Chapter Text
Aizawa tried to snarl at his captors, but he couldn’t even lift his head.
There was one on either side of him, a man and a woman. Villains with brute strength quirks, both of them. They dragged him down twisting, hallways that at one point must have been a stark white but now had peeling, yellowing paint, laughing to themselves and speaking in English Aizawa had trouble understanding. Hizashi had tried getting him to learn, but Aizawa was still rubbish at translating it, especially with the accents these two had.
They stopped in front of a low door. Strangely, the door was metal. It stuck out like a sore thumb against all the white.
“You bring ‘im in,” the woman barked in Japanese. “He’s no danger without his capture weapon.”
Aizawa felt a spark of indignation that quickly fizzled out when the man yanked him forward roughly, causing his wounds to burn. He sucked in a quiet breath, clenching his teeth.
The man spoke in a gruff voice that matched the woman’s. Aizawa wondered faintly if they were related.
“You jus’ don’ wanna see the kid. You’re scared of him, I rekon.” The man spoke in accented Japanese.
The kid? Were they talking about him? Aizawa frowned as the metal doors many locks were opened. He was pretty sure he didn’t look like a kid. Sure, he’d just shaved his stubble, but really.
The door swung open, letting out a rush if chilled air and revealing an all-metal room. Aizawa didn’t have the strength to lift his head, so he was stuck staring at the metal floor. It was skratched up with crude drawings, like those of a child.
He had a moment to wonder why they were there before he was thrown to the ground and the pain from his injuries made him black out.
-
Izuku was used to being cold. It was a part of him now. It had seeped so deep into his bones that he barely noticed it.
Even with the blanket wrapped around his small, gaunt shoulders, and his knees pulled up to his chin, he was cold.
He always dreaded his meals arriving, because it meant he had to leave his warm huddle to collect the food. It wasn’t as though the room was freezing. At the beginning of his stay, Izuku moved around his room most of the day. Now, he stayed in his corner. He didn’t draw much anymore.
Izuku dreaded the cell door opening.
When it did, he knew it would mean pain and hurt, and tears he couldn’t stop.
But it also meant a short, momentary burst of warm air from outside. It meant he got to leave the cold cell.
Despite himself, Izuku always leaned towards it, savoring the warmth.
He had been sitting in his bed, doodling on the wall with a sharp screw he used to draw on the metal walls, when the door burst open, letting out the cold and bringing in the warm.
“Buggar, why do they keep it so cold in here.” The man who walked in cursed. Izuku didn’t recognize him, but he was large and terrifying, so he had to be a guard. Izuku shrank back and clutched his blanket around himself. Then his eyes traveled down to the man held limply in the guards arms.
He wore all black. He had long-sleeves, gloves, and shoes, which Izuku envied. He wanted shoes. He couldn’t see the man’s face because a curtain of black hair covered it, and Izuku almost scooted forward in curiosity.
The guard spared him a glance and sneered. “Damn creep.” He threw the other man to the ground. “Meet your new roommate.”
Izuku blanched. He opened his mouth to speak, and the words came out hollow and desperate. He hadn’t talked in months. “No. No roommate.”
The large guard laughed cruelly, and slammed the door.
Izuku felt his lower lip begin to quiver.
He had a roomate— or, a cellmate— once before.
A man. A big man, like the guard.
Izuku really, really hated to remember his cell mate.
This man was smaller. And he wasn’t moving.
Izuku didn’t dare to move even an inch. He kept his eyes focused on the man.
He stared. And stared.
He was tired.
No! Izuku scolded himself quietly. He had to stay awake. He had to…
…stay awake.
Izuku fell asleep limply, he head lolling to the side, his lips parted, and his fingers still clutching the blanket.
-
Aizawa woke up with dull aches permeating his body. His cheek was pressed up against cold metal, and his neck ached angrily from being twisted while he slept.
He groaned and pushed himself up slowly, one hand massaging his neck and then darting to his stomach, which was no doubt blooming with bruises by now.
He cursed himself for being caught. He was supposed to be scouting what they thought was a low-level drug ring operation. Aizawa should have gone back and reported when he found out heard it was a larger scale but he didn’t want to wait.
Aizawa bit back a frustrated sigh. He had been prideful. He thought he could take the whole thing down himself.
And now he was in some sort of prison cell.
He looked up and glanced around.
His eyes swept over walls covered in scratches and shapes, a small door Aizawa hoped led into a bathroom, or even better, a way out. And finally…
A bed.
With a boy on it.
Aizawa’s eyes zeroed in on the boy, and he pulled himself to his feet in alarm. The child lay huddled in the corner of a thin plastic mattress, a ratty blanket pulled up around his shoulders. He had a nest of green hair that looked long overdue for a trim, pale skin that looked as though it hadn’t seen the light of day in far too long, and a worried expression on his face. Aizawa wondered if he had having a nightmare.
The bed frame was rusted metal, and Aizawa had a feeling it creaked loudly whenever the small boy moved.
He seemed to be sleeping, at least for the moment.
Aizawa debated on what he should do.
Sit and recuperate? Try and wake the kid up, test the doors? Try and activate his quirk? Demand his immediate release? Check out his injuries?
Aizawa’s eyes moved to the ceiling, in the corner of which a security camera stared mockingly down at him.
Aizawa glared at it for a moment, and made a move towards the door when he heard a squeak behind him.
He turned to see the little boy with both of his tiny hands covering his mouth, emerald green eyes wide with fear.
“Hey,” Aizawa spoke softly, not moving from where he stood. “Hey, I won’t hurt you, kid.”
The kid kept his hands pressed to his mouth, his eyes going, if possible, wider.
He had a light smattering of freckles across his face. They looked dull and faded, like the rest of his complexion. The only thing that stuck out were his wild green eyes.
Aizawa felt anger curl in his gut, and had to carefully keep his face soft and relaxed to try and calm the boy down. He wanted to scream. He wanted to get his capture weapon back and burn this place to the ground, for daring to keep a child locked in a place like this.
“What’s your name?” He tried. “I’m Aizawa. Aizawa Shouta.”
He waited, counting silently in his head. When he reached twenty-seven, he spoke again.
“I’m a hero.”
This got the boy’s attention. His eyes sparked with a momentary hope.
He dropped his hands from his mouth, and his lips parted in surprise.
“A hero?” He whispered. His voice was hoarse and shaky.
Aizawa nodded. “Yeah. I fight bad guys.”
Izuku thought about this. “Bad guys…” his eyes dropped to his hands, which fidgeted with the blanket’s edge. Aizawa imagined at one point, he was full of energy just like any other little kid.
“I’m trapped here.” Aizawa continued, trying to made the kid feel comfortable. “Just like you are, right? I won’t hurt you. I won’t come near you, if you don’t want me to.”
“Yeah.” The kid nodded, his curly hair bouncing. “I’m trapped.”
The kid considered Aizawa, his posture relaxing slightly.
“My name is Izuku.” He confided. “Izuku Midoriya. But here, they give us numbers.”
Aizawa looked up sharply at this, and the kid flinched back. “Sorry to startle you,” he amended. “But you mentioned someone else down here?”
“The doctors. I’m number forty-two.” Izuku pulled his arm out of the blankets, revealing his white short-sleeved shirt. Aizawa felt himself shiver on the boys behalf. No wonder he was clutching that blanket, he must be freezing. He turned his arm towards Aizawa, revealing a stark black tattoo in the middle of his forearm.
Aizawa’s anger flared like a red-hot iron. “Do you know any of the doctor’s names?” Aizawa asked.
Izuku shook his head. “They’re bad guys, right?” He asked.
Aizawa nodded gravely and shifted in his position on the floor. “Definitely. Does that door lead to the bathroom?” He nodded toward it.
Izuku nodded. “But they only unlock it two times a day. The little light in the corner shows when it’s unlocked.”
Aizawa saw a tiny red light glaring at him from the upper corner of the door.
“My last roommate—“ Izuku started, then he blanched and tugged up the blanket again. “Also a bad guy.” He whispered.
“What did he do?” Aizawa asked before he could stop himself.
Izuku bit his lip, then whispered, “He just… went right in here. On the floor.”
Aizawa frowned. “He went? What do you—“ Realization hit him. Then disgust. “Oh, god.”
Izuku nodded, his nose scrunched.
They lapsed into silence, Izuku playing with the fraying blanket quietly.
Aizawa sank to the floor and crossed his legs, admiring the drawings around the room.
“You draw these?” He asked Izuku.
Izuku brightened, and scampered across the bed. Aizawa saw he was wearing white shorts, and white socks. He looked no older than seven of eight, and terrifyingly thin.
Izuku fidgeted with one of the small metal screws in the bed frame, before pulling one out. He brandished it proudly.
“I use this one to draw.” He explained. He pointed at a wall covered in tiny vertical scratches. “I do one scratch every day.”
Aizawa looked at the wall in horror. Scratches covered almost all of it, drawn in neat, long rows. The only part of the wall not covered was the upper section, probably because the kid couldn’t reach. The marks reached higher on the wall near the bed, and Aizawa smiled slightly when he imagined the kid standing on the mattress to reach.
He really did get attached too easily.
“And the drawings on the floor?” Aizawa asked, getting over his shock.
Izuku hopped down, hesitated, then stepped closer to Aizawa and pointed.
“This one is All Might.” Izuku told him. Aizawa squinted at the blob for a moment, trying to twist his head in the right direction to see the picture. Were those spikes his hair?
“It looks just like him.” He told Izuku, who glowed at the praise.
“I sort of forgot what he looks like.” Izuku confided. “But I did my best!”
He hopped excitedly around the room, showing Aizawa his drawings of cats and rainbows. He was amazed the kid had shedded his nervous, shy exterior so quickly. He was still hesitant around Aizawa of course, scampering away when he realized how close he was and flinching when Aizawa moved, but he chattered Aizawa’s ear off and Aizawa didn’t mind one bit.
Izuku had invited him to sit on the bed, so Aizawa reclined on it and answered Izuku’s questions about heroism and UA (the boy nearly exploded when he found out Aizawa was a teacher there). In turn, Izuku explained what daily life in the prison was like. A few times, he almost forgot he was in a cell.
“—And everyday, three meals arrive. That’s how I keep track of days. It’s always the same thing, and they slip it through that little crack in the door.” Izuku pointed animatedly, bouncing a little. He did a lot of bounding and fidgeting and twisting around. Aizawa had to resist the urge to hug this kid and never let go.
Aizawa fidgeted casually with the screw. Izuku had handed it to him and pointed out a blank section of wall for him to make him own tally mark on. It stood out starkly, glaring at him from across the cell. Aizawa promised himself neither he nor Izuku would add anymore scratches to the walls.
He hated that he probably wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.
“Will they bring an extra meal for me?” Aizawa wondered casually, glancing over in alarm when he saw Izuku freeze up.
“I…” Izuku itched his freckled cheek. “Last time, they kept on bringing food for one, even with my roommate. Just like how they didn’t give us another bed.”
A question danced on the tip of Aizawa’s tongue. But one look at Izuku made him bite it back.
“Guess we have to split it then.” He sighed, and Izuku brightened.
“Yeah, split it!” He agreed.
Aizawa had a lot of moments like that, where he buried a question for later. He had a lot of them— when did the kid get here? Why is he here? Where are his parents? What’s his quirk? Why did he flinch when Aizawa asked him about his last roommate? Is there any way for him to escape?
Instead, he explained underground heroes to Izuku and told him about his current students at UA. He explained how it was his first year teaching, and he had expelled almost half the class.
“What!” Izuku exclaimed in horror. “Half?”
Aizawa nodded. “I want to expel more, but Hizashi keeps yelling at me about it.” He noticed Izuku’s scandalized face. “They aren’t kicked out of UA. They just go to another homeroom teacher.”
Izuku let out a relieved sigh. Then his tilted his head in confusion. “What’s the point of expelling them, then?”
Aizawa had never really had to put his reasoning into words before. He rolled the screw between two fingers. “A lot of the kids who make it into UA are headstrong. Since they have the most powerful quirks of any kids their age, they tend to be pretty overconfident. Partially, it’s a reality check for them.”
Izuku considered his words thoughtfully.
“Young kids also confuse being self-sacrificial with being suicidal. So I expel them to give them a sort of ‘death.’” Aizawa smiled. “I’ve been teaching for three years. So far, every single winner of the sports festival has been one of my students or ex-students.”
“Woah!” Izuku grinned. “Guess it works then, huh?”
“I guess so.” Aizawa reached out and ruffled the kids hair, before realizing what he was doing. He froze for a minute, but Izuku looked content, leaning towards him slightly.
“I wanna go to UA.” Izuku whispered. “If I get out of here.”
“I’m sure you could.” Aizawa promised him. “How old are you now?”
“Nine, I think.” Izuku told him. “Maybe ten though. I did a bad job keeping track of the months down here.”
“It’s the third of August.” Aizawa told him.
Izuku brightened. “Oh wow, I was way off!” He giggled. “I’m ten.”
Ten. The kid was way too small for his age.
“When’s your birthday?” Aizawa asked.
“July fifteenth.” Izuku told him. “I thought it was July right now.”
Aizawa tried not to think how many birthdays Izuku must have celebrated down here. Alone.
“Well, congratulations.” Aizawa told him, withdrawing his hand. “Happy birthday, Izuku.”
“Thanks, Mr. Aizawa!”
Aizawa cringed at the name. They’d have to work on that.
His eyes fixed on the exit of the cell. As soon he found a way to get them out of here.