Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku taps a pen to his bottom lip, thinking. Some would say looking through the newspaper for jobs was old fashioned, but usually the job offers put out into the paper didn’t ask for much information on the person they’re hiring. 

The last job he got was as a delivery person, though he still doesn’t know what he delivered from one side of the city to the other. And he doesn’t want to know. His employer for that particular job kept to themselves and only spoke to Izuku long enough to, one, give vague threats to not tell anyone, and two, to give Izuku a wad of cash. Which helped pay for groceries for the upcoming week. 

Ever since his deadbeat father left them, citing some excuse about “needing to find himself,” because “Izuku is clearly not his,” his poor mom has had to take on extra shifts at her job at the local hospital, as well as picking up a second job as a receptionist for a dental office. 

It makes him unspeakably angry. 

How was it fair that his father could continue his life, unbothered, when both his mom and Izuku were struggling to get by? 

They downsized, moving from the apartment he knew all his life to a one bedroom apartment on the sketchier side of the city. His mom tried to give him the bedroom, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his mom’s last comfort away from her. She thought the same way, just in the opposite direction, so they compromised. On the days she had to work a double, Izuku could have the bed (at least on the doubles she worked overnight). And on the nights she was home, Izuku would refuse to step foot in the bedroom (lest his mom somehow convince him to take the bed, while she took the floor or couch). She needed rest, and Izuku would be damned if he didn’t make sure she got it. 

Even worse than being forced to relocate from his childhood home-and maybe this is childish of him-was him having to sell his merch collection. His mom didn’t ask that of him, but at the time he hadn’t been able to work (being only eleven). 

He felt useless (just as Kacchan always said he was). 

So, he decided to pawn anything of value. 

He still attends Aldera, though now he has to get up even earlier and ride the city bus. The other kids make fun of him - thankfully (and he uses that word loosely) still only for his quirklessness. Either they have no idea he’s been knocked down a class or two, or they don’t care about that. 

Kacchan, to his credit, has backed off (to some extent). But every so often he’ll corner Izuku, and do his usual spiel on all the ways Izuku's useless, worthless, and can’t possibly become a hero. 

And, while it hurts to admit, Izuku agrees with him. 

Not because he’s quirkless, but because even if he does get in, he won’t be able to afford to attend. There are scholarships, but none of them would be nearly enough. So, he spares himself the emotional pain of almost making it (or being straight-up rejected), and applies to an affordable, normal-enough highschool closer to their apartment. 

After school, he browses through the daily newspaper, circling and highlighting jobs that look somewhat legit. He might be desperate, but he would very much like to not be kidnapped by some creep and kept in a basement. 

“Huh, caretaker?” Izuku briefly skims the listing. It looks….simple enough. 

He highlights the phone number. 

-x-x-x-

Mikumo Atakani crosses off yet another name. He sighs heavily, leaning back in his swivel chair. How hard is it to find someone that is both authoritative enough to take care of his hard-headed little brother and pliant enough to do whatever he says?

A knock on his office door shakes him from his reverie. 

He straightens up. “Come in,” he orders.

One of his minions-some nobody with a flexibility quirk-steps into his office. “Hello, master, another applicant for the job posting you put out is here.”

“Well? Bring them in. I don’t have all day.”

The minion nods frantically. It’s so fun to see them get so worked up. He hadn’t even threatened him. 

A young boy with curly, green hair and green eyes is pushed into his office before the doors are once again shut. 

“H-hello, sir.”

It might be rude of Mikumo, but he can’t stop staring at the boy in front of him. There’s something about him….

He snaps back to reality, realizing the boy is staring at him. He coughs to disguise his moment of absentmindedness. “Hello…..” 

The boy trembles a little, fidgeting with his hands. “Midoriya Izuku….sir.”

He chuckles. “Let’s chat, Midoriya Izuku.”

-x-x-x-

Izuku is sure he has the wrong address. The house is about twenty miles outside the city, and has a tall wrought-iron gate surrounding the premises. There’s even a tower overlooking everything with people carrying weapons of all sorts. 

His gut twists.

But his mom needs the money. And this job might even help her be able to quit her receptionist job. He knows she hates it there. Her boss is overtly misogynistic, and her coworkers are cruel. He’s heard her cry herself to sleep enough for a lifetime. 

Izuku needs to do this. He owes it to the woman who has raised him (and continues to whenever she has the time). 

He approaches the gate, still wearing his backpack (the only bus that could bring him this far ran twice a day - once at three in the afternoon, and once at ten at night). He at least remembered a change of clothes, so he doesn’t have to show up in his high school uniform. Though, his button-up dress shirt (the one thing his father forgot in his haste to abandon their family) and black slacks that he has to roll up to keep from stepping on the ends, aren’t much of an improvement. Especially when he still has his red sneakers on. 

Someone shoves a gun in his face. “Identify yourself!”

“I-Izuku Midoriya! I called earlier about the job posting.” He holds his hands in front of his chest, trying desperately not to look at the gun dangerously close to his head. 

The guard eyes him, muttering something into his com. They stand there for a moment, eyeing each other, before a garble reply comes through. 

“Let him in.”

He’s led to a set of double, extra-tall, doors. The guard who accosted him outside confiscated his bag, so he has nothing on him. He was reassured by the person leading him inside that he would get it back after the interview. 

The person-a much kinder-looking man with hair the color of a campfire-knocks on the door. 

Idly, Izuku wonders what kind of quirk the man has. Something fire related? Those weren’t particularly rare. Hell, his own father has one. 

Before he can ask, Izuku is pulled into the office. The person whispers good luck to him, scampering off. 

A man behind a large oak desk. He’s…..

….tall. 

Very tall, and suddenly, all the high shelves and doorways make sense. 

“Hello, sir,” he says. 

But the man just continues to stare at him. 

Did he do something wrong? He fidgets with his hands - a nervous habit he’s never been able to break. 

Finally, he speaks. “Hello…” The man raises an eyebrow, obviously expecting Izuku to introduce himself.

Oops! How could Izuku be so stupid! 

He stands straight, forcing his arms to his sides. “Midoriya Izuku…..sir.”

The man leans in, the corners of his mouth uptick into a small smile. “Let’s chat, Midoriya Izuku.”

Izuku nods, staying put. 

“Take a seat,” the man says, motioning to a chair in front of his desk. 

“O-of course, sir.”

The minute he takes a seat, the man is back to staring at him in silence. Which makes Izuku feel a little awkward, but he’s not in any position to say so. He squirms in the chair. 

“How old are you, Izuku-Kun?” He asks, which is a little forward. Most people don’t just use first names during a first meeting, but once again Izuku can’t say anything about it. 

At least it’s better than Deku.

“Fifteen, sir. I’ll be sixteen in July.”

The man nods, jotting something down on the paper in front of him. “And what about your family? Tell me about them.”

Izuku clamps up. This person seems….very powerful. What if he messes up and they hurt his mom? 

“You can trust me, Izuku-Kun. I only ask because the position requires you to take care of a family member of mine.”

That eases Izuku up just the tiniest bit. “I’m an only child and live with my mom.”

“No one else…?”

“No- uh…uh my father…he’s not around.” Izuku fights back the tears. One would think, after four years of this, he would be used to it. He isn’t. 

If the man notices him tearing up, he says nothing. “Okay, and two more questions. One, what’s your quirk?”

In a voice more befitting for a mouse than a fifteen-year-old, Izuku says, “I’m….uh…quirkless.”

The man looks at him strangely-not the way others do (which is usually a mix of disgust and pity)-but in a way that indicates interest. 

“Oh?”

“I-is that going to be a problem?”

“No.” The answer comes without hesitation. “I was simply curious. Last question, what made you want to apply?”

Izuku squirms. The chair he sits in dwarfs him, as does everything else in this house. It makes him feel….small. 

He takes time to process what the man asked. 

Why did he want to apply for this job? It was one of many job postings in the daily paper, there had been no information on what benefits he would be receiving, nor pay or the duration of how long he was to work. Just a small blurb about needing a “caretaker” and a phone number. 

He took it on a whim. 

He applied because someone hiring out for a caretaker likely has some money, and not the kind that’s handed off to him in a off-white envelope. 

He applied because they’re short five hundred for this month’s rent (partially due to being short last month), and their landlord is starting to run out of patience. 

He applied because his mom routinely works seventy-two hours straight with less than two hours of sleep. 

“I didn’t want to apply, sir,” he says, summoning the courage to look the man in the eyes.

“Really now?”

“I needed to apply.”

“Do go on.”

Izuku takes that as permission to continue. “To put it bluntly, my mom works herself nearly to death to provide for us both. I find work where I can, but there’s not many places hiring a quirkless teen. Or a quirkless person in general.”

The man nods. “Family-oriented, good. Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if your mom was a danger to herself, or something was a danger to her?”

Izuku hums. It’s an odd question for sure, but he likes abstract questions (even if this particular one is kind of upsetting). “I suppose I would have to lock her in a room without sharp objects and padding on the walls. At least until the danger passed.”

“And what if it didn’t?”

“Then…I guess, she would stay there until it did. She’s all I have.”

The man smiles at him. “Hired.”

Izuku perks up, edging closer to the desk. “Really!?” In his excitement, his volume goes up more than is strictly necessary. He clears his throat. “Sorry, I got a little excited there.”

“That’s quite alright. I’d rather have someone be over-eager than someone reluctant.” He grabs a pile of papers off his desk, handing it over to Izuku. “Now, we’ll go over rules and expectations, as well as benefits and pay.”

Izuku looks over the papers. 

“Starting with your pay. A thousand per day, but that can be more or less depending on the mood my…family member is in.”

That- that would be enough to cover rent, and that’s just for a single day? He finally processes the man’s last sentence. 

“What does the last thing you said mean?”

“Well, my family member is….let’s just say finicky. He’s prone to going on hunger strikes, and trying to escape his room.” The man fixes Izuku with a serious expression. “Under no circumstances, are you to allow him to leave his room. Failure to comply with that rule will result in severe punishment. Failure to get him to eat a meal will result in lost wages. Three hundred per meal not eaten, so it would be in your best interest to make sure he eats.”

That certainly didn’t sound pleasant. But a thousand dollars a day…..

“Understood, sir.”

“What’s the soonest you can be here?”

“The bus runs at three, so probably four? And the last bus leaves around ten at night.”

“Hm. Well, I guess 4:15 to 9:45 is decent enough coverage.” He jots some more stuff on the paper. “Can you start today?”

-x-x-x-

Mikumo can’t believe his luck! This kid-Izuku-couldn’t be more perfect to help care for his stubborn little brother. 

Yoichi may not take kindly to his goons. They’re Mikumo’s mouthpieces, there only to force him to eat, change his clothes, or go to sleep. But Izuku is different. Sure, he will be under Mikumo’s control (otherwise suffer the consequences), but knowing his brother, he’ll overlook that. 

Oh, he’ll still try the same tired tricks. Things like, trying to make the guard feel bad. Or threatening to harm himself (ways in which he does so has varied throughout the two hundred years Yoichi’s been under his care). There has even been a time or two that he’s played dead.

Mikumo’s ashamed to say he’s fallen for that trick both times. 

He exits the elevator taking them nearly a thousand meters below ground. After his brother escaped (with help) the last time, he’s been forced to take more “extreme” measures. 

Clearly just keeping his brother in a vault in their basement wasn’t enough. 

While designing this house, he made sure to make the vault deeper underground. And the only way to enter or exit is via elevator which is monitored closely, and the corridor is lined with motion-sensor cameras.

They stand before the vault door. It’s reinforced steel with tungsten in the very middle. Strong and will definitely stand up to any vigilantes, or heroes that may, or may not want to kick it open. 

“Here we are,” he says, entering the necessary code into the panel. He then puts his thumb on the scanner. “I’ll have to give you the code and enter your prints into the system before you leave.”

The boy nods. His bright green eyes go between him and the door. 

Awww, Mikumo thinks, opening the door the rest of the way. He’s nervous. 

He ushers Izuku inside, lest his little brother get the drop on them and escape. 

“Little brother,” he calls, shutting the door behind them. “I found you a new caregiver.”

The room is nicely furnished, at least in comparison to the last vault. Mostly due to the fact that he isn’t ever going to let Yoichi leave here. And he kind of likes his brother not being totally and utterly insane. 

There’s a twin bed in the corner of the room, with a small nightstand right beside it. A desk for writing or drawing (when his idiot of a brother isn’t threatening self-harm), a bookshelf filled with books, and various supplies for arts and crafts (all of which Mikumo has to be present for, though now that could extend to Izuku if all goes well). There’s also a full bathroom in a connected room. 

Izuku, whether he means to or not, clings to his side. He kind of reminds Mikumo of a frightened rabbit, or a little duckling (what, with his fluffy hair, wide, innocent eyes, and skittish demeanor). 

His brother finally pops up from underneath the bed. 

Izuku screams, jolting backwards. 

Instantly, Yoichi is scrambling for the kid. He waves his hands frantically. “Ohmygoodness-”

“Little brother,” Mikumo says, pleased to be able to lure him out. 

Yoichi fixes him with a sour look. “What do you want?”

“As I said, I hired a new caregiver.” He pulls Izuku closer to him by his shirt collar. “Introduce yourself,” he orders. 

Izuku is still trembling but does as Mikumo says. “Midoriya Izuku.”

His brother tilts his head, hair falling over one of his eyes. “How old are you?”

Izuku looks up at him-and, oh, this one is definitely a keeper. He hands over control so easily. He’s practically wet sand, just waiting to be formed into something magnificent-and he nods his approval. 

“I’m fifteen, sir.” 

Yoichi’s eyes soften. “You-you’re so young.” He turns to Mikumo, snarling. “How dare you hire a child!”

“But I needed this job,” Izuku pipes up before Mikumo can defend himself. “My mom and I were going to be evicted if I didn’t find a better paying job.”

Once again, his little brother softens. “Oh.”

Mikumo claps his hands. “This is fun. I should warn you, though, Izuku-Kun, my little brother, isn't usually this well composed. Actually I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything besides vulgarities since his first escape attempt.”

“Fuck you, Mikumo.” 

“Ah, and there he is.” He looks at Izuku. “Don’t take it to heart. I’m afraid it’s just his way of getting back at the world for making him so frail.” He pointedly ignores Yoichi’s indignant huff. “Anyways,” he starts, ushering Izuku towards the door, “I still need to put you in the system, give you the codes and keys relevant to your job, and show you how to get to and from the kitchen.”

“Wait!” His brother calls out, arm outstretched. 

Mikumo pauses. “Izuku-Kun will be here every day from four to nine. I have a meeting to attend to after I send him off, but I’ll be sure to bring dinner down before bedtime.”

“Brother-”

The door shuts and locks.

-x-x-x-

“It’s not too late to quit,” his boss’ brother murmurs. 

“Are you finished with your dinner?” He asks, only taking the plate once he receives a nod. 

His boss told Izuku over and over that any attempt to help his brother outside of assigned tasks would be punished with garnished wages. 

His mom had been so happy when she found a thousand dollars stashed in her purse. Hiding money in her stuff is the only way to make her accept it. She eyed him suspiciously but asked no questions. They even had enough to put towards the debt they had slowly been gathering since the day his father abandoned them. 

Izuku, even though it hurts to see Yoichi’s (the name he insisted on being called. Though, he only refers to him as such in his head. His boss might get angry otherwise) downcast expression whenever he refuses to engage, cannot afford to lose out on that money. His mom’s happiness and their precarious financial situation depend on it. 

“Why are you being so cold?” Yoichi asks. 

“I’m sorry.”

“If you’re really sorry, then please, just talk to me.”

Izuku puts the tray of dirty dishes on the desk. He’ll take them to the kitchen to be washed before he leaves. He makes eye contact with the camera in the corner of the room. He feels bad for Yoichi. His every move is recorded and meticulously controlled. 

It’s easier to ignore his pleas than to indulge them. 

“It’s time to take your meds.”

“I understand you want to help your mother. That’s admirable, but my brother will only take advantage of that kindness.”

Izuku stares at him. 

He sighs, bowing his head. “I left them in the bathroom. Can you fetch them for me?”

Finally, something that doesn’t involve pretending to be a robot. His emotions are frayed and he’s had to bite back tears twenty times just in the past hour. Which is one time more than usual. 

He goes to the bathroom and flips on the light. There’s no mirror, or anything pointy. One of his jobs is to check and make sure none of the items in Yoichi’s room have been made into weapons. 

There is, however, a wooden cabinet in place of the mirror. He goes to check inside when he’s shoved to the floor. He thankfully doesn’t hit his head on the toilet or bathtub, but his back aches when he sits up. He hears the door shut.

Yoichi and he make eye contact. 

“Wha-” 

“Shut up,” Yoichi demands. His tone is not unkind, but it also brings about a sense of impatient urgency. “We don’t have much time. I can play this off as me helping you find my medicine, but anything over five minutes will be suspicious.” 

He offers Izuku his hand, which is accepted without a second thought.

When he checks Izuku over and sees he has no serious injuries, he continues on. “I apologize for pushing you, but I couldn’t risk you running away. I understand money is important, but it certainly can't be worth this.”

“My mom….her happiness is worth everything to me.”

“And that comes at the cost of what? Becoming a villain?”

Izuku wrinkles his nose. “I’m not a villain,” he protests. 

“You like heroes, right?”  

The change in direction throws Izuku for a loop. His obsession with heroes never really ended, but it’s been hard to keep up on the different battles and debuts. “They’re okay.”

Yoichi gives him a knowing smile. “Your words say one thing, but the light in your eyes when I asked you said another.”

He frowns. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll never be a hero regardless.”

“Never say never.”

Izuku opens his mouth, confused beyond belief, and is immediately interrupted by the sound of the vault door being slammed open. It bangs against the wall. 

“Little brother! Izuku-Kun!” He hears his boss call out. 

“All is not lost,” Yoichi murmurs, before grabbing the necessary meds out of his pocket and opening the door. “In here, brother. We were looking for my medicine.”

Izuku stands in the bathroom, processing what just happened. 

-x-x-x-

“I like your eyes,” his boss compliments. 

It’s out of the blue, but it seems innocuous enough. “Thank you, boss,” he chirps. Better to be overly eager than reluctant, right?

His boss laughs a little at that. “Do you get them from your mom, or dad?”

Izuku shifts in his seat, pausing his homework. Yoichi had (what his boss calls) a temper tantrum earlier, so he’s still under the effects of a sedative. A baby monitor sits on the corner of his boss’ desk, so they can tell when he’s awake. 

“Um, mom, I think. But her’s are darker and her pupils are black.”

“And your father?”

“I never looked into my father’s eyes, sir.”

His boss sighs, chin resting on his hands. “That’s a shame.”

“What the-”

“Ah, someone’s awake,” his boss says, snatching up the baby monitor. “You can bring his lunch down when you go.”

“Yes, sir.” Izuku shuffles his homework back into his bag. With his boss’ permission, he keeps it hidden in the closet in his office. 

“Oh, and Izuku-Kun?”

He freezes in place. “Yes?”

“If I ever catch you being caught off guard by my brother again, you won’t like the consequence that follows.”

Izuku clenches his hands into fists. 

“Yes, sir,” he says. “It was my mistake.”

“Good boy.”

-x-x-x-

Izuku is shaking with unbridled anger the whole way down. He does his best to act composed, as the cameras capture everything. But no matter how big he smiles, the tray in his hand still shakes ever so slightly, sloshing the soup. 

His boss had really said “good boy” to him. Like- like he’s a dog that’s learned a new trick. 

Yoichi is sitting at his desk when he enters the room. A book older than Izuku’s grandparents sits nestled in his hands. “I’ve brought food.”

“I see that, thank you, Izu.”

He feels some of the residual anger slide off him. The nickname reminds him of his mom. “I made sure the cooks left out the cilantro this time.”

Yoichi makes a face. “Thanks. Big brother always forgets how much I hate that.”

He watches Yoichi eat his lunch, standing-as instructed-next to his desk. The food smells amazing and Yoichi seems like a good conversationalist, but his boss is already upset at him enough. 

Besides, he really doesn’t want to know what someone like him considers a severe consequence.

“You look upset, Izu,” Yoichi says, stacking his dishes. “Did my brother dig into you about the whole bathroom-thing?”

“Yes, but it was nothing I couldn’t take. My one and only gripe was him being overly condescending.”

“That’s his natural state, though.”

The noise Izuku makes fighting back laughter can barely be classified as human. He hides his mouth behind his hands and turns from the camera. After feeling so humiliated it’s nice that, at the very least, Yoichi has his back. 

“I won’t do that again,” Yoichi promises him. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. Big brother has a tendency to overreact.”

And isn’t that an oversimplification. His boss is one incident away from making Izuku into a pair of leather boots. But he has no energy to argue (not that he could if he wanted to), so he nods at Yoichi, makes sure his desk is cleaned up, and moves to the next activity.

-x-x-x-

“You like him.” 

All for One-his brother in only blood-stands before him. He wears his usual smug smile. It annoys Yoichi to no end that trying to punch him only ends with being sedated. He misses when they were kids, and he was a whole head taller than his older brother. 

It had been easier to deal with him then, even if Yoichi had been extremely sickly and weak. 

“Why? Because I’m cooperating?” He pretends to read his book, scanning the words more than reading them. His brother has always been particular in how Yoichi responds to people. More specifically, his brother hates when he likes someone more than him (which isn’t hard but the last time he was honest about not hating one of his caregivers, his brother “fired” them on the spot. Yoichi looks at the reddish-brown spot he tried so hard to scrub out on the carpet). It’s better that he plays it safe.

“Yes and no. It's a combination of many things. You cooperate: eating your food without a fuss, taking your meds, and even making your bed. The latter of which you haven’t done since we were kids. Not to mention the one sided conversations you get into with the boy.”

Yoichi puts his book down. “Please, don’t punish the kid for that. I get lonely, and he’s been following your stupid rules to the letter.”

“I’m aware. Wasn’t planning on punishing anyone, though if you want to continue to insult the rules and structure I put in place, then I might reconsider that-”

“No! No, please don’t. I’m sorry.”

All for One chuckles, tilting his head to the side. “You do like the boy.”

“He’s just so….young. I still don’t like that you’ve hired a child, but….”

“But?” His brother presses.

“But as long as he’s here, I will do everything in my power to make sure he’s safe. He needs someone to look out for him.”

“Like a big brother?”

“Like a big- wait, no.”

His brother looks amused. “It’s fine. Now, if you thought of him as an older brother, then we would have some issues. But Izuku-Kun is still younger than the age I gave you that immortality quirk. He’s no threat to me. And, if I’m honest, I find myself growing fond of the boy.” His brother sighs. “He reminds me of you.”

Yoichi hunches into himself. “But he isn’t me, big brother.” He doesn’t like where this is going. 

“No, no he isn’t. But he has all the qualities.”

“Please, fire him if you must.”

“Why would I fire him? I just said I’m fond of him.” All for One hums, reaching out to stroke his face with his thumb. “You always used to complain about being the youngest in the family.”

Yoichi fights back tears. He promised himself a long time ago-after his boyfriend had been brutally murdered by his brother-that he would never, ever give him the satisfaction of seeing him cry. To see him weak and needy. 

“Leave him alone. He has a mother who loves him.”

“Does she?” He pulls away, and Yoichi instantly feels the tension in his body relax. “He has to give all his earnings to her, when he should be saving them so he can attend college.”

He bristles. “Because they’re dirt poor!? Don’t act like you don’t remember the days when we were poorer than that!”

“I remember those days well,” his brother answers him in a calm tone, which only makes Yoichi even angrier. “But if you’ll remember, I never once put that burden on you. It was I, your caregiver, that shouldered that responsibility.”

“It should have been on mom’s and dad’s shoulders.”

His brother ducks his head, before looking at Yoichi once again. He doesn’t smile when he says, “maybe they should have. Which is why it's hard for me to see someone so young and so full of life being put in a similar situation. I look into that boy’s eyes and see-”

“Me?” 

“Myself,” his brother finishes. “I see you in his eyes and his mannerism, but I must admit, I see myself more often than not.”

“And you think holding onto him will do what? Solve all our childhood trauma? Newsflash, Izuku-Kun isn’t you! He isn’t me! He’s his own person, who has a mother whom he loves very much!”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

“I do,” his brother snaps, patience evidently wearing thin. “I simply wish for him to have a better upbringing than we had.”

“He’s fifteen.”

His brother shrugs. “My decision is final. I’m lifting the conversation ban, and you’ll be responsible for helping him complete his homework. He will still be in charge of making sure you behave and follow my rules, but I will allow you two to converse.”

“How thoughtful,” Yoichi snarks, head in hands. 

His brother heads for the door. “Oh, and I shouldn’t have to tell you, I’m always listening.” They both look towards the camera, always recording in the corner of the room. “Breathe a word of this conversation to him, or try to warn him in any way, and you won’t like what happens.”

Yoichi watches his brother open the door in mute horror. 

“Sleep well, little brother. I love you very much.”

The door shuts and locks, leaving Yoichi in stunned, horrified silence.

Chapter Text

“My brother likes you,” his boss says, an unreadable expression on his face. It fills Izuku with a certain sense of foreboding, like his entire existence hangs in the balance of one man’s unhealthy obsession with his younger brother (and it kind of does). 

“O-oh?” Izuku puts his pencil down and looks up at his boss. He tries not to make eye contact. Kacchan hates it when he does that; he thinks it has something to do with control and wanting to feel powerful. His boss has never laid into him for looking at him like his former friend does (or did as they started at separate high schools, three months ago) but old habits die hard. 

“Yes, and if I’m particularly honest, I find myself becoming quite fond of your presence.”

“Thank you, sir.” The words feel hollow coming from his mouth. Fondness from his boss is akin to superglue that spills and dries on carpet. More and more he sees that Yoichi is living proof of that. 

“Well, I see no need to beat around the bush. Izuku-Kun, I’m going to need you to move in.”

“Move…in?”

“Yes, move in. I have to be away on a business trip for a month, or so, and I don’t trust any of my associates to handle my brother with care. Besides, it will be easier for you to stay here rather than taking the bus back-and-forth.”

“I-I don’t know, sir. My mom-”

“Will be sent fifty-percent of your paycheck. I know you usually give her all of your earnings, but I think you should save at least five hundred per paycheck for college.”

There’s something to his words. A finality. 

“I don’t want to-” he stops himself, seeing the stormy glare his boss is giving him. “My mom will worry about me.”

“You can still call her, everyday.”

He swallows hard, fighting back tears. “But my school. I have to leave anyway to attend.”

“Online schooling is a remarkable thing. I’m sure my brother would love to tutor you. He loves helping others.”

Izuku sighs. There’s little he can do right now. A month is not that long anyways. “And this arrangement is just for a month?”

His boss smiles, head resting on his hands. “Of course, Izuku-Kun. Would I ever lie to you?”

-x-x-x-

“I’m overjoyed that you decided to stay with us.” 

Izuku fights down a scoff. It’s not in his best interest to show his boss attitude. He gets mildly annoyed when Yoichi does it, and the man’s his adored little brother. He would hate to see what someone like him-who has barely broached the level of ‘fondness’-would get if he dared to be a little extra cheeky.

“I’m very glad to be here, sir,” Izuku says, keeping his tone bright and cheery. 

His hair is ruffled for the hundredth time today - his boss really likes doing that for some reason. And, despite his negative feelings towards him, Izuku finds it kind of nice. His own father never engaged in affection of any sort, choosing instead to keep Izuku at arm's length. 

They stand in the middle of his (well, less his and more the designated room his boss has decided to graciously offer him) temporary bedroom. The interior design is uncomfortably reminiscent of the vault Yoichi has been trapped in for however long. 

(Sometimes Yoichi will whisper names to him. Just names, nothing else. Like he doesn’t trust himself to keep them safe, or wants to make sure they live on. And they always come out sounding so heart wrenchingly sad.)

It has the same layout with the twin bed (with similar-looking bedding) and a desk and a bookshelf with all the same books he’s seen on the bookshelf in the vault.

A shiver creeps down his spine. His mother hadn’t been happy with this new arrangement, and almost made him quit (something neither of them can afford to do), but she let him go when he told her it’s a month at most.

“I hope this room is to your liking, Izuku-Kun.” His boss watches him from the doorway. 

“Very much so, sir.” He can’t handle looking at this room any longer, so he subtly joins his boss back in the hallway. “How is Yoi- your brother doing today?” 

He hasn’t seen the other brother since Friday (his boss allowed him a couple of days off to spend with his mom, which was….kind of him….Izuku supposes). 

“Good. He’s very excited to help you with your schoolwork.”

“Does this mean I’m allowed to speak with him more?” All their conversations have been very one sided. It would be nice to finally be able to ask Yoichi some questions.

“Within reason. Any talk regarding current events, or escape plans will be met with garnished wages. Of which will firstly be taken from the portion of the paycheck given to your mother.”

Izuku opens his mouth but quickly closes it with a muted click. 

“And of course, I don’t need to tell you that any attempts at helping my brother escape will result in a consequence you really won’t like.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Off to see my brother you go. I have a meeting to attend, but I would love for you to meet me in the dining room around six.”

“Yes, sir.” Izuku turns on his heels, heading for the elevator that will take him down…down…down to Yoichi’s “room.” 

-x-x-x-

It’s nice being able to talk to Yoichi. He has to keep some of his questions to himself, but anything is better than standing unmoving for hours at a time. There had even been another chair brought in just for him, though Izuku guesses that might have something to do with the fact that Yoichi is going to tutor him for the month Izuku has to homeschool. 

Yoichi is quiet today. Unnaturally so. 

He sits at his desk, shoulders hunched up. A curtain of white hair blocks Izuku from seeing his face. He doodles on a drawing pad. The faint sounds of pencil on paper seem extraordinarily loud with every moment that passes.

“Are you okay?” He asks, reaching a hand out to…..to he doesn’t know. Check his temperature? Pat his back? “Do you need a-”

“I’m fine,” Yoichi snaps. The sounds of pencil on paper increase, undue pressure being added. 

It would be wise, he thinks, to back off. Izuku has been through enough to know when his help is not wanted, nor needed. He chews at his bottom lip, casting a worried glance towards the camera. 

Still, he has a job to do. 

He tries again, this time scooting his chair closer. 

“It’s just…you don’t seem fine. Did something-” The words die in his throat at the icy glare Yoichi sends him. 

“You should’ve quit when you had the chance.” Despite his glare, there is no bite to his words, only a bone-weary sadness. 

-x-x-x-

The hours between that strange confession and dinner had been excruciatingly long. Yoichi returned to ignoring his existence, but listened when the time came to switch to another task. He ate his dinner a little early and turned in for the night.

Which meant that Izuku had to endure the company of his boss’ other employees. They’re polite to him, at least more so than people usually are. But that’s not saying much. Their boss doesn’t tolerate disrespect, nor rudeness, so maybe everyone being “nice” is a condition of employment. 

He hangs out in the kitchen until he’s called upon for dinner. Something about watching the cooks bustle around the kitchen is interesting to watch. It vaguely reminds him of those cooking shows his mom and him used to watch before his father left and they could no longer afford cable. Sometimes they even let him taste-test the food.

By the time he’s collected for dinner, Izuku has almost fallen asleep, pressed in the corner between a metal-shelving unit and a mop bucket. A maid twice as old as his mom pokes him with her foot, urging him to get up and make himself look “presentable.”

He’s then taken by the elbow to a side room. The maid uses her thin, bony fingers to tame his wild hair. She soothes out his clothes, trying to work out all the wrinkles she can before opening the dining room door and ushering him inside. 

“Midoriya Izuku, master,” she announces, bowing. 

The dining room is surprisingly humble. The table is fit for a family of four. It looks worn, the wood old. His boss’ chair creaks with the slightest movement. And the room itself is quite small. The floral wallpaper is peeling in some areas and crinkling in others. 

Their boss dismisses the maid with a wave of his hand. Izuku envies the maid who can exist invisible to their boss, only called upon to fetch guests or clean rooms. The latter of which Izuku hates with a burning passion, especially folding laundry - but he would rather be doing that than having dinner with his boss. 

“Izuku-Kun,” His boss greets, sipping on his wine. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

As if he had a choice!

Izuku smiles, bowing. If his father did one thing right, it was instilling a proper understanding of politeness and manners. “Happy to be here, sir.” His tone betrays nothing. 

Must be over-eager, not reluctant.

“So formal. Come, come, sit.”

Izuku, as per usual, obeys. He sits to his boss’ right (the only other place setting). The fabric place mats are a deep green. They remind him of his mom’s eyes. 

His heart twists. 

One month. He can do this!

“I hope my brother didn’t give you any trouble today?”

Izuku shakes his head. He’s seen how cruel his boss can be to Yoichi. His biting words always go further than he realizes. 

( Or maybe, a voice whispers in his mind, he doesn’t care). 

“Fine, sir. He followed the schedule perfectly.”

His boss smiles but it doesn’t reach his blood red eyes. “As a heads up, my brother might be particularly….hm…. moody during the upcoming month.”

Despite not asking permission to speak, or being asked a direct question, Izuku’s own curiosity wins out. “How come….uh….sir.”

His boss frowns down at his placemat. “I’m afraid the anniversary of our parents’ deaths is coming up.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry for your brother and your losses.”

His boss looks at him, face impassive. “Can I ask you something, Izuku-Kun?”

He stares longingly at the door leading to the kitchen. Maybe he should just book it. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to make rent this month, but they would get through it. They always do. 

His boss clears his throat. 

On instinct, Izuku snaps his attention back to the tall, imposing figure sitting next to him. “Yes, of course, sir. You can ask me anything.”

“Your father,” he starts, swirling the liquid in his glass of wine, “he treated you poorly, correct?”

Izuku looks up at the ceiling. “N-no.” He forces himself to look at his boss. There’s a level of vulnerability that comes with talking about Hisashi Midoriya. One of two people in the world that should have been guaranteed to like him, and Izuku can’t even have that. 

“No? What do you call walking out on your family?”

“He….he doesn’t matter. I have my mom and that’s good enough for me.”

His boss watches him, and Izuku knows he’s watching him. He does that a lot, like he enjoys picking apart Izuku’s reactions. It feels wrong and violating, but he’s been wrong before. So, maybe he’s overreacting. 

“Is it?” His boss asks.

Before Izuku can respond, the door to the kitchen opens. The head chef along with a waiter bring in their dinner. It’s Katsudon. His favorite.

He has no appetite. 

-x-x-x-

A week passes and his boss leaves on his business trip. Izuku is given a list of emergency contacts and a whole binder full of contingency plans if anything goes awry. 

Both of which sit on Izuku’s (borrowed) desk. He leafs them over in between caring for Yoichi and some other chores he picked up to be more helpful. His boss didn’t say he had to do chores, but sitting around and watching others clean up after him makes Izuku feel gross. 

He feels worthless enough without watching the elderly maid bend down with her creaking back to pick up the house. 

Besides, the maids and other staff don’t seem to mind. They have even started letting him in on some of their gossip and inside jokes. And it fills his time.

As his boss forewarned, Yoichi’s temperament is mercurial. He follows his schedule to the letter, but spares no warm words or knowing glances. This would be fine if Izuku didn’t have to spend an extra hour or so a day getting tutored by him.

(He misses Yoichi. He wishes the man would just talk to him).

Every night he calls his mom. No matter where she’s at, she always, always picks up the phone. Her soft voice makes him feel a little less alone. He tells her about his new coworkers and how nice everyone is (some of them aren’t, but his mom shouldn’t have to worry about him). In turn, she tells him about her own co-workers and the new orange cat that their neighbors recently brought home. 

He misses her terribly. 

The month can’t end fast enough.

-x-x-x-

Another good thing that’s come out of being trapped here for a month, is that Izuku can see so many cool and interesting quirks up close and personal. 

Outside, people are weary of using their quirks. Some skirt the rule of no outside quirk usage unless you possess a provisional license, but unless they’re a villain, even those people use their quirk sparingly. 

He’s so glad he brought another empty notebook along. These people aren’t heroes by any stretch of the imagination, but something inside Izuku pushes him to ask questions and analyze all the potential ways their quirks could be used in combat (or just in day-to-day life). 

However, he’s had to limit his questions, as it seems even the people within these walls aren’t immune to thinking him odd. His mumbling is creepy to them (as is always the case). 

Even Yoichi, who’s still ignoring him whenever possible, looks at him with a sense of unease. 

Still, he has thirty of the one hundred-fifty pages filled. It would be a waste to not continue on.

-x-x-x-

Everyone has their boiling point.

“I don’t understand. Please, stop ignoring me. Your brother said-”

And Yoichi’s boiling point finally, well, boils over after a particularly confusing math lesson. He glares at Izuku, stopping the rest of the words from leaving his mouth. 

“My brother says a lot of things. He means none of them.” Yoichi leans over until he’s staring Izuku right in the eyes. “You’re foolish if you believe anything he tells you.”

For a second, Izuku is transported back to his fourth year of elementary school. Instead of Yoichi being in his face, it’s his then-teacher, Aoki-Sensei. All of his teachers were their own level of cruel to him, ranging from neglectful to full on encouraging the other students to terrorize him, but Aoki-Sensei always stood out. 

She had started out nice. Patient and empathetic to his plight as being the social pariah in his class. Each day she let him sit in her classroom before and after school (so he wouldn’t run into Kacchan), allowed him to complain about how unfair life is, and even sometimes walked him home. 

After years of no adults in his life caring (sans his mom), it was nice having someone who listened and saw Izuku for who he is. 

And then it came to an end. Aoki-Sensei must have started becoming a social pariah among the other staff members-because that’s the only reason that makes sense (surely she hadn’t played the long game, in an effort to hurt him more?)-because suddenly, one day, she became just as cold as the rest of his teachers.

She seemed to take great pride in pointing out his flaws, laughing along with the class as he sobbed loudly. What made it ten-times worse was that, after school, when he asked what he had done to warrant this new behavior, she had simply said, “you must be a special level of foolish to believe I ever cared about you.”

Over the top, almost cartoonishly evil words aside. Those words had stuck with Izuku all these years later, weighing him down. 

That feeling of being so utterly ashamed comes back in full force. 

Ashamed that anyone would have ever treated him kindly. 

Ashamed that he believed he had a friend, or confidant in someone.

Ashamed because no matter how hard Izuku tries to dig himself out of the metaphorical hole he’s been trapped inside since he received his quirkless diagnosis he’ll forever be stuck.

“Stop!” Izuku shouts, standing up suddenly. The movement makes him dizzy, but he shakes it off. 

Yoichi follows him. “Stop what? I’m sorry am I being a little mean?”

Izuku can feel his face growing red, burning. His breath hitches, as he fights down his sobs. “Y-yes.”

“Isn’t this what you signed up for? Here’s an idea, if you don’t like me being mean, why don’t you leave ?” 

“I-I can’t.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot because your mother and you have nothing to your names, isn’t that right?”

Hearing his mother brought up lights a match inside Izuku. It sets alight some deep, ugly emotion. The kind that makes him feel bitter and numb in place of hurt and embarrassed. 

“Yeah? At least I’m not trapped in a bank vault! What? Couldn’t hack it outside these walls, so your brother-”

Smack!

Izuku is thrown backwards. He hits his head on the corner of the bookshelf on the way down. 

For a second, there’s blissful silence. 

He lays in front of the bookshelf, idly staring up at the ceiling. How has he never noticed that it’s unpainted before? 

And then, like a freight train, the pain hits. 

He moves to sit up, but an overwhelming ache fills the back of his head. It sends sparks of stabbing pain down his spine. He groans. 

Yoichi is on him in an instant. His green eyes-so similar to Izuku’s own-fill with tears. Izuku thinks he might be telling him something, but the words sound so muffled and faraway that he hears nothing beyond his own blood rushing in his ears. 

And then, 

Nothing. 

-x-x-x-

It’s raining when Mikumo makes it back home. Most of his staff has been dismissed for the night, barring some of the guards who have overnight shifts. So, the house is almost completely silent, save for the quiet buzzing of monitors, or the large grandfather clock ticking away in the foyer. 

Out of habit he heads for the security office, the one he uses to keep an eye on his unruly little brother. 

He peeks into Izuku’s room on the way there. It’s clean. More so than what he would expect from a fifteen-year-old boy. Not a thing out of place, nor missing. It’s a little odd he isn’t in bed yet, but Yoichi is probably giving him a hard time. 

Mikumo wouldn’t put it past him to give the kid trouble just so he would run away. He’s certainly done it before. But, from the looks of rumpled sheets (the only thing out of place), he hasn’t succeeded yet. 

There’s a notebook sitting on Izuku’s pillow. It’s blue binding and the large words scribbled across the top: Hero Analysis for the Future: Number 14, catches his eye. He picks it up, leafing through it. 

“This….this is incredible.” Not the hero-part per say but excluding the title there’s not many heroes in the book itself. No, Mikumo’s interest lies in the exquisite way Izuku takes apart quirks. Dissecting them down to their bare components. Turning them inside out and finding out what makes them tick. What makes it all the more impressive is the fact that the kid doesn’t possess a quirk like All for One, so all of his analyses are from simply watching and or asking questions. 

He smiles, clutching the notebook in his hands. 

Clearly this is a sign that Izuku was meant to be their family. He was made for them. 

What a brilliant little brother he’s turning out to be. 

-x-x-x-

Mikumo takes one look at the cameras and is instantly moving for the elevator. His little brother couldn’t help himself, could he? Leave it to Yoichi to make a bad situation worse. 

He opens the vault door hastily, having to reenter the code several times. 

His eyes land on Izuku’s body-very limp, very much not moving, body-first. Even from here it’s easy to see the boy’s eyes are starting to glaze over, and there’s a small puddle of red forming around his head. 

“Help!” His brother screams. He sobs loudly, hands hovering over Izuku. “Fucking help him!”

Mikumo steps closer. “Yoichi-”

“Don’t…” he sobs, rocking back-and-forth (a habit he formed during their tumultuous childhood). “P-please, help him. I-I am so, so sorry.”

He hasn’t seen his brother so broken since- 

Mikumo kneels down. The puddle of blood has grown larger, it covers his knees when he sits. Izuku’s face is paler now. It sends a stab of worry through him. His gut twists. Gingerly, he takes hold of Izuku’s wrist to check his pulse. 

“It’s weak,” he murmurs, just loud enough over his brother’s sobs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Izuku. I didn’t mean it. Please. Please. Please…”

At some point, Mikumo blocks his brother out. This is a time sensitive issue. Judging by the blood loss and the fact it’s coming from his head, the kid probably has less than three minutes before it becomes outside his scope of practice. 

But taking him to the local hospital is also out of the question. He could always ask Doctor Garaki if he’s willing to take on a patient, but the man is too nosy for his own good. He doesn’t even know about Yoichi. 

That leaves him. Mikumo is the one that hired this kid. He’s the one that set this whole plan into motion and forced his little brother and a naive kid together. 

So, it has to be him that saves the day. 

It’s what big brothers are for. 

He has countless regenerating quirks that could fix the kid up in an instant, but Mikumo has another, shared quirk that would better fit the newest member of their family. 

He sighs, placing a hand on Izuku’s forehead. He hadn’t wanted to do this until Izuku got used to his new arrangements. But desperate times call for equally desperate measures. 

“I won’t let you leave me.” 

-x-x-x-

In the morning, he is woken up by his boss. Izuku startles, afraid he’s missed taking breakfast to Yoichi. That’s a whole three hundred dollars his mom will miss out on! All because he slept in.

He goes to sit up, only to be met with a sharp ache in the back of his head, and his boss grasping his biceps. “Easy there, Izuku. Yoichi did a number on you, the idiot. You need to rest.”

Izuku blinks sluggishly at his employer. “What?” 

“All in due time.” His boss covers him back up with the comforter and soothes his hair back. “Rest.” A kiss is laid upon his forehead, easing the ache just a little bit. 

Sleep claims him once again. 

-x-x-x-

Yoichi scrubs the blood on the floor. No staff besides Izuku are allowed in here. Izuku (or his brother) handles anything that might otherwise warrant someone coming in here.

Laundry. 

Changing of supplies.

Deep cleaning. 

And everything in between. 

But neither of them is available right now, and Yoichi can’t bear looking at the slowly drying spot any longer. A horrible, horrible reminder of what he did. 

He scrubs harder, willing it all to go away. The scent of blood and watered-down bleach is nauseating. Even with a mask on, he has to turn away every so often. 

It doesn’t come out, at least not fully. 

He continues rubbing at the spot, trying not to think about the fate he inadvertently thrusted someone so….so young and nice and reminds Yoichi of a better version of himself. A version of himself that hadn’t yet been under his brother’s thumb (at least not aware of it). 

Tears continue pouring down his face. 

His eyes drift over to the older blood stain and then back. 

He sobs, hands braced on the floor. It’s hard to see through his tangled mess of hair. He should have cut it long ago, but the thought of looking anymore like his brother makes him sick. 

“I-I’m sorry, Izuku! I’m so sorry!” 

He curls up on the floor. There’s nothing he can do. He’s useless. 

He’s always been useless. 

-x-x-x-

“Izuku?” 

Someone runs their fingers through his hair. The exact same way his mom does. He smiles, his boss must have sent him home last night. The voice doesn’t match, but maybe his mother has a head cold. 

He groans, snuggling deeper into the pillows. 

His mom laughs. 

He’s…..he’s missed her laugh. 

That isn’t her laugh.

His eyes snap open. His boss hovers over him, stroking his face and hair. 

“Welcome back,” his boss says, something like worry in his voice. “I hope you had a nice nap.”

“What?” 

“I bet you’re confused.”

Confused would be a tad bit under generous for how Izuku feels at the moment, but he’s retained enough self-awareness to recognize doing so might not be good for his health. 

He nods. 

“You took a little tumble. My brother and you got into an argument-”

Oh, that’s right. He insulted Yoichi, and basically called him useless. 

Just like Kacchan used to do to Izuku. 

“-of course, you're fine now. I fixed you all better. I would still like you to rest. I’m working on expanding the vault downstairs, but it might take a while.”

Izuku’s stomach drops. Shouldn’t he be sent home now? If his boss’ words are to be believed, then he’s all better. He should be leaving. His mom will be expecting him soon. 

He can’t leave her like his dad did. She doesn’t deserve that. 

“In the meantime,” his boss continues, oblivious to Izuku’s internal distress, “You can stay in the room I use when I have to move Yoichi place to place.”

“What does that mean?” He asks, voice shaky. 

“It means you’re here to stay. I see something in you. A spark I haven’t seen since my brother and I were your age. I want to keep it. I want to keep you. Little brother.”

Izuku swallows around the lump growing in his throat. “W-why me?”

His boss sighs. “I just explained why, little brother.”

Izuku yanks the blankets off, throwing himself forward and off the bed. He lands on the metal floor. The coolness of the material brings him back to his senses long enough to realize that this room is tiny, half the size of the room he’s been staying in and has metal flooring and a metal ceiling. 

He scrambles to his feet. It’s hard to hear anything over his own blood rushing through his ears, which brings a nauseating bout of nostalgia. In the back of his mind, he can hear the sickening sound of his own skull caving in. 

He shakes his head to get rid of the unwanted memory, but it only makes him feel worse. 

Somehow he makes it across the room on trembling legs to pull at the door. It’s not the typical vault-style door. So, it should open. Right? 

He pulls and pushes and yanks. 

“It’s not going to open, little brother.”

“I’m not your fucking little brother! Let me leave now!” His mind is going a million miles per hour, each thought whizzing by like runaway trains. All he can focus on is needing to escape. He needs to leave! 

He needs out!

There’s a clicking sound. “I wouldn’t normally tolerate such indecent language, but you’re clearly adjusting. I’ll let it slide if you say sorry.”

“No!”

“Izuku.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

He sees his boss step forward. “One more chance. Say sorry.”

Izuku presses his back against the door. He shakes his head frantically. “M-mom! Mommy help me!”

His boss takes another step and then another. Izuku closes his eyes. Silently he apologizes to his mom for being such a terrible son.

He’s being lifted and held securely against a firm chest. A hand returns to his hair. 

“It’s okay, little brother. You’re scared, but things will be okay now. Everything will be alright, Nii-San is here.”

Through his panic, Izuku doubts that. Nothing in his life, minus the paychecks he gets like clockwork every week, has been okay. 

If getting out of poverty means enduring whatever this is, Izuku will eat dollar store packets of ramen every night and every morning for the rest of time. The minute he hits sixteen he’ll apply to everyplace in the city, and work as many jobs as possible to keep his mom and him afloat. 

“Please, let me go. My mom-”

The grip around holding him to his boss’ chest tightens. “Your mom is no longer your mom. She doesn't want you anymore.”

Logically, Izuku knows his boss is lying. His mom hadn’t given him up after a quirkless diagnosis, or after his father left and doing so would have been more financially smart. She’s too kind for that. She’s too much of a good mom to ever leave him. 

He knows that, but…..

…..Izuku’s so tired. 

Comprehending anything beyond what is in the here and now feels out of reach. He wants to go home so badly, his body hurts when he thinks about being trapped here. 

“N-no she didn’t.”

“She did. One of my men took your paycheck to her, and she was in the process of moving out. Apparently she was in quite the hurry. She took the paycheck and slammed the door.”

“But she wouldn’t….” the words die in his throat. He feels sick. 

Five years ago, he would have said the same thing about his father. So, maybe she would. 

“M-mom,” he says, voice hoarse from screaming. 

“But it’s okay, your big brothers will take care of you.”

Numbly, Izuku nods. 

A childish ask bubbles up from his chest. Summoning his last remaining courage, he asks, “you won’t leave me, right?”

“For as long as I live,” his bos- big brother promises. 

He feels empty inside. 

-x-x-x-

The first few years are hard. 

In truth, Izuku has no way to know if years have passed. He himself doesn’t change and neither does the vault. Yoichi tries to help keep track of time for his sake, but quickly loses count.

They share the vault, Yoichi’s twin bed becoming a trundle bed. (“So, neither of you get lonely during the night,” big brother explained). Sometimes it’s hard being together all day and all night, never being able to escape to somewhere that’s not here, in this place. 

Yoichi has taken it in stride. At times he holds Izuku (his grip looser than big brother’s) and tells him in near-inaudible whispers that one day they’ll be able to leave the room. 

Izuku can’t bring himself to hope anymore. 

They don’t get a new caretaker, Nii-San likes to do the mundane tasks himself. He comes around every few hours with food, medicine, or supplies. His constant presence is every bit as stifling as it is comforting. 

So, it’s strange one day when Nii-San doesn’t make an appearance. 

Yoichi does his best to calm him, reading passages from the book he’s reading and stroking his hair. 

More time passes. No Nii-San. 

“His meetings must have run over. It’s not often he’s late, but it does happen.” 

More time passes, perhaps another hour, day, or week. They tear into the snacks and bottles of water their big brother allows them to have in their bedroom for emergencies such as this. 

It’s after the third time of waking up with no sign of Nii-San that Izuku starts to visibly panic. This, of course, makes Yoichi panic (though he does his best to hide it). 

He paces the length of the room, occasionally waving to the camera hoping to see the red recording light come on. It never does. 

On, what has got to be, his seven hundredth time pacing, something emerges from the wall. Several panels in the wall slide down, revealing small spouts. He looks at Yoichi.

“What are these things?” 

Before his other, less crazy, big brother can shrug, the air suddenly becomes thinner. He coughs, whirling around to face Yoichi because his lungs are weaker. Whatever this is, it must be related to the spouts. He can’t put much effort into thinking. His head is filled with cotton and he has to blink away the heaviness pulling his eyelids down. 

“Yoi-chi….?” Izuku stumbles over to the bed. His brother lays on his bed, eyes shut and limp, but still breathing (thankfully). “Bro…ther?” He coughs, trying to dispel whatever’s clogging his lungs. “Wake up.” His strength is leaving him second by second, but Izuku manages to get on his brother’s bed and shake him. “P-please…..w…ake….” 

He falls next to his brother, blissfully unaware of the chaos going on above the surface.

-x-x-x-

He wakes up much more tired than when he first fell asleep. Yoichi’s in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“We need to go now,” he says. “The door is open. I don’t know what happened, but everything is different now. Much, much different. We should leave before Mikumo comes back.”

Izuku’s brain sluggishly processes those words. “Leave?”

“Yes.” Yoichi doesn’t wait for a reply, helping him into a standing position. “I have a few contacts on the outside. They should be able to help us.”

Izuku takes in their surroundings. Everything’s covered in cobwebs and dust. What…. happened here?

They hobble along the hallway, supporting one another.

“Let’s hope the elevator works.”

It does. Thankfully. 

And even more thankfully, Nii-San didn’t change the codes to work the elevator since Izuku was Yoichi’s caretaker.

The upstairs is even more dusty and covered in cobwebs. Almost like no one’s stepped foot in this place for decades.

“Where is everyone?” Izuku asks. More to himself than his brother, but Yoichi takes it upon himself to answer anyway.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know either. It’s better if we move on.”

They have no trouble leaving. The guards’ tower is just as empty as inside the house. The fence is overgrown with ivy and moss, covering every inch of it.

They reach the city before nightfall, though Izuku has a hard time recognizing it as the city he’s lived in all his life. Nothing looks the same. All the shops are different and not a single person they pass looks familiar. 

Yoichi has him stop in front of an apartment building. He says something about needing to call someone, before stepping into a nearby phone booth. But Izuku doesn’t hear a single word, eyes transfixed on the building towering over him. 

Home. 

Before he can stop himself, Izuku runs for the entrance. Maybe Nii-San was wrong. Maybe his mom didn’t leave. She’s probably been waiting for him to come home. 

He reaches his apartment. The numbers on the door are faded and the metal door handle is rusted, but it’s unmistakably theirs. Heavy footsteps come up behind him.

Someone coughs. “I-Izuku!” Yoichi shouts, with all the energy of an aggravated older sibling. “What are you doing? You can’t just run off like that.”

Izuku looks down at his feet. “This is my home.”

“Wha- oh,” his brother murmurs. “I see. Go ahead.” 

Izuku checks under the mat for the spare key his mom kept in case of emergencies. He finds it, his fingers clutching it to his palm. The weight is familiar. He’s missed it.

Nervously, he glances back at Yoichi. 

“Go on, Izu,” he says. “I’m right here.”

Izuku shakily unlocks the door. To his relief when the door creaks open, the apartment isn’t covered in dust or cobwebs. He enters, Yoichi on his heels.

“Mom!?” He peeks into the kitchen. The drawing he made of All Might back in kindergarten is still on the fridge. 

“Mom!? It’s me, Izuku! Where are you!?” A loud, hacking cough gets his attention. Somewhere down the hall. Excitedly, Izuku races for his mom’s room. He’s here. He’s home. He can finally see his mom.

He pokes his head into her room, the light is on. Usually he’d knock first, but he’s sure she’ll forgive him for forgoing that rule. “Mom! I can’t wait to- huh?” 

“Uh, Izuku,” Yoichi starts, “maybe you shouldn’t-”

“Who are you!?” Izuku asks, because the old woman in front of him, laying in a hospice bed, is definitely not his mom. “Where’s mom?”

The woman looks at him. “I-Izuku. My baby?”

He shakes his head. “No. My mom…you’re not….Yoichi?” He backs away from the room. His back hits the wall directly across the room. 

“It’s been a while. She’s grown older.”

“No, no, no, no!” He cries. “My-my mom is young. She’s living somewhere warm, and she’s happy.”

Yoichi frowns. “I’m sorry, Izuku.”

“She’s supposed to have gotten away. I was the reason she had to live like this. Why didn’t she leave? Nii-San told me she left. Why did she come back? Did she even ever leave?” 

Yoichi doesn’t speak, patting his back. 

“Oh my god, I abandoned her. I’m just like my father.”

A light pop on his mouth startles him out of his downward spiral. He looks at Yoichi, eyes wide. He fixes Izuku with a stern expression. 

“You listen to me, and you listen to me well. You are not your father. Your father made a conscious choice to walk out on you guys. You weren’t given a choice. You did what you had to, to help your mother out of poverty. You were just trying to be a good son.”

Izuku feels his usual waterworks starting up. He leans into his brother’s embrace, taking refuge in the familiar warmth. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Anytime.”

“Izuku?” His mom calls out, and without panic altering his senses, he can hear her voice. 

“If you want to leave-”

“No. I should stay, at least to say goodbye to her. She’s probably waited years for me to come home.”

“Go on then.” Yoichi smiles at him. “Be her hero.”

Izuku nods, taking a running start straight into her bedroom. He hops into All Might’s signature pose (one of them at least). “I am here!” 

His mom is hooked up to so many machines. An oxygen mask covers the bottom half of her mouth. Her long green hair has thinned out, and she’s all skin and bones. The circles under her eyes tell of years worth of sleepless nights. 

(How many nights did she stay up, hoping and praying he’d walk through the door?)

Despite her misery, his mom manages one of her famous smiles. The kind she used to do at him when they would play heroes. Bright and genuine and so achingly-familiar. 

“Izuku Might!” She cheers. “My hero!” 

“I’m sorry I took so long.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been expecting you.”

Izuku’s stomach twists. “Oh?” 

“Yes, I was hoping it would have been last night. Would have saved me the trouble of having to listen to the upstairs neighbors argue over things that don’t matter.” She laughs.

Izuku closes his eyes, trying to commit the sound to memory. Forever. 

“Well, I’m here now, mom.”

“You are.” Tears well up in her green eyes, which are dimmer than they used to be. 

Izuku is by her side in an instant. He climbs over the railing of the bed, and cuddles up next to her. “It’s okay, mommy. I’m here. I’m sorry I left.”

“Oh, baby, you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault. I should have been better. After your father left, I was absent. I ignored your needs. I was selfish.”

Izuku opens his mouth, ready to defend his mother from herself. A finger brushes his lips, shushing him. 

“Shhh…..I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He lays with her, curled into her side like he’s five-years-old again. He strokes her hair, murmuring comforting nothings to her. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku stumbles into the hallway, gaze fixated on the wall in front of him. He feels empty. But this empty is worse than usual. It’s not the kind caused by suppressed emotion, but the sort that follows you like a rain cloud. 

His face and neck feel sticky with all the shed tears. 

“I’m ready to go now.” 

His brother holds a hand out, which he takes, grateful for something to grasp. He’s lead back outside the building, passing a nurse-judging by the medical scrubs and badge-on the stairs. 

“Excuse me?” She asks, looking at them. “But could either of you tell me where Midoriya Inko lives? It’s my first night, and the nurse that normally works overnight here just quit.”

Izuku points upward. “Apartment 38C.”

“Ah, thank you.”

He stands on the steps a few moments longer, watching the nurse race to her patient that is long, long gone. 

His brother tugs on his hand, getting his attention. “Come along. My friend will be meeting us at the park down the road. You’ll like him.”

Izuku doesn’t spare a glance at the building, choosing instead to move forward. For the first time, in a long time, he allows himself to hope. 

The future suddenly feels brighter. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku sits in the backseat of Yoichi’s friend’s car. He watches them lean in to kiss for the hundredth millionth time in five minutes. 

“Ick!” He sticks his tongue out. 

Yoichi’s friend reaches a hand in the backseat to ruffle his hair. His face is heavily scarred and there’s an underlying hardness there, but the icy glare melts away anytime he lays eyes on Yoichi (or, as he warms up, at Izuku). 

“Niiii, stop,” Yoichi says, giggling. 

Izuku giggles too, turning away from the couple to look out the window. They pass by open fields and luscious forests. 

“Hey, Yoichi-nii, where are we going?” 

“Um, that’s a great question. Where are we going, my hero?”

Izuku gags. What did he do to have to bear witness to this?

“I can’t say. It’s a surprise.”

Yoichi and him exchange a worried look. They both don’t say it outloud, but surprises scare them. The last surprise either of them got was near-eternity in a metal box. 

The rest of the drive is quiet, Izuku drifts off to the sound of the a/c and the quiet murmurings of long-lost love. (Even if he thinks they’re being kind of gross. It’s still nice that Yoichi has someone out here waiting for him. That’s one more person than Izuku has).

-x-x-x-

The car pulls to a stop deep within a forest. The trees that surround them, completely block out the sky. A quaint, little cabin sits in front of them. 

“Well,” his boyfriend says, putting the car into park, “this is it. The others should be inside, waiting. I called them right after you called me.”

Yoichi nods. The idea of seeing all the people cursed with One for All makes his stomache. 

“Yoi, what’s wrong?”

He fiddles with his fingers. “They’re not…they aren’t angry, are they?”

“Of course, they aren’t. What makes you think they would be?”

“Immortality is a curse.”

His boyfriend kisses him on the lips, shutting him up. “I missed you.”

Yoichi melts. A happy squeak escapes his mouth without him permitting it too. “Me too.” He shakes his head. “I mean….I missed you, not that I missed myself. Well, you know. Right?”

His boyfriend’s expression softens even further. “I know perfectly well.”

They share a few more kisses before they start getting ready to go inside. 

“I’ll carry the kid inside. We have a room made up for him.”

Yoichi opens and closes his mouth “How?” He asks, gathering the meager supplies his boyfriend bought on his way to pick them up. 

“The attack on your brother’s base. The one that put you both into a coma for thirty-plus years? That was us.” He leans into the car to pick Izuku up. He holds him close to his chest, though it’s a bit difficult for his boyfriend to carry Izuku like he or their older brother does because of his below-average height. Still, he manages it like a champ. “We found his base of operations and broke in. The raid must have triggered a gas attack. We found files on the kid.”

“Huh,” Yoichi murmurs. “Well, you saved us from thirty-six years of playing Monopoly over and over again. But I do have a question.”

They step onto the porch. “My brother’s base wasn’t ransacked. It was just….dirty.”

“We didn’t destroy anything. Just infiltrated. Yagi was the one that did damage to your brother.”

“Is he…my brother dead?”

“Probably not. That bastard’s worse than a cockroach. He’s lucky that Yagi found him first, because what he did to….” his boyfriend swallows heavily. “Third deserved better.”

“He did. What All for One did to him….I dreamt about every night. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

His boyfriend looks at him. “So am I, Yoi, so am I.” There’s not a hint of malice in his boyfriend’s tone, yet the words sting. He smiles, hand reaching for the door handle. “But tonight’s not about regrets. You’ve just been freed. Live your life for you and all those that can’t be here with us.”

“Yeah,” Yoichi says, resolute, “you’re right. Thank you.”

His boyfriend’s smile widens. “Ready to go inside.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”