Chapter 4: Trepidation
Izuku was spared of the realization that he was, once again, way in over his head, if only because of the fact that he couldn't focus on anything for more than a few moments. The blinding pain in the back of his head made the world shift in and out of focus, where the colors were too bright when he could see them and the darkness too alarming when he couldn't.
All he really saw were faces. Not of his captors, of the people hurting him, not while he was in this state. But the faces of his loved ones, appearing, then fading again, a bit of hope, a hint of strength, a painful twinge of guilt accompanying them. His mother's gentle smile, her tear-stained eyes that beckoned him home, All-Might's million-dollar grin, shining the brightest when he was proud of his successor, or Iida's and Uraraka's cheerful calls to him, happy to be near him. Todoroki's uncertain, tender friendliness that would warm his heart.
Oh, how he wanted to go home.
He wondered if they missed him even half as much as he desperately wished to see them.
Footsteps echoed out in the hall, audible even through the heavy, steel door that separated him from the world outside. They must be close. Louder and louder. They must be right outside.
He tried to take a deep breath, yet all he achieved was a shaky mess of whimper. Not again, not again, not again. Please.
How long had he been in here? Not long enough, not long at all, if he still clung to the childish hope that All Might -sickly, powerless All Might- would come to his rescue, would bring help and smile at him, a smile so bright suddenly it wouldn't hurt anymore, they wouldn't touch him again, it would be all right, because…
All Might couldn't be here.
The door creaked open and Izuku wondered if anyone would even know where to find him.
"Ι know we still have quite a few letters to go," a misleadingly gentle voice called, sending a chill down a spine aching from the awkward position it had been forced in. "But I think it'd be best for everyone involved, if you gave it up already, Izuku."
Shut up, he wanted to scream. Shut up, you don't get to call me that. All Might doesn't call me that. My friends don't call me that. You don't get to call me that.
But if his breathing was hard, then so was speaking and a raspy, breathless voice would not be considered threatening, even if you didn't take his bound state into account. Instead he glared, emerald green eyes burning with hatred they held for very few things in this world, fighting off their daze for this one, simple (pointless) act of defiance.
The glint of metal against the single yet harsh light caught his eye and his gaze faltered slightly.
"So, how about it?"
Sometimes, in moments of distress, Midoriya would often think along the lines of what would Kacchan do? And sometimes, the answer to that question was better than others.
"Fuck you," he all but growled.
This one was not one of the good responses. It made him feel so much better nonetheless.
The villain sighed, as though he had truly expected a better response from him. As though Midoriya would ever, ever comply to their request. As though pain was something he feared enough to betray the one person who believed in him and surviving was more worthy than keeping his promise. He could never believe that.
"Very well, then. Where were we?"
Freezing cold hands reached to undo the sloppy bandages around the young hero's torso and Izuku lost against his own pride when he shut his eyes tightly, refusing (unable) to watch. His stomach took a painful twist at the feel of the cold edge of the knife against his skin. Nausea took over his brain before the pain did. He willed himself, once again, not to scream.
He failed every single time.
He often tried to recall how he got there. It was an exercise in both futility and self-deprecation. Replaying the scene over and over in his mind, pinpointing the moments he went wrong, what he could have done differently. Could he have saved himself? Could he have at least warned someone? Left a clue?
The part which frustrated him the most was that he had, in fact, listened to his ridiculous gut instinct of something being wrong that day. He had been worried out of his mind with his uncalled for paranoia, so despite their exaggerated differences, Izuku had chosen to wait, as discreetly as possible, to catch Kacchan's train, instead of leaving early on his own. He had swallowed his pride and he had waited, feeling increasingly stupid with every passing minute and yet he had gotten caught anyway.
If he ever, by some miracle, got out of this alive, he was leaving out that part of the story.
As soon as he caught sight of Kacchan approaching the station, Izuku boarded the train he was certain the other boy would board as well and buried himself in the crowd. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to talk to his classmate, even less that he longed for some sort of protection. But the idea of a familiar, albeit hostile, face in the train ride with him that day made him feel better, more reassured.
Right.
That was when things went so very, very wrong.
The man must have had at least two Quirks. Whether he got them as a combination of his parents', like Todoroki had, or through other, more questionable means, Izuku couldn't know. They had been perfect for the job, however.
First came the numbness. It wasn't paralysis, not quite, though in the end the result was about the same. In mere seconds, it was as if all energy was drained from his body. His eyes grew heavier, he swayed. Before he could understand what had gone wrong, Izuku was pliable as a doll in the man's arms, who wasted no time in leading them both out of there.
That was where the second Quirk came in. Invisibility, or perhaps a general inability to be perceived by those around him unless pointed out -he hadn't had the energy to test out the theory back then- and though his captor was acknowledged by the rest of the travelers on that train, Izuku could have just as well not even existed at the moment.
He had to hand it to him. The man must have had some serious slight of hand experience to be able to navigate a ragdoll-like boy nobody else could see through a crowd, without drawing unnecessary attention to himself.
Except for that one moment.
It was almost funny, in a tragic, desperate sort of way how a person he had associated with so much fear and pain would bring him even the barest hint of hope at that moment. And hope he did. Through the blur in his mind, the exhaustion that left him limp and helpless, Izuku saw Kacchan at that moment and there was hope to be felt, even when the danger had failed to register in his fuddled mind yet.
"Ka-" he found the strength within himself to try, but not enough of it for him to be able to fight back. A hand placed quickly in front of his mouth silenced him with little effort. All he could do, as his captor collided with his classmate on purpose, to distract him enough to slip a piece of paper in his pocket, was despair. Because that single piece of paper meant that this whole charade was something planned, something real. Izuku was the target for a reason and this whole thing was more dangerous than he had thought.
By then it was too late to start fighting.
Outside the train now, he struggled weakly in the man's grasp, who had no trouble subduing him. He tossed, squirmed, pushed with movements pathetically weak, until all the little energy he had left was drained and he allowed himself to pass out wholly into the other's greedy arms.
His last thought echoed with surprising clarity to such a foggy brain.
I'm sorry, Mom, All Might.
It took a while for the screaming to slow down into heavy pants, wheezy inhales. Tears washed away the blood and grime from his cheeks, did little for the rest of his body. His jaw hurt from clenching, his wrists were cut from struggling against the restrains, his back ached from arching with such intensity. Yet all those feelings went unregistered, overshadowed by the white-hot agony on his chest, where the blood still flowed freely from the fresh wound, pooling at his feet.
The man took a step back, admiring his handiwork.
"Well, we still have a long way to go. Are you sure you didn't change your mind?"
The glare may have been less threatening coming from eyes drowning in their own tears, but the hatred behind them burned with as much passion as it had before.
He sighed. "All right, all right. Your loss." He paused for a second, a hand tucked under his chin, contemplating something. "Would you- would it make you feel better if you got permission first?" Izuku stared, uncomprehending. "Yes, we could do that. I could do that for you, hang on."
This time he did speak, for a sick feeling had settled in his stomach. "W-What…?" It was a feeble, disgraceful sound. It was more than he thought himself capable of.
"Shush, hang on."
The man raised a hand to halt him, while with the other he fished a phone out of his pocket. After a few minutes of fumbling with it, he brought it to his ear for a couple of seconds, nodded once, satisfied, then turned on the speakerphone so they would both be able to listen.
The voice which greeted them on the other line made his blood run cold. Although it resonated with an uncanny emotional exhaustion, it would be impossible not to recognize it.
"Hello…?" the voice said, almost hesitant to answer the phone.
Izuku gaped at his captor, a fresh wave of tears gathering in his eyes.
"Speak," the man mouthed, a fake oblivious smile twisting his features into something rotten.
He let out a shuddering breath. Eventually though, he did just as told.
"A-All M-Might…?"
