t call him by his new given name – Deku. Maybe Tengai is here? But Tengai never drugs him. Ray doesn’t either. Someone new? His stomach churns at the thought.

“Kid, you’re okay. You’re home with Hizashi and me. You’re okay, you’re safe. You’re home, you’re safe.”

A low voice comes from somewhere beside him, grounding him. When he’s finally able to focus, he turns his head to the source and it takes a few moments for him to put a name to the face in front of him.

“Eraserhead?” He wonders, confused. He runs a hand through his curls, again, feeling the buzzed hair underneath.

“Yeah, kid. It’s me. Do you… Do you know where you are?” He asks, cautious. His face falls when Izuku shakes his head.

“You’re home, with Hizashi and I. We brought you home after you… After you met my class.” He settles on.

Izu…ku?

Everything comes back to him in a blink, before he’s pressing himself back into the cushions as far as he can. He closes his eyes, hands shielding his face. He turns his head, curls into himself as tight as he can and waits for the inevitable.

A sharp inhale and Izuku flinches. He tenses, anticipatory, but… nothing happens.

He keeps this position for another minute, frozen in the face of the anger that’s taking far too long to manifest. It takes long enough that Izuku opens his eyes, tilts his head just enough to find that Eraserhead has backed up to the other side of the room.

Izuku uncurls, slowly. His breathing is still too hard, each gasp of air that reaches his lungs somehow makes his head hurt that much worse.

“You’re not in trouble.” Eraserhead rasps, looking just as troubled as Izuku feels. No, not troubled. He looks… hurt.

“I’m sorry.” Izuku whispers, even though he knows it can’t be enough. He isn’t even sure what he’s sorry for. There are too many things he’s done; no amount of atonement could ever make up for him.

“It’s okay, kid. You’re not in trouble – Like I said. We aren’t upset, or angry. I promise.” Eraser – no, Aizawa-Sensei tells him.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Another voice startles Izuku into flinching back, again. The same look that’s on Aizawa-Sensei’s face appears on Hizashi’s, and Izuku feels awful.

“Sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean to startle you. How… How do you feel?” Yamada walks into the room, past Aizawa, and crouches down a few feet away from Izuku.

“I don’t… Head hurts.” He says, honestly.

“Ah, that’s probably because of what Chiyo gave you. Want some painkillers?” He asks, grabbing the bottle of water from earlier and extending it towards Izuku. He takes it, gratefully, and all but gulps it down. He runs a hand across his face, after.

“What… What did she give me?” Izuku asks, confused.

“Ah… It was a sedative. You were… They were afraid you were going to hurt yourself, kiddo.” Yamada explains, apologetically. Izuku tries to follow along, but his mind is still scattered.

When he finally understands, Izuku’s eyes widen. He glares at Aizawa, accusingly.

“You drugged me?” He asks, tone harsher than he means to be.

Aizawa flinches, but maintains his ground.

“We did. It was the only option, at that point. We were unable to calm you down, and you’d already passed out once at that point.” He says, calmly.

Izuku winces, looks down. He’s still angry – He hates being mad, but he is. Because Eraser knew how much he hated feeling like this, and he did it anyways. Izuku hates feeling powerless, immobile, while the world goes on around him. Even if he knows logically, that the hero would only have allowed someone to do so if it was absolutely necessary… He couldn’t help the sense of betrayal.

“I understand.” He says, anyways. Because, really, if anyone deserved to be hated at this moment… It was Izuku.

“I am sorry. I didn’t want to.” Aizawa tries.

Izuku nods, but doesn’t look up. He doesn’t know that he can, anyways. His head is throbbing so painfully, he just wants it to stop. But he doesn’t want the painkillers – He doesn’t want to take anything else. He just wants to go away, to sleep and to forget.

“Kiddo?” Yamada stands and moves a little closer. Izuku looks up with tired eyes.

“Why don’t you try and rest. We can talk when you wake up.” He offers, eyes crinkling fondly.

“Will you… Will you be here?” Izuku asks as he slumps back down into the cushions. He at least wants to be able to say goodbye, properly, before they send him away.

“Yeah, kid. I’ll be here.” He promises, and reaches out a hand to adjust the blankets that have been piled on top of him in his sleep.

Izuku takes the hand and holds it, tight. He tugs it closer so that he hears Yamada trip, being pulled along. Izuku is drifting, though, and doesn’t have the energy to care. He takes the warm hand and curls it in his, holding it against his chest over the blankets. He feels something shift, on the couch, and thinks maybe Yamada is sitting with him, so he doesn’t have to pull away. Izuku is grateful. He knows that once they know everything, if they don’t already, they won’t be as forgiving. They’ll pull away faster than Izuku can hold on.

**********

Deku is curled up into an unfamiliar warmth, resting his head on a slight chest that is breathing steady underneath him. He doesn’t know whose, but he doesn’t care much. He’s sore when he stretches, and he nuzzles into the warmth that’s offered to him. He holds on tighter to the thin shirt his hands are bunched around. It’s not until he breathes in, deep, that he remembers where he is.

Deku startles awake, rolling away from the body underneath him. He nearly falls off the large bed, if not for a strong hand wrapped around a frail wrist.

“Deku!” Chisaki calls out, just as startled. His sharp features have been softened by a faint blush that creeps over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Careful, Deku.” He pulls him closer, wraps an arm around his waist.

Deku shakes with revulsion at the thought that he’d… he’d just cuddled with his captor, his tormentor. His body had gravitated towards him at the first sign of weakness, betraying him. He’d found comfort in the man that seemingly lived to torture him.

But that man didn’t look to be in a torturing mood, now. His eyes are softened either by sleep or arousal, Deku isn’t sure. It isn’t until he reaches out his other hand, cups Deku’s cheek, that Deku realizes it’s neither of those things. Deku hasn’t seen this look, before.

Chisaki smirks, crooks up one corner of his mouth to grin and compliment, “Cute.”

Deku’s eyes widen and he’s scooped back up in the man’s arms, until the man has him settled back on top of him. Deku closes his eyes tight, tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t know what to do – Doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. It’s hard enough reading Chisaki’s mind on a normal day – He has no idea what the man is thinking, now.

Chisaki’s arms wrap around him, tighter. Deku is all but sprawled on top of him now, like he was upon waking. Except now Chisaki trails a hand up and down his back, light and barely there. Deku wonders… is the man trying to be… sweet? It’s not working. All Deku feels is disgust when those fingertips slip under his borrowed pajamas, reaching around behind him.

“We’ve never had morning sex, have we?” Chisaki wonders, and Deku shudders. He shakes his head into the crook of Chisaki’s shoulder. 

“Hm… It’s different. Slower.” Chisaki murmurs, still petting his hair while his other hand remains lower. Deku forces himself to relax.

A brief flurry of movement and now Deku is on his back, looking up at Chisaki. He tries but he knows he fails to keep the fear out of his eyes, because Chisaki looks disappointed.

“I won’t hurt you, Deku. I’m sorry if… If I have, before. I’ll try to be better.” He says, and kisses him, gently.

Deku whimpers in disgust, but Chisaki takes it as encouragement. He sighs into his mouth, and he wasn’t lying when he said it would be slower. Deku wishes he would hurry up, already. He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like that he’s taking his time, biting his way down to Deku’s waistband. He’s used to it being hard, and fast, and over fairly quick. He doesn’t know what this is – He doesn’t know what’s happening.

Where is he? Isn’t he… Is he supposed to be here? Why is Chisaki here? Chisaki is gone.

“I’ll never leave you, Deku.” Chisaki whispers into his ear, and Deku cries out.

Izuku wakes to hands holding him down by his shoulders, and a warm weight over his lower half. He struggles, thrashing in the confinement, but it’s no use. Chisaki is too strong. He’s always been stronger. And even though Eraser promised him that the villain couldn’t break out, that he wouldn’t be able to come back for him – Izuku knew it was only a matter of time. Chisaki would never let him go.

“N-No! Get off, get off, get off – off of me!” Izuku sobs and struggles against the hold, wondering where his guardians are that they can’t hear him. Did Chisaki hurt them, too? Is this all his fault, like it always has been? No, no, no – He can’t hurt them – He can’t. They’re strong, too – Stronger than Chisaki.

Chisaki isn’t moving above him, and he feels heavier than Izuku remembers. He almost opens his eyes, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see his face looking back at him. He can’t hear whatever Chisaki is saying over his own panic, but he feels the steady rumbling in his chest. He hasn’t gagged Izuku, yet, so he prays that his guardians are somewhere in the apartment, that they haven’t left him yet – and he screams.

“’Zawa-Sensei! Help! Please, Please – Zashi, please help me!” He screams as loud as he can, still fighting against the hold that Chisaki has on him.

Chisaki doesn’t gag him, even when he continues to thrash and scream for his guardians. This only makes Izuku panic further – that must mean they can’t hear him.

“…Izuku please… You’re okay, you’re okay – I’m here, we’re here… kid… Please calm down…”

“’Zawa! ‘Zashi! P-Please!”Izuku sobs, and their names break across his tongue.

Izuku doesn’t stop moving, struggling to get away from the monster, but he does stop screaming so that he can gulp down much needed air into his lungs.

“Izuku, kid, you’re safe – you’re safe, you’re home! It’s me – It’s Aizawa-Sensei. Please calm down!”

Something wet drips onto Izuku’s face, and he flinches. That’s why Chisaki didn’t gag him – He wants him to swallow. But when Izuku’s body acts on muscle memory without his permission, when he parts his lips obediently, it’s not Chisaki that he tastes. It’s not that at all. Is Chisaki… crying?

Izuku finally opens his eyes at this thought that seemingly grinds everything else to a halt in his mind. Because Chisaki has never cried – He doesn’t operate on the same emotions that everyone else around him seems to. He rages, he laughs, he even gets nervous, sometimes… But he never cries.

When someone turns on the light in the room and Izuku’s eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, it takes him a moment for his brain to catch up with what he sees. Because it’s not Chisaki looking down at him – It’s Aizawa.

The moment Izuku stops fighting – when he stills and grows quiet – Aizawa all but leaps off of him and crashes into his husband, who has run into the room. Aizawa’s eyes are red and he wipes them, furiously looking at anything but Izuku. But even if he can’t stand to look at him right now, he speaks.

“You were having a nightmare – You were, you were thrashing and you wouldn’t wake up – I tried to wake you up but I couldn’t – I couldn’t so I didn’t – I didn’t want you to hurt yourself. I’m sorry, Izuku – I didn’t mean to-” Izuku has never seen the man struggle for words like this. But Aizawa doesn’t have to struggle for much longer before he’s rendered speechless.

Izuku tears out of the blankets and runs on shaking legs towards the underground hero. He stumbles into a broad chest and holds on as tight as he can – Tight enough that Aizawa can’t leave him. And when he feels himself being lifted like a small child, he wraps those arms around the hero’s neck instead.

“Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay kid. You’re okay, I’ve got you.” The hero runs a hand up and down his back, holding him back just as tight.

Izuku wants to apologize, he wants to be embarrassed. But all he feels is an overwhelming rush of relief at the fact that Aizawa-Sensei is here, he saved him, he came for him when he called. And if Izuku could feel any semblance of shame right now, it would be burning, because he’s mumbling through his heaving sobs, again, and Aizawa holds him even tighter.

“Of course, kid. I’ll always be here – I’ll always come for you.” He promises, whispering reassurances into his temple.

Aizawa walks out of the room, still holding on. He’s carried away from the couch that’s definitely haunted for at least the rest of the night. He hesitates before he asks, quietly,

“Where would you like to stay, tonight?”

Izuku pinches his eyes shut. No one ever asked him that question, before. He slept in Chisaki’s room, every night, no exceptions. And the thought of sleeping in his too large bed, tonight, fills him with a cold dread. He doesn’t think all the wristbands in the world could make him feel safe, at this point. Only the wearied hero holding him, and the other one he can hear fluttering around the apartment, nervously.

“W-With you. And ‘Zashi.” He whispers into the crook of the hero’s neck, burrowing deep enough that all he can smell is the scent of unwashed hair and clean clothes. He can’t smell the acrid scent of antiseptic, or the too sweet musk of lube.

“Okay, kid. ‘Zashi is making you some hot chocolate, he’ll be in here when he’s done.” The hero tells him, walking towards their room that Izuku had avoided like the plague his first couple of nights.

Now, it’s comforting when Aizawa gently kicks open the door. Izuku still hasn’t looked up, but he can sense the familiarity and feeling of home that permeates the heroes’ shared space. It’s warm and it’s safe and even when Aizawa sets him down on the bed, gently, he doesn’t let go.

“I’m just going to turn the light on.” He explains, tugging away from Izuku, who frowns.

When Izuku blinks against the light that brightens the room even further, his heart plummets. Aizawa-Sensei’s face is red from crying, but it’s also red because…

“I hurt you.” Izuku realizes, distressed at the sight of two scratch marks down the side of the hero’s face.

“Huh?” The hero looks confused, until Izuku points to his cheeks, with shaking hands.

“Oh… I didn’t notice. It’s fine, kid. Wasn’t your fault.” He assures him, after touching the marks and feeling for himself.

“I – I’m sorry, Aizawa-Sensei, I didn’t mean to I promise! I’m so sorry, Please don’t-”

“Kid. I promise, it’s okay. It doesn’t even hurt.” He promises. Izuku isn’t calmed, despite Aizawa’s assurance.

“N-No! I – I’m sorry, I p-promise I – I didn’t mean to lie, Aizawa-Sensei.” Izuku ends up all but wailing, feeling the familiar light headedness rise up as the events of the day come crashing down all at once.

“Kid, it’s okay. I promise you’re not in any trouble – No one is mad at you.” He tells him, reaching out.

But it’s no use, because Izuku is pulling away, clutching his forearms in front of him as he tries to fight against the panic and familiar hysteria he can feel bubbling up from his stomach, his lungs, his throat.

“Shit, kid. Okay. Okay – Hey. Look at me kid.” Aizawa instructs, and Izuku does so.

His guardian is a little bit closer now, and Izuku reaches out to grab a hold of the sleeve of his shirt. He grips it tight and fights against sobs he can feel being wrenched out of him. He holds on tight because he knows – he knows they’re going to leave him.

“Good – Good job, kid. You’re doing great. Just keep looking at me, okay? Can you do that?”

Izuku nods, desperate to prove that he can do whatever Aizawa asks of him.

“Good. Now, come here. A little closer.” Aizawa crooks his fingers towards himself, and Izuku follows.

Aizawa grabs Izuku’s hand that is still holding on to his sleeve and removes it, gently. He places it over his chest, instead. Izuku can feel his guardian’s heart racing almost as fast as Izuku’s must be.

“I want you to breathe with me. Inhale when I do. Understand?”

Izuku nods, tears slipping off of his cheeks and onto the sheets.

“Good. Okay. Breathe in.”

Aizawa takes a deep breath in, chest expanding under Izuku’s hand. It’s hard, but Izuku follows the motion with his own. He holds his breath for as long as Aizawa does, and he exhales with his guardian.

“Good. You’re doing great, kid.” Aizawa praises, and Izuku can feel more tears slip out, unbidden.

“Again.” Aizawa instructs, and he breathes in deep again.

Izuku follows along for a long time – long enough that he’s able to breathe without assistance, without hiccupping and ruining the shared breath between them. His head starts to clear with each inhale, and each exhale has him relaxing a little further, until he’s all but leaning on the hero in front of him.

“Good job, Izuku.”

Izuku feels something push against the top of his head, and he starts when he realizes that Aizawa has pressed his lips into his mess of green curls.

“All better?” Another voice sounds in the room.

Izuku and Aizawa both look up to see Yamada in the doorway, two mugs in his hands. He’s been waiting for a while, it seems, while Izuku caught his breath.

“Y-Yes.” Izuku stutters out. Yamada smiles and walks closer, passing a warm mug into his hands while he gives the other to his husband.

“Good. Can I get you anything?” Yamada asks. Izuku shakes his head, sniffling. He inhales the sweet scent of the hot chocolate and feels a curl of warmth in his chest at the familiar smell.

“Okay. What about you, Sho?” He asks, turning towards Aizawa, who also shakes his head.

Izuku takes a sip of the drink Yamada made for him, and closes his eyes. He feels… exhausted. Which is probably silly, given how much he’s slept. But more than tired, he feels… anxious, despite Aizawa calming him down. Because there’s an elephant in the room that Aizawa has just named.

“Y-You… You c-called me I-Izuku.” He whispers, not daring to look up.

“I did. I’m sorry, I should have asked first.” The hero surprises him into glancing up.

“Y-You don’t h-have to.”

“Hm… Still… What would you like us to call you, now?” He asks. Izuku’s brows furrow.

“Does… Does it m-matter?”

Aizawa and Yamada share a glance with each other, before Yamada speaks up.

“Of course, kiddo! We still want you to feel comfortable here. We can call you by your name, or we can keep calling you kid, or something else entirely!” He offers.

Izuku has to bite his tongue from lashing out, with the sudden anger he feels. Why are they pretending like this around him? Why are they lying?

“It doesn’t matter.” He says, sharply. Aizawa tenses at his tone.

“Why not?” He asks. Izuku frowns.

“It’s – It’s not l-like I’m going to… Not going to be a-around for it to m-matter.” Izuku gets out around the lump in his throat.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Yamada asks, genuinely confused. Aizawa, on the other hand…

“Kid. I told you – We’re not leaving you. You aren’t going anywhere, unless you want to go somewhere else.”

“B-But… Y-You know. Right?” Izuku looks up, cautious.

“I’m going to need you to elaborate.” Aizawa tells him. Izuku hesitates.

“M-My name. K-Kacchan told you. Right?” He asks, carefully.

“He did.” Eraser confirms.

“But what does that have to do with you going anywhere?” Yamada wonders. Izuku’s grip on the mug tightens.

“If… If h-he told you my – my name. Then… he told you that I’m… I’m…” Izuku tries to force the word out, but he can’t get his mouth to form the syllables.

“Do you want to know what he told me?” Eraser asks, suddenly. And Izuku really, really doesn’t. But he nods his head anyways, flinching at the verbal assault he’s likely to receive.

“Bakugo told me that your name is Midoriya Izuku. He told me that you’re quirkless,” He says, and Izuku flinches, “And that you’re quiet. He told me that you’re smart, and that you want to be a hero. And that you’ve always been nice to him, even when he didn’t deserve it.”

And Izuku… he freezes.

“H-He said that?” He asks, confused, when he’s able to form words again.

Fucking useless, Deku. How stupid can you be?

“He did.” Aizawa nods.

“…But, I’m-”

“The best thing to happen to Hizashi and I in a long time.” Aizawa says, staring dead into Izuku’s eyes as he does so.

Izuku’s eyes widen at the statement that’s said with such conviction, it’s hard to doubt. But not impossible.

“I lied. T-To you. And you.” Izuku says, looking at Yamada.

“When?”

“What?” Izuku asks, confused.

“When did you lie to us?” Aizawa asks. Izuku gulps.

“I… I d-didn’t tell you. My n-name. Or that I’m – that I’m q-quirkless. Y-You wouldn’t have b-brought me here. If – If I told you the t-truth.” Izuku admits, dejectedly.

“Yes. We would have.” Yamada speaks up, surprising him. Izuku takes another sip of the hot chocolate and rubs his eyes.

“You didn’t lie. You didn’t feel safe enough to share your truth, and we have never been angry about that.” Aizawa tells him. Izuku shakes his head.

“I don’t – I d-don’t understand.” He complains.

“What don’t you understand, kiddo?” Yamada asks and moves a little closer, placing a hand on his leg. Izuku settles, just a little bit easier.

“W-Why aren’t you upset? Wh-What’s going to h-h-happen now?” He asks, eyes wide and fearful of the unknown.

The two heroes share another glance – longer, this time. Long enough to make the anxiety resurface, and Izuku reaches out his hand to hold on to Yamada’s that’s still gently soothing over his leg.

“Well. That’s up to you, kiddo. Shota and I… We really, really want you to stay with us. But, I know the police are busy looking for your mom, now that we know who you are. And they’re looking for other family, as well.” He explains. Izuku panics.

“N-No! I don’t – I don’t want her. I don’t want that.” He shakes his head, frantic. Yamada’s eyes grow pained, and saddened.

“Yeah… We… We kind of figured, kiddo. We don’t want that, either.” He tells him, pitying. And Izuku realizes… they know about her, too.

“What else did Kacchan tell you?” He asks, looking at Aizawa.

The hero shifts, uncomfortably.

“Not a lot… He told us that his mother always had… suspicions, surrounding your mother.” He says, carefully. Izuku winces. So, she did know…

“I won’t go back.” Izuku tells them, seriously.

“No one will make you, kiddo. I promise. As long as you want to, you’ll have a home with us.” Yamada speaks up, fierce in his conviction. Izuku feels a weight shift off of his chest, at the statement. But even so, they still don’t know everything. They don’t know how much of a burden he really is.

Izuku doesn’t say anything in response to Yamada’s comment. He sips his drink and tries to stay awake through the exhaustion that’s spreading throughout his limbs. It’s a little easier to fight, when Yamada speaks up again.

“While you’re awake… We wanted to ask. Um… Is there – Is there anything else you want us to know? That maybe you don’t want us finding out from someone else?”

“…Wh-What do you mean?” Izuku asks, confused. Yamada hesitates, glances over at Aizawa.

“The police are currently speaking to Bakugo’s mother – Mitsuki. They’re going to try and find out as much about you as they can, and they’ll likely share that information with us. But… We’d rather hear about you, from you. If that’s something you’d also prefer.” Aizawa explains, slowly.

“Oh… Um… I – I don’t k-know…” Izuku trails off, suddenly distressed by this fact. What do they even want to know?

“You don’t have to! We just still want to get to know you, you know? And we love who you are now. But we’d also like to hear about you growing up, too!” Yamada shifts on the bed and gets a little more comfortable.

“Um… L-Like what?” Izuku asks, also settling back so that he’s resting on the pillows, sandwiched in between each hero.

“Hm…  Like… We can start easy! What’s your favorite color?!” Yamada asks, turning to face him.

The underground hero struggles in his chair, and Deku hates it. He wants to tell him – To tell him he’s sorry, and that everything will be okay. But he isn’t – he shouldn’t talk so much. He’s already pushing his luck, by threatening Setsuno into letting him talk to Eraserhead. But the hero beats him to it, asks him question after question, trying to get him to open up.

“What’s your favorite color?” He asks. Deku’s brows and nose scrunch in confusion. Why would he want to know that?

“Mine is yellow.” The hero offers. This actually surprises Deku. With as dark and mysterious as the hero seems to be, it doesn’t make sense for him to like such a loud and happy color.

Izuku glances at Aizawa before looking back at Yamada. The man is tying up long, golden hair into a messy bun that slides of the top of his head. His eyes are bright and curious, mouth tilted up in an everlasting grin.

“Yellow.”

**********

Izuku doesn’t have another nightmare, that night. When he wakes, he knows where he is, because Yamada has a hand in his, on his right. He can hear Aizawa’s light snoring coming from his left. Any anxiety that’s present upon waking is quickly settled when he burrows deeper into warm blankets.

The alarm goes off, eventually, to the dismay of everyone in the room. Especially Izuku.

“Do you have to go?” He asks, when he walks Yamada to the door.

The voice hero bites his lip, looks down at him. Izuku can see the struggle in his eyes, even though his tinted glasses.

“If you want, I can stay with you today. If you’ve changed your mind.” He tells him, hesitant. Izuku frowns, shoulders slumping, but he shakes his head.

“Then you and Shota will have a great day together, okay? And I’ll be back before you know it.” He tells him, trying to stay positive despite Izuku’s ugly clinging.

“P-Promise?” Izuku looks up with wide, green eyes. Yamada softens.

“I promise.” He tells him.

Izuku wants to believe him, but he isn’t convinced. The more the police find out about him, the more his guardians will realize just how much they don’t want him. They can’t – No one does. And what if Yamada changes his mind? What if he just feels bad for him, sorry for him? He’s a hero, after all, and Izuku has never been anything more than a victim.

And that’s not even considering how… broken Izuku is now, because of Chisaki. Izuku tries not to think about it, as hard as he can, because… he can’t. He refuses to. But last night had crept up on him, without permission, and Izuku felt like he’d relived everything all over again. The touching and the pain and the look in Chisaki’s eyes when he’d decided to keep Izuku around for more than just an experiment.

“Here. How about… You hold onto this for me, today.”

Yamada shrugs around his jacket, reaching underneath his shirt for something. He grabs a hold of the chain that’s always slung around his neck under his hero outfit, and tugs it out of its hiding place. He holds it out to Izuku, the golden wedding band swinging between them.

Izuku gapes up at the man, frozen solid.

“I’d come back for you with or without it. But, if you need some collateral. Take care of this for me. I’ll be back for it. Okay?”

Yamada waits a beat before chuckling and slipping the cold chain over Izuku’s neck, where the band now rests on top of his capture scarf. Izuku only finally moves when Yamada reaches out a hand to ruffle his hair affectionately, but stops himself halfway.

Izuku closes the distance when he wraps his arms around him, hugging him close. He moves the memory of Chisaki to the back of his mind, behind a door, and locks it closed. Yamada gratefully returns the gesture, nuzzling his face into Izuku’s, getting him to laugh at the silly, affectionate cooing coming from the pro hero.

“Ah! SHO! I DID IT! I TOLD YOU I WOULD – YOU AND HAWKS OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS!” Yamada yells over Izuku’s giggling.

“I’m on the phone!” Aizawa yells back, slightly irritated from the other room. Yamada rolls his eyes.

“He’s just jealous. I told them I’d be the first one that got a laugh out of you.” He winks, and smiles big. Izuku doesn’t have the heart to tell him that honor actually belongs to Rumi. He’ll have to tell Hawks not to spill, either.

“Ah, well. I think that’s a good note to say goodbye for now, right?” Yamada checks, still smiling. Izuku nods, even through his nerves.

“Good! Then I’ll see you later, little listener.” He tells him, unlocking the door.

“Izuku.” He says, quietly. Yamada pauses.

“Y-You can call me I-Izuku.” He tells him, seriously. Yamada softens, smiles again.

“I’ll see you later, Izuku.”

“B-Bye. ‘Zashi.” Izuku bites his lip, nervous. He didn’t need to be, if the flush on the hero’s face is anything to go by. Or the one last bone crushing hug he’s given before the hero goes to work.

Izuku stands at the door, after it closes. He’s still exhausted, despite the fact that he’s slept more in the last twenty four hours than he has in the last week. He wonders if Aizawa-Sensei would want to take another nap, even though they just woke up. Izuku doesn’t think he can sleep alone, yet.

“Aizawa-Sensei?” He calls, looking for the hero. He can see the door to Aizawa’s office is open, slightly, and can hear the man’s grumbling voice from inside.

“No, Tsukauchi. You have to wait… I don’t care. He’s had a hell of a twenty four hours, and I’m not putting him through any more right now.”

Izuku creeps a little closer, pushing open the door. Aizawa is facing the opposite direction, with his back to him.

“You can wait until after he’s cleared by his therapist. I’m not sending him into another episode because of your investigation.” Aizawa-Sensei snaps into the phone. There’s a pause, and…

“Nedzu gave us the psychologist’s information yesterday. I’ve already looked over it, and as long as Izuku agrees, he’ll start seeing them as soon as this week. You can wait until then.”

“A-Aizawa-Sensei?” Izuku steps into the room.

The hero starts, and whirls around. His mouth turns down into a grimace as he hangs up the call.

“I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later.” He says, setting the phone down on his desk.

Izuku wrings his hands, nervously. He has a feeling he knows what he and the detective were arguing about on the phone.

“Um… Was that-”

“You don’t need to worry about it.” Aizawa cuts him off, and winces at his own harsh tone.

“B-But, um… Wh-What do they want with me?” Izuku asks, anxiously. Aizawa hesitates, before he sighs.

“Nothing, kid. They just… They want to talk to you, again. Now that you’ve recovered from your injury, and now that they’ve gathered a little more information on you and the Precepts.”

“O-Oh. Um… Okay.” Izuku says, determined. Aizawa raises a brow.

“Excuse me?”

“I- I’ll do it. Meet w-with them.” He says, with a confidence that doesn’t actually exist.

“You don’t need to do that yet. After yesterday, and last night, I think you should just focus on relaxing. Okay?”

“B-But… I w-want to.” Izuku tries to explain. Aizawa looks at him, skeptically. He crosses his arms and frowns.

“Why?”

“B-Because…”

Because he wants to rip the band-aid off. He doesn’t want to keep walking around, waiting for them to find out things about him that will finally be the tipping point. That will make them realize how awful, how disgusting and ungrateful he really is. He wants them to know, so that he can stop imagining scenarios that can never exist – Izuku staying with them throughout the semester, through Christmas and into the New Year. Izuku, a year from now, still waking up to singing and meowing and the smell of strong coffee. Izuku, two years from now, confident enough to reach out for his guardians without that undercurrent of fear.

Izuku needs to squash those dreams, fast. Because it’s going to hurt so much worse if drags this out for everyone. If he can let them know, now – How terrible he really is. Maybe it won’t hurt so much when they finally shove him aside.

“Because… I just… Don’t want to think about it, anymore. I just want to get it over with.” Izuku tells him, honestly. Aizawa still hesitates, thinking.

“I don’t think-”

“I want this. Please.” Izuku tells him. Aizawa takes a deep breath and sighs, relenting.

“Only if you agree to look over this,” Aizawa hands a small folder over to Izuku, “And let me know if this is someone you think you’ll feel comfortable speaking with.”

Izuku looks down at the blue folder and opens it, curious. There are a few different pages and recommendation letters, all recommending a Dr. Inoue Marina. He flips through them, only half paying attention. It won’t really matter what he agrees to, after he speaks to the detectives. He won’t be around long enough to talk to anyone, anyways. No one will want to help him, when they know.

“Wh-When can we go? To the p-police?” Izuku asks.

“…We can go today, if you’d like. Since we’re both home.” Aizawa says. Izuku nods.

His guardian sends him off to go get changed, and Izuku clutches the scarf in his trembling hands. He probably won’t get to keep it, after. Which is fine. He understands.

He tries not to let himself cry, as he gets ready. Izuku knows… He shouldn’t be sad. He’s lucky to have met two heroes as great as Yamada and Aizawa-Sensei.

Like Hizashi said, it’s a good note to say goodbye.

Chapter Text

The kid, Izuku, is sitting in the passenger seat of Shota’s car without a care in the world. His legs are crossed underneath him in the seat, he’s leaned back like he’s finally figured out how to make himself comfortable, and he’s burrowed deep in the capture scarf. Another accessory, a silver chain that looks all too familiar, is resting in between the layers of fabric.

Izuku is scrolling through his phone, looking as if this is just another outing. A trip to the grocery store, or to the doctor, or to school. He’s too calm, too collected, and it’s making Shota second guess himself – a feat that doesn’t happen all that often.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks as they pull into the parking lot of the police station.

“Mhm.” Izuku nods, but doesn’t say much else to ease Shota’s worries.

“You know… You don’t have to. We can wait, until you’re more comfortable.” Shota offers, again. Izuku doesn’t say anything at first, just glancing from Shota back to the station.

“Wh-What… What will they ask?” Izuku wonders, as they get out of the car.

Shota shrugs, “Honestly, kid… I don’t actually know. I know there’s a lot of gaps in information they need filled, but I doubt they would overwhelm you more than they needed to. I’m sure they’ll ask you about yourself… Before the Precepts.” He clarifies at the confused look he gets, before continuing.

“And… I’m sure they’ll have questions about… him.” Shota glances over to see the kid frowning.

“You can say his name.” The kid mutters, wrapping himself a little tighter. Shota hums, but doesn’t respond.

“What about them? The rest of them?” Izuku asks. Shota shrugs again.

“Possibly. From what I understand, there’s more information on the eight bullets and lower ranking members. They’ve all had at least some kind of criminal record, before now.”

“But not Chisaki.” Izuku says, quietly. Shota tenses, relaxes.

“No. Not Chisaki.”

“Then… How did you find me?” Izuku asks, looking over curiously.

Shota wondered when he would ask this question. With as curious and inquisitive as the kid is, he was surprised it hadn’t come up already. But, Hizashi had figured, he probably didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about that day than he had to.

“I didn’t. Hawks did.”

The kid’s head whips around at this, finally showing another emotion besides the feigned nonchalance he’s been throwing around since they’d got in the car.

“R-Really?”

“Mhm. Technically, an informant he’s working with found you by accident. They told Hawks. Hawks told me. I told the commission.” Shota clarifies.

Izuku’s brows furrow, and it looks like he’s thinking in overtime, right now.

“Who? Who told Hawks, I mean?” He wonders.

“He wouldn’t say. Just said they could be trusted, whoever they are.”

The kid stays quiet at this, but it’s clear he’s trying to wrack his brain and remember who it could have been.

“Do you think Hawks would tell me if I asked?”

“Hm…” Shota remembers how cagey the hero had been, when Shota had tried to press for information on his source. He hadn’t seen Hawks that defensive before, except when it came to the kid. To Izuku.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. He seemed to take the person’s anonymity pretty seriously.” Shota admits.

The kid hums and nods, understanding. He looks disappointed though, and even a little determined. Shota smirks at the idea of the kid questioning Hawks – Would the younger hero actually be able to tell the kid no, if he asked? Shota wonders…

“Do I have to talk about Chisaki?” The kid asks, quiet and small beside him.

Shota looks down to see the kid furiously avoiding his gaze, looking anywhere else. They’re in front of the doors to the station, now, and Izuku is finally starting to look a little nervous.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” Shota reminds him.

“I… I want to help. But I don’t… I really don’t want to talk about him.” He says with a slight pleading in his tone.

“Then we won’t.” Shota says, simply.

It must have been the right thing to say, because the kid relaxes just a bit. His shoulders fall from their tense hold near Izuku’s ears, and the kid takes a breath.

“And you’ll be there?”Izuku checks, finally looking at him. Shota nods.

“I’ll be right beside you.”He promises.

Izuku bites his lip, opens his mouth and closes it. Shota wants to push, to ask him what he’s thinking. But Izuku shakes his head, straightens his back before he can ask. He opens the door and holds it open for Shota.

“Let’s go.”

**********

The police station is quiet, in the afternoon. Shota is grateful for that – the kid and he are both on edge enough as it is. And it makes easier for Detective Tsukauchi to make his way over to them without having to wait.

“Eraser. Midoriya-San. Thank you for coming.” He says, by way of introduction. The kid tenses at his side, but looks otherwise normal.

“You can thank him.” Shota grunts, glancing at the kid. The detective smiles, tired but genuine.

“Thank you very much. We’re hoping you may be able to share some of our missing puzzle pieces.” Tsukauchi tells him, as he starts walking towards the back of the station. They follow.

“We?” Shota asks, skeptical.

“Detective Kim will be here, as well.”

Shota frowns at that. He knows he was most likely the officer that leaked the contents of their discussion with Bakugo to the Commission.

“Does he have to be?”

“Well…” Detective Tsukauchi starts, hesitant, but he gives Shota a knowing look, “He’s the other detective on the case. So he’ll be getting the audio recording, regardless.” He tells him. Shota grunts and the kid looks at him curiously.

“’Sfine.” Shota tells him, shaking his head. The kid bites his lip, but nods.

“Your office?” Shota asks, surprised, when the detective leads them to the door with his name on it. He’s assumed they’d be doing this as a typical interrogation.

The detective shrugs, nonchalant, “I thought this would be more comfortable, given the circumstances.”

Once again, Shota is grateful that Tsukauchi is the lead on this case. No other detective in the precinct would have tried to make the kid this comfortable.

As it is, the kid’s nerves are starting to show. Izuku is leaning into Eraser’s side – a habit Shota has noticed the kid falls back on when he gets uncomfortable in a new environment. His scarred hand is even brushing against Shota’s own, and when Shota finally holds onto it, the kid relaxes just a bit.

Shota wishes he could’ve been this useful the night before. He’d caught the kid in the middle of a bad nightmare – one of the worst Shota had seen. He’d tried waking the kid, gently, not even touching – just raising his voice a bit. The way Izuku had reacted – flailing, gasping for breath, scratching up and down his own arms, had left Shota no choice but to try and restrain him.

And then, when Izuku had called out for help – for him and for Hizashi – not knowing that he was already trying… Shota hadn’t even noticed he was crying until he’d scooped the kid up and into his arms, after it was over.

“Would either of you like something to drink?” Tsukauchi asks, as they enter his office. Both of them shake their heads.

“Let me know if that changes. Here, please, take a seat.” The detective pulls out a chair for Izuku, and Shota plops down in the chair next to him. He inconspicuously scoots his chair just a little closer, just in case.

“Kim should be here any minute, now. How are you settling in, Midoriya?” Tsukauchi sits in his own chair, across the desk.

“F-Fine.”

“That’s good to hear. Still watching after this one?” He asks, nodding towards Eraser, who frowns.

“T-Trying.”

“That’s all you really can do, with him.” The detective grins, and Shota rolls his eyes.

“Hey, everyone!” The younger detective that had sat in with Bakugo announces himself from behind the kid.

“Ah, good. You’re here. Why don’t you close the door.”

“Yes sir!” He replies, cheerfully.

Shota tries not to roll his eyes. He’s marginally successful.

“Midoriya – You haven’t met Detective Kim. He’s working with me on the case against the Precepts.” Tsukauchi explains.

“H-Hi.”

“Hey, kid! Nice to meet you.” Detective Kim sits down in a chair next to Tsukauchi.

Izuku doesn’t say anything, but he forces a grin. Shota wishes he would stop that – He doesn’t like that the kid feels the need to make everyone around him comfortable.

“Well. If everyone is okay with it, why don’t we just go ahead and jump right into things. Does that sound okay?” Tsukauchi asks, opening a manila folder that’s probably identical to the one Shota has on his desk at home.

Izuku swallows hard, but nods. He glances at Shota for reassurance.

“Izuku wants to know what kind of questions you’ll be asking today.” He says, instead.

“Ah, of course! Well, we really don’t want to overwhelm you – But we do have quite a few areas of concern regarding the Precepts. There are more than a few gaps in information we believe you may be able to fill. Additionally, Midoriya, we would really like to learn a little more about you.” He says, gently.

Izuku fidgets next to him.

“L-Like what?”

“Well… Why don’t we start with where you grew up? Are you from Musutafu?” Tsukauchi asks and starts an audio recording with his work phone.

“Y-Yes. I was b-born here.”

“Did you go to school here as well?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Aldera.” He fidgets again.

“Really? I have an aunt that used to teach there – a long, long time ago. Probably before you attended. She always complained about the lunch.” Tsukauchi comments. Izuku nods in agreement.

“It was gross.”

“What would you usually have, then?”

“Um… S-Sometimes my f-friend’s mom would – would make me lunch.”

“Oh? That’s nice. That was Bakugo’s mother, correct?”

Izuku nods, “Mhm. Mitsuki.”

“We talked to her this morning. She’s definitely… very like her son.” Detective Kim struggles for a moment before settling on. Izuku actually bites back a grin.

“They’re intense.” He agrees.

“They are. What would you have for lunch when she didn’t cook for you?” Tsukauchi asks.

“U-Um. I don’t… I don’t remember.” Izuku glances back at Shota. Tsukauchi winces.

“Ah… Midoriya. I should remind you about my quirk…” He hedges. Izuku flushes.

“I mean… I don’t – I wouldn’t really get that – that hungry.” He tries. Tsukauchi doesn’t respond.

“I… S-Sometimes I wouldn’t. Wouldn’t have lunch. But I would eat later.” He promises. Tsukauchi nods, accepting the answer.

“Every night?”

“…What do you mean?” Izuku wonders.

“Would you eat dinner every night?”

“Um… Usually.” Izuku answers.

“Okay, good. How often would you say you would go without lunch or dinner?”

“Um… I don’t – I don’t know.” Izuku’s shoulders start to tense around his ears.

“That’s okay. It was a long time ago, I know. I couldn’t tell you what I had for dinner a week ago.” Tsukauchi smiles, generously.

“Do you remember the longest you would have gone without eating?” Detective Kim asks, just as gently.

Shota finally lets himself give the kid more than a half-attentive glance. He’s trying not to study him, like the detectives, but Izuku’s silence is all but demanding his attention.

“Um… I think… Not… Not more than like… two days. Maybe three.” He admits, looking down at his lap. Shota forces himself not to react.

“Can you recall how often you would go longer than twenty four hours without eating?” Kim asks, lightly.

“Um… Just, sometimes.” Izuku hedges.

“Like… more than three times?”

Izuku nods, slowly, still looking down at his hands that are picking at each other.

“More than five?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Okay. Thank you, Midoriya.” Tsukauchi notes something in his folder.

“Did you like school?” Kim asks, changing the subject.

“K-Kind of. I like learning.” He says. The detective smiles.

“What’s your favorite subject?”

“Q-Quirk Theory. It was an elective.”

“I taught that as an elective, once.” Shota speaks up. Izuku looks over.

“R-Really?”

“Mhm. I still have some textbooks probably, if you want them.”

Izuku flushes and grins, pleased.

“Did you have many friends at school?” Detective Tsukauchi asks. Izuku’s grin falls, and Shota scowls at the man.

“Um… Not really.”

“Outside of school?”

Izuku shakes his head, “No…”

“What about your family? Mrs. Bakugo mentioned your mother, but she didn’t have any information on any other members.”

Izuku visibly flinches at the question. He starts playing with the ends of the capture scarf, the silver chain catching the light as he moves it around in the fabric.

“It was just my mom.” He says, finally.

“No one else? Even outside of Japan?”

“N-No. Not that I know of.”

“Hm… Okay. Well, Midoriya, we haven’t actually been successful in locating your mother. It looks like she’s moved out of the area since your disappearance, and no one in her life was given a way to contact her.”

Izuku doesn’t say anything, but he looks torn between being relieved and upset by the news. Shota can imagine, learning your mother didn’t wait for you, but also not having to see her.

“Do you know where she might have gone? Anywhere she may have mentioned wanting to go, one day in the future?” Tsukauchi asks. Izuku shakes his head.

“I see. Well, Midoriya… Bakugo Mitsuki painted a picture of Inko that wasn’t very… flattering.” Tsukauchi says. Izuku doesn’t react.

“Can you tell us about her?” He asks, gently.

Izuku glances at Shota again, but he holds his gaze this time. He looks afraid, but Shota can’t figure out what he’s scared of.

“D-Do I… If you find her… Do I have to go back?”

“Hm…Do you want to go back?”

“No.” Izuku shakes his head, forcefully, curls bouncing with the motion.

“Then you won’t go back.” Tsukauchi says, simply.

“Do you p-promise?” Izuku asks, wide eyed and pleading.

“I promise.” Tsukauchi says, simply.

Izuku looks back down at his hands and breathes a little easier, though he doesn’t relax much more.

“She was… I don’t… I don’t know.” Izuku’s voice falls to a whisper.

“Well… Why don’t you start with telling us why you don’t want to see her?” Tsukauchi prompts. Izuku finally looks up, for a moment, before burrowing further into the scarf.

“She was… She wasn’t… nice.” Izuku struggles.

“How wasn’t she nice?”

Izuku fidgets in his seat.

“She could be… mean.”

“How was she mean, Midoriya?”

Izuku sits up a bit, but doesn’t look any less flustered.

“I don’t… She just was.”

“Was she home, most nights?” Kim asks. Izuku nods.

“Then why would you go days without eating?” He asks. Izuku shrugs.

“I… The school would c-call some-sometimes. They would tell her I – I got into f-fights.” He says, almost embarrassed.

“You don’t seem very violent.” Kim notes. Izuku shakes his head.

“I’m not. I… I was b-bullied. Sometimes.” Izuku lowers his head. Shota fights the urge to speak up, to correct him. Because by the way Bakugo made it sound, it was a lot more than sometimes.

“I see. And your mother would get… upset?”

“Embarrassed.” Izuku nods, quiet.

“Why was she embarrassed?”

“I don’t k-know.”

“That’s okay. What did the school calling have to do with you not eating regularly?” Tsukauchi asks. Izuku pauses before he answers.

“If I got in t-t-trouble, I c-couldn’t. I had to go to my – to my room.”

“And what would happen if you came out of your room, when you were in trouble?” Kim asks, softly. Izuku doesn’t answer for a few moments.

“Midoriya?” Kim pushes. Izuku swallows, opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Midoriya… The results of your physical exam at the hospital showed evidence of ongoing physical abuse, evidenced by hairline fractures in your ribs and one in your femur that didn’t heal quite right, as well as a torn rotator cuff in your left arm. This could have been caused by the bullying, but from my understanding that didn’t start until the beginning of middle school. The physical injuries predate that by quite a few years.” Tsukauchi reads to him from the file.

“From our understanding, your father had already been out of your life since you were younger than school age. So… Midoriya, is it correct to assume these injuries I just listed were from your mother?” Tsukauchi asks.

Izuku’s eyes are shining, but he isn’t crying when he nods.

“When did the abuse start, Midoriya?” Kim asks. Izuku rubs at his eyes.

“B-Birthday. Fifth birthday party.” He whispers.

“Do you remember what predated that event? What could have triggered her reaction?”

“M-My dad didn’t – didn’t show. She was upset.”

Tsukauchi is steadily writing in his file, adding notes that he will end up scanning and sharing with Shota, even though he really shouldn’t. For the first time, Shota isn’t sure he wants a physical reminder of all the facts in a case.

“What did she do?”

“…She just. Slapped me. In the – In the face. She hadn’t ever hit me, b-before that. And it… it really h-hurt.” He’s starting to breathe irregularly, now.

“Did it leave a mark?”

“Y-Yes. A bruise.”

“Did anyone notice?”

“N-No. I stayed home. She told the s-school I was s-sick.” Izuku says, actively avoiding looking at Shota. His hand, though, keeps twitching closer to where Shota’s is resting on the arm of the chair.

“Thank you, Midoriya. What other times do you remember?” Kim asks. Izuku shakes his head.

“I don’t. I don’t want to t-talk about it.” He says, frantic. Shota shoots a glare at the detectives across the desk.

“Okay, Midoriya. That’s fine. We can always come back to that later, if we need to. Do you need a break?” Tsukauchi offers. Izuku shakes his head.

“Okay, then…” Tsukauchi shares a look with Eraser to confirm, “We can move on.”

“Of course. Let’s see...” Detective Kim picks up.

“Ah. Okay. Going back to your middle school – Aldera. Do you remember the last day you attended?” Kim asks. Izuku hesitates, and then nods.

“Do you remember the date?”

“July fifteenth.” He answers immediately. Shota perks up.

“Your birthday?” He asks, questioning. Izuku nods.

“As of right now, it looks like that’s the last known sighting of you in the public…” Kim prompts. Izuku nods again.

“Y-Yeah. That’s when… That’s when I m-met them. Him.” Izuku clarifies.

Shota’s heart sinks, knowing he met Overhaul on his birthday, all those years ago. If Izuku is still with them by his next birthday, he’s sure Hizashi will throw him something completely over the top that may just be able to distract him from remembering.

“And by him, you mean…?”

“Ch-Chisaki. Kai.” Izuku’s voice trembles, but it’s sure.

“Where did you meet him?” Tsukauchi asks. Izuku fidgets, again. He’s quiet for long enough that Kim is about to interrupt, but then he answers.

“School.”

“At… Aldera?” Tsuakichi asks, taken aback. Izuku nods.

“Where?” He asks, still surprised.

Izuku looks like the words are being drug out of him, unwilling, when he answers.

 “The roof.”

“The… roof of the middle school?” Tsukauchi asks, confused. Izuku nods.

Something in Shota’s gut starts to sink – alarm bells are ringing in his ears. He thinks Tsukauchi hears them too, if the way he looks at Shota is any indication.

“…What were you doing on the roof, Midoriya?” He asks.

“I was… thinking.” He sniffs.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Just… everything.”

“Like?”

“…I just… wanted…” He has a far-away look in his eyes now that tells Shota wherever he is, he’s not here in the room with them.

“What did you want, Midoriya?”

Izuku closes his eyes, shutting them and burrowing farther into the scarf. He’s crying now, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I just wanted it to stop.” He whispers.

“I just want it to stop, ‘Zashi.” Shota cries into his boyfriend’s chest.

“I know, baby.”

 “Everything – Everything h-hurt.” He cries, bunching his knees up and underneath him. Shota finally reaches out his hand and grabs Izuku’s. The kid holds back, tighter.

“My m-mom. And s-school. Kacchan. And – And”

“And what Midoriya?”

The kid shakes his head, and Shota thinks maybe he’s done. But the kid answers, kind of.

“I m-met someone. And they – They told me s-something. That I should g-g-give up. So I… I…” The kid is trying to get his breathing under control – his back straining with the effort to sit up straight.

“I j-jumped.”

Shota wills himself not to react. It takes everything in him to sit still, to continue to be a steady presence for the kid.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know th-they were th-th-there. Ch-Chisaki. And Tengai.”

“They were on the roof?” Tsukauchi asks.

“Y-Yes.”

“Okay. What happened after you jumped?”

The kid rubs his face with the capture scarf, not realizing he’s dirtied it. His hands are shaking.

“Tengai was close enough. He used his quirk.”

“His barrier quirk?”

“Yes. I jumped, I fell for just a s-second before I was caught in the quirk.”

“I see. Then what happened?”

“…Chisaki… He didn’t l-like me. At first.” He says.

“Why do you say that?”

“S-Said I was w-weak. Asked me why I jumped.”

“Did you answer him?”

“K-Kind of. I said I was…” He shuts his eyes.

“Quirkless.” He finishes. Tsukauchi nods, as sympathetic as he can be.

“And then what?”

“He s-said it was a c-coincidence. Because they were looking for a quirkless kid. S-Someone had told them there was one at the m-middle school.”

Shota and the detectives perk up at this.

“Someone told Chisaki about you before you met?” Tsukauchi asks. Izuku shakes his head.

“N-Not me specifically. Just that someone – A kid – at my school was quirkless.”

“I see… And he just happened to come across you that day?” Kim asks, confused. Izuku shrugs.

“Unfortunately, I guess.” Izuku sniffs. Shota doesn’t like that statement – the regret in the kid’s voice at being interrupted.

 “Was that the first time you attempted suicide?” Kim asks, as gently as he can ask such a thing. Shota feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Yes.”

“Was that the only time?”

Izuku hesitates, holds onto Shota a little tighter.

“No.”

“Can you tell us about-”

“No.” Izuku cuts them off, glares up towards Tsukauchi with red-rimmed eyes. He shakes his head.

“I w-won’t talk about that. The second time.”He tells them. The detectives both nod, relenting for now.

“Have you attempted to harm yourself in any way since you were rescued from the Precepts?” Shota finds himself asking, unprompted. The kid blinks a few times, before glancing over.

“No.” He says, quiet. Shota glances over to Tsukauchi to confirm. He gives a sight nod to his head, and Shota relaxes.

Everyone takes a moment to breathe, before moving on. Shota finds himself rubbing his thumb along the kid’s hand, soothing, without meaning to. Tsukauchi rubs at his temples – he must be getting a headache from the quirk usage. Especially if he’s already interviewed Bakugo’s mother earlier in the morning.

Izuku looks dazed from the line of questioning. That far-away look is back, and his eyes are blinking heavily. With his free hand, he’s started rubbing at the forearm that’s closest to Shota. Everyone tracks the movement, the methodical and practiced irritation of scars they all know lie underneath the fabric of his sweater.

“We – The medical staff, I mean, were under the impression that those were not self-inflicted.” Kim points out. Izuku doesn’t answer, so Shota squeezes his hand a little harder.

“Kid?” He prompts.

“W-What?” Izuku asks, looking up. Kim repeats the question.

“They weren’t.” Izuku says, somewhat defensively. Tsukauchi doesn’t react, so Shota assumes the kid is telling the truth.

“Midoriya… we’d like to continue asking you some rather… difficult questions. But if this is a good place for a break, we can-”

“Just ask them.” Izuku interrupts, slightly irritated through his sniffling.

“Okay then.” Tsukauchi breaks to move some papers around in his folder, organizing them in a way that makes sense to him.

“Midoriya. Overhaul is facing a… plethora of charges, to put it lightly. Some I’m sure you can guess – Drug production and distribution to include multiple quirk-addled and specific narcotics, obstruction of justice, human trafficking, multiple counts of murder and conspiracy to commit murder, just to name a few.” He says, before hesitating and glancing once more at the kid before he looks back down.

“An additional charge that we’d like to add is something that I’m afraid only you can help us with.” He says, looking up fully at Izuku.

“O-Okay.” Izuku hedges, uncertain.

“Midoriya… We’d like to charge Chisaki with continuous and aggravated sexual assault of a child.” He says, all at once.

The air seems to leave the room. Izuku’s mouth is pressed into a tight line, and he doesn’t say anything. Tsukauchi continues.

“The problem that we’re running into is that, without your statement and testimony… We don’t actually have any physical proof.”

“What?” Shota speaks up, sitting up straight in his chair. Neither of the detectives had told him this.

“Please, don’t misunderstand. I believe I speak for everyone in this room when I say we know and believe that Chisaki sexually abused you, Midoriya,” The kid flinches at this statement, “But based on the results of your exam at the hospital, we have no evidence that it occurred within the last forty-eight hours of the exam.”

“What about the bite marks?” Shota asks.

“The markings did match Chisaki’s dental records. But just that alone is not going to be enough to convince a jury.” Kim says, apologetically.

“That’s correct. And as no one involved with the Shie Hassaika is talking, there is no one to corroborate our suspicions. There is no digital evidence that we’ve been able to locate, either. And seeing as the sheets had just been washed in Chisaki’s bedroom, there was no DNA evidence located in the bed.” Tsukauchi says.

“There were, of course, some hair fibers that we believe will match Midoriya. But, again, his DNA would be expected to be found if he’d been kept in a place like that for so many years. It’s not indicative of sexual abuse.” Kim continues.

Shota glances to his side with the kid flinches at that word again. He looks between him and the detectives, ready to play referee if needed, but the kid surprises them.

“So… If you don’t have proof… No one has to know?” He asks, and he looks almost hopeful as he meets Tsukauchi’s gaze. The hopeful expression falls in the face of the detective’s look of pity.

“Midoriya… I’m sorry. But this part of the case is, unfortunately, tied up in quite a few other areas. It will do well to establish a history of manipulation and violence in the eyes of the jury. And, more than that, your experience is not something to be ashamed of. It shouldn’t be a question of people having to know. With this, you could get a sense of justice if Chisaki is held accountable for all of his crimes.” Tsukauchi tells him. Midoriya frowns.

“I don’t want justice. I just… I just want to be h-happy.” He says, sadly.

“I understand, Midoriya. We just-”

“Do you?” Izuku interrupts, eyes flashing with real anger. The hand that’s been cradled by Shota’s pulls away and crosses defensively in front of his chest.

“I apologize. I don’t – I shouldn’t have said that. I was speaking more on behalf of other survivors I’ve met that have experienced similar, though not as acute, sexual abuse as yourself. They had similar hesitancies that you do now. But… Most of them were happy, to pursue their cases. Even if it didn’t go the way they wanted, in the end. It gave them a sense of closure, to stand up to their abusers.”

“I already d-did.” Midoriya argues.

“Do you promise?”A small, green-haired kid holds the weapon in his hands that seems to be pulling the villain around like a dog on a leash.

“Don’t! I promise, Deku, give me the gun.” Chisaki steps right into the kid’s trap.

“You did. That’s true. And that was very brave. I’m sure it was terrifying.” Tsukauchi says, sincerely. Izuku shrugs.

“Listen… We don’t need to go into specifics, right now. In fact it’s better that we don’t. There are other professionals that are trained to go about learning the details in a safe, specialized setting. Today, we’d just like to establish – in your words – the type of abuse you experienced with Chisaki, specifically.”

Izuku shrugs again, shrinking in on himself. Those hands wrap a little tighter around himself.

“What do you w-want to know?” He asks, meekly. He doesn’t look up. His sight is fixed on a part of the desk where the wood has chipped, just a bit.

“Did Chisaki Kai ever touch you inappropriately?” He starts, vague. Izuku looks almost startled by the generalization of the question and he nods.

“Can you define inappropriate?” Tsukauchi asks. Izuku fidgets a little bit, in his seat.

“I didn’t w-want it. The t-touching.” He says, unsure.

“Was it under or over your clothing?”

“Both.” He gulps.

“How often, in your time at the precepts, would you say you were touched under the clothing by Chisaki Kai?”

“Um… Almost… Like… Most of the time.” He starts fidgeting with the scarf.

“Did Chisaki Kai ever ask you to touch him in a similar fashion?”

Izuku turns bright red and purposefully turns his head in the opposite direction, away from everyone. He nods.

“Going by your earlier definition of inappropriate – you said that meant you didn’t want it – were there any other times Chisaki Kai was sexually inappropriate with you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you give an example? It can be as general or specific as you’re comfortable with, right now.”

Izuku closes off even more than he had before, if possible. He isn’t crying, which Shota isn’t sure is concerning or not, but he’s clearly distressed.

“Izuku.” Shota murmurs. The kid twitches, but doesn’t turn around.

“We can stop right now. You don’t need to do this.” He reminds him, gently.

Izuku doesn’t say anything. He’s breathing erratically; now, deep gulps of air are offset by rapid exhales.

“We had s-sex. A lot.” The kid says, his voice barely louder than the pen Tsukauchi is taking notes with.

“Thank you, Midoriya. I just need to clarify, and then we can stop this line of questioning. What do you define as sex?”

A beat, and then Izuku is whipping his head around to glare at the detective. And Shota hopes to god that he is never on the receiving end of that glare – if looks could kill, both Tsukauchi and Kim would already be six feet underground. His voice when he speaks is dripping with the same amount of hate – it’s not a voice he recognizes from his kid. Neither are the words that come out of his mouth.

“He put his dick in my ass, or my mouth, or whatever else he felt like doing that day.” He spits, louder than he has been previously in the interview.

Tsukauchi has the awareness to at least look guilty at getting such a strong reaction out of Izuku. He actually flushes, just a bit, and looks down. Kim looks just as uncomfortable, finally fidgeting in his seat and glancing to his partner.

“Right. Thank you, Midoriya. I apologize, these are questions I have to ask.” He explains, nervously looking at Shota, who is looking just as angry as Izuku is in the moment.

“We’re taking a break.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Both detectives nod, get the hint.

“Of course. I’ll – We’ll go get you two something to drink. And eat. Just – Let me know if you’d like to continue.” Kim struggles to get out, all but knocking his chair over in his haste to avoid Eraser’s legendary wrath.  Tsukauchi follows him out.

It’s just Shota and Izuku, now. The moment the door closes, sealing them in, the kid finally collapses. His forearms hold him up in the chair, but his back is curved and his head hangs below him as he starts crying and shaking. He sniffs, trying to get himself under control, before he collapses further. His knees pull up into his chest so that he’s able to hide his face and muffle the sound.

“Kid...” Shota reaches out, but Izuku flinches away.

“Why?” He gets out, even if it’s more of a croak.

“Why what?”

“Why are you s-still here?” He asks, in between sniffling and loud exhales.

“Izuku… I told you. We aren’t leaving you. I’ll always be here for you – For as long as you want me. Hizashi, too.” He tells him, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice. Izuku cries harder.

“Wh-What do I have to – to do? I – I told you. I’m not a h-hero. I – I j-j-jumped. I’m b-broken. And too much – too much trouble. I don’t even w-work right. And – And Chisaki – H-He made me b-bad. Wh-What do I have to – To say? To make you r-realize. I’m – I’m not good enough.” Izuku cries, words muffled by tears and the sleeves of sweater. Shota’s heart breaks.

“Izuku. Look at me.” He orders. For the first time, Izuku doesn’t listen to him. He shakes his head, instead.

“N-No. Just – Just leave, already.” He cries.

“Is that what you want?”

“It doesn’t m-matter what I want!”

“It does.”

Izuku shakes his head, “It doesn’t! Never! It never does!”

“It matters to me, now.” Shota tells him. Izuku sobs, but no sound comes out.

“Look at me, Izuku.”

“No!” He all but yells, but his body sways closer.

“Okay. Then listen to me, kid. I’ll say it as many times as I need to – I’ll say it every day. But I want you to listen.” Shota says, seriously enough for the kid to try and quiet his crying.

“What you want is the most important thing to me, right now. If that means me leaving… It’ll hurt like hell. I won’t like it. But I’ll do it. If what you want is me staying – I will gladly be by your side for as long as you want. Hizashi and I – We love having you around. Already, I can’t imagine a reality where you aren’t part of our lives.” He says, and the kid leans a little closer.

“Knowing your past, and knowing the things you’ve experienced do not make that sentiment any less true. Those things may not define you – but they are a part of you, for right now. And I know that. And I’m still not going anywhere.”

Shota wonders, is that why the kid was so adamant about coming in today? Did he think he could push Shota away, if Shota knew these parts of him he kept locked away?

“I know it’s hard… It’s hard to trust people. And I can at least empathize with that. Hizashi has always been the only one I’ve been able to put my faith in. It’s hard, to give other people the opportunity. And given your history – I’m sure it feels impossible. But… if you want this. If you want us to stay with you. You’re going to need to try and trust us.”

Shota’s throat feels as dry as his eyes do – He can’t remember the last time he talked so much, unless he was giving a debriefing. Even then, those were short and simple.

“I do.” Izuku rubs his eyes, unraveling from his protective position. He looks exhausted.

“I trust you. And ‘Zashi. Y-You’re nice. And – And warm. And safe.” He admits, sniffling in between.

“Then trust us not to leave.”

Izuku finally meets his eyes. Green and black struggling with each other.

“I’ll try.” Izuku promises, his whisper still wet with emotion. Shota smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Can I… Can I h-hold your hand again?” Izuku asks, nervously. Shota nods and Izuku scoots his chair a little closer so he can reach easier this time.

A knock at the door surprises Shota – He’d thought Tsukauchi would give them more time. But it’s not either of the detectives – It’s an older man with thinning hair and a large stomach. He’s wearing an expensive suit and marching in with pointed shoes. Shota doesn’t need to spot the badge hanging on his hip to recognize that he’s with the Commission.

“Ah! Midoriya! Eraser! I knew you were in here.” He chuckles, before sitting down. Izuku looks nervously to Shota at the man’s sudden appearance. He doesn’t have to wonder for long before there’s the sound of someone else opening the door.

“Mr. Umehara. You were supposed to wait outside.” Tsukauchi glares upon entering. The newcomer doesn’t look chagrined in the least as he grins.

“Well, I was afraid you’d manage to finish questioning without me, again.”

“Tsukauchi. What’s the commission doing here?” Shota glares at the both of them.

“We have a right to be here for questioning with the police when it involves the subject of quirk misuse and exploitation.”

“There are no quirks being misused or exploited.” Shota deadpans. The man, Umehara, just chuckles.

“Not at the moment, no. But we’ve seen enough of Overhaul’s research to know what he was working towards, and may have partially succeeded in.”

“You still should have waited.” Kim grumbles as he enters, looking guilty. He must have been the one to leak the fact that the kid was coming in.

“Well, like I said. We weren’t able to properly meet last time, Midoriya. I’m Umehara Rie. I’m working with the Commission on the quirk erasing project the Shie Hassaika was working on.” He says, facing Izuku. Izuku shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t say anything.

“Have you already been asked about this?” The man asks. Izuku shakes his head.

“We were just discussing whether or not we’d be continuing the questioning today.” Tsukauchi says.

“Well, might as well since I’m here. Right, Midoriya?” The man smiles, cheekily.

“We don’t have to.” Tsukauchi says, looking at the kid. Izuku shrugs.

“It’s f-fine. I wanted to g-get everything over with. But… I don’t -  I don’t know what I can s-say.” He says, again. Shota opens his mouth to argue, but Umehara beats him to it.

“Perfect! We don’t have too many questions at the moment – Just some of the bigger ones.” He says. Izuku nods, still unsure.

Tsukauchi and Kim both take a seat, the latter pulling up an extra chair. Umehara clears his throat and opens his own folder before asking,

“Just to confirm – You are quirkless, correct?”

“Yes.” Izuku answers, embarrassed.

“This is why you were kept by the Precepts?”

“Yes.”

Tsukauchi winces, shakes his head wordlessly. Izuku corrects himself.

“I m-mean. That’s why they t-took me. But they kept me for… For Chisaki. Um. After a w-while they – they got all the data and s-stuff they needed.”

“And what kind of data was that?” The commissioner pulls out a pair of glasses and sets them on the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t… Um. I don’t k-know.”

“Come on, smart kid like you? Didn’t ever get curious?”

“Y-Yes. But I d-don’t know. I wasn’t usually focused on th-that stuff. When they put me in the chair.”

“The chair?” Tsukauchi interrupts. Izuku nods.

“They would put me there. To do tests. So I couldn’t m-move.”

“What were you focused on, then?” Umehara asks.

“Um… Holding my breath.”

“…Why?”

“To… To p-pass out. It didn’t usually work, but… S-Sometimes it did…” Izuku admits, quietly. Shota feels his blood pressure rise at the statement.

“I see. So the data they needed, the tests… I assume they weren’t pleasant.” The commissioner says.

“No.” Izuku shakes his head.

“What kind of tests were run?”

“Um… Normal stuff, sometimes. Blood pressure and blood work stuff. Temperature.”

“And other times?”

“Um… Like… A few times they – they got a m-machine. Like in the hospital. To look inside.”

“An MRI?”

“Y-Yeah. That.” Izuku nods.

“What else?”

“Well… Chisaki would usually be there. So I would, um… Get… Unmade.” Izuku winces. A moment, and then the commissioner speaks again.

“What does unmade mean?” He asks, as if he doesn’t already know. Izuku answers anyways.

“With his q-quirk.”

“Chisaki’s?”

“Yes.”

“He would use his quirk on you?”

“Y-Yes. He, um… He studied a lot. Of anatomy and stuff. So he could put me back together, after.” He says, mundane, as if describing an episode of television Hizashi and he had watched.

“What parts of your body did he use his quirk on?”

“A-All of them.”

“I see… And what purpose did this serve?”

“I don’t know. L-Like I said.”

“You don’t know what they were searching for? Or what they found?” He pushes. Izuku shakes his head, and Tsukauchi clears his throat. The commissioner has the nerve to look annoyed.

“If you aren’t going to be truthful-”

“I c-can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t t-tell you.” Izuku shakes his head, breathing shallow again. Shota levels a glare at Umehara.

“Midoriya… As of right now, you are the only one that can help us, here. We need to know how far Chisaki got in his research and what he was able to find and create.” The commissioner explains.

“I c-can’t.”

“He said he can’t.” Shota reiterates, when Umehara goes to speak again. Kim speaks up after him.

“Midoriya. There’s a personal file of Chisaki’s that we believe has more information on you and the research surrounding you. We’ve been trying to break into it for a few weeks, but we haven’t been successful. It’s password protected, and no one here knows it. Did he ever tell you what it may have been?”

Izuku doesn’t answer. He looks up at Tsukauchi, instead.

“I’m just going to l-lie.” He admits, pained.

“So you do know it?” Kim asks. Izuku bites his lip. Shakes his head. Tsukauchi frowns, but isn’t angry.

“That’s okay, Midoriya. We can-”

“It’s not okay. Kid, you’re the only one that can help us with this.” Umehara says, growing red in the face.

“He said he can’t. Drop it and move on.” Shota sits up.

“We shouldn’t have to do that. Kid, look, why don’t you want to tell us?” The commissioner leans forward a bit, and the kid flinches back. Shota stands.

“He won’t talk about it. Ask something else, or get out of this precinct.” He takes his hand back from Izuku to have it curled loosely at his side. The commissioner’s eyes narrow.

“Eraserhead. The Hero Public Safety Commission has a shared jurisdiction with law enforcement over issues of quirk mis-”

“But you don’t have jurisdiction over the kid. I’m his guardian, and I make all legal decisions for him with his best interests and well-being in mind. At the moment, that doesn’t include you.”

“I can get a court order.” The commissioner taunts, standing up. Shota is taller than him by well over a foot.

“No. You can’t. No judge is going to sign off on that, given the circumstances. And you know it. So if you want to maintain any pretense of good faith with me or with Izuku, you will leave immediately and hope that when he’s ready to talk again, you’ll be included in that conversation.”

Umehara’s eyes narrow into slits at the threat. His face grows even hotter as he points a finger in Shota’s direction.

“You don’t want to do this, Eraserhead.”

A slow blink, and – “Don’t make me physically escort you off the property, Umehara.”

“Tch. You wouldn’t.” The man rolls his eyes.

Eraserhead grins. Tsukauchi sighs, tired. Kim is watching the exchange with a rapt expression.

Shota moves with the intent to use his capture weapon, but a small tug on his jacket distracts him. Izuku is looking up with wide eyes.

“C-Can we just g-go? I don’t want you to get in t-trouble. For me.” He says, worriedly. Shota’s eyes soften.

“I won’t get in trouble, kid.” He tells him. He hears Umehara blustering behind him at the statement, but ignores him.

“P-Please? I just… I want to go home.” He says, tiredly.

All the fight drains out of Shota at the admission. He shoots the commissioner one last glare before exchanging glances with Tsukauchi, who nods.

“We can continue this another time.” The detective confirms. Eraser nods in acknowledgement.

Shota grabs a hold of the kid’s hand one more time on the way out the door. Izuku holds back, with sweaty palms that still have a slight tremor to them.

The kid waits until after the walk through the station, out to the parking lot, and finally shutting themselves in the car before he launches himself at Shota. His arms are tight around his neck as he all but crushes the air out of him. Shota is momentarily stunned. Usually the kid’s hugs are reserved for Hizashi. The only time the kid tends to reach out to Shota is when he’s scared, or disoriented.  

“Thank you.” He whispers in the heroes’ ear. Shota holds him back.

“For what?” He wonders. The kid holds him tighter.

“Everything.”

Chapter Text

Dabi has torn the bar apart by the time Toga finally appears through the door. Benches are upturned, glasses moved from their proper spots. Bottles and jugs of alcohol have been rolled to the side in his increasingly frenzied search for his phone. He could have sworn he’d set it down at his usual booth in the corner after he was the first to arrive to Shigaraki’s abrupt summons, but when he came back with a tumbler of whiskey, it was gone.

“Toga, did you take my fucking phone?” Dabi stalks over to the girl as she crosses the threshold. She’s taken aback by his intensity and puts her hands on her hips, scowling.

“I just got here!” She exclaims.

“Did you? You’ve done this before, where the fuck is it?” Dabi asks, eyes roaming over her as though he could see it somewhere on her person.

“That was one time! I wanted to change your lock screen – that’s all! I thought you would’ve appreciated it!” She pouts.

Dabi rolls his eyes at the reminder. He had appreciated it, though he would never admit it to her. She had managed to catch a rare moment in time of Shigaraki sleeping soundly, sprawled back in one of the booths with a long line of drool hanging from his chin. She’d used Dabi’s phone, the closest at the time, to take the picture and immediately set it as his lock screen. He still wasn’t sure how she knew his pass code, but he’d changed it immediately after throwing her own phone into the wall.

“Well someone fucking took it.” He grumbles, turning and resuming his search.

“Want me to call it?” She offers. He nods.

“Then apologize for assuming I took it in the first place!” She grins and demands. Dabi bristles.

“Fuck that. Never fucking mind.” He walks away, hearing her sigh and likely roll her yellow eyes.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” She wonders, taking a seat at the bar.

“Nothing.” He lies, determinedly not thinking about the winged hero.

“Liiiar!” She sings, swinging her legs on the barstool.

“None of your business.”

“Aw, Dabi! Come on! I’m your friend – Maybe I can help!”

We’re not friends.”

“Yeah huh!”

Dabi doesn’t continue the discussion any further, partially because they aren’t alone anymore. Magne and Compress both walk through the door together, chatting amicably. Compress raises his brows at the sight of the bar turned upside down.

“Dabi lost his phone.” Toga supplies.

“I didn’t lose it.”

“Want me to call it?” Magne offers.

“Not until he apologizes!” Toga huffs, and Dabi rolls his eyes.

“What did you do to Ms. Toga, now?” Kurogiri asks, upon entering behind the bar.

“He thought I took it!”

“Well… You have before.” Magne concedes.

“Thank you.” Dabi says, feeling slightly vindicated.

The door to the bar opens once the newest visitors have settled. Twice and Spinner enter, the former exuding varying degrees of energy, as usual.

“Hello, hello! Fuck it’s too early for this. It’s nice to see you all! Want to go back to sleep.”

“Sit next to me!” Toga smile and waves twice over, pointing to the empty stool next to her.

“Okay! Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Is this everyone that was called?” Compress wonders, looking around. Kurogiri nods.

“Almost. We’re waiting for one more.”

“Will someone call my fucking phone?” Dabi speaks up, thoroughly annoyed at this point. It’s the only line of contact he has with Hawks, and Dabi doesn’t think the hero would appreciate him showing up at his apartment unannounced if he ever needs to get in touch with him, again.

“No need.”

Shigaraki’s voice sounds from behind them, coming down the stairs. Dabi turns in time to catch the phone that’s tossed to him by Shigaraki himself.

“The fuck?!” Dabi roars, stepping towards him.

“I needed to borrow it.” He says, by way of explanation. Dabi thinks he’ probably smirking under the hand attached to his face.

“You’re going to need to borrow a fucking casket by the time I’m finished with you.” Dabi snarls, closing the gap between them now that Shigaraki is at the bottom of the stairs.

“I don’t think so, Hottie.” Shigaraki is definitely smirking. Dabi is definitely not blushing.

“Outside. Now.” Dabi says, lowly, threatening.

“Hm… I don’t think so.” Shigaraki walks past him, going to take his usual seat at the bar.

 “I’m not giving you a choice.” Dabi follows, slipping his phone back into his pocket where it will stay anytime he’s in the bar, from now on.

“Let’s at least wait for our last member, before you start threatening homicide. I think you’ll want to make a good first impression.” Shigaraki says, teasing, like he knows something Dabi doesn’t. Dabi opens his mouth to ask him just what the fuck he’s talking about, when the door opens one last time. Suddenly, Shigaraki’s teasing makes a lot more sense.

“Oh! Am I late?” Hawks asks, closing the door behind him and looking around at The League like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re right on time, hero.” Shigaraki responds, waving his hand in Kurogiri’s direction for a drink.

“Good!” Hawks grins easily until his eyes finish their scanning of the room and fall on Dabi’s still stunned, speechless form. Then, the grin becomes a little more strained.

Hawks crosses the room confidently, heading straight for him. Dabi feels like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to force his legs to work.

“D-Dabi.” The hero whimpers, rolling his hips and tugging on his hair to bring him closer.

“This is yours.” Hawks tosses Dabi’s familiar heavy jacket into his arms while walking to a spot at the bar, a few seats down from Toga and Twice. He doesn’t stop walking when he passes Dabi, doesn’t even look at him.

“Th-Thanks.” Dabi says, dumbly, before he remembers himself.

Toga’s eyes are just about to pop out of her head at the gesture. Dabi is grateful she doesn’t launch into a full interrogation right then and there, in front of everybody. Dabi hadn’t actually told her about going to Hawks’ apartment. He’d definitely be paying for that later.

“What is he doing here, Shigaraki…?” Compress asks, suspicion evident in his voice.

“I invited him.”

“What for?”

“He’s a potential recruit.” Shigaraki says without preamble. There’s a moment of silence before the bar erupts.

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“That’s great to have a hero on our side! Why the fuck would we want a hero on our side?”

“Oooh, yay, Shiggy! This will be so fun!”

“Can we trust him?”

“We can’t trust him.”

“Enough!” Shigaraki slams his glass down on the bar, and Kurogiri winces. Well. Dabi assumes that’s what the flinch is signaling.

“If I didn’t think we could trust him, he wouldn’t be here. Would he?” Shigaraki challenges, glaring at his members.

Shigaraki goes on to talk and explain at least a little bit, but Dabi isn’t listening. He’s finally sat back down in his usual booth and is concentrating on not staring at the hero, who is pointedly looking at anything and everything except for himself.

The hero looks much better than the last time he’d seen him. He has some color back in his skin and his cheeks, or maybe he’s just flushed. He flushes easily, Dabi remembers. But his wings look lighter, too, tucked into his back. They aren’t drooping heavily, exhaustively weighing him down as he’d leaned on Dabi.

Dabi wonders why he didn’t text him first, to let him know he was coming. Maybe he did, but it was when Shigaraki had his phone. The leader had obviously taken his number and taken it upon himself to bring him into the league, something Dabi had been admittedly reluctant to do.

Dabi unlocks his phone, looks at the most recent messages shared. He frowns when he sees the same thing he’s seen for the past few weeks, when he checks for any messages from the hero.

(21:58) Hottie:  Let me know when you make it home. Make sure you see a doctor or some shit.

(01:01) Hottie:  Goodnight.

Fucking embarrassing. He really had let Toga off way too easy. He should have burned off one of her stupid buns she always piles onto her head.

“…So, yeah! That’s why. I probably hate The Commission more than you guys, to be honest.” Hawks ponders, scratching the back of his head. Shit. Dabi had missed a lot, apparently.

“Sounds good to me! He’s obviously lying!” Twice slams his hands on the bar. Hawks, to his credit, doesn’t do more than glance in the man’s direction.

“Twice is right, Shigaraki. How do we know he’s telling the truth?” Magne asks, arms crossed.

“He’ll be tested, as you all were.” Shigaraki confirms. Hawks perks up at this.

“A test?”

“Well. We can’t just let anyone walk in here, can we? You’ll need to prove your loyalty to our cause, and prove you’re truly not a hero anymore.”

“That’s fine, but… I thought that was the point of me joining? So I can get information and access through my heroic ties?” Hawks frowns.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be nothing that can be traced back to you.”

“You already have something in mind?” Dabi asks, speaking for the first time.

Hawks glances over, and his gaze is seemingly stuck on Dabi’s own, because he doesn’t look away. Not until it grows quiet, and Dabi realizes they have an audience. He clears his throat, and someone’s phone rings.

It’s Hawks’.

“Shit – sorry.” He jumps, and goes to turn his phone off. Shigaraki reaches across the bar and grabs a hold of the hero before he can do so. Four pale fingers wrapped around his tanned wrist.

Hawks looks up, startled, and waves the phone in Shigaraki’s general direction.

“Just the commission.” He explains. Shigaraki smiles.

“Answer it.”

Hawks’ eyes widen, for a moment. His hand twitches. He smiles, easy.

“Sure!”

“On speaker.” Shigaraki commands.

The room tenses, collectively. Dabi knows why Shigaraki is doing this. He wants to see what the commission will say, when they think no one but their hero is listening. Dabi isn’t sure why, though, since both he and Shigaraki already know Hawks’ is indeed a double agent. Probably, he just enjoys the power play.

Hawks hesitates for one more ring, before doing what he was told. He answers the phone and puts it on speaker right after.

“Yo.” He answers, voice steady and light as always.

“Asset! You missed your appointment. Didn’t you want to see meee?” A high pitched, female voice sings to Hawks.

The heroe’s body language changes, instantly. Where before he had been open and relaxed, if not a little nervous, now he’s rigid and on alert. He sits up straight and grips the phone, tight.

“No. I don’t.” He answers, flatly. A light chuckle from the woman on the line.

“I know that’s not true, Asset! You must be playing hard to get. You’ve missed your last two check-ins now, did you know?”

“I’m aware, Yuki.”

Shigaraki’s head snaps around at the name and his eyes widen, knowingly.

“You’ll get in trouble if you stay away for too long, you know! When are you free? I can pencil you in right now.” She offers, giggling. Dabi can see Hawks pale, even from this far away.

“I’ll have to check my schedule. I’m busy right now, Yuki.”

Dabi has never heard Hawks sound this way, before. Not even when he was kicking Dabi out of his apartment. He sounds furious, but Dabi can see the way his hands are shaking.

“I know your schedule, Asset. Let’s see… Looks like you’re free at three tomorrow?”

“I’m not.”

“Hm… Next week? Monday morning?”

“I’m going now, Yuki.”

“Tch. Fine then. The next time you get hurt, I’ll just have to do a full exam – Just to be safe.” She tells him. He grits his teeth.

“Fine.”

A giggle from the other line, and then Hawks hangs up – cutting off a long-winded goodbye. He shoves the phone back into his pocket before leaning over and taking Shigaraki’s drink right from under him – a stupidly bold move. He throws it back and winces.

“Sorry about that. Where were we?” He rasps, setting down the glass and shoving it back to it’s previous owner.

Said previous owner didn’t seem to notice or care, though if it had been anyone else he would have screamed and thrown one of his tantrums for at least half an hour. Shigaraki was too busy fixing his cold, calculated stare on the hero. He was looking so intently, up and down Hawks’ body, that he wasn’t even blinking.

“Let’s talk in my office.” He ends up saying, after an uncomfortably long time staring.

“Oh. Uh, sure.” Hawks says, clearly caught off guard.

“Dabi. Stay. I’ll call you up after.” Shigaraki tells him, as he stands. Dabi responds by flipping him off with one hand, while the other lights a cigarette in his mouth.

He inhales, the familiar itch and burn in his lungs settling him. He exhales as Shigaraki and Hawks pass by, on their way up the stairs. Dabi shares a look with the hero, blowing smoke in their direction.

Even after they’re upstairs, Dabi is still thinking about him. God, he has it bad. But what had that reaction been about? Dabi hadn’t remembered anything about a Yuki while he was spying on the hero, before he’d met him. The name didn’t even sound familiar. The only person that Dabi knew Hawks spoke with regularly was another pro hero, Miruko. Certainly no one from the commission ever came up.

“Dabi!” Toga exclaims, slamming her hands down as she slides into the booth. She actually startles him, earning a frown. Twice slips in beside her.

“What?” He grunts, though he has an idea what she’s here for. She leans forward.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

**********

And you just left?!” Toga all but squawks, forcing Dabi to lean over and tug half-heartedly on one of her buns.

“Shut up! I don’t want everyone knowing my shit.”

“Is it okay if I know, then? Too late now!”

“It’s fine, Twice. I know you’ll keep your mouth shut. And you will,” Dabi points at Toga, “Or I’ll really set your hair on fire this time.”

“That wasn’t real, last time?! Do you know how long it took for me to grow it back?!”

“It was hardly a handful.” Dabi rolls his eyes.

“That’s not how friends should treat each other.” Twice ponders.

“We’re not friends.” Dabi tells him.

“Then why are you coming to me for advice on your love life?” Toga counters. Dabi doesn’t flush, but it’s a close thing.

“I’m fucking not. You wouldn’t let it go if I didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah, because I’m so good at pushing you around.” Toga rolls her eyes.

“Back to the issue at hand. What are you going to do? You should just fuck him, already! Are you going to apologize? Fuck an apology!”

“I don’t know what to do.” Dabi admits, running a hand down his face. His staples pull, and he inhales sharply at the pain.

Toga hums sympathetically and digs around in her small backpack. She finds what she’s looking for and shoos Twice out of the way so she can plop down on Dabi’s side, right next to him. He instinctively backs up into the wall, trying to create space between them. She rolls her eyes.

“Calm down. It’s just some moisturizer for your skin, and some gentle antiseptic for the staples. I told you, a skincare routine isn’t just important for your looks! It can make you feel better, too!”

Dabi begrudgingly allows her to scoot closer and reach out her hands that are clean – for once. He only allows this because she’s done this once before while he was dozing, and he’d been forced to admit that it really did make him feel better, after.

He wasn’t conscious last time she did this, though, so he can’t help but flinch when her rough fingers try their best to be gentle and soothing along the irritated edges.

“I think you should apologize. You probably made him feel bad, Dabi. Especially if that was his first kiss.” Toga says, while applying the products.

“Apologize for what?  For thinking with his best interests in mind?”

“Hm… is that really what you think, though? How do you know what’s best for him, anyways?”

“I don’t. But it sure as hell isn’t me.”

“Well… Tell him that, then. He’s probably super embarrassed!”

“Why would he be embarrassed?” Dabi asks, bewildered. If anything, he was the one that ran away like a coward.

Toga shoves at his shoulder and frowns.

“Because! He told you something super private and intimate and then you just left! He probably thinks you didn’t want to be with him, because of it.”

“Because he… hasn’t done anything?”

“Mhm! Most people are kind of sensitive about that stuff, Dabi.”

“… I don’t give a shit about that.”

“Sure, but he doesn’t know that!”

“Hmph.” Dabi leans back, once Toga is finished with him. He feels better, already. Physically, at least.

“Why do you care so much in the first place?” Twice wonders, head in his hands.

“I don’t.” Dabi says on instinct.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone with that.” Toga giggles.

“I don’t give a shit.” Dabi says, anyways.

“If it wasn’t just physical, you wouldn’t have pushed him away! Why did you push him away?! He’s hot! And way out of your league!”

“Fuck off.”

“He’s right, Dabi!” Toga sings as she slides back on the other side of the booth to avoid any physical repercussions of her teasing.

“What is she right about?” Shigaraki appears at the bottom of the steps, leaning on the banister.

“Nothing. Ever.” Dabi sits up. Shigaraki cocks a brow, but doesn’t say anything else. He tilts his head up towards the second floor, a clear invitation to follow.

“He’s still alive, I presume?” Dabi says, on their way up. Shigaraki snorts.

“I wouldn’t be, if he wasn’t. I presume.” He says, looking over knowingly. Dabi stares back, flatly, but doesn’t respond.

Shigaraki smirks. He’s taken the hand off of his face at some point during he and Hawks’ private conversation. Dabi isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad sign. He usually leaves it on, unless he’s in the presence of a select few.

Shigaraki opens the door to his office, which is really a glorified closet. It’s small and dark and cramped, and Dabi has always hated it. Hawks doesn’t seem to mind, if his easy going posture is any indication. His face is bright red though, and it almost looks like he’s been crying.

Dabi rounds on Shigaraki, ready to start swing, until he realizes the tears are out of anger, not hurt. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the hero this angry. Until he sees Dabi, of course. Then his eyes narrow, just a bit.

“He’s probably super embarrassed!” Dabi remembers what Toga had said, just a few minutes before.

“What, Shigaraki?” Dabi ignores the hero in favor of getting straight to the point. The villain clears his throat.

“Hawks and I have agreed upon a test that could be highly beneficial to our cause, while receiving minimal blowback, himself.” He says.

“Which is?” Dabi leans back on the door, arms crossed. He notes the way Hawks tracks the movement and smirks back, instinctively. He gets a slight blush for his efforts and tucks the image away for future reference.

“You’re breaking Muscular out of Tartarus.” Shigaraki says.

“Huh? Me?” Dabi asks, confused.

“You and Hawks.”

“You didn’t say he would be there!” Hawks says, sitting up. Shigaraki shrugs.

“No.” Dabi says, immediately. Shigaraki grimaces.

“It’s not a question. It’s an order.” He glares.

“I don’t give a shit. Why would I go instead of someone else? Toga is perfect for this kind of work.”

“Toga is awful for this kind of work and you know it.”

“She got in and out of the Precepts just fine.” He reminds him.

“Please. The only reason she got out was because the Midoriya kid caused a distraction after her quirk wore off.” Shigaraki rolls his eyes. Dabi frowns. He hadn’t been aware that Shigaraki knew that.

“How do you know that?” Hawks asked, sharp and attentive all of a sudden.

“What?” Dabi asks, confused.

“How do you know his name?” He repeats, eyes narrowed at Shigaraki, now.

“We know a lot of things, hero.” Shigaraki says, slowly. Hawks glares, frowns, but relents for the time being.

“Anyways,” Shigaraki continues, “This isn’t up for debate. If you want to join our league, you’re going to prove yourself. And this is how you’re going to do it.” Shigaraki starts itching at the back of his neck.

Hawks glares at the man, but nods. It’s tight and concise, but it’s enough confirmation for Shigaraki.

“Great. Figure it out amongst yourselves; let me know the details before you act.” Shigaraki says, a clear dismissal.

“When do you want this done by?” Hawks asks.

“It’ll need to be done next Monday.” Shigaraki says, oddly specific. Dabi frowns.

“Monday? In six days? That’s less than a week!” Hawks exclaims, wings ruffling.

“Why then?” Dabi asks, equally confused.

“That’s when boss wants it done.” Shigaraki scratches the front of his throat, now. Dabi hums, looks over him skeptically, but lets it be.

“Fine.”

Hawks huffs, glances over at Dabi. He rolls his eyes and shrugs.

“Fine then, I guess.”

“Great. Now get out.” Shigaraki shoos both of them with his hand.

“That’s it? We don’t get any more information? How are we-”

“Dabi will be in touch.” Shigaraki says. Hawks doesn’t appear to like that, if the grimace is anything to go by, but he relents. He stands to walk out of the room when Shigaraki stops him.

“And you have my number now, as well.” He smirks at Dabi. Dabi grins.

“That reminds me.” He walks over to Shigaraki’s desk, past Hawks and makes a grab for Shigaraki’s phone that’s lying face down. Shigaraki tries to grab it first, but Dabi is faster.

The device all but explodes in his hand when he creates a flame hot enough to completely destroy it.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Shigaraki screams and stands, then immediately backs away when Dabi tosses the flaming device into his lap.

“Don’t touch my shit.” Dabi warns him and cocks his head towards the door to get Hawks’ attention.

The hero watches the exchange, wide eyed, and follows without hesitation. He had never seen one of Shigaraki’s tantrums, but even Hawks could see the impending meltdown.

Sure enough, as they head downstairs, there’s banging and crashing and more yelling that can be heard even through the closed door.

“Won’t you get in trouble for that?” Hawks asks. Dabi snorts.

“The fuck is he going to do?”

“I don’t know… His quirk is pretty dangerous.” Hawks bites his lip. Dabi looks over.

“So is mine.” He reminds him.

Hawks catches his gaze properly for the first time today. There’s no anger underneath, just a genuine curiosity. If his eyes linger for a second too long on Dabi’s mouth, Dabi doesn’t say anything. But only because he’s already teasing,

“Worried about me, birdie?” He grins.

All at once, Hawks seems to remember he’s mad at Dabi. His expression closes off and he looks away, rolling his eyes.

Much to Dabi’s chagrin, Toga meets them both at the bottom of the steps. Her eyes are bright and sparkling as she holds her hands to the sides of her face. She’s grinning wide.

“Hi! I’m Toga! Toga Himiko!” She greets him and backs up a step so they can make it off the stairs.

“Hawks! Nice to meet you.” The hero greets back, smiling a little more genuinely than he has been. Toga tends to have that effect on people.

“I’m so excited to finally meet you! Dabi has talked a lot about you!” She tugs Hawks hand and leads him over to the bar. He follows, skeptically glancing over his shoulder at Dabi, who is fuming.

“Toga!”

“What?! You have! You’re even prettier than he said you were, though!” She bounces in her seat.

“Oh? He said I’m pretty?” Its Hawks turn to tease now, one corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement.

“Toga.” Dabi warns. She doesn’t listen.

“Mhm! And he said you’re a really good kisser. Though I guess I can’t really confirm, unless you want to – Ouch!” She cries out when Dabi grabs her wrist and applies just a little bit of heat and pressure. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to get her attention.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to burn the rest of your hair off, this time. Got it?” He leans in, menacing. She pouts and frowns, but he sees the mirth behind her eyes.

“Okay, okay! Geez!” She relents. He releases her arm and rolls his eyes.

When Dabi glances over at Hawks, the hero is flushed a bright red and hasn’t said a word. He’s very pointedly not looking at either of them, instead checking the time on his phone.

“Well. I’ve got to go.” He lies, unconvincingly, but Dabi wants him away from Toga as quick as possible so he lets it be.

“Wait!” Toga exclaims, “Give me your number so we can hang out sometime! Without him.” She points at Dabi. Hawks raises a brow.

“Really?” He wonders.

“Absolutely not.” Dabi answers. But his disapproval seems to make the decision for the hero. He smirks as he pulls out his phone.

“What’s your number?” He asks. Toga rattles it off, excitedly, and Hawks saves it and sends her a text.

“Now you have mine, too.” He says, smirking at Dabi again.

“Yay! I know you’re super busy so just let me know! I’ll make sure this one stays home.” She says, thumb hooked over her shoulder at Dabi, whose scowling.

“You’re not hanging out.” Dabi complains, even though he knows he can’t stop them. But the idea of them two alone, Toga spilling all of his horrible secrets, is enough to make him wish he could.

“What’re you going to do about it?” Hawks asks, turning towards him.

Dabi can think of a lot of things he’d like to do about it, plenty of punishments that wouldn’t feel like punishments at all when he was through with the hero. Hawks seems to follow his line of thinking if the blush is anything to go by.

Toga giggles, breaking the moment.

“You guys are cute.” She says, still laughing. Both men turn to scowl at her.

“Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be?” Dabi asks, reminding her of her scheduled meeting with Covert. She frowns.

“She’s so not cute, though! Her attitude is ugly.” Toga complains, but stands up. Hawks follows.

“Who?”

“Classified.” Dabi smirks. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“I’m not used to having such a low clearance level.” Hawks jokes.

“Well, get used to it.” Dabi answers and holds open the door for both Toga and Hawks.

“Well, bye-bye Dabi! Hawks!” Toga breaks into Hawks’ personal space with a quick hug around his waist before she waves and jogs backwards to catch up with Twice, who is waiting at the car and arguing with himself.

Hawks waves back, surprised by the sudden physical affection, while Dabi stands still. He clears his throat, getting the hero’s attention.

“We need to talk.” He tries.

“No, thanks.” Hawks barely gives him a glance before he tries walking away. Dabi steps directly in front of him, blocking him.

“Hawks.”

“Dabi.”

“We need to talk.” He repeats.

“Is it about the mission?”

“No, it’s about-”

“Then I’m not interested.” Hawks interrupts. Dabi rolls his eyes.

“We both know that’s not true.” He takes a step towards the hero, pushing him back into the wall. Hawks’ eyes narrow.

“Move, Dabi. Or I’ll make you.”

As much as Dabi would actually love to see Hawks try, he should probably stop thinking with his dick if he wants this conversation to go anywhere.

“I want to apologize.” He says, instead. This, at least, surprises Hawks into staying still.

“What?”

“For… You know.” Dabi shrugs, uncomfortable. Hawks senses his discomfort, but doesn’t make it any easier for him. So Dabi continues.

“I shouldn’t have left like that.”

“…Dabi, why are you telling me this?” Hawks sighs, sounding exhausted.

“Because apparently, we’re going to be working together for the foreseeable future.”

“And you have such great working relationships with everyone else here?” Hawks asks, skeptically.

“Obviously not.”

“Then wh-”

“Would you just take the damn apology, bird?”

“You haven’t actually apologized, yet.”

“The fuck?”

“You said, I shouldn’t have left like that. That’s a statement. Not an apology.”

Dabi can’t tell if the hero is messing with him. Based on how hard his eyes are, he’s going to guess he’s serious.

“The fuck you want me to say? I’m sorry?” He asks, incredulously. He can’t remember the last time he’d said that to someone and meant it.

Hawks grins, “Apology accepted.”

“Wh- No! I wasn’t saying it; I was asking if you wanted me to say it!” Dabi says, flustered.

“Oh? Apology rescinded, then.”

“What the fuck, Hawks?”

“What the fuck, Dabi?” He counters.

Dabi snarls, but his words get stuck in his throat at the flash of heat between them. He hadn’t realized how hard he was pressing the hero into the brick wall outside of the bar. Or how public their argument was.

“Come on.” Dabi tugs Hawks by his wrist, and the hero follows him around the side of the building.

“Romantic.” Hawks snorts, looking around them at the garbage bags littering the alley.

“Shut up. And listen up. Because I’m only saying this fucking once.” Dabi says.

The hero looks at him expectantly. He’s got his hands in his pockets, feigning an air of nonchalance. His wings are tense behind him, giving him away. So are his eyes that aren’t covered by his hideous aviators, for once.

Dabi opens his mouth to apologize properly, but nothing comes out... And why the fuck should it? The fuck does he have to apologize for? Shouldn’t the world be fucking apologizing to him? For giving him such a shit hand in this life? For putting him in this position in the first place? Forcing him to become a villain, to be forever out of reach of the hero in front of him?

“You really can’t say it?” Hawks asks, annoyed now. Dabi glares back.

“Whatever. See you Monday.” Hawks waves him off and starts to walk away.

The hero turns his back and starts walking to the open mouth of the alley, back to the front of the bar. He won’t be able to fly in the area without someone noticing him, but he can still leave Dabi just as quickly.

And he is. He’s walking away, his powerful wings fluttering and seeming to physically shake off his anger at the situation that Dabi has put him in. Would Hawks come back, if he asked? If it wasn’t for work? Will he ever talk to him normally again? Will Dabi ever hear Hawks whimper out his name, if he walks away now? Dabi isn’t sure, but the thought is enough to scare him.

“I’m sorry.” He grits out, quietly. So quietly that he’s afraid the hero didn’t hear it.

But Hawks steps slow to a halt. He turns around, surprised. Dabi walks over to catch up with him and pull him back.

“We’re not done talking.” He tells him. Hawks goes along, bewildered, until he’s pressed against the wall for a very different reason.

The hero’s breath hitches when Dabi leans his weight on him, keeping him there. Dabi knows that the hero could easily push him off, throw him across this alley if he wanted to. Dabi is under no misconception about who would win in a fight. But Hawks lets him in close, anyways.

The hero swallows, once, and Dabi notices his throat moving underneath him. He has to stop himself from leaning in further, or from wrapping a hand around it. Not to apply pressure – just to keep it there.

Hawks is saying something, but Dabi missed whatever it was. So he blinks at the hero, dumbly.

“What?”

Hawks huffs, slightly amused, and repeats the question.

“What did you want to talk about?”

What did Dabi want to talk about? To apologize, probably. But he already did that... What was he apologizing for? Oh, yeah…

Dabi takes a breath before purposefully letting go of Hawks. He takes a long step back, creating some space between them. Hawks looks surprised, and maybe disappointed, at the action.

“I think we should stop. This.” Dabi says, gesturing between them. Now, Hawks looks slightly confused.

“You just started it.” Hawks points out, incredulous. Dabi winces, because it’s true.

“I shouldn’t have.”

“So…” Hawks bites his lip, thinking, “Why?” He comes up with.

It looks like that’s not what he meant to ask, if his slight flush is anything to go by.

“Because…” Dabi hedges, “You’re a hero. I’m a villain. This isn’t going anywhere.” He says, gesturing between them, again. Hawks brows raise, and Dabi realizes his mistake.

“Did you want it to go somewhere?”

“Th-That’s not what I meant.” Dabi says, cursing his stutter at this inopportune time. Hawks catches that too.

“Then… I don’t understand. I was under the impression the flirting was just… flirting.” Hawks hesitates.

“It was. Until it wasn’t.” Dabi says, pointedly remind him of what happened just a few nights before.

“You’re the one that made it weird.” Hawks grumbles, flushing despite his statement. Dabi nods.

“I know. I… I didn’t want your first time to be with… me…” He says, wincing at how awkward and uncomfortable he’s making things. Why did Hawks, of all people, have to turn him into an idiot?

Hawks just looks angry at this sentiment, however.

“Oh? And who should my first time be with, then?” He questions, wings ruffling slightly. Dabi tries to backtrack.

“I didn’t – I just meant, like, with someone you care about and shit.” Dabi flushes, wishing he could just die on the spot. Especially when Hawks just stares at him.

“You’re an idiot.” He says, eventually. Dabi feels his hackles rise.

“I just wanted you to-”

“Do you want to hear what I wanted, Dabi?” Hawks asks, taking a step closer.

Hawks still looks like a fucking angel, even when he’s spitting mad. Face flushed and eyes narrowed into slits, wings standing straight up and showing off just how magnificent they really are when they aren’t being tucked away like a secret. Dabi is too busy studying and cataloguing each indication that Hawks really is otherworldly, that he doesn’t notice he’s been backed into a wall until the back of his head hits the brick behind him.

“What are y-”

Dabi doesn’t finish his sentence when Hawks leans forward; close enough that he can feel the warm puff of his air escaping from parted lips.

“What I wanted was to stop kissing you. Just for a second, after I’d gotten you hard enough. I wanted to slip off the countertop, get on my knees, and you could teach me how to suck you off.”

Dabi’s eyes are wide and he’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing, at this point. Especially when he notices how Hawks wings are bracketing them in, cutting them off from the rest of the world.

“And just before you came, I would’ve stopped. Just to be a brat – Just to get you mad. And I would’ve begged you to fuck me if that’s what it took. Though, based on how you were reacting just as much as I was, I don’t think it would’ve been necessary.” Hawks thinks, laughing.

Dabi can feel his lips, now, brushing against his as he laughs. Dabi doesn’t even realize it when he closes his eyes, leans forward to catch the hero’s lips properly. But he does notice it when Hawks rears back, just before they can collide.

Dabi opens his eyes to see Hawks smirking, pure evil and too far away to tug back closer. His hands are back in his pocket and his eyes are dancing with mirth.

“But clearly you know best. So. You’re right. We shouldn’t do that.” He shrugs.

Dabi blinks a few times, has to shake his head to keep up with this new reality that Hawks has seemingly created in the last minute.

“Sorry.” Dabi says, without thinking. It just slips out.

“Apology accepted.” Hawks says, smirking knowingly. Dabi wants to kiss it off of him. But Hawks had just said…

“So you… agree?” Dabi asks, slowly, trying to catch up. Hawks looks angry for a moment, then sad.

“Does it matter? You’ve made it clear that you seem to know what’s best.” Hawks says, sarcasm evident in his voice.

“That’s not wh-”

“Whatever,” Hawks waves, “You’re probably right. It’s not a good idea.”

And Dabi… doesn’t say anything. Because he’s right. It’s not a good idea for either of them. But Dabi can’t tell him why – He can’t tell him it’s a bad idea not because he’s worried for Hawks, but because he’s worried for himself. Dabi isn’t stupid – he’s already fallen for the fucking bird. But he can keep a distance, if he creates it for them. Then, maybe it won’t hurt so much when it all burns down in the end.

“Okay.” He says, nodding and agreeing. Hawks stares at him for a long moment, looking for any trace of dishonesty. He doesn’t find one, so he sighs.

“Bye, Dabi.” He says, walking away again. Dabi takes a step forward.

“Wait.”

The hero stops. They can hear each other breathing.

“I’ll call you about the mission. Answer your phone, this time.” Dabi says.

Hawks rolls his shoulders, waves his hand behind him. But he doesn’t say anything. And Dabi has no way of knowing that it’s because he’s crying.

**********

Dabi runs back into the bar to grab his heavy leather jacket Hawks returned before setting off to meet his standing Tuesday appointment. Shigaraki has made it back downstairs after getting over his tantrum and glares at him as he enters. Dabi rolls his eyes.

“The fuck did you do to piss him off so bad?” He wonders, stopping on his way out. Shigaraki frowns.

“Simply told him the truth. He didn’t like it.”

“... And that is?”

“That we would treat him much better than the commission, should he choose to stay on our side.” Shigaraki has switched to sipping water at some point this afternoon.

“...You know he’s just playing us. Or, trying to. You don’t have to try so hard.”

“He doesn’t know I know that. Besides. I meant it.” Shigaraki admits.

“...What brought that on?” Dabi wonders. Shigaraki hums.

“Sit.” He nods at the empty stool next to him.

Dabi hesitates, knows he’s already running late. The boy will be waiting for him. Or, will he? Dabi is pretty sure the kid barely tolerated his presence each and every Tuesday afternoon.

“Make it quick.” Dabi sits.

“The woman on the phone...” Shigaraki starts.

“Whose phone?”

“Hawks’. From the commission.”

“Oh. What about her?” He wonders, thinking back on Hawks’ strange behaviors during the call.

“I thought I recognized her voice. When he said her name, Yuki, I remembered.”

“...Then who is she?”

“Well. Apparently, now, she works as a doctor for the commission. When I knew her, she was a highly sought after and highly expensive interrogator for hire.”

“Interrogator?”

“Mhm. Said she was saving up for med school. Guess she did.”

“...What does that have to do with you offering him a spot? And him getting pissed?”

“I assume my concern hit a sore spot.”

“And why is that?”

Shigaraki takes a long gulp of water before he turns to face him and answer.

“Her quirk is what made her so highly sought after in the underground community. It’s also why she became interested in medicine. And I would assume he’s well acquainted with it, if his reaction to her pestering was anything to go by.” He runs pale hand through pale, blue hair.

“And what’s her quirk?”

“She calls it Regenerate. It allows her to heal any wound almost instantaneously.”

“Any?”