I deliberately stuck to passing mentions of Bunko and Atsushi because I didn't want yall to get too hung up on them but now I'M the only one WHO IS.
Discord contributors for the comments in this chapter: GeminiinGold, twitter ?!, EM, Soma, IdioticBrainspark
CT: Child Abuse in multiple forms, interrogation, multiple PTSD flashbacks, major panic attack, explosion.
CHAPTER 10: Home
[YOUTUBE VIDEO]
[TITLE: GUY SAVES BIKER … WITH LIGHTENING FAST REFLEXES?!]
[A TEENAGER IS IN THE MIDDLE OF DOING IMPRESSIONS WHEN A GIRL RIDING A BIKE DOWN THE HILL ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET SCREAMS. A BOY WITH GREEN HAIR REACTS AND YANKS HER RIGHT OFF THE BIKE SEAT JUST IN TIME. THE BIKE CONTINUES DOWN THE HILL AND DISAPPEARS INTO THE CONFUSED CROWD AT THE BOTTOM. SOMEONE GRABS IT BEFORE IT CAN SHOOT OUT INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC.]
[IT'S OBVIOUS THAT IF THE BOY HADN'T REACTED WHEN HE DID, THE GIRL WOULD HAVE BEEN LAUNCHED AND LIKELY KILLED BY AN APPROACHING BUS.]
[THE CLIP REPEATS IN SLOW MOTION BUT THE CAMERA QUALITY IS POOR AND THEIR FACES ARE UNIDENTIFIABLE.]
[VIDEO DESCRIPTION READS: My friend and I were goofing off on our way to school and saw this shit happen across the street. Those reflexes are fucking insane!]
[204,329 VIEWS]
[1,028 COMMENTS]
[2uccinigucci 6 minutes ago - this guy is going to be the world's strongest dad when he grows up.]
[Minarai45 17 minutes ago - Green Kid: aight ima head out]
[Warsoever124 46 minutes ago - Ya'll saw that to right. Him just snatchin her of the Bike]
[Floof 1 hour ago - OI MY BRO SAYS THIS KID IS A SQUICK (8 thumbs up | 11 thumbs down)]
[Whatermelon13 15 hours ago - Tht's one hell of a quirk right there]
[ Welpthisisfine 30 minutes ago - Whatermelon13 RIGHT? Like, dude HAS to be in a hero course of some kind with skills like that]
[ PancakeRLife 25 minutes ago - Whatermelon13 I hope so otherwise that would realy hurt if you don't know how to make it Perfekt]
[Cream custard 1 day ago - Wow, someone call the cops for vigilantism]
[Welpthisisfine 2 days ago - Duuuuuuude, those are some CRAZY reflexes! That's gotta be the work of a quirk]
A doctor – nicknamed 'Uncle' by his nefarious, overseas affiliates – smiled and replayed the video, leaning back in his cushy office chair. Uncle added some notes to the private workbook he'd spent the last few years writing, then he downloaded a copy of the video to scrub later. He saved it into an encrypted folder labeled TARGET SUBJECT, where it joined dozens of other clips, photographs, and files of the same green haired boy. He briefly scrolled through the images, landing on one from only a few weeks ago.
It was a candid shot taken from above the subject on a rainy night, catching the contrasting lights and colors in a way that made it feel cinematic. The subject was looking into the camera lens from the street below, big, bright green eyes catching the glow of a nearby streetlamp. His characteristic freckles were partially obscured by bandages again and his posture reminded Uncle just a bit of a rabbit looking for danger.
The photo must have been taken a moment before he realized what he was looking at. Or maybe the boy hadn't noticed and just happened to be looking in that direction. He wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if his old research subject had developed a sixth sense in the years since he'd last seen him. Life had obviously been rough on the kid.
When he got Dr. Ujiko and his team back he'd be sure to reward them for all their hard work. In just a few weeks' time that old poaching bastard will finally be out of my way, he reminded himself. Only then could Midoriya Izuku could be collected safely, just like they'd planned. All the work it had taken to get him in that apartment would finally payoff.
In the meantime, Uncle needed to finish unraveling the unintelligent quirk monster his rival had created and had dubbed with the ridiculous name; Nomu.
Soon, the brunette told himself, turning to look up at the massive creature suspended in the testing tube behind him.
'YOU ARE NOT SAFE HERE.'
Izuku really didn't give a damn about his own safety. He could live somewhere else. That was fine, he was adaptable. But he wasn't worried for himself.
Someone texted him as he turned and ran out of the apartment. Sliding down the handrail to the bottom floor, the analyst pushed off a wall and sprinted into the street towards Atsushi's shop. He unlocked his phone and only half noticed the little fire emoji sent to him from an unknown number as he dialed Atsushi's from memory.
It barely had a chance to ring before an explosion shook the ground and set off car alarms in every direction. Thick smoke quickly scaled the air, rising in an ominous column from a direction that threatened so much more than just his physical body. Izuku couldn't recall making the decision to run towards it, only that the explosion had come from Atsushi's beloved corner store and that his stupid legs weren't moving fast enough.
His eyes were burning by the time he came within sight of the building but he wasn't sure how much of that really had to do with the smoke. Huge chunks of concrete and rebar debris had been wrenched off the ground in the blast. Already the store was less than half it's original height, most of it either blown away or caving towards the underground city.
For a moment, complete and utter helplessness made him stagger, stunned as he watched the shop he'd visited every day for almost four months burn to the ground right in front of him, not knowing if Atsushi and Bunko-kun were still inside. Dreadful and poignant, this single moment would stay with him for the rest of his life, as he looked into the blaze and caught himself thinking; no-one could possibly survive that.
People were screaming, running in every direction. The fresh pain of overexertion along his wounded sides, the dangerous pace of his beating heart– every environmental stressor and cue rang uselessly between his ears.
White noise.
That's all he could hear beyond the ringing.
In the end, blind fear propelled Izuku towards the blazing building.
"Atsushi! Bunko-kun!" he shouted into the smoke, voice high with a familiar kind of despair that he refused to acknowledge. It wasn't too late, the building hadn't even fully collapsed yet. There was still time! There was still something he could do to help! "Atsushiii! Bunko-kuun! Ggrhk–" he erupted into a coughing fit as a cruel gust of wind blew ash into his face, the fire's fingers reaching towards him as if to grab him. In his muddled mind that almost didn't register as a bad thing. Atsushi and Bunko-kun were as good as family to him and he would gladly burn if it meant he could get them out safely somehow.
Before Izuku could make it more than a foot through what had once been the front entrance someone hooked an arm over his chest and swept him off his feet.
"What the hell are you doing?! Shit, hold still– it's too dangerous, kid!" the man holding him grunted, struggling to drag Izuku to safety as the analyst fought with vicious urgency to get away.
"No–! Let me go!" Izuku spat, finally slipping out of his backpack only to get caught again by a police officer rushing onto the scene. "Bunko-kun! Atsushi-san!" his own screams didn't sound loud enough over what felt and looked like a conflagration but he kept struggling, kept trying to reach them. Until he was eventually restrained and thrown into the back of a police car, left to watch EMS flood the street while he was driven away.
If someone read him his rights before they cuffed and stuffed him into the back of their vehicle then he didn't hear.
Explosion in Lower Hosu-shi Ward Threatens Low-Income Neighborhood
KUBA MANA | JUNE 2ND, 2XXX | 15 PHOTOS
Tonight, between approximate hours 6:30 and 7:00 pm, a large explosion detonated inside a popular family owned corner store in lower Hosu City, just one street away from Taito Ward. The resulting fire threatened surrounding stores and might have destroyed an entire block, costing thousands of yen in damages.
According to one resident, Takeshita Torvald, it was the most "convenient of convenient stores because it [sold] everything from full course meals to high quality notebooks for students."
"We're just so close to the Taito City border […] it's so difficult to find a safe place like Mr. Atsushi's store," said Mr. Takeshita, "some of us [students] used it as a place to get away from perverts or creeps on our way home [from school] at night." When asked about how dangerous the area is, another resident said "it's usually fine so long as you're not walking around alone after dark. There are mostly squicks in this part of Hosu-shi Ward and they're usually pretty harmless."
One particular individual who purportedly tutored Mr. Atsushi's son, Bunko-kun, aged 7, was so distraught multiple onlookers had to restrain him when he attempted to enter the raging inferno before EMS and firetrucks could arrive. The police were supposedly forced to handcuff him and take him away from the scene.
"It kind of looked like they were arresting him," mother of 3, Mrs. Hada Fuji, said, "I'm worried for him."
The community appears devastated by this seemingly random attack. At this time, it's not certain if what led to the explosion was a villain attack or an accident. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the families impacted by this tragic event.
Website: quirrked
User: jqaonline
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Userid: 03207201
Username: jqaonline
Display name: QuirkAnalystmain
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Midoriya Izuku hadn't even been in Aizawa's care for a week before he was being accused of arson and destruction of property. As a homeroom teacher to a bunch of high schoolers, he'd had to put up with a lot before the League of Villains appeared. But he hadn't expected Midoriya to be an easy case, either.
Still.
Picking the kid up from the police after his first day off bedrest?
For arson and destruction of property?
The kid's quirkless, for christssake, Shota thought, glaring darkly at the officers he passed in the precinct's lobby. 'Misunderstandings' seemed particularly rife in police affairs when it came to criminal labeling and anidiotropics. Their training was largely to blame for the biased nature of their arrests. But he wasn't about to let someone's racism, or 'quirkism' as they liked to call it these days, determine Midoriya's future.
"Where is Midoriya," he growled at the chameleon-like officer who'd been saddled with receptionist duty, Yori. Yori looked him over with her large bulbous eyes, never once turning her head to do so. She had an unfortunate reputation for being one of the most obnoxious, rude, and encumbering officers to work with and Aizawa was not in the mood.
"We haven't called for any villain pick-up," she answered with a demeaning smirk.
"No. You called for Midoriya Izuku's guardian. Right now that happens to be me," Shota loomed over the receptionist's desk, fully prepared to throw his weight around if need be. He'd seen the recent news report about a shop that had exploded on his way to the precinct. Right now his priority was making sure his charge was safe. "How exactlydid you come across the evidence needed to make the legal arrest of a quirkless minor for arson?" That at least caught her off guard and she paled.
"He's this way," Yori said, leaping noisily out of her chair. Aizawa was led to one of the precincts interrogation viewing rooms. "Our interrogator for juvenile crime is on his way. Midoriya-kun's file is on the table over there," she gestured to where a familiar blonde skeleton and Shota's boss were sitting, then bowed and excused herself.
After some silence Nedzu lifted a paw towards him and squeaked, "I am here!"
"Aizawa-san!" All Might coughed.
Midoriya was sitting in the interrogation room alone with his hands cuffed to the table's center, utterly lost and defeated by whatever had happened. Poor kid still looked dazed, had smears of ash across his clothes, and must have been crying for hours before he got the call. He clenched his teeth when his eyes landed on the completely gratuitous restraints a second time.
"I'm Midoriya's guardian. What is going on?" Shota growled, glaring briefly at a bewildered All Might before directing his question at the principal.
"As we suspected after the incident with Stain, someone is targeting your charge," Nedzu explained, "he found his home ransacked and this message was left for him. It seems that someone's blood was used to create it." Shota accepted the proffered photo and looked it over with a deep sense of foreboding.
"The DNA is being processed as we speak but the amount of blood Naomasa found suggests it came from something bigger than a cat," Yagi added, his brow cast a shadow over his sunken eyes. Aizawa didn't like the guilt he saw in them. "We were discussing the nomu attacks and possibly increasing security measures at the school when Young Midoriya was brought in," he coughed and wiped the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. "Sir Nedzu expressed an interest and I didn't want Young Midoriya to be on his own in the station if he's to be interrogated by a juvenile crime investigator I haven't met before."
"His interrogator isn't Tsukauchi?" Shota asked, not appreciating the austerity on the older hero's face.
"The detective's hands are unfortunately tied by a higher authority for the time being and he must remain focused on something else," Nedzu answered for him.
The door to the interrogation room opened.
The man that came into the room was, as everyone else, subjected to a quick, fly-by analysis, and Izuku quickly concluded he had an emitter-type quirk. He was an older guy, middle-aged probably, and had short, dark hair. There was a thin beard on his wide droopy face, his hairline was receding, and everything from waistcoat to tie could not be more plain. The man's appearance and lazy posture was a familiar dissembling scheme.
Izuku had floated back into his body somewhere around two hours prior to find he'd been chained to a table inside what was honestly the most stereotypical interrogation room he'd ever seen. It felt like he'd been crying for days but the achy pains in his torso and the time he spent loosening the cuffs had managed to kept him awake. He had only vague memories of answering questions and arriving at the station.
"My name is Ikari Tomio. You can call me Ikari-san. I'm an investigator from the Juvenile Crimes Division, here to ask you some questions regarding suspicious activity involved with what appears to be a personalized threat, home invasion, and the explosion that destroyed a popular corner store you frequented. We'll start by confirming some general information before proceeding with the interrogation," Ikari-san put a manilla folder on the table and sat. "What's that confused look on your face for."
'Suspicious activity'? 'Interrogation'? Izuku blinked at him, still a little dazed. Yes, he was confused but his expression hadn't changed. He knew that because there was a literal mirror in front of him. Oh. A quirk that can read other people's emotions.
That's pretty handy, he thought with a creeping sense of new resignation. Could he handle it if things got worse?
"Something to say, kid? Speak up already."
"Sorry, sir. I was just wondering if Atsushi and Bunko-kun had been found yet? And why am I still in cuffs?" He was holding onto his hope blindly. Normally the two would have been in the store at the time of the explosion but routines changed sometimes, didn't they?
"We'll get to your friends later. As for the cuffs," he yawned and leaned back in his chair, "that's just what happens when you pick them."
Izuku didn't reply, but felt his brow furrow. They noticed? All I did was loosen them a little.
"Can I get a 'yes, sir'?" the droopy-faced man asked cheekily.
Trying not to seem as aggrieved as he felt, despite knowing the effort was wasted against someone who could, it seemed, literally read his emotions as if they were words on his forehead, the boy bit his lip and gave him what he asked for, "yes, sir."
"Good. Let's get on with it then."
All things considered, the questions he started with were pretty tame. Izuku spoke in half-truths when it came down to things about his apartment and why he was in such a rush to get there, who the message was meant for, if the person who left it had something to do with the explosion, etc, etc.
But then…
"You said you knew the person who owned the shop that exploded. A man by the name of Atsushi Yonenaga? According to your earlier statement you met him when you first moved into the area and you've been a sitter for his son, Bunko Yonenaga," Ikari-san stated and looked at something in Izuku's file. When the boy nodded he continued, "it sounds like you were quite close. Was it a familial relationship?"
That made Izuku pause and he found himself unable to answer for a moment, preoccupied with his thoughts. He fiddled with his fingers, frowning pensively, "Atsushi-san looked after me almost as much as he did Bunko-kun, but we weren't related."
"Would you have wanted him to foster you?"
The unexpectedly personal question threw him off balance. "He offered once but I didn't want to trouble him with the process."
"Ah, right," the detective nodded, "it's a tough route to take. Expensive, too. Not to mention there's his history as a crime lord." He narrowed his eyes at Izuku when he didn't react. "That doesn't surprise you," he observed.
"No, sir."
"You knew about his history?"
"I suspected it, sir."
"But you never asked about it."
"Yes, sir." Izuku had never needed to. It was an unspoken fact that most of Atsushi's regulars knew he had a criminal background. Not to mention, people Atsushi's age didn't really go around with gang-signs tattooed into their skin for the aesthetic.
"I see," Ikari flipped a page inside the manilla folder, "what about your current foster parents, where are they?"
"America. They left on business before I started high school." He could tell the detective wasn't pleased with his answers but didn't know what else he was supposed to say. The Usoros were a dead end.
"Why didn't they take you with them?"
"They didn't want to pull me from my classes," Izuku lied. The detective didn't visibly react.
"And you've been alone all this time. How have they cared for you since they left?"
"They send me money once a month."
"Hm." Ikari hummed and flipped another page, seemingly interested in something, before closing the folder and putting it back down on the table between them, "but it's not enough, is it."
"I manage, sir," he answered slowly, immensely uncomfortable with interrogation's new direction. His gaze lingered on the mirror over Ikari-san's shoulder, aware that there should be someone behind it.
The man sighed like he felt sorry for Izuku, "it must be tough for you to get by. A high schooler on an accelerated learning program that puts him in college but barely covers the course fees, forced to spend all his money on textbooks he's required to purchase but will never use, hardly able to feed himself, and paying rent with the scraps rich bastards like them can part with? Be honest, Midoriya-kun, you're barely scraping by and it isn't because of anything they're doing for you."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What about Atsushi and Bunko-kun? And what does this have to do with–"
"Your dad's American, yes? A man with an MD in biomedical engineering who often worked inside a seafaring wetlab like he did surely left you with some helpful contacts. Have you ever thought about asking your family friends to help persuade the Usoros to increase your allowances under the table?" Ikari asked. 'Under the table' was a way to describe unreported payments made in cash as a means to dodge taxes.
The look in his eyes set off alarm bells in Izuku's head, an omnipresent weight starting to press down against his neck and shoulders, phantom hands reaching into his blind spots with malefic intent. The boy shuddered. "Of course not! Dad died when I was eight and I don't think I ever met any of his friends. Why are you asking me these questions?" Izuku was exhausted and more desperate for information than ever now. He didn't have any mental bandwidth left to stay calm in this situation anymore. "Please," he begged, "I just want to know if my friends are ok!"
Ikari watched the orphan intently, analyzing Izuku like he was pulling apart piece by piece. Maybe he was.
"Three unidentified bodies were found inside the shop," he said at last. Izuku's heart nearly stopped then and there. His hands twitched towards his chest but the chain between his cuffs wasn't long enough to reach. Nausea twisted his stomach and a congealed ball of emotion tugged at the back of his throat. "It's not clear if any of them belonged to your friends. But none of them looked small enough to belong to a child."
Just as soon as Izuku felt relief it was taken away again, like it were a ball being dribbled in front of him.
"I'm particularly interested in how this connects to the issues around your current foster family. Were you aware that they've been missing?"
"Missing?!"
"I'm sure you realize that innocent people don't get such impressive messages like the one left in your apartment. Your companions were targeted because of something you did. People don't accept help from former crime lords unless they're desperate." Ikari leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and lowering his voice, "And I think a kid with a track record like yours would be very desperate. How many families have tried to foster you now? Seven, right? That's a lot of people."
Izuku's eyes widened in alarm and he sat up straight, the chains he was attached to rattling against the table when he made a second attempt to reach for his chest. It felt like something was trying to crawl out of him.
Lights of Hope was well known for the bureaucratic walls they put up around the foster kids and their families to protect them. From the inside, it was a good way of covering up their mistakes, keeping them locked out of the public eye.
It would take a lot longer than two hours to get that kind of information from the LOH. "Why–" The dark wraiths the boy kept in a little locked box at the back of his mind began squirming, movements anguine and eager.
"What were all those names again? Let's see here." Detective Ikari slumped back and opened Izuku's case folder. As he read through the names, he put their application photos on the table for Izuku to look at, "the Yamakawas came first; pretty first-time-fostering purebloods who were only looking for a full time house keeper."
Izuku bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he could sink his teeth into his knuckles so he could keep himself grounded. He couldn't let this man break him down like this. "I didn't do anything to the Usoros, I didn't even know they were missing," he tried to explain, but the detective just spoke over him again.
"Second came the Yasudas; an unstable and disorganized family with an absent dad. Lost your foster brother when he ran away and was never found. After them, came your third fosters, the Takagis, who surrendered you to the LOH, claiming you were a curse and nothing else."
A deeper trauma Izuku had kept locked up suddenly bubbled through the cracks like oleaginous tar and oozed towards the surface. Genuine fear made him tremble. "D-don't."
"The Ishikawas were your fourth foster parents, and also the oldest. They were good to you, but both died of old age and you were moved on to the next family."
"Stop," Izuku whimpered, heart racing, eyes unable to focus on the Ishikawas' soft smiles in the picture laid down beside the others. The QA tried redirecting his thoughts to some of the things that helped ground him, only to be reminded that Atsushi and Bunko-kun were gone. Not good, he thought, I'm going to die here. I don't know how but I'm– slowly losing control of his breathing, heart racing in his chest like it was trying to run away without him, vision blurring.
"You got really unlucky in the fifth family. They're the ones that left you with all those scars, right? The Kod–"
"Stop!" Izuku gasped, swatting the photo away before it could land, before he could see it. It was too late, his brain already filling in the blanks. Kodairas, his demons whispered, clawing their way out of the dark. He could feel pressure building around the back of his neck, fingers digging into skin. Izuku could see their sweaty bodies crowding him, pinning him to the floor with a giveless and painful weight. Something buzzed over the sound of blood pumping fervently between his ears. Cicadas? He tried harder to yank himself free, spurred by the blurring line between the present and the past.
The door suddenly swung open with a bang so loud it echoed and Aizawa-sensei charged into the room, eyes blazing. A wave of relief hit Izuku so hard it felt distinctly tangible. "Time's up," the underground pro growled. Yagi-san entered behind him, similarly angry. He managed to be gentle even when he literally ripped the cuffs around Izuku's wrists open and herded him out of the room.
"–accused of unlawful coercion which you seem to have forgotten is against the JCD's procedures as stated in paragraph two of article thirty-eight of the Constitution," Aizawa-sensei was saying as Yagi and Izuku left, his voice low and threatening. Ikari-san ignored him and watched the analyst until he was no longer in view.
Things were still hazy, his mind floaty and unfocused, so overwhelmed it couldn't cope any other way. Yagi-san brought him to a new room and made Izuku sit on the floor with his legs up. He heard the man call his name a few times but he couldn't seem to keep up. The look on Yagi-san's face made him worry about his perception of time.
All Might was telling him to breathe but Izuku didn't understand why or what he wanted from him. Was he not breathing? He couldn't tell.
Pathetic little gasps, urgent sips for air, cut through the storm nestled between his ears. Someone was hyperventilating and it didn't sound good. He tried to look around, head jerking this way and that but he couldn't see anyone else in the room. Mom and Dad would know what to do if they were here.
Yagi-san's giant hand wrapped his own, bringing Izuku's palm up and pressing it against his chest.
He was speaking again but Izuku could only shake his head. No, whatever his hero was doing wasn't what he needed. He tried to take his hand back when he moved but Yagi-san didn't let go. Insufficient balance had never really been an issue for Izuku, though, and he'd soon nested himself against the surprised hero's body – led there by some long forgotten instinct.
Better. Good, Izuku's hindbrain told him, apparently satisfied with the level of cover it could get out of All Might's thin figure. Izuku let out a miserable sob the one time his hero made to hug him a bit too tightly, far too overwhelmed to handle it. He couldn't even let the man hold his back.
All Might didn't seem to mind. He leaned over, putting his body directly between Izuku and the door so the boy could feel protected from whatever boogieman might walk into the room.
Izuku tried to listen to the stories All Might told him while he calmed down. He wanted to hear them because he knew they'd be amazing. There too many thoughts already in his head, so many thoughts they clogged his ears. There was nothing he could do but stay there with the hero he'd admired since he was before he was four and just hold on.
r/QuirkAnalysts ˙ Posted by u/Immothman 1 hour ago
After disappearing for 2 weeks JQAonline (JQAnon) reappears again with no explanation and even changes his display name
This guy seriously must have gotten into some kind of trouble because this is definitely a challenge to someone or at the very least a power move.
He was gone for two weeks and now he's suddenly back again. It's not the first time he's done this. If you look his post history from the beginning to now you'll notice that his online activity has never really been /totally/ consistent. Idk it might be my imagination but his timeline suggests he goes dark for 2 to 3 weeks at least twice a year.
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Comments…
Cryptidsunite 4 hours ago
Hasn't this dude only been doing analysis for a little bit tho...? How can you tell he goes dark? I only really heard about him just recently bc of what happened with Yuki-san, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong
Euclyd 27 minutes ago
He's been doing this for about 4 years now I think. But I wouldn't really say he goes 'dark' though... It's more like he takes fewer commissions for a while and then comes back again.
Cryptidsunite 9 minutes ago
OH, neat! The more ya know! Maybe when he goes dark/slows down is his self-designated vacation time?
AvacadosNumber 9 minutes ago
Someone in another thread mentioned he might be a student or maybe a teacher
Shota tried and failed to keep his charge engaged the whole way home. He didn't really blame the kid after the day he'd had. Still, he kept a close eye on him. It was thanks to All Might's intervention that Midoriya hadn't hurt himself trying to get away, and that Midoriya didn't work himself into another heart attack.
He unlocked the door to his shared apartment and lead the way inside.
"Hiz–" the boy flinched and Shota cursed himself for the slip even as he corrected it, "–Mic is out on business. Any thoughts on dinner?"
"No, sir," Midoriya answered quietly, fiddling with his hands.
Shota tried not to wince at the way he was addressed. All those walls he'd gotten through over the few months they'd known each other were back again. Hopefully, it wouldn't take as long to bring them down again.
Noticing his stiffness, Shota helped his injured charge get his heavy backpack off.
"But–!" Midoriya began to protest as the hero walked further into the home with it, seeming to think it was being confiscated. Tentatively he followed Shota into the living room, watching in confusion as the bag was set on the ground by the coffee table.
"You can do your homework on the couch if you like. Shirubesta will appreciate the company. And if Poki yowls too much while I'm making dinner, I would appreciate it if you could distract him." He let the boy settle in before handing him a retractable cat toy, putting on his best aggrieved expression when the aforementioned feline emerged from under the couch and started yelling. He and Hizashi had long since learned the price of saying 'dinner' out loud anywhere the cat could hear but if it was enough to distract his charge he would happily put up with the noise.
Some of the darkness lifted from Izuku's eyes as Shirubesta settled into his lap and Poki focused on the toy in his hand. This is where Hizashi would typically salute his victim, say something about 'honor' and 'serving the queen' before leaving.
Shota left his charge in the care of his cats with much less fanfare and glared at the hideous cat lamp as he passed it.
The lamp had been a gift from someone so long ago he couldn't remember who, one that was not kept willingly. It was not only impervious to literally everything that had been thrown at it since it landed in his possession, but it always made it's way back somehow. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that Hizashi or one of their mutuals was responsible for returning it to Aizawa's front door. At least now the former could appreciate how creepy the damn thing was at night. No matter where you were, it was looking at you.
Shota and his charge had dinner on the couch. While they ate, they watched one of the newest hero films together. Izuku hadn't really seemed to care so that left Aizawa to scroll through what he could find online. They got about halfway through before Midoriya finally konked out with Shirubesta drooling on his chest. It would have been a sweet sight if not for the telling stress lines between Midoriya's brows, his occasional bout of trembling, and the day's events so fresh in Shota's mind.
Eraserhead let the movie finish and decided to get a head start on grading papers. He'd wait for a chance to dig into both that JCD investigator and the family name that sent Midoriya into a major panic attack.
"Don't think that just coz' yer sick I'll let yew sit around doin' shit nothing all day, boy."
" You should be honored rich elites like us decided to take a miserable charity case like you into our home. Get up!" He thought he felt Mrs. Yamakawa's umbrella thwack lightly against his side, aggravating bruises like they were puncture wounds.
No. That's. That's because they were puncture wounds. Right. Yes.
"Please! Please no, I'll be good, I'll be g-hhck!"
"Ahahaha, oh my god! I can't take stop laughing– look at how he kicks! Like a fish with legs! This is so fucking funny!"
Couldn't breathe. Hot. It was really hot. There was plastic around his head. He couldn't– no. No he was dreaming. He was ok. It was ok. It wasn't real.
"I didn't mean to, I swear!"
"Don't talk to it."
"–It's a curse, my love, not a person. Can't you see?" They wouldn't look him in the eye, would leave the room when he entered and would bless it when he left, whisper about him when they thought he couldn't hear. He wasn't the one they wanted.
The Shimenawa kept him locked in a windowless room at night.
"You're quirkless!" Kaoru-san sobbed, trembling in terror and scrambling to get away from him, "don't touch me! I hate people like you!"
Heat Seeker bent forwards with a toothy grin, dorsal fin fanning out before settling flat against his back again, "quirkless vermin like you don't live long anyway."
Izuku woke up choking on a scream to find he'd backed himself into a tiny corner of the living room, protected by the shattered fiberglass remains of what had once been Aizawa-sensei's cat lamp and holding what was left of it like a weapon. The man himself was crouched a few feet away, startled eyes on Izuku.
No, no, no, I just got here!
"Midoriya," Aizawa-san's voice wasn't as clear as he thought it should be, given the distance. Ears ringing, Izuku struggled to drop the make-shift weapon his fingers had locked around. "Midoriya, breathe," the hero's voice got worse, muffled by the thick, numbing realization that Izuku'd just had just broken something that was obviously an important and sentimental gift. Tears blurred his vision and he retreated further when he saw a figure in front of him move.
The analyst could feel himself falling apart and this time he was powerless to stop it. He couldn't process the objects in his vision fast enough to pull himself back, forgetting their names and his count as soon as he looked away. Everything was white noise in his ears, he couldn't taste anything, couldn't smell, couldn't think– think, think, think! Izuku what was the last thing you remember?!
This wasn't like Shigaraki or Stain or any other villain. This was him inside of someone else's home, where public laws didn't matter and he couldn't protect himself; Where there wasn't enough space to run.
A dream, a dream, a dream a dream adreamadreamadream!
But which part?
„¡pipsqueak yttihs 'ǝɹǝɥ ǝɯoƆ„
"Come here, shitty pipsqueak!"
Izuku panicked.
Nonono stay back, please, Genzo-sama, please I can't see
I can't, I can't, I can't
"Midoriya!"
He didn't know where he was! He didn't know where he was! He didn't know where he was! He didn't–
Something cold and wet pushed up against the underside of his jaw, a soothing vibration rumbling against his chest. All the noise in his head suddenly ceased entirely. When Izuku looked down he found himself curled around the furry body of a very insistent tuxedo cat.
Shirubesta chirped at him when he noticed Izuku was watching, squinting feline-green-eyes at him and bumping his little forehead against the boy's chest. Shiru was squeezing Izuku's hoody between his paws but stopped long enough to touch noses and proceed to scent-mark Izuku's face, completely unaffected by the tears and snot.
Body still trembling, Izuku tentatively wrapped his arms around the cat and was rewarded with even louder purrs. He listened to Aizawa-sensei sit down in front of him but didn't dare lift his head.
"Mms-sorry," he whimpered, "msorry."
The next thing Izuku knew he was drawn in for a hug. The grip wasn't a cage, loose and easy to break if he needed to get free. It smelled of black coffee and day old detergent.
Shock was enough to make the analyst's sobbing falter for a moment, only long enough for his guardian to breathe deep, the sound and motion a soothing reminder that encouraged his own to follow suit. "I'm here, kid," he said, rocking him a little, "I'll keep you safe. Just breathe."
Several years' worth of damage had clogged the drains in Izuku's mental sewers with not enough progress made to clean them. He'd been content to drown in the tenacious cesspit his own memories had created. Cleaning his Mom's favorite beach so an old man could watch the sun rise again, teaching little kids how to read, giving a friend some advice – Izuku had always thought those little things were fulfilling enough. He was no slave to the bystander-effect and needn't think twice before stepping in to protect someone else.
But himself?
He hadn't realized that he'd forgotten what it was like to feel really, truly, safe with another person.
The orphan curled himself into the protective shield of Aizawa-sensei's body, much like he'd done to All Might, with a broken wail and clung to his shirt as a hurricane of bottled-up emotions tore through him. It was like a storm-drain had finally, finally opened to suck up a whirlpool of hurt.
He felt his guardian lift him and gripped his shirt that much tighter as he was brought to the couch. Aizawa-sensei let him tuck his green head under his chin, occasionally rubbing the boy's back but mostly just holding him close and breathing deeply, soothingly.
"I've got you, kid," he rumbled, throat buzzing against Izuku's forehead as he spoke, "I won't let anyone hurt you."
"What if ever-y-one goes aw-a-away again?" he gasped noisily, feeling like a child but unable to care, "don't be n-n-nice to me any-anym-more. Pl-please. I can't. I can't."
"I'm not going anywhere, Midoriya. I'll protect you, I'll protect you," Aizawa-sensei promised and readjusted so Izuku could cuddle in closer. The boy's entire body balled as small as he could make it without letting go. He used the man's body the way a shivery kitten might press itself into a tiny space to avoid the winter rain. Excepting, of course, that Aizawa was abnormally tall and Izuku was abnormally short.
"You're not alone, Midoriya," the man said, giving him a gentle squeeze. It was different, somehow, to the way All Might had tried to hold him.
"B-but I should be! I–!" Just when it seemed the tears might finally stop, they started anew. Izuku was choking, stammering so hard he couldn't say even half of what he wanted to. The only words he could squeeze out of himself were, "m'sorry! Atsu-shi-! B-Bunk-ku-!" He wanted to hear Atsushi call him a bratchtible again, wanted to sneak sweets into little Bunko-kun's pockets when he was busy trying to pronounce a tricky word in his Learning-2-Read books. He wanted home.
"I know," Aizawa-sensei said, sounding sad, "I know. Cry as much as you need. Let it all out."
The orphan wasn't sure how long they stayed like that and he didn't really care. It was like he was tucked away where the world couldn't get him anymore. The feeling was so different from his wisteria cove and yet so similar. He wanted to crawl inside of Aizawa-sensei's chest, close the door, and rest for a while.
His guardian's heartbeat was slow and steady, his breathing deep and calming. The pacing of these fundamental vital signs encouraged Izuku's to follow suit and it was only a matter of time before he fell asleep.
CT: Child Abuse in multiple forms, interrogation, multiple PTSD flashbacks, major panic attack, explosion.
Fun story fact: all 7 members of the Kodaira family were named after some of Japan's worst serial killers in history.
Next chapter: Class 1A Izuku Protection Squad beings to assemble (and they all learn how fucking hard it is to keep up with the maniac's schedule.)
X/Os
Thanks for all the reviews, I've been reading every single one of them. :)
Cheers!
FT