Archive of Our Own

It had been fourteen days, six hours, and forty-five minutes since Aizawa promised to murder Izuku's father. (Now known as Midoriya Hisashi due to a surprisingly cheerful phone call from a woman named Inko - again, what was it with these people and giving Shouta their names? He was an assassin. Assassin. )

Anyway, after his phone call with Izuku's mother, he knew all he needed to put a bullet in this fucker's head. He deserved much worse, but the bastard was a cop, high surveillance, and whatnot. With the cops already on his ass for...disposing of a rapist, he had to be more careful than usual.

Seeing as it was a Friday, in 30 minutes, Midoriya Hisashi would leave work early and take a train to Shizuoka before returning to Mustafu to his family. That he didn't deserve. What he did deserve for hurting a kid and fucking with what seemed to be the kindest woman on planet Earth was a knife to his throat and Shouta's steel-tipped boots up his ass- Ahem. Shouta is not attached.

Midoriya Hisashi's actions once he's in Shizuoka are unknown, his phone is always turned off, and he comes back in a good mood. Shouta has been asked not to tail him that far, and he obliges. Inko suspects he's cheating, and Shouta does too. Neither of them mentions it.

Shouta perches on the roof of the Shizuoka train station, unseen as he watches the 5:00 train ease its way into the station. The crowded station does nothing to distract him from his task. His eyes narrow as he watches his target exit amidst the sea of bodies. Shouta prowls on the rooftops, sticking to the shadows and stalking the curly-haired man.

His capture weapon moves as an extension of himself, winding around fire escapes and lampposts as he trails the man, following him through the winding streets of the city. He lurked through the streets, breathing down Hisashi's neck, relishing the mildly concealed fear he could taste as Hisashi looked over his shoulder, clutching his belongings tightly.

An eerie grin spread across Shouta's face as he watched Hisashi turn into an alleyway. Idiot. It's perfect.
______

...Ring...Ring
"Hey, babe. Yeah, I'll be there in a second, I just need to call my wife and tell her I'm taking a late shift. I know, I know I said that-"

The chatter of him talking on the phone was drowned out by the blood rushing in Shouta's ears. The gun in his holster was calling to him, beckoning him as he pictured Hisashi's face smeared on the pavement. A bullet through his skull was too good for someone like him...It wouldn't hurt if he spent a little more time on this guy. He'd be careful…

The alleyway was dark, de-saturating the vibrant sunbeams and turning them into smears of gray. It was silent, The sounds of the city faded into nothing as Hisashi stepped further into the alleyway. Red eyes lit up in the darkness, as the capture weapon slithered towards Hisashi. A grin grew on Shouta's face as the capture weapon curled around Hisashi's neck.

No one heard him scream.
______

Blood splattered the walls of the alley as Shouta huffed. God, this was the most he's smiled since he married Hisashi. The smell of copper was strong, sinking into his clothes, and staining his skin. Wiping the blood off his knife, he tucked it back into its holster. He frowned down at the mess. There wasn't really much of a...body left to clean up. Plus, he wasn't planning on hiding a body. Normally, he would just walk off, but he was soaked in blood. There was no way he could walk out in this. Plus, if he took to the roofs in his current state, he would leave a trail of blood.

He stripped off his jacket, pulling his lighter and fake ID from the pockets before stripping off his gloves. The bloodied capture weapon went in a Ziploc bag, along with his knife and gloves. No chances. Kicking the bag under the dumpster, and making a note to retrieve it later, he rifled through the pouches in his pants. A travel-sized bottle of rubbing alcohol, a crumpled-up sticky note, and...matches. Perfect.

The alcohol was poured onto the ground, cleaning away any bloody footprints left on the concrete. Most were Hisashi's but, better safe than sorry. He meticulously drenched the alley, the body, and his jacket in alcohol.

He hummed, smiling sinisterly as he lit a match.
________

The one good thing Hisashi might have done in his entire life was have a fire-breathing quirk. Combustible blood was definitely a plus.
________

See, the issue wasn't Shouta committing homicide. Neither was setting fire to the alleyway. The problem was when he had (successfully) left the alleyway, he just so happened to stumble on a robbery. He genuinely didn't even care enough to help this time, he was just walking by, attempting to get around the block to climb up onto the roof when he was grabbed, and taken as a hostage. A hostage. Him. Really?

He was dragged into the store, threatened and screamed at by some kids - They couldn't be older than 18- who had no business robbing anything in the first place, then, he was ushered to a corner and weakly threatened into a corner with other cowering civilians.

So there he was, at 6:10 in the evening, sitting in a crowd of shit-scared civilians, fuming, because some pathetic convenience store robber was waving an unloaded gun in his face. If you're gonna threaten people, at least load the gun. Honestly, Shouta kinda felt bad for the kid. But the little sympathy he had faded when for some fucking reason they decided to use him as a bargaining chip.

The gun, again, unloaded, seriously? dug into his back as he was dragged back out of the store to be paraded about in front of cameras.

"Present Mic, I'll- I'll shoot this man if you don't let us go."

Shouta's eye twitched. Not only was he humiliatingly plastered on live television, his husband had to 'save' him. Great. Hizashi was never going to let him live this down. He could already see him snickering from here.

Hizashi's eye twitched as the gun was pressed to Shouta's head, holding his hands up in a placating manner. To most, it would seem like he was attempting to soothe a high-strung criminal, but Shouta knew better.

...He was desperately trying not to laugh, the traitor.

"Hey listener, why don't we chill and talk this out, huh? No one needs to get hurt."

Hizas- Present Mic stepped closer, and Shouta grunted as the kid yanked him back by the hair. Firstly, ow. Secondly, that right was reserved for his husband, thank you very much.

A swift punch later, the gun lay in Shouta's hand, and he promptly handed it off to Hizashi before getting the hell out of the range of the cameras.

The heroes present blinked, startled as Shouta grumbled and stalked away. They tried to stop him, to see if he needed medical attention, but a tired glare forced them away. His phone -burner, he's not an idiot - buzzed, and an unknown number sent a flurry of laughing cat emojis. Yep, that was Hizashi, the stupid lovable bastard.

Anyway, it was high time Shouta got back to his apartment, cleaning up, disposing of evidence, getting his gear back, and then swinging by the Midoriyas to give Inko the good news. He was close, only a few blocks from his apartment when quiet sniffles caught his attention.

' Oh hell no.'

One stifled scream later, he rounded the corner, following the soft, young, sounding sounds to a grimy alley. His nose wrinkled as he swerved a suspicious puddle, and moved closer.
With a bang, something jumped out, overturning some errant trash cans and what looked to be a makeshift, soggy, cardboard bed.

Shouta sighed inwardly as he took in the sight before him. A scruffy, underweight kid, holding a knife in his direction and glaring fiercely, tears streaming down his face from the harsh metal of a muzzle cutting into his skin.

"Here we go again," he muttered, staring down the tiny brat. This was getting to be a long day.
______

Hizashi trudged home, bones creaking as he shuffled to his apartment. God, today was draining. It was funny seeing Shouta pretend to be held hostage though, definitely the high point of his day.

A yawn tore through his lips as he slunk through the lobby, lazily flicking his keycard to the elevator and bringing himself up to the lovely little shoebox he called home.

It's small, and god knows he could afford bigger, but it was his first apartment. Shouta had lovingly forced him to move out after the entire shit show that was Hizashi's 'coming out'.

It's been almost five years of watching Shouta bristle and shove money in his face every time he mutters about rent. Four years of pretending he wasn't terrified of what Nedzu and his 'probably a criminal' best friend were getting up to when Shouta came home bloody.

Three years of realizing that he was hopelessly in love with Shouta and that in his odd way, Shouta loved him back. Two years of learning exactly what it was Shouta was doing, and assuring the man that he still loved him anyway, and One year, since the wedding. One year since marrying the love of his life.

The dopey smile on Hizashi's face remained, even as he stepped out of the elevator and dragged himself to the door. He had promised himself a long bath and cuddles with Shouta if he was home. With this in mind, he pushed open the door, kicking off his shoes with a sigh.
As he opened his mouth to call Shouta, a choked gasp left his throat and his eyes widened as he made eye contact with the bloody, giant of a man that was his husband.

Blood was splattered across Shouta's face and dripped off of the menacing gold brass knuckles still snug on his hands. Said man was blinking slowly, oddly reminiscent of a smug feline as he gazed at Hizashi blankly.

The next most notable thing was the open first aid kit on the counter, and Hizashi's mind panicked briefly, wondering where Shouta was hurt. Before he could panic for much longer, his brain froze, taking in the sight of a glaring kid perched on the counter, holding a bloodstained knife.

Hizashi could only sputter dumbly as he looked at the sight.

"He stabbed me. We're keeping him."

"Shouta. Baby. Light of my life. No."

"He doesn't have anywhere else to go. His guardians are dead."

Hisashi sighed, rubbing his temples.

"And why are his guardians dead?"

Shouta paused, shuffling minutely. He frowned lightly.

"...Zashi. They were abusive. They muzzled him."

It was a tense few minutes of staring, both Shouta and the mysteriously acquired child gazing at him pleadingly. ...He was so fucking whipped, wasn't he?

"...I am going to shower, and you are going to clean both of you up. When I come out, there better be a cup of hot chocolate waiting for me or so help me god, you’re sleeping on the couch."

With that, and a glare at his smugly preening husband, Hiszashi turned to the kid.

"Hey kiddo, that was a rough first impression, wasn't it?" He smiled softly, tiredly, at the suspicious expression on the listener's face. "I'm Hizashi Yamada, you can call me whatever makes you the most comfortable. Could I have a name or a nickname to call you? I can't just call you kid forever."

The kid gazed at Hizashi with a glimmer of doubt apparent in those big purple eyes before glancing at Shouta who gave him a mildly encouraging shrug. He spoke with a soft voice, rough and scratchy from disuse, and kept a fist clenched in Shouta's shirt, and the other keeping a firm hold on a bloodied pocket knife.

"Hitoshi."