A/n: WARNING for suicide.

Lazarus Rising

The location that Jamila Constantine gave him is a run-down junior high school a few blocks from the edge of downtown Musutafu, Japan. Jason doesn't know why she said he needed to be here at this exact time, but as he does a cursory circuit of the campus from the surrounding roofs the reason becomes clear. There's a pair of bright red shoes on the school roof, precisely placed, not thrown. When Jason gets closer he sees that they're sitting on top of what looks like a notebook. And on the ground below...

"What the fuck, Jamila?" Jason took the quickest route to the side of the kid who was lying in a puddle of their own blood. The kid was dead, and only a few minutes dead at that. Jamila had given him a precise time but if he'd been a few minutes earlier then he could have stopped the kid from jumping, or at least caught them.

Then there's a series of cracking sounds. As Jason watches, the kid's shattered legs straighten out, their skull reforms, their smashed chest balloons as their ribs heal. The kid sits up and blinks at Jason with emerald green eyes.

"Why aren't I dead?" the kid asks.

That's a question Jason's intimately familiar with. At least the kid came back to life before they were buried.

The kid's name is Midoriya Izuku, he's fourteen and he's got the worst case of doesn't believe he's allowed to exist Jason's seen since Tim. He doesn't seem to get that Jason should want to help him because he just committed suicide and is covered in blood.

"Kid," Jason says, "if you tell me you're fine one more time I'll tape your mouth shut."

Midoriya squeaks and puts a bloody hand over his mouth. Jason sighs. He takes a packet of wet wipes out of one of his jacket pockets and hands it to Midoriya.

"Clean yourself up. I'll get your shoes and then I'm walking you home." Jason pauses. "Assuming you're safe at home."

Midoriya nods frantically. "M-my mom is great."

"Good. Stay here." Jason takes less than a minute to climb up to the roof of the school and retrieve Midoriya's shoes and notebook. He could have been faster but he had to keep eyes on Midoriya the whole time.

Midoriya is scrubbing the last of the blood from his hands when Jason lands beside him. He jumps. "That was fast."

Jason hands Midoriya his shoes in exchange for the wet wipes. "You missed a few spots. Let's try not to give your mom a heart attack when you tell her you died today."

The bright red shoes nearly hit the ground when Midoriya jumps and squeaks. There's a moment of fumbling but Midoriya manages to catch them. Jason raises an eyebrow.

"My mom doesn't have to know," Midoriya stutters. "I don't want to worry her."

"Your mom should be worried," Jason says. "People with quirks like yours tend to disappear."

There's still blood staining Midoriya's uniform, but with his skin scrubbed clean and his clothes as neatly arranged as possible he's not going to draw any attention. He's fine on the surface so no one is going to look any closer. Some things never change.

It doesn't take long to get from the school to Midoriya's apartment, which Jason can tell Midoriya is not prepared for. They boy is still muttering to himself when he opens the door. He stops mid-word to tell his mom that he's home and then goes right back to muttering.

The short, green-haired woman who comes to the door is visibly confused by Jason's presence.

"I'm Jason Todd." Jason remembers to bow rather than offering a handshake. "Your son's quirk activated in front of me and I wanted to make sure he got home safe."

The woman makes a small sound and puts her hands over her mouth. Then she bursts into a flood of tears. "What—How—Izuku?"

The kid rushes to his mom's side and soon he's crying too. If Jason hadn't seen him come back to life he might have guessed that mother and son shared a waterfall of tears quirk. He leans against the wall and waits for them to finish. In between the sobs he hears the kid saying he can be a hero and his mom agreeing. Jason's going to need to stick around to talk about training. A Pro Hero is awfully difficult to make disappear.

(Two hundred years later and the Batfamily adoption tendencies are still going strong. Thanks, Bruce.)