Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Four days passed. Aizawa combed every inch of the cell for tools to aid in their escape.

He found none, but Izuku talked to him the whole time, asking questions until Aizawa was out of answers. He wanted to know everything, and Aizawa told him.

Aizawa himself asked questions rarely. He didn't want the kid shutting down on him like he had when Aizawa mentioned his roommate.

Some questions seemed acceptable, though. Like favorites. Favorite color (anything that isn't grey), favorite word ("Why?"), favorite animal (He didn't remember many animals, so he decided it was a cat like Aizawa).

On the fifth day, he asked a real question.

"Izuku?" He asked from the floor, where he was doing push-ups. "Can I ask you a big kid question?"

Izuku looked excited. "Yes!"

"You don't have to tell me." Aizawa told him warily. "But what is your quirk?"

There was a moment of silence, and Aizawa worried he had overstepped.

"I didn't have one." Izuku dangled his feet over the sit of the thin mattress. "I was... I..." He looked at Aizawa imploringly.

"You were quirkless?" Aizawa suggested.

"Yeah, that! But there's a man. He's huge. Bigger than you, and the guards. Like, All Might sized."

Aizawa tilted his head in appreciation. "Wow."

"I know, right? The doctors call him Master. He can give people quirks." Izuku scrunched up his nose. "It hurts, to get a quirk. And the rule is, each person gets only one quirk. When people get more than one, they turn into monsters. But I'm special. Quirkless kids can take a bunch of quirks without going crazy!"

Aizawa tried to process the information the kid was giving him. His brain felt like it was being flooded with knowledge. Every thought he conceived branched out with a hundred different questions he wanted to ask about it.

However, one question shoved its way to the front of his mind. "This man, he can give people quirks?"

Izuku nodded emphatically, tugging at a loose curl. "But only one per person, or boom, they’re a monster! Or they die."

Aizawa appreciated the sound effect. "Do you know if he can also take quirks?"

Izuku thought for a moment. "I suppose, he must be able to. Where else would he get them from, ya know?"

"Yeah." Aizawa's stomach was on the floor.

He had been wondering why they bothered locking him up. He had been collecting information on this part of the criminal underground— the calculated, organized part— for months. It started with a few isolated incidents of unprecedented cruelty; a warehouse full of corpses, and the children.

The children would disappear for months, or even years, only to be found, usually dead, with morphed, disfigured bodies. Some had grown mutations that their bodies couldn't support, such as scales or antlers. The ones left alive suffered an equally gruesome fate. Their minds were completely shattered. Most were silent and dead-eyed, not bothering to eat, not sleeping until they collapsed from exhaustion. Some of them were wild. Screaming, babbling incoherently, scratching at their own flesh, biting and kicking until they couldn't anymore.

After those children started appearing, Aizawa started investigating. Looking at Izuku, the cell, the markings on the wall, this whole place, he realized just how deep this went.

Whoever this 'Master' was, he was torturing and killing children.

And he was probably planning to steal Aizawa's quirk.

"I'm going to get us out of here." Aizawa hissed. He glared at the security camera. "I'm never letting them touch you again."

Izuku cupped his bare feet in his hands to warm them up. "Okay." His voice was still bright and happy like it always was, but Aizawa could tell Izuku didn't believe him.

"Can I ask a few more questions?" Aizawa asked. He hated to pressure the kid like this, but he wanted to know everything he could about the enemy.

"Yeah, it's okay. I don't mind them." Izuku nodded his permission.

"Why does this 'Master' give you quirks? Why doesn't he just keep them all?" Aizawa asked.

Izuku answered quickly. "Some quirks are useful, but they are harmful to him. He wanted to keep them stored and safe but not have to keep them himself."

Aizawa wanted to strangle— he didn’t want to call him master— this man. Whoever he was. He didn't care that he was in a jail cell with no weapons. He's rip him apart with his own hands. It was so greedy it repulsed him. To use humans like storehouses to hold stolen quirks that you don't want to be responsible for. He wondered faintly what quirks Izuku had been burdened with. Was Izuku in pain because of them? Should he activate Erasure?

He was about to ask Izuku when he heard the lock rattle.

Izuku paled, his mouth snapped shut and his eyes filled with terror.

Aizawa quickly stood in front of him, creating a barrier between the boy and the door.

He wondered who would be behind it. The guards from last time? The man?

It swung open to reveal a man in a labcoat flanked by two different but no less bulky guards.

"Ah," The man said. He was short, and his height contrasted comically with the guards who were much taller than average. He was bald as an egg, with glasses that looked more like goggles and a large, bushy grey mustache. "Forty-two."

Izuku shrunk away.

"That's not his name." Aizawa spat, keeping his tone level. "Release us both. Right now."

"Eraserhead." The man inclined his head respectfully. "Dr. Kyudai Garaki at your service. Unfortunately, I'm not supposed to do any experiments on you. If only I could, I might find a way to replicate that fascinating quirk of yours... no matter, no matter. Please step aside so we can reach forty-two. We'll come back for you shortly, do not worry, but the master needs to store a quirk within him, quickly."

"No way in hell." Aizawa spat, before charging.

For some reason, this caught the guards and the doctor by surprise. Aizawa rolled his eyes. Had they actually expected him to become docile from just a few days in a tiny cell?

He ducked low, and punched up, catching the doctor by the chin and sending him flying. The guards both attacked, but Aizawa quickly canceled one of their quirks and swung his leg in a heavy kick which left one of them kneeling and wailing in pain. He turned on the other and attacked ferociously, jumping up and slamming them onto the ground with a tackle. he wrapped his hands around their throat until they lost consciousness.

He turned to Izuku. "Let's go."

Izuku looked at him, and then at the guards groaning on the ground. He stood and followed Aizawa, though he spent some time to deliver a sharp kick to Dr. Garaki’s gut.

The doctor moaned in pain, and Izuku smiled, following Aizawa out into the hallway. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the white halls and bright, electric lights.

It almost felt too easy to take down those guards. Maybe they’d assumed he would still be injured.

Aizawa paused. Now that he thought about it, his injuries had been pretty bad. He had assumed he had one or two broken ribs. But after only a week, he was up and fighting again.

He touched his side, which had been painted with cuts and bruises just days before. He been struck from behind and descended upon by a group of them, held down and kicked until he blacked out.

When he came to, he was being dragged to the cell.

He pushed his unnatural healing out of his mind and focused on the hall in front of him.

He ran, choosing the direction his gut took him towards.

He tried to remember all the twists and turns of the hallway, until his memory failed him and he relied on instinct.

He eventually came out at a long, central looking hallway and spotted a staircase at one end.

He took off towards it, barely even out of breath.

He paused at the bottom, though, and waited for Izuku to catch up.

The boy was red faced and exhausted, panting and wobbling on his feet.

Aizawa knelt down. “I’ll carry you.” He said firmly.

Izuku didn’t put up much of a fight, climbing on to Aizawa’s back and clinging like a sloth.

Aizawa set his eyes on the door at the top of the stairs. He cleared them quickly, arriving in front of the door at the top. He gripped the handle and was about to charge forward when a deep, sickening voice spoke behind him.

“Eraserhead. I’m afraid I’m going to need you to stop there.”

Aizawa could tell, even before turning around who it was.

His heart dropped.

Chapter Text

Aizawa didn’t turn around. He could feel Izuku trembling while clinging to his back. The boy was light as a leaf, his grip loose and gentle. Aizawa felt a fierce stab of protectiveness.

The air seemed to shiver with tension and he knew that the moment he moved, this villain would attack.

Aizawa had dealt with hundreds of villains, and he had learned to recognize when he was dealing with a dangerous one. He didn’t know what this villain wanted, but he knew the man could kill him.

“Izuku,” the man was the first the break the silence. His voice was gravely and strained. “Come here.”

Aizawa frowned. Why did the villain sound so… desperate?

He took a gamble, and spun around, activating his quirk the minute he laid eyes on the villain.

He almost blinked in surprise.

The villain’s face was contorted with wounds, wounds that looked fresh. The man was limping, one of his hands raised to the wall to support himself. It was a miracle he was still standing.

“Izuku,” the man growled, his voice full of warning, but Aizawa could still hear that sick desperation. “Now.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the villain, grasping the doorknob behind him, and almost crying with relief when the door swung open.

“Wait—!” The man yelled, but Aizawa was already gone, racing through the door faster than he had ever gone before.

He heard a crash behind him and a scream of pain, but he didn’t turn.

He was in a warehouse now, tall ceilinged and large. He spotted a window high on the wall, and through it shone the yellow light of day.

He cursed quietly, wishing for his capture weapon, and started scanning the warehouse for a door. He didn’t see one, and instead ducked behind a pile of crates.

“Mr. Aizawa?” Izuku whispered.

Aizawa squeezed Izuku’s hand lightly. “It’s okay. Hold on and stay quiet.”

He felt Izuku nod, and his grip tighten. He could only imagine how terrified the child was. The thought made him push down his own fear and think.

The crates were the huge kind that were usually carried on huge ships— and they were piled high. High enough to reach a window.

“Find them!” A voice echoed, and Aizawa glanced out from his hiding spot and saw four quirked villains fanning out in the space.

He glanced back at the window and frowned. He shouldn’t jump from that height with Izuku.

He had to find an exit. He ducked low and made his way toward the front of the warehouse. Something whizzed past his head and he dived down, hitting the ground and rolling behind a crate.

“He’s here! He has the kid!” The villain shouted, and Aizawa glanced out and saw a woman with a thick, spiked tail. She spotted him and launched one of the spikes at him. He barely ducked away in time, the spike grazing his cheek. He let out a slight hiss of pain.

Izuku made a tiny noise of concern. “I’m alright.” Aizawa assured him. Suddenly, the pain seemed to lessen. Aizawa frowned. Why…?

He didn’t have time to think about it. The villain with the spiked tail turned the corner and hurled a spike at his face. He rolled out of the way and aimed a kick at her. She dodged, and he ran, praying she didn’t aim for Izuku, who was clinging to his back. Luckily, she didn’t send any more spiked after him, and he weaved through the boxes to escape her.

He spotted a door across the warehouse and sprinted towards it. Behind him, all four villains chased. He reached the door and pulled.

It was locked.

Aizawa bit back a curse and spun around so Izuku was protected and Aizawa could face the villains.

He activated his quirk immediately, and they halted their advance.

He quickly assessed their quirks. The spike-tailed woman seemed to be the leader, a man with an unidentifiable quirk and a knife, and the two bulky guards he recognized as the two that had brought him to his cell had strength quirks.

“I’m hot,” Izuku muttered.

Aizawa frowned. “Are you sick?”

One of the villains faked a lunge and he held up his arms to block the fake blow.

“No…” suddenly, Aizawa felt an intense heat at his back, and Izuku let go of him, falling to the ground.

Aizawa glanced down in concern, in time to see Izuku raise a hand to the solid, metal door, and— and melt it?

The door turned orange with heat, before collapsing into a pile of searing lava. It singed the ground and left a hole in the warehouse wall.

Aizawa’s jaw fell open, despite himself.

“What the hell…” one of the villains mumbled, and Aizawa shared the sentiment. However, years of being a hero had taught him to act first and think later when it comes to escaping. He scooped up Izuku, who was warm to the touch but not as hot as before, and bolted.

Fresh air hit his face as he exited the warehouse. It was evening, and everything was lit by the orange glow of the setting sun. The area was startlingly normal— it was the industrial part of town, a few other large warehouses also crowded the area which was fenced off. Beyond the fence were buildings that gradually grew into the apartment complexes and tall buildings of the city.

“Chase him, idiots!” The spike-tailed villain hollered, but Aizawa was in his element.

He slid into an alley and easily pulled ahead of the villains, vaulting over a (thankfully not electrified) fence, and clambering onto the roof of a building.

In his arms, Izuku let out a small gasp.

The sun was setting beautifully over the city, and the sight was dazzling. Aizawa wondered faintly if Izuku remembered what sunsets were.

“Pretty,” Izuku mumbled.

“Yeah,” Aizawa agreed, leaping to another building. “Real pretty.”

He made his way naturally around the rooftops, reaching a district he recognized and navigated to an apartment there— not his own apartment, not just yet.

He landed lightly on the small balcony, and rapped on the glass sliding door. He heard a loud crash from within the apartment, and took it as his cue to enter.

“Hizashi?” Aizawa called. “Do you have your radio?”

Hizashi barreled out of his room, his hair down instead of in its usual spikes, wearing striped shorts and a t-shirt.

“Shouta! Oh my god, you’re okay! We’ve been searching for days, where have you been—“ he paused, squinting. “Uh, whatcha got there?”

Izuku peeked his head over Aizawa’s shoulder.

“It’s a long story. I’ll give you the short of it. I was investigating that drug ring I mentioned earlier? I went to investigate on my own.”

“Idiot! I told you—“

“I know! I just went to check it out, but I made some connections, realized it was a bigger operation, and so I went in. Tried to infiltrate.”

“…And got caught.” Hizashi finished.

“Yeah, that.” Aizawa sighed. “They threw me in some type of cell. With this kid.”

Izuku, who was playing with a curly strand of Aizawa’s hair, glanced up.

“Alright. I have a few questions.”

“Okay,”

“And by a few, I mean a lot. I have a lot of questions.” Hizashi ran a hand through his hair.

“Can they wait? I want as many heroes as you can wrangle to go bust that place.”

Hizashi sighed, tossing his radio to Aizawa.

He clicked the radio on and spoke into it. “Attention all available units. Please head to the warehouses west of the main city. All available units, please go to the warehouses west of the main city.”

A moment later, a crackly, feminine voice replied. “Holy shit, Shou— er, Eraserhead? That you?” He recognized the speaker as Midnight.

He sighed. “Yes. Please don’t use the public channel for—“

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” Came another voice. “You said the warehouses?”

“Headed there right now!” Someone else chimed.

Aizawa smiled at the familiar voices. It was nice to know he was missed.

“I’ve gotta go to. I need you to watch the kid.” He told Hizashi.

Izuku froze. “No,” he whispered. “I wanna stay with you.”

Aizawa peeled the child off of him and set him down. “I’ll be back soon. Hizashi, look after him.”

“I want to help—“

“I have to go.” Aizawa moved to the window. “Thanks, Zashi. I owe you for this one.”

And he was gone.

-

Izuku stared up at the man Aizawa had called Hizashi. He was tall, and he had yellow hair. Izuku wished Aizawa was here.

“Hey kiddo,” Hizashi knelt on the ground, meeting Izuku’s eyes. Izuku glanced away. “What’s your name?”

“Izuku,” he mumbled.

“Izuku?” Hizashi smiled. “What a great name!”

Izuku smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Izuku, do you want some hot chocolate?” Hizashi asked suddenly.

Izuku tilted his head. “What?”

“Hot chocolate. You know. Kid-friendly coffee?” Hizashi prompted.

Izuku looked at the ground. “I don’t know what it is.”

Hizashi gasped. “We have to fix that right away! Let’s sit you down on the couch and I’ll fix you some hot chocolate.”

Hizashi led Izuku to the living room, switched the tv to some cartoon, and set about preparing the drink.

Izuku wasn’t paying attention to the cartoon. He peeked over the back of the couch to watch Hizashi prepare the drink.

His mind drifted to Aizawa. Would he be okay? He had messaged some other heroes, so he wouldn’t be alone…

Still, Izuku worried.

“Done!” Hizashi announced loudly, and Izuku cringed at the noise. “Ah, sorry, I can be a bit loud.” He made his way into the living room, holding a steaming mug. “Careful, it’s pretty hot. Blow on it and take tiny sips.”

Izuku took the mug. It was yellow and had a cat on it. Inside, three white lumps floated in a brown liquid. Izuku poked one of them experimentally.

“Marshmallows.” Hizashi told him.

“Marshmallows.” Izuku repeated.

They looked like the white clouds he had seen in the orange sky.

Izuku blew, and took a sip.

His eyes bulged.

“It’s good!” He exclaimed, and Hizashi chuckled.

Izuku took another sip, savoring the sweet taste of the drink. The hot chocolate.

Didn’t remember any foods from before. Only the repetitive food he was given in the cell. This was so much better. Did all outside good taste like this?

He finished the drink quickly, and Hizashi announced he would make them again tomorrow night.

Izuku couldn’t wait.

He tried to stay awake, his eyes focused on the sliding door to the balcony, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

He fell asleep on the couch. For once, he wasn’t cold.