Notes:
Trigger Warnings:
-suicidal thoughts
-graphic depictions of medical treatment
-mention of torture
After driving for about an hour, Izuku could confidently say that he was getting the hang of the whole 'driving' thing. As intelligent as he was, Izuku was still only 11 years old. Now, he knew enough about a car to get the thing moving: turn the key, shift gears, and slam on the gas. Luckily for Izuku, that was about as much as he needed to know at the moment. The facility he was currently speeding away from was in the middle of nowhere; the only other inhabitants on the abandoned dirt roads were the occasional snake or two. There were no stoplights to stop at or cars to squeeze around, so Izuku was able to speed as much as he wanted to. And speed he did; currently, the boy was racing at about 115 miles per hour, dust flying up under the wheels in a whirlwind behind the fast-moving vehicle.
If he could go faster, he would. Still, Izuku pressed on, Aizawa in the backseat behind him. Izuku's frequent (bordering obsessive) glances in the rearview mirror reassured him that no one was following them currently. They had already traveled a decent distance; all in all, things could be worse.
That, of course, was when they ran out of gas.
The spluttering of the engine was the first thing that clued Izuku in on the fact that there was a serious problem.
So concerned with checking behind him for any unwanted visitors, and to make sure that 'Zawa was still breathing in the back, Izuku had failed to notice the fuel gauge's red pointer moving closer and closer to EMPTY.
When the vehicle began lurching and shuttering, however, Izuku became aware of this issue. To say he was mad was an understatement.
"You have got to be kidding me. This is some kind of sick joke. I'm going to wake up any minute now. This isn't FUCKING POSSIBLE-" Growing louder with each word, Izuku slammed his head down onto the steering wheel out of pure and utter frustration. By now, the car had stopped completely, unresponsive to Izuku's foot still pressed heavily on the gas pedal.
Izuku let out a growl, which then turned into a full-throated scream. He could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. The burns covering his body ached and his head throbbed violently. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping him from smashing something, anything, around him.
They were so close. So fucking close. They had escaped the facility. They had beaten the guards, had stolen this goddamn car, had lit the place on fire. After over a year of being tortured and beaten and killed and stuffed back together, Izuku was finally out.
Yet here they were. Stopped, in the middle of nowhere, just waiting to be found by Overhaul and dragged back into that hellhole. Not because they weren't strong enough, no-
Because their escape car ran out of fucking gas.
The thought made Izuku chuckle humorlessly. Which turned into a hysterical laugh. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was sure that he looked absolutely insane right now, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Aizawa was passed out in the backseat, losing far too much blood. Their car was out of gas, and they were stuck in the middle of nowhere.
Izuku was alone.
He laughed even harder, voice cracking and throat stinging at the action. He felt something inside of him, whatever hope or bullshit he had been so foolish to believe in, snap.
So, he laughed. He cried. He screamed. He cursed, and hit the steering wheel, and wished to be dead. Izuku felt so useless. He felt like a Deku. For a moment, he considered ending it all here and now. At least it would be at his own hands, right? That would be better than Overhaul finding and killing him, definitely. The dark thought was reassuring. He let himself be swept away in the possibility of being free, finally free. It was tempting. Too tempting.
That was when Aizawa let out a groan of pain from the backseat, still unconscious but not dead yet.
Izuku was ripped out of his suicidal spiral. The thoughts he had been considering made him sick. How close he was to ending it. It was despicable that he would ever even entertain the thought of leaving Aizawa to die alone and in pain. He grit his teeth at the idea.
He thought of when he first met the underground hero. The feeling in his chest when the man talked about his cats and his husband. The warm presence of his body next to his as Izuku braided Aizawa's hair with shaking hands. His low and gruff voice; stern but warm and kind. The gentle hugs that Aizawa would hesitantly pull him into after a nightmare, the tender caress of his calloused hands against Izuku's hair.
It was then that Izuku made up his mind. He didn't care if he died. Really, he didn't. But he would fight with every last goddamn breath to make sure that Aizawa made it back to his husband and cats safely.
Uncurling his fingers from the steering wheel with a wince, Izuku took a deep breath. He scrubbed the tears from his face and shook his head fervently to reorient himself.
Once he was calmer, Izuku's gaze turned sharper, more analytical than it had been before. He had to find a way out, somehow. He was determined to do it.
He started with searching the center console of the car. Finding nothing of value, he moved on to the glovebox, located in front of the passenger seat. Inside were neat bundles of wires, some electrical tape, and a small pair of pliers. Nodding to himself, he continued his search.
The middle of the car yielded no significant findings other than some bottled water, which Izuku immediately forced down Aizawa's throat. Once finished, Izuku made his way to the car's trunk, loose dirt and gravel embedding itself into Izuku's bruised and cut feet. Disregarding the pain, he opened the trunk with a small click of the latch, and was met with a series of kits. One of them was a small first-aid kit which Izuku silently rejoiced over. Grabbing that and tucking it under his arm, he scanned the rest of the trunk for anything of use. There were some jumper cables, a small generator, and a toolbox, all of which he removed from the car and placed gently onto the dirt ground. Once he had cleared the trunk of its contents, he moved to shut the latch when his eye caught on a small lip in the trunk's interior lining. Curious, he ran his fingers over the odd shape.
Digging farther, he felt something under his fingertips give way. To his surprise, a small panel in the bottom of the trunk opened up, revealing several things: a stack of hundred-dollar bills, a pistol, and a flip phone.
Izuku's brain stopped. He stood like that for a moment, the afternoon sun warming his back, cool wind carding through his hair.
A phone. There was a phone.
The hope in his chest exploded once more, and he grabbed the small flip phone as fast as he could. Whipping it open, he dialed the number that Aizawa had him memorize when they had first begun planning without a second thought. It was only when the line began ringing that he regained some rational thinking skills. What was he even going to say? Would he even answer the phone? What if he hangs up on him? No one had believed him when he asked for help before, why would anyone now? What about- Izuku's anxious musings were cut short when the line clicked, and a voice spoke.
"Nemuri, I swear if this is you calling to prank me again I'll dump glitter in your bed and you won't be able to get it out for weeks."
The voice was brash and audibly annoyed, but not angry. No, it held an undertone of humor, one used with close friends and trusted companions. It was a tone Aizawa often used when joking with Izuku, although this voice was much higher in pitch and carried a lightness that Aizawa's didn't possess.
Izuku was silent. He swallowed thickly. He tried opening up his mouth to speak, to say anything, but nothing would come out.
After a moment, the voice spoke again.
"Uhh, helloooo? Anyone there?"
It was now or never. Izuku willed himself to vocalize something, and somehow, he was able to. His voice cracked and he probably sounded like he was 5 years old, but he spoke.
"You're… 'Zawa says I can trust you."
Izuku could hear a sharp inhale from the other line. Before the man could respond, Izuku spoke again.
"I need your help."
Yamada Hizashi was not having the best of days. His morning started out fairly well: he woke up on time, ate breakfast, got dressed for work, and was on his way out the door with time to spare. That was before he stepped in a pile of cat puke. After cleaning up the mess on the floor and his hero costume's boots, he was running ten minutes late to work. When he finally got to UA, just as he was walking into the building, a bird shit on his hair. Yes, actual bird shit. It took him the better part of an hour to clean the bird poop out of his intricate hairdo, and it forced him to miss the staff meeting that Nedzu had called earlier that morning. Fantastic. Then, he had to teach English to a bunch of high school students. Now, don't get him wrong, he loves his job. He doesn't, however, love it when one of his students goes on a rampage and destroys half his classroom when he found out he failed the most recent English test.
It was safe to say that Hizashi was not in the best of moods. He was tired, pissed, and his carefully constructed hairdo had been ruined. So, when he sat down on his lunch break, he planned to relax, maybe read a little, and eat some sushi.
He did not plan on receiving a phone call from a random number. Hearing his phone -his personal phone, mind you- scream Britney Spears' "Toxic" had never made him so annoyed.
"Nemuri, I swear if this is you calling to prank me again I'll dump glitter in your bed and you won't be able to get it out for weeks."
Silence. He really didn't have time for this.
"Uhh, helloooo? Anyone there?"
More silence. Hizashi was about to hang up when finally, someone spoke. It was not Nemuri.
"You're… 'Zawa says I can trust you."
Hizashi inhaled sharply. His brain jumped into high gear when he heard the name"'Zawa". It was too close to be a coincidence. He was about to demand to know what the hell was going on when the voice (it sounded like… a child?) spoke again.
"I need your help."
Yamada Hizashi had not been having a good day. It was about to get much, much worse.
As Izuku carded through the first-aid kit, looking for a needle and surgical thread, snippets of the recent phone call echoed through his mind.
"Who is this? What the hell do you know about my husband?"
The man's voice was commanding, almost threatening if not for the slight tremor.
"My... My name is Izuku Midoriya. I'm 10… er, 11 now, I guess. I was kidnapped by Overhaul a while ago. A couple months later, 'Zawa was kidnapped too. Listen, I know you probably have a lot of questions and you probably don't believe me but I swear I'm telling the truth-"
"Is he alive."
It wasn't a question. No, it seemed like the man was too scared to actually ask.
"...What?"
"My husband. Shouta. Is… is he alive."
Izuku paused at that. He could hear Aizawa's wheezing, wet sounding breathing from the backseat of the Jeep. He held back a wince in favor of responding.
"...Barely."
"Tell me what I can do to help you."
Izuku, after finding the supplies he had been looking for, opened the backdoor of the Jeep to reveal an unconscious Aizawa, drenched in blood and sweat, his breathing shallow.
Swallowing the fear in his throat at the sight, Izuku took a deep breath before sliding his hands under Aizawa's limp form, grunting slightly as he heaved the man up in his arms. The position they were in was far from optimal; Izuku had to maneuver himself awkwardly to fit into the Jeep at that angle, and had to squeeze against the seats to get the man out of the car safely.
After a solid few minutes of fumbling, shuffling, and finagling, Izuku had managed to remove Aizawa from the backseat, placing him gently onto the dirt ground. It wasn't sanitary or comfortable by any means, but Izuku was desperate. He needed to stop the bleeding.
Currently, he was kneeling on the ground next to Aizawa, the small first-aid kit at his side. Brandishing a miniature set of scissors in his hands, he began cutting the man's shirt and the makeshift bandage off his body. The sight that met him had Izuku gagging; it wasn't pretty.
The man's abdomen had been slashed open unevenly; the entire wound was about a foot lengthwise and varied in depth. Everything was stained red. The skin surrounding the gash had been torn away when Izuku had removed Aizawa's shirt. Dried blood was mixed with fresh blood and clumps of peeling skin, scab, and fabric were all coated in the sticky substance. Izuku fought the bile rising in his throat at the sight. He had a job to do.
Working as quickly as he could, he uncapped the small bottle of rubbing alcohol that had been in the kit and poured its contents over Aizawa's wound, as well as over his own hands in an attempt to sanitize them.
He looped the surgical thread through the needle, and, holding the small needle with a set of tweezers, began the tedious and painstaking process of stitching up Aizawa's wound. Now, Izuku was no medical professional. He had watched some HeroTube videos on first aid and how to stitch up a wound, but that was almost two years ago, and his memory was fuzzy at best. So, the end result was… messy, to say the least. The sutures were uneven and sloppily tied, and they were barely holding together, but the wound was closed.
Taking a deep breath, Izuku poured the remaining rubbing alcohol over the stitched-up gash, wrapping Aizawa's abdomen firmly in the roll of bandages that the first-aid kit had held, hands shaking. Only when Izuku had ensured that the wound was completely closed and covered did he relax slightly. The sight of Aizawa's rising and falling chest helped soothe his anxiety, too.
But Izuku was far from over. The phone call with 'Zashi Present Mic echoed in his head again.
Explaining the current situation was… difficult. Izuku kept stuttering with his words and it was obvious that he was scared. Hizashi just listened patiently (inwardly dying), the kid on speaker phone as the pro hero was now sitting in a room with Midnight and Nedzu, whom he had hurriedly gathered as Izuku spoke.
Nedzu, listening carefully to Izuku and Aizawa's predicament, was quick to track the location of Izuku's phone while the boy was talking. Unfortunately for everyone present, Nedzu wasn't able to track the pair's exact location; the signal was too weak to do so, which made matters a little more complicated. He was able to pick out a general area, however. While it wasn't perfect, it was a good start. Immediately, the mammal arranged a team of pro heroes to search the newfound area. The team consisted mainly of heroes who were available and nearby; Hawks, Mirko, and Fatgum. Those three, along with Midnight and Present Mic, were to be sent to the general location to search.
It was Nedzu who had asked Izuku, still on speaker phone, for a small favor. Well, maybe not small, exactly.
"Izuku, was it? I was able to identify your general location, but not your exact coordinates. That's where you come in. I understand you have a vehicle at your disposal, hm? Would you, perhaps, be able to create some sort of explosion for us to be able to find you and Eraserhead more easily? I, of course, am more than willing to walk you through how to make a bomb out of car parts-"
The principle was cut off by Izuku's surprisingly calm sounding voice.
"Oh, that's easy. I can do that. Is there anything else you need me to do?"
The room fell into a shocked silence. Hizashi made eye contact with Nemuri. The 18 hero grinned, her eyes alight with mischief. Nedzu was no better. He seemed like he was considering taking on a personal student. He quickly continued.
"Wonderful. We'll begin our journey to your location as soon as possible. It seems like you're about three hours away by car. If we take my personal jet, however, we'll be there much sooner. Izuku, please detonate the bomb in approximately 25 minutes. We will be ending the phone call now to preserve your phone's battery life. If anything goes wrong, immediately call us again; I presume you have this number memorized?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"Good. Any questions?"
Izuku paused. When he spoke next, his voice was heavy with vulnerability.
"This… this isn't a joke, right? You're… you're actually coming to save us?"
It was then that you could hear the sound of three hearts all collectively breaking at the same time. Nemuri's eyes were shining with tears, Nedzu's fur was standing on end, and Hizashi… Hizashi was about two seconds away from a complete breakdown.
"...Little Listener, this isn't a joke. We're coming to help, I promise. Just hold on tight for us, okay? You're being so brave. Thank you for staying with Sho. You… you're going to be okay."
Hizashi's voice broke at that last part, his words swimming with a whirlpool of emotions.
"...Thank you."
The call ended. The heroes jumped into action.
Exactly 25 minutes after the phone call had ended, and approximately 10 minutes after Izuku had finished stitching up Aizawa's wound and promptly dragging him far, far away from the Jeep, Izuku set off the car bomb with a resounding 'BOOM'.
Rigging the bomb was surprisingly easy. The car itself was already pretty flammable, even if it wasn't full of gas. With the extra wires from the glovebox and the parts of the engine accessible through the popped hood, Izuku was able to make a simple, yet effective, explosion. He had all those hero support item books to thank for the knowledge. Bakugou had laughed at him, telling him he would never use that shit in the future. Look who's laughing now, Kacchan.
Standing several yards away from the now burning Jeep, next to an unconscious Aizawa, was Izuku. On the ground by his feet lay the half-empty first-aid kit, the stolen pistol, baton, and the flip phone. Izuku watched the roaring inferno ahead of him with fascination glinting in his eyes and a burning hope in his chest.
It was time to leave, finally.
About 10 minutes after Izuku had detonated the bomb, he heard the telltale whirring of a helicopter, the sound of reverberating air growing closer and closer. Izuku scanned the skies, and his heart flew.
There, in the clouds, was a helicopter speeding towards him and Aizawa.
Izuku grinned, his heart pounding fast and adrenaline coursing through his veins. He jumped up and down, waving his arms wildly in the direction of the approaching aircraft. It was slightly childish, but he didn't care. He let out a jovial laugh, the sound drowned out in the deafening roar of the helicopter's blades.
After what felt like an eternity later, the helicopter landed a few miles away from Izuku and Aizawa. Izuku's hair was whipping around his face from the wind, and he couldn't fight the smile that was etched on his face now. The fans of the propellers quickly put out the remaining flames of the car bomb before the slow whir of the engine died out, and the sound of the blades spinning fell quiet.
Izuku fought the urge to run towards the helicopter, but ultimately deemed it safer to stay put and wait for the heroes to approach him instead. Waiting anxiously, he bounced on the toes of his feet with excitement as the door to the helicopter opened. A figure stepped out and hopped gracefully to the ground, making their way slowly in Izuku and Aizawa's direction.
Dust now hung heavy in the air from the wind disturbance, so Izuku couldn't quite see who was approaching, especially from that distance. He could tell it was only one person, though. That struck him as odd. He thought they were sending a few heroes, not just one?
As the figure got closer and closer, Izuku's excitement faded as he became more critical of the situation. It felt… off. Didn't the man on the phone say something about a jet? That was a helicopter, not a jet. Plus, it was too soon for them to be here already, right? And why was the figure walking so slowly? You'd think that Present Mic would be quick to rush to help his husband, right?
Unease started growing in Izuku's gut. The figure drew closer.
Slowly, Izuku leaned down and picked up the pistol on the ground by his feet. He unclicked the safety.
The dust cleared slightly, and Izuku strained to see the man who was now only a few yards away.
The man who was wearing a green jacket with a purple feather collar.
The man who was wearing a bird-beak plague mask.
The man who had tortured, who had killed Izuku over and over again.
The man who was now walking towards Izuku with fury in his eyes and no gloves on his hands.
Otherwise known as Chisaki Kai, or Overhaul.
Yeah, that one.
Because Izuku had forgotten one very important thing.
The fire from the car was a signal to heroes, yes.
But there was nothing stopping it from signaling to villains.