Chapter Text
Eraserhead disappeared on a Friday.
No one noticed for almost a week. There was, far too late, an official inquiry about the reason his handler hadn’t reported Eraserhead missing when the man didn’t check in at the end of his summer patrol route. The inquiry was insisted upon by a very loud and rather distraught Present Mic and backed up by a deathly quiet and rather furious Nezu.
The results basically said that Eraserhead was known to be a rather independent hero and his newbie handler fell into to the category that saw underground heroes as stepping stones on the way to managing more lucrative daylight heroes.
No one was satisfied with this answer. A low mutter built and ebbed with the certainty of tides. He wasn’t immediately found and the initial momentum of his case was lost fairly quickly, what with the complete and utter lack of anything resembling evidence, but his case was never forgotten.
Nor was it ever suggested that Eraserhead choose to leave.
Eraserhead would have been the first to say that he didn’t have many friends, but being unsociable didn’t mean he was unknown. Being underground meant he was unknown to the public, not the hero community.
Aizawa had colleagues. The staff at U.A. were angry. Someone had taken one of their own and the entire staff, from Nezu to Lunch Rush, was ready to move at the tiniest sign.
Aizawa had students. The students were loyal. The kids that proved themselves from the very start or improved themselves enough to be re-enrolled, they survived. They thrived. They spent the entire time after their former teacher’s disappearance with their nose to the ground and their feet hitting their patrol routes.
Eraserhead had the police force. The police were motivated. The regular enforcers of the law were in the unique position to have tangible proof that Eraserhead might not be flashy, but he finished the job at all costs. He also routinely finished his paperwork. On time.
Eraserhead had the pro heroes. The heroes, both daylight and underground, were bereft. Not all of them, Eraserhead was one man who hated attention, but there was a hole that almost no one had expected. Eraserhead was the backup and he would be backed up the moment anyone could find him (and avenged if they couldn’t).
Eraserhead had the underground. The people on the fringes of society were pissed. Eraserhead was their hero, the one who saw the worst and kept coming back. The one who handed out jelly pouches and asked kids on the wrong path what they thought they were doing and actually listed to their answers. The underground watched all the places the rest of the heroes didn’t.
And still, no one found him.
“Hey, Zawa. So. Uh. I have a quirk?”
“Did you break your bones? We don’t have many first aid supplies left but we can use-“
“No! No, Zawa, One for All isn’t back.”
“Problem Child.”
“Have I told you how much I appreciate that nickname even though I’m not longer a kid?”
“Stop deflecting.”
“Time travel is a thing I can do. Once.”
“…You’re taking me with you, Problem Child. I don’t care if that’s not how the quirk works or that you’re a professional or old or whatever- oof. Stop that. Stop crying. Deku.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Problem Child…We can’t go too far back. I’m not changing diapers and you need to be able to pull your weight.”
“Yeah, Zawa. And we’re going to be so fucked up. That’s harder to explain in a baby. And at least one of us should have our hero licence… and I need to be old enough to punch All for One and Shigaraki in the face.”
“We’ll add it to the list.”
“What list?”
“The one we’re starting. I’m not time-travelling with you and your trouble-magnet tendencies without extensive preparation. Did you ever listen to your teachers?”
Eraserhead was found on a Thursday almost a year after he’d vanished. He was covered in blood, missing three fingers, and sitting in a puddle that the heroes hoped was additional blood, but suspected was something else entirely.
He wasn’t found by accident, nor was he found on purpose. In fact, he wasn’t so much found as Nezu received a phone call all but detailing his location.
“Is it a rat, is it a bear, is it a dog? No one knows! Prinicple Nezu speaking.”
There was a sharp breath on the other end of the phone, and Nezu frowned, or as close as he could manage with his snout. “Please identify yourself. This is a personal number and I’d like to know how you received it.” Nezu’s tone might have been harsher than normal, but it had been a trying a year.
Aizawa was one of his favourite humans, and while that was certainly reason enough for him to be upset, Nezu suspected that no one with the possible exception of Recovery Girl knew how much the Principal had come to reply on the 1A teacher. Even disregarding the hours that Nezu had spent combing video footage, the internet in general, and various spy networks for his almost-protege, Nezu had significantly more work with regards to handling UA.
He refused to hire or train someone else to be his unofficial second until they found a body. It was a purely sentimental decision he didn’t quite want to logic away just yet.
“Zawa says you’re a hero,” rasped from the other side of the phone, voice almost breaking.
Nezu was too much a professional to gasp, but the temperature in the room dropped at least six degrees. He was also too intelligent to not connect Zawa with Aizawa (the voice had used the present tense). Nezu also knew the voice was young and there was reason Nezu had chosen to work with children, for the most part.
“I am,” Nezu confirmed voice soft as he could manage. “Do you need a hero?”
The voice chuckled, and odd skipping sound that didn’t quite survive meeting the air. “No. Not really. I have Zawa already. And I rather think I can be a bit of my own hero, by now, to be honest. But we could use some help.”
“I see.” Nezu had placed his phone on his desk, the speaker mode not necessary with his hearing. He needed his hands free for his computer in order to call Nemuri and Yamada to his office, contact Tsukauchi and the other officers on Aizawa’s case, track the phone number, and summon a helicopter.
“You really don’t. Have you finished tracking the call yet? I’ve forgotten the building name and never actually knew the street address.”
Nezu’s paws didn’t falter. “Not quite yet. Is there a specific type of help you require? Medical?”
“No.” A pause. “Well. Yes.” A sigh. “Okay, we probably do, but neither of are going to handle that gracefully, at all. There were…experiments.”
Yamada and Nemuri arrived just in time to miss that comment, but catch their boss destroying his computer mouse. The doors had barely time to slam against the wall before Nezu was calmly pushing the cracked plastic aside and turning to his specialized laptop.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to bring that up. But thanks. I suppose it makes sense to not want to stay somewhere that reminds us of the labs. It’s logical, though hardly practical. If we have to go the hospital, I suggest knocking us the fuck out.”
Nothing the child could have said would have made Nezu more certain that they actually knew Aizawa. The way Hizashi stiffened and Nemuri latched onto the blond’s arm at the word ‘logical’ proved they were of similar opinion.
“That would be feasible if necessary; Midnight will be on site as soon as possible.”
Another sharp breath. “Zawa would like that. Is Zashi-sorry, will Present Mic be there too? Zawa’s told me a lot about all of you.”
“Yes, absolutely, I will,” Hizashi claimed, stepping closer to Nezu’s desk and phone.
“Ah. Hello, Present Mic.”
Hizashi let out a choked breath. “Hi, Little Listener.”
The voice let out a low hum. “It’s been a very long time since I listened to your show. Not that I don’t like it! I do! You always cover really interesting points and are really supportive of issues like villainous classifications and quirk equality and I actually really loved it, and didn’t exactly choose to, um. Stop. Shit. I think I’ve actually gotten worse at talking to people.”
Partly because he wanted to keep the boy talking, partly to give the vary pale Hizashi a break, partly because he desperately wanted to know, Nezu interrupted.“Is there anyone else you need besides trusted medical personal?”
“Hmm. Heroes and a clean up crew. You might need to evacuate the building. I would. Contamination and all that. Biohazard crew in particular would be helpful. The labs need to be dismantled much more carefully than with general destruction, particularly because of the civilian businesses on the other levels that I’m pretty sure are innocent. They’ll need to be evacuated calmly in order to avoid a panic, so heroes specializing in crowd control would also be ideal. You know what, building inspectors as well, ones certified in disaster relief. There have been some major modifications and code violations that I’m not positive are structurally sound and, and I’m doing it again. Damnit.”
“If you’re referring to the mumbling,” Nezu said as he closed his laptop and stuffed it into the bag tucked under his desk, “then yes. The information was highly useful, however, so I encourage you to forgive yourself for whatever habit you feel you’ve failed to curb.”
“Ah, well. Thanks. Sounds like you’re moving? Got a location, then?”
“Yes. Midnight, Present Mic, and I are all heading to the helicopter now. There’s about an hour of travel time.”
“No rush. Not like an hour here or there’s going to change things at this point.”
“Kid,” Nemuri started.
“Ah. My name’s Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku. Probably should have led with that.”
Nezu closed his eyes a moment then turned back to his desktop computer, quickly attaching another customized mouse while staring intently at the screen.
“Midoriya, is Shouta, is Aizawa-“
“Alright? No. Not really. But he’s alive and looking forward to seeing you, even if he won’t admit it, the grumpy pants.”
Hizashi sobbed a laugh even as Nemuri dug apple-red nails into her palms. “Then why isn’t he the one calling?”
“We didn’t have a phone and I’m a better pickpocket. See you soon, heroes.”
“Boss?” Nemuri’s soft call drew Hizashi’s attention from where he’d been about to step forward and grab the phone.
“Midoriya Izuku was thirteen years old when he disappeared. He was last seen on a Friday.” Nezu grimly told his computer.
“The same one as Shou?”
“As near as police can tell.” Nezu climbed up to Hizashi’s shoulders so the man could use his long stride to get them to the roof just that bit faster. “Not they could tell much, since the report was apparently filed over a month later.”
“What?” Nemuri was outraged. “A kid goes missing and it takes someone a month to notice?!”
Nezu shook his head. “His mother noticed. It took her a month to find an officer who cared enough to file a report. Midoriya Izuku is quirkless.”
“We’ll be vigilantes if we do this.”
“Hm.”
“Are, are you okay with that?”
“Problem Child, I’m an underground hero. I’ve worked with vigilantes. Some days I’ve been a step away from being one. You’re the one who’d made it to the Top Ten. Are you okay with that?”
“I’ve thought about it before, being a vigilante. After All Might told me I couldn’t be a quirkless hero, I was mostly heartbroken, but there was a little thought worming it’s way through. I thought about that worm later, after I had One for All, whether I would have followed that thought to vigilantism, and I’m still not sure.”
“All Might said what.”
“Relax, Zawa, it was literal ages ago. Besides, it’s hard to hate a man who spent the remainder of his life making up for it.”
“…Harder to give up on being the Number One Hero.”
“Fuck, you’re not giving up on that, are you? Yes, it will be hard. But I’m not getting One for All back. No, don’t interrupt. I could, yeah, probably. I know Yagi well enough. But I can’t use One for All like it’s meant to be used anymore. I’m too broken after watching All for One win, too afraid of being seen after spending literal years in hiding, too certain that I’ve already failed once. And while I know you’ll tell me I didn’t fail, I did. We all did. Society ended and everyone we loved died and it took slow, painful years. Besides, our story’s going to have holes Zawa, holes that will only be filled by the ability to claim ’trauma’ and have people not look too closely. One for All is literally the opposite of subtle and I can’t be that kind of daylight hero anymore… one like you, maybe.”
“…You are, have been, and will be a better hero than me, Problem Child. Aw, shit, no, kid. Kid, society actually ended, where the hell do you keep finding more tears?”
The boy who met the heros at the building’s entrance was both unobtrusive and exceedingly obviously the kid they were looking to find.
He was gaunt, all skin and bones under a long stringy coat flecked with brown and green. He matched the dull stone bench he was sitting on all too well, except for his eyes. One eye was a bright emerald, brighter than the trees in their small fenced gardens, while the other had been tugged a murky white by a gash running from his eyebrow to the centre of his cheek.
The kid, Midoriya Izuku, smiled at the heroes as the group of five approached. “Hawks and Miruko. I mention that we didn’t really need fighters and they send me two of the best! Two who’ll be breaking into the top ten any month now and aren’t even from around here.”
“Aw, thanks kid! But we don’t just fight, ya know! A good hero does all sorts of things.” Miruko bounced on her heels.
Hawks stepped slightly forward to block Miruko and some of her energy, eyes cautious as he watched the kid.
Izuku simply nodded his green head. “Fair enough.” He smiled gently at Hawks in thanks before it shifted to a tired smirk when aimed at Miruko. “I did ask for trusted.”
“We were already here, kid, just on another case.” Hawks spoke slowly, watching the kid’s eye dart around and the tense set to his shoulders. Something told him that if the kid spooked and fled, five heroes wouldn’t be enough to catch him.
“Ah. The disappearances.” Midoriya ignored the heroes tensing as he stood up, rather shakily but with an odd sort of dignity. “Yes, you’ll find those answers here, too.”
“Look kid,” one of the area’s heroes, a tank of a man called Force Construct, reached out to grab Midoriya by one boney shoulder.
The move Midoriya made in response was almost a flinch, except far too smooth. It almost appeared as if the kid had never been in range at all, except for Midoriya’s scowl.
Midoriya tucked his hands in tattered pockets and stared the much taller man down with one focused eye. “I’d rather you didn’t do that.”
Force Construct blusterd. “You need to come with us and answer some questions.”
“No.”
“What?” The giant man took a step forward and Hawks found himself mirroring the motion, just going a bit wider so he was half in front of the kid.
“No. I don’t believe those are your orders and even if they were, my answer would be no. I think there are enough civilians here to cause a stir and some truly bad publicity if I started shouting and some heroes were seen hauling my scrappy and broken ass away against my will.” He held up thin wrists with prominent bones that were blanketed in scars. “You want your answers you’ll come with me, though I warn you: it won’t be pretty.”
He turned and walked away, ducking into the building before a single hero moved.
When they did move, the heroes followed him. Most of them didn’t know why they followed him. (Hawks followed because he had see those eyes in the mirror when he was younger, and it was everything he’d become a hero to stop. Miruko followed because while she didn’t like following as a rule, she could still recognize true leaders when she saw them, and for this kid to have those skills this early, something had gone wrong).
They made it past the receptionist and down three flights of stairs before someone tried to stop them. A woman at a polished desk smile politely when they stepped out of the stairwell and told them there were no visitors allowed at this time.
“But I came from there.” Midoriya pointed down a perfectly clean hallway whose fluorescent lights seemed suddenly sinister.
“No one comes from there.”
“Yes, I know.” Midoriya smiled serenely and didn’t even flinch when a long-fingered hand reached out towards his face. Hawks flinched. He pinned the woman to the wall with several of his feathers and thought it a job well done.
Miruko clearly agreed, since she followed up with a quick jab to the neck that had the receptionist out cold.
Force Construct and the other heroes shifted uneasily, but one sideways look from a glacial green eye had them frozen in their tracks.
“Hm. Perhaps fighters were a good idea after all. This way.”
They, naturally, proceeded down the creepy hallway. The creepy factor didn’t improve as they went through a series of doors. The only thing that improved, in fact, was the darkness and the mustiness. As in, the darkened and the mustiness increased, drastically, and took on a coldly sharp edge.
Miruko and Hawks traded looks and subtly adjusted their stances to back each other up, prompting the others to do the same.
Midoriya just kept walking forward, hands loosely clasped behind his back. The boy also hummed very quietly, which had the heroes tensing further (though not as much as if they could have heard the mumbles that slipped out between notes about their quirks, strengths, and weakness).
The smell was the first thing that upped the scales from creepy to wrong-bad-awful-leave. Dry rot, old blood, stockpiled refuse, and sharp chemicals rarely make for happy stories.
It was slight at first, growing and twining from mustiness into something that had Miruko burrowing her nose in her costume’s ruff. By the time Midoriya had led them to a pair of double doors with empty windows all five heroes were wincing.
Midoriya stopped and turned to look back at the group, staring a moment as he took in their hunched postures and tight faces. “Ah. I’d forgotten.” He drew a small piece of serrated metal out of a pocket and cut off five strips of his already tattered coat before handing them to the heroes. “It’s about to get worse.”
The three local heroes snubbed the option, but Hawks and Miruko took theirs gratefully, though not without a surreptitious check to make sure the scraps didn’t have any obvious and suspicious stains.
“Mind the broken glass. There’s rather a lot of it.” Midoriya let the remaining rags fall to the floor as he pushed his way through the doors, stumbling a bit when one got caught and the kid had to put his shoulder into his attempt to force his way into the room.
He ignored the monster corpses once through, including the beaked thing that had been blocking the door.
The heroes didn’t have the same luxury, though to be fair, the corpses were everywhere.
Despite the pervasive smell of rot, the corpses all appeared fresh, even if most were in multiple pieces. There were arms and torsos and heads littering the ground amidst the broken shards of glass and shattered test tubes, if cylinders the size of elevators could be considered test tubes.
Midoriya walked a path through the corpses, casually stepping over the thin black leg of something with talons, in order to approach the center of the lab.
At the center there was a man sitting on the steps of a low dais. His eyes were closed but he seemed unbothered by the corpse lying right next to him, even though it was the only body both visibly human and unidentifiable by means of decomposition instead of mutilation.
Hawks hadn’t gone to UA and nether had Miruko, but both had worked with the Eraserhead before. The man was frequently called in on raids with unknown quirks involved or when dealing with criminal activity such as trafficking.
This man had Eraserhead’s tired posture and dark clothes, but he also had a gauntness to his frame and brittleness to his bones that made him almost unrecognizable. Certainly unapproachable.
Midoriya clearly didn’t care.
“Heya, Eraser. Any of them move?” Midoriya’s voice had a warmth to it that been previously so very absent.
“Two-“
A large hand suddenly reached for the tall, thin hero who’d been lurking at the back of their group, using Force Construct as a shield. Hawks caught the motion from the corner of his eyes, wings rising even as the sheer idiocy of the hero poking one of the downed bodies with his staff without even asking for a situational report registered.
Eraserhead’s eyes snapped open as Midoriya moved before any of the heroes did more than tense. The boy had pulled out a pipe, ostensibly from the same impossible pocket or coat dimension as the previous shard of metal, and beheaded the thing.
With a pipe.
“Three.” Eraserhead didn’t react further other than closing his eyes, obscuring burning red and letting lanky hair fall.
Izuku hummed, walking around the monster he’d downed before driving the pipe through the things skull and wedging it into the ground. He then walked right up to Eraserhead and sunk to the ground by his side, ignoring the puddle that was too green to be blood, and nuzzling in while latching onto Eraserhead’s arm.
Eraserhead simply lowered his head until his cheek pressed down onto dirty, wild, green hair.
“Shit.” Miruko’s voice was surprisingly soft. “Just shit. We need to get you both to a hospital.”
Both figures flinched, Eraserhead digging his head more firmly into Midoriya’s skull.
“No,” Eraserhead rasped. “No. What you need to do is a sweep of this room and make sure they’re all dead.”
“Beheading works!” Midoriya’s smile was not quite as creepy as the room, but really only needed a little practice to get there.
“Hey, no problem.” The third local hero lit her hand on fire, only to have it splutter and die under the weight of a red glare.
“No.” Midoriya’s voice had lost any of the warmth he’d gained when rejoining Eraserhead. He swept his free hand in a tada gesture, inviting the heroes to take another look at the corpses.
“Here’s your crash course on the Nomu; they have multiple quirks, all stolen; they have physical modifications that make them difficult to kill; they can occasionally still function even if in pieces; their first, second, and third instinct, without direction,” Midoriya’s eyes slid for a moment to the unidentifiable yet still human corpse next to the dais, “is to attack; and they were once human. Which is why you can’t burn them. We need the bodies somewhat intact for DNA.”
There was a long silence before Eraserhead sighed, cracking one red eye open and staring over the shoulders of the assembled heroes. “Congratulations on finding your missing people.”
“Ready, Zawa?”
“What do we have left to loose?”
“…”
“Problem Child?”
“You. I could loose you. I really don’t want that. I don’t think, I don’t think I’d handle that well.”
“Then don’t.”
“Haha. Right. Okay. Just so you know, I’ve decided we’re time travelling while hugging. Haha. You don’t get to let go now.”
“…Never.”
Eraserhead and Midoriya refused to be moved, not that the first-responding heroes tried very hard. Hawks removed his coat and draped it over Midoriya before heading off to discover if his feathers were sufficient for beheadings. The kid’s stare was somewhat confused, but Hawks still had the sense that he’d somehow won the enteral gratitude of the closed-eyed Eraserhead.
Miruko, on the other hand, earned Midoriya’s eternal gratitude by giving the kid her gloves with a gesture that indicated he should get Eraserhead’s trembling fingers in them, somehow. It wasn’t clear whether the trembles were from cold or shock or exhaustion, just like it wasn’t clear through the bandages just how recent the underground heroes missing fingers were, but she figured it couldn’t hurt.
She didn’t stick around to watch the kid succeed or to help coordinate the (puking) locals, but instead sped back through the corridor to check on that backup and deliver them down. Quickly.
So Midoriya and Eraserhead sat on that dais in that puddle as the lab slowly filled with heroes, hazmat, and other sundry officials. The only time they moved was when Midnight and Present Mic came running in, and that was an eerie turn of both their heads to the door with only Midoriya actually bothering to open his eyes.
The two heroes stuttered to the briefest of halts before focusing on Eraserhead and launching themselves around and through the chaos with the ease only granted to very experienced pros.
Midoriya shifted and put his palms on the ground, but changed his mind with a blind tug on his elbow from Eraserhead. He slid forward on the steps until he was leaning against Eraserhead’s shins, allowing Midnight and Present Mic to bracket Eraserhead on either side.
They were professionals and long time friends of Aizawa Shouta, however, so didn’t immediately latch on, despite the way Hizashi slammed to his knees and Nemuri’s hands shook.
“Shouta, oh Shouta.” Eraserhead held out a hand that Nemuri latched onto with all ten fingers, lowering her head until it rested on his shoulder.
Hizashi was caught, tears running down in his face, by a scrap of long, thin fabric sitting across Shouta’s knees.
Shouta still hadn’t looked at them.
Hizashi raised a trembling hand to Shouta’s cheek, breath punching out of the Voice Hero when he felt paper-thin skin chase the touch.
“You can’t turn it off, can you?”
Shouta’s breath hitched at the soft question. “No, no Zashi. They took Erasure and Zuku got it back but they returned it wrong.” His voice was a harsh barking rasp.
“Okay. Okay, Shou. I’ve got you.” Hizashi kept murmuring words, hoping they were mildly comforting since he couldn’t really think much beyond the feel of Shouta’s clammy forehead against his own.
Nezu’s approach was slower, more measured, the Principal unable to do anything other than take the full scope of the room he was walking through. He only stopped when he made it to the four heroes on the stairs (because Midoriya Izuku was a hero; Nezu had caught that bit about Izuku saving Aizawa’s quirk, had caught the fact that Aizawa’s clinginess was protective but also trusting, had caught the way the boy watched everything with a rigid wariness and an intent to handle whatever came their way).
Nezu placed one paw on Aizawa’s knee and one on Midoriya’s, meeting the kid’s gaze squarely. “I’m sorry you had to endure this, Midoriya.”
Midoriya watched Nezu right back, staring with his one eye in a manner that some heroes thrice his age couldn’t manage. “Thank you, Principal Nezu.”
Nezu simply nodded. He removed both hands to reach into his bag and tug out a long, thin piece of material that he gently dropped in Shouta’s lap.
They sat like that for hours. Izuku leant against Shouta’s shins, Nemuri’s hand on Izuku’s shoulder, and Hizashi’s hand pressed tight to Izuku’s palm (both heroes hearts had hurt when the boy had turned wondering eyes to them at their initial offer of contact).
Shouta leant against Nemuri and Hizashi, who sat on either side and held him up with arms looped around his back (capture weapon looped around his neck, loosely, but familiarly, the weight settling into his bones with the slowly permeating knowledge that his family was alive and safe).
Nezu leant against Izuku’s chest, letting the boy slowly wind an arm around the animal and press a tired head into Nezu’s fur (the warmth was bracing for Nezu who knew this wasn’t his nightmare, but loathed the similarities, and was going to make sure someone burned for forcing him back into a lab to reach his people).
They sat until the last Nomu had been confirmed dead and Nezu signalled Nemuri. She slowly withdrew her hands from both Shouta and Izuku, feeling the weight of their regard as she tore her costume on the sleeve and knocked the two survivors out cold.
They drooped into each other, and Hizashi let out a low keen as he shifted to catch their weight.
“They need a hospital.” Nemuri’s voice rasped after hours of disuse.
“They do.” Nezu hopped down. “Recovery Girl will meet us there.”
“I don’t think they have much stamina left for her to use for healing.” Hizashi spoke as he helped drape Izuku over Nemuri’s back. She had no trouble lifting the child, something Hizashi found himself replicating as he lifted a very light Shouta and cradled the man to his chest.
Nezu sighed as he led the way, heroes and workers parting neatly for him.
“No, I imagine not. Many of their injuries look long healed, as well. The hospital is primarily to ensure we limit the possibility of long-term damage from malnutrition or something improperly healed.”
Hizashi and Nemuri both made noises of assent as they focused on getting them out of the goddamn building.
Nezu looked back at the two sleeping heroes, watching the sunlight bring additional marks and scars to light. “Time might be the best healer for them, I’m afraid.”
“Fucking ow, Problem Child.”
“…”
“Pardon?”
“You were late, Zawa. Late.”
“Shit, how long were you here alone, Deku?”
“One month.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t struggle, Zawa. I get at least five minutes of hugs for spending a month thinking I’d time travelled alone.”
“Fine, fine. Can we at least move to the couch so we can plan as I get smothered?”
“Sure, old man, whatever your aching joints need. ”
“…I legitimately can’t remember the last time I felt this little pain.”
“I know, right?! So. Um. Did you see them?”
“No.”
“Zawa!”
“No, Problem Child. You were right about trauma and holes in the story. If I saw them I’d break the fuck down and Zashi and I weren’t-aren’t even together at this point. I texted him, and Nemuri and even Nezu. I got responses and confirmed they’re alive, and now I’m gong to break their hearts to ensure they stay that way.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, Zawa. Okay. Bakugou hasn’t had his wake up call and I don’t exactly have any friends yet and my mom, well. I’m not going through what you are. And we’re going to save them this time.”
“We’re going to save them all, Problem Child.”