warnings: kidnapping, boundaries are very much crossed, blood and injury, torture and injury/harm to a child, more blood and injury, choking, just a real not-good time overall
The boy with the tail isn't Mashirao, and Izuku breathes again. He's… probably a middle schooler, maybe twelve or thirteen, wearing a T-shirt and jeans and a pair of freshly-scuffed white shoes. His tail is long and slender, fully filled in with black and grey fur: nothing like Mashirao's. In fact, it would've been more accurate of his father to say "the boy with the cat quirk" instead.
Unless he can't tell that it's specifically a cat quirk? Or he knows of Izuku's friendship with Mashirao and wants to… what, exactly? Psychologically torture him?
Well, he's already trying to do that, so Izuku files both answers down in the 'plausible' category of his mind and focuses on watching the boy.
"Perhaps if you try working with intent you can negate heteromorphic quirks," his father suggests, and Izuku feels his lip curl into a sneer.
He smooths it back out before speaking. "I've been working with intent," he says. "I don't know what you mean."
"Perhaps if you focus on negating a specific part of the quirk," his father suggests. "Maybe an entire heteromorphic quirk is too much for Negation to handle, short of shattering."
"Maybe," Izuku mumbles, glancing down at the boy who's staring at him with wide eyes. The kid is terrified, looking up at Izuku like he's about to hurt him, torture him, kill him.
Which, he supposes, is not that far off the mark.
And then he realizes: the fear, the terror, it isn't just directed at his father.
No, it's directed at him.
…
He blinks.
Here he's standing, talking with this monster like… like they're not enemies. Like… like this man isn't a monster. Like he's a mentor.
This kid's right to be afraid of him. He's right to look up at him with those wide yellow eyes, pupils narrowed to tiny slits in his terror.
After all… What indication is there that Izuku's anything but an accomplice to all this?
…He is.
He is an accomplice.
Not just an accomplice, a perpetrator. He's, he's done these things, used his quirk on these people, without consent, changing things about them permanently and irreversibly, he's done this.
He's done this.
"-uku? Izuku!"
That's him.
There's a hand on his face, large and cool and filled with so much, and Izuku knows who this is. It's him, his father, the monster in his closet, the monster in the world's closet, and Izuku—
He doesn't feel.
He's empty.
"Izuku? Can you tell me what's wrong? Is there—"
Something touches his neck. A thumb, a finger, a hand, something brushes over that sensitive skin.
His head twists and his jaw clamps down on flesh and bone with as much force as he can muster. He can hear something crack and snap.
There's blood in his mouth and it's not his.
Someone cries out and the world comes into focus. Izuku is snarling, standing between his father and the boy with blood in his teeth, mixing with saliva and dripping down his chin. His father is a meter or two away, cradling his bleeding left hand.
They stand there. His father says nothing. Izuku says nothing. The boy behind him whimpers.
A crackle of red and black, a red quirk with a silver sheen is brough to the forefront, and his father's hand crackles as the metacarpals Izuku snapped are knit back together, as flesh is healed and skin is closed.
"I thought," the man's voice is sharp, dangerous like the points of a pitchfork, "we were done with this."
"Define this," Izuku snaps.
A shift, he can see the dark brown of Hold shifting towards the front, and Izuku closes his right hand into a fist, making sure to brush his thumb over his fingers and complete the touch. Negation flickers to life across his body, and Hold is rendered useless.
"Oh, whatever will I do with you." His father tsks, again, and Izuku feels his fingers twitch. "You can't escape, you know that? Well." The man pauses, shrugs. "You could. You could try, but you'd have to leave behind everyone else. Ragdoll, this boy, everyone whose quirks you've shattered… You'd have to leave them to their fates to escape me, and while I don't like wasting life, I'd be more than willing to sacrifice them all for your punishment."
He pauses.
"Or. They may be quirkless now, but I'm sure they'd make brilliant Noumu."
"What," Izuku whispers, his eyes widening. "What are the Noumu?"
"Well… they used to be human."
There's ringing in his ears.
Or is that just his brain?
"Stand down, now, unless you wish to condemn them to their fates."
Izuku takes a deep breath, spits out more blood. He takes another breath, and lets his shoulders drop. A third breath, and he shifts out of his fighting stance, letting his head hang.
"That's better."
Izuku snaps the fingers of his right hand, and with a flicker of red, Negation sinks back into his skin, and his father takes a step forward.
"Better."
He stands there, head hanging, as his father walks forward. He stands there as hands come down on his shoulders.
"Now, Izuku, I hope you know that I can't just let this go unpunished. You broke my trust. Unfortunately, the chains are coming back. Hold up your right hand."
Izuku does as told, letting his father jam the glove-cuff back on and lock it, tighter than it had been before, the metal biting into his skin. The man turns him around and manhandles him back to the chair and the chains, and Izuku lets him.
"Now. About your punishment—"
"I—" Izuku's head snaps up as he chokes off his sentence. "I-I thought this, I thought this was the," he swallows, "the punishment?"
"Oh, no." His father shakes his head. "This is the consequence of breaking my trust. Your punishment… Come, child, stop cowering, I know exactly where you are."
Unsurprisingly, the child does not come forward. His father sighs, and with the dancing blue quirk and a flick of the hand, a table lifts up, revealing the boy, curled up as tight as he could.
"This is your punishment." A flash of red and black calls a flashing white quirk, humming with power and energy, to the surface. It mixes, dances with the blue quirk, the two quirks twisting around each other to a beat only Izuku could see and hear.
The white quirk flares, and a bolt of lightning flashes between his father and the boy and the boy is left convulsing on the floor.
"No," Izuku whispers, jerking forward, the chains pressing into his ribcage, one link into his sternum with a bite of pain which he ignores. "No, no no no, I-I, no…"
"He's still alive, if that's what you're worried about," his father says, and Izuku doesn't watch him walk over, can't tear his eyes off the form of the child now still on the floor. "After all, you still need him to practice your quirk on. Or had you forgotten?"
He shakes his head as tears spill over, running down his cheeks and joining the blood already there. He lets his head drop, lets his eyes close and his shoulders shake.
Was this ever going to end?
Izuku doesn't get lunch. He hadn't gotten breakfast, and he certainly hadn't gotten dinner when he'd all but passed out in his father's arms the night before, so he hasn't eaten anything since he was captured except for the one sandwich he was offered yesterday, and his stomach is letting him know that. He's also only had that glass of water, too, so his pounding headache might partially be dehydration and not just quirk overuse.
As he sits there, for hours, while the two men work on… something in the lab, he passes by hungry right back around to no longer hungry.
And then, finally, when the light's starting to fade from the windows and skylights, the doctor leaves and brings out the cat boy again. His father walks over and releases Izuku's left hand.
"Focus on his tail," his father orders. "No stunts." He turns the key in the lock and removes the glove-cuff.
The boy is gagged and bound and his eyes are still just as terrified as they had been. Izuku hesitates, glancing at those big yellow eyes, and his father nudges his shoulder.
"Now, Izuku," he says.
Izuku reaches forward, concentrating on the thought of—of the boy's tail. Black and silver and flicking, lashing, fur fluffed all the way up as Izuku puts his hand on the boy's bare arm and activates his quirk.
The tail stills, laying limp on the ground like a paralyzed limb.
His father walks around the chair and pulls the gag out of the boy's mouth.
"What does your tail feel like?" he asks.
"I-I can't," the boy pants. "I can't feel it, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me—"
"Izuku, release your quirk."
He does so, snap echoing around the warehouse, and that tail begins lashing again, even more frantic than before as the boy struggles to get away from the man towering over him.
"Excellent," his father purrs, turning away from the boy. "Left hand please, Izuku." Izuku holds up his left hand, and the glove goes back on it, cuff tightened just as much as the right one, and the chains go back around his left arm, too.
"You get to stay here, tonight," his father says. "Perhaps, if you are very well behaved tomorrow, you can shower and sleep in the bedroom tomorrow night."
With that, his father leaves, the dancing blue quirk pulling the boy along behind him.
Shouta stands with Kan and Nedzu next to the door. Hizashi is there as well, and he's sure that Nemuri, Emi, and Inko will be watching the whole thing with the Iidas while waiting for a phone call.
"You got this!" Hizashi says in English, summoning a portion of his Present Mic personality before switching back to Japanese and placing his hands on Shouta's shoulders. "You'll be great. You faced down thirty villains for these kids! What's a little press conference, huh?"
Shouta glares at him, and that's all that's needed to get his point across.
"It's almost time." That's one of the PR assistants, sticking her head in the door.
"You can do this," Hizashi repeats, solemn, one hand coming up to cup Shouta's clean-shaven cheek. "I believe in you."
Shouta leans forward and presses their lips together, for just a moment, before Hizashi is backing up and Shouta is being called out to the conference with Nedzu and Kan.
The three of them leave the green room, and he wants to turn right back around and hide inside it. The press conference room is packed, reporters everywhere, and none of them friendly. The cameras are flashing and he wishes it were socially acceptable to wear sunglasses indoors at night.
They remain standing behind the table, and Nedzu nods at Shouta.
He takes a breath and begins.
"We apologize deeply," he says, "for the incident that allowed harm to come to twenty-six of our first-year Hero Course students because of our unpreparedness. We apologize for causing unease in society due to our negligence in properly defending ourselves as a place of learning. We are truly sorry."
The prepared statement comes to a close, and all three of them bow and take their seats.
"I'm from Yomiuri TV!" The first question comes. "Since the beginning of the year, U.A. High School students have had four encounters with villains, this one having the most injuries. How did you explain to their parents, and what are some specific countermeasures you are taking?"
"We will increase policing the surrounding area," Nedzu begins. "And review the security within the school, ensuring the students' safety with a strong position. That is what we told them."
"You spoke about the students' safety, Eraserhead. During the incident, it appears you urged them to fight. What was your intention behind this?"
Shouta leans forward to speak into the microphone. "I concluded that because we were unable to fully grasp the situation, it had to be done in order to avoid the worst possible outcome."
"What do you mean by 'worst possible outcome'? You don't call twenty-five injured and one abducted student the worst possible outcome?" the same reporter asks. Shouta holds in his first response, calling forward years of experience dealing with teenagers.
"The 'worst outcome' I assumed in that situation was that the students would be killed."
"The gas attack accounts for most of the victims," Nedzu adds. "We have determined that it was a sleeping gas caused by one of the enemies' quirks. Thanks to the quick response of Ms. Kendou and Mr. Tetsutetsu, there were no serious injuries from that attack. In addition, we are providing mental care to the students, but at the moment we do not see any signs of serious psychological trauma."
"Are you saying that it was a bright spot in this tragedy?"
"We believe that the worst outcome is one that would have infringed upon the future," Nedzu replies.
"Can you say the same thing for the kidnapped Midoriya? He won the Sports Festival and transferred from General Studies to Hero Course. Can you say he still has a future?"
That lance of pain is back, cutting through him before Nedzu replies.
"We are not just standing around idly. We are currently investigating along with the police. We will definitely get our student back!"
Please, let that be true.
Izuku's shoulders ache. His arms have been chained behind him for hours, now, his shoulders aren't the only thing protesting. All the lights except for the sickly green of the Noumu tanks are off, but he still can't sleep. How can he?
He shifts, trying to adjust the positioning of his arms, but it's no good. He can't stretch, he can't flex, he can barely move.
It's in the middle of stretching his neck (at least that's one thing he can still stretch) when the warehouse falls apart around him.
Literally. A giant crash slams through the warehouse and it's all Izuku can do to duck his head, to hunch his shoulders, to try to protect his head as the building falls apart around him.
It's over in seconds. Every single one of the Noumu tanks is breached and then shattered in quick order by Tiger and Gang Orca, their occupants restrained in seconds by Best Jeanist. Tiger and Mt. Lady, now small, vanish deeper into the warehouse, towards the prisoners, while Gang Orca and Best Jeanist approach Izuku.
Izuku, for his part, starts crying as Best Jeanist commands threads to pick the locks with deft flicks of his fingers, and he's stumbling into Gang Orca as soon as he's freed from the chains.
"It's alright," the hero says, "we've got you."
Legs cramping, he can barely stand and hardly walk as Gang Orca guides him with an arm around his back towards where Mt. Lady is now waiting. Belatedly, he realizes he's caught Gang Orca's suit in a death grip and he's probably not letting go any time soon. The cuff-gloves are still there, but he can hear Best Jeanist and Mt. Lady talking in the background—the locks on the cuffs are a little too complicated, a little beyond Best Jeanist's skill as a lock-picker to pick.
"Wasn't Midoriya supposed to be at the other location?" Mt. Lady asks.
"Supposedly," Jeanist replies, and that's when everything goes to shit. Footsteps echo out of the darkness, and Izuku freezes.
"Sorry, Tiger. She's always had a good quirk."
The heroes shift, turning to look in the direction of the voice.
Izuku does not move.
"It was the perfect opportunity, so I took it."
"Are you with the League?" Gang Orca asks, while Tiger asks for a light.
"After my body turned into this, I burnt through a lot of what I had stocked up."
Those footsteps. Coming forward. Always.
"Stop! Don't move!" Gang Orca demands, moving Izuku behind him, shielding him with his body.
The man begins to step into the light, and finally, Izuku turns to peer around Gang Orca. Best Jeanist makes the first move, tightening every fiber in the man's clothes, as Mt. Lady leans forward.
"Wait, Best Jeanist! What if he was just a citizen?"
"Think about the situation," Jeanist says. "That instant of hesitation could decide the fight. Don't let the villains do anything!"
"Now, I'll thank you to hand my son back over."
A flash of red and black light, and the world screams around them.
As the dust settles, Izuku can hear clapping.
"As expected of the Number Four hero, Best Jeanist. I thought I'd blown everyone away."
The world comes into focus and Izuku blinks several times in rapid succession as he takes in what's happening: his father, floating forward in midair, clapping slowly, with Best Jeanist laid out on the ground in front of him.
"To manipulate everyone's clothes and pull them away in an instant? That quick decision-making and skill—You must have nerves of steel."
Best Jeanist struggles to push himself up, and Izuku wants to say something, anything, but the hero's attacking, the fibers in his clothes shooting forward towards the man floating above—
There's nothing to be done, one of his father's many quirks drilling a hole into Best Jeanist's abdomen. The hero falls, blood seeping into his denim clothes.
"I see. This is strength from an extensive amount of practice and practical experience. I don't need yours… it's not a quirk that goes well with Tomura's disposition."
There's shifting—the heroes around him are beginning to regain consciousness as well.
They're not the only ones. A shifting of lights, a change in the harmonies is the precursor to another quirk brought to the forefront, this one a deep, murky green.
Izuku can feel when it activates on him. And even if he hadn't, he sure would be noticing the way something seems to well up from inside him, a liquid, terrible and so similar to that day so many months ago, it wells up his throat and he chokes. His fingers brush over himself, ghost over his skin, plunge into the liquid, but nothing happens, he can do nothing against this because his fingers are covered and the glove-cuffs are still on—
He chokes, and he stumbles forward, on the other side of the field, behind his father, as the League of Villains stumbles out of the black liquid around him. Dabi and Kurogiri are both unconscious, but all the others are awake and turning to glare at him. The rubble strewn over the ground is sharp, harsh against his bare feet, and his quirk is inaccessible for now, but he shifts into a fighting stance anyway, hands coming up to cover his chest as he glances around at the League.
No one moves to attack him, though.
Shigaraki is crouched, kneeling in front of Izuku—in front of, in front of their father? There's a hand covering his face as he bows his head with a reverent "Master".
"You failed again, huh, Tomura?" The man lands, walks forward. "But do not be discouraged. Just try again. I have brought your associates back as well. And, of course, your brother." The man stops in front of Shigaraki and holds out a hand. "Do it over as many times as you need to. That is why I am here. It's all for you."
Shigaraki looks up. Izuku can't decipher the expression in his eyes—adoration? Worship? Reverence? Something passes, between master and apprentice, father and son, and…
Izuku's throat burns.
His father All For One turns away from Shigaraki. "You're here, after all, aren't you?" he murmurs.
Izuku follows his gaze, and he sees it. Like a shooting star, a meteor, a bright white light singing with all the intensities of a thousand choirs—
All Might is here.