Izuku couldn't remember how he got home from the facility. One minute he was there in that cell, the next he was in the new apartment with Kurogiri and Tomura staring at him in concern. He blinked rapidly, feeling like he just woke up from a fitful sleep - disoriented and exhausted. He wavered on his feet and Tomura reached out to steady him.
"... Let's get you cleaned up." The pale man was subdued, a frown making the scars and lines on his face appear more severe.
He allowed himself to be led into the bathroom. Dimly, he noticed it was a traditional style rather than western. A tug on his shirt prompted him to raise his arms, letting Tomura pull it over his head. It was soaked in blood. Some spots had become so saturated that it stained his skin. His chest, hands, and arms were coated in red.
After stepping out of his shorts, Tomura pressed him to sit on the shower stool. The man spent a few moments fussing with the water temperature before seeming satisfied. Izuku hissed -the first sound he'd made since he got back- when the water made contact with his skin. It wasn't that it was too hot, he was just too cold.
Several minutes were spent rinsing off the crimson gore until pink water ran clear. Tomura paid special attention to Izuku's hands, gently rubbing to get all the blood out of the lines and creases and scraping under his fingernails. He didn't seem to care that his gloves and pants were getting wet.
The careful ministrations coaxed some warmth back into Izuku. Bone deep weariness replaced the detachment. He found himself leaning back against Tomura while the man washed his hair. Eyes slipping closed, he fought to focus on the massaging fingers on his scalp rather than the images burned across his eyelids.
Eventually the water shut off and the pale man moved away to grab a towel. Izuku shivered at the loss of contact and hugged himself. After drying him off as best he could, Tomura scooped the boy into his arms and carried him into his bedroom.
Normally Izuku would be mortified, right now he simply burrowed under the blankets when he was laid out on the bed. The mattress dipped next to him and he curled up against Tomura, craving any comfort he could get. Fingers carded through his damp locks, lulling him into unconsciousness.
The next week was a blur for Izuku. He'd wake up screaming or crying, with Tomura or Kurogiri shaking him awake. From there the days bled together into a mosaic of disjointed images and half remembered actions. Eating, staring at a TV, moving bar furniture. It seemed like a fuzzy dream.
He came back to himself on the eighth day only because Tomura slapped him. The sting of pain across his cheek had him blinking rapidly, hand reaching up to feel the heated skin. They were seated at the counter and there was an uneaten array of breakfast in front of him.
"Are you finally back, shrimp?" The man sounded angry but there was a softer note hidden in his scowl. On Tomura's other side, Kurogiri was staring at the younger man with disapproval.
It took a few moments to orient himself before he nodded hesitantly. He felt like he was waking up from a feverish sleep. "I think so…" His voice was scratchy from disuse, making him grimace and sip from a cup of cold tea that sat next to his food. "S-sorry."
The shadowy man stood to fetch Izuku a fresh cup. "You have nothing to be sorry for… What the Master did was… excessive." His voice was strained, like he was holding back stronger words or emotions.
A shudder crawled up Izuku's spine. Sightless green eyes and scarlet splashed clothes flashed in his mind. He shied away from the memory, not wanting to get hit if he got… lost again. It was also disconcerting to realize he couldn't remember anything concrete since he got home.
A different memory came to him after a moment. "T-Tomura?" Izuku turned to peer at him with a serious frown. "You still promise to kill me? I-I don't want to end up like those things…" A pleading note crept into his voice. The real question he wanted to ask showed through. Would the pale man disobey Sensei if Izuku messed up?
For a heart-rending minute the man looked away in silence. Before despair could worm its way up Izuku's throat, Tomura reached up to pet his hair. He finally looked at him with a nod, warm hand resting heavily in green curls. "A promise is a promise."
Blinking away relieved tears, Izuku leaned into the touch. The man kept his hand there while the greenette ate. It tasted like ash on his tongue but little by little he was coming back to himself. He was feeling more human as the food settled and he focused on the sensation of fingers in his hair rather than the phantom blood caking his hands.
"Izuku-san, when you're finished please bathe and get dressed. Now that you have your own room we can finally pick you up new clothes and belongings."
The boy paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. He had a room? That was news to him. Or likely he just didn't remember.
Seeing the confusion, Kurogiri chuckled. "This flat has three bedrooms. I've procured furnishings for you, but it's rather sparse. You will need more to wear than just three outfits, and there is money enough to spare if you find decorations you like."
The prospect of going out was less than tempting but it would be nice to have shirts and pants that weren't stained and full of holes. He also needed more notebooks. The one he had been using was almost full. He'd also like to start one for analysing the quirks of allies to help them improve. Though for that he'd want to come up with a code. He didn't want information on Tomura and Kurogiri to fall into the wrong hands.
With that thought bolstering him, he finished his meal and left for the bathroom to get ready. After a shower he felt much better, less out of it. Padding into the hallway he tentatively investigated the rooms until he spotted his backpack. As Kurogiri had said, it contained a dresser, desk and chair, a bookshelf, and a mattress on the floor. It was depressingly bare except for his notebooks on the shelf and bedding.
After changing and struggling to tame his hair, he met Tomura in the living room. They donned jackets, shoes, and face masks before heading out. Kamino, for all its skeevy faults, did have a small shopping district. They wouldn't have to venture far to get what they needed.
The first stop was a second hand store for clothes and miscellaneous items. Izuku was small for his age from genetics and malnourishment, but he didn't mind since it meant he still fit into kids sizes. Tomura scoffed at his selection, a mix of ironic sayings and graphic 'good' hero t-shirts. Despite an alarming eye twitch the man insisted he get at least six. The pants at least were less controversial.
After that they moved on to non-clothing items. Izuku ended up with two lamps (Tomura low-key decayed an All-Might themed one), some desk supplies like organizers and pencil sharpeners, and a used laptop. He tried to stay practical, still not comfortable having money wasted on him. Though at some point when his back was turned a pack of glow in the dark star and planet vinyl wall stickers and some books appeared up in the cart.
After paying they were laden with six heavy bags. Izuku assumed that would be the end of the outing. He was proven wrong when Tomura urged them into an alleyway so he could call Kurogiri to collect the haul. The next stop was a stationary shop for notebooks, pencils, and file folders. Finally, the man paused outside of a liquor store.
"Stay here. I need to put in some orders for the bar." He disappeared inside before Izuku could respond.
He felt painfully awkward loitering directly outside the door so he paced further down the block to lean against a brick wall. It was still the same building but it hopefully looked less like he was waiting for someone to illicitly buy him alcohol. Several minutes into the wait, the door opened and someone stepped out with an arm load of two paper bags. The greenette perked up, hoping for Tomura, until he realized it was someone else.
The man had messy black hair and piercing electric blue eyes. Discolored scars lined his face from pierced ears, to lips, to neck, and disappearing out of sight under his clothes. Similar scars beneath his eyes gave him a perpetual look of exhaustion. Surgical staples stood out on his chin, looking more like a fashion statement than practical.
Izuku's ploy to look casual didn't seem to be working, because the man slowed to a stop a couple feet away and smirked. "Ain't you a bit young to be waiting for booze?" His voice was rough and gravely, like he smoked cigarettes.
A blush crawled onto Izuku's face as he shook his head frantically. "N-no! T-that's not-! I'm j-just wait-ting for my f-friend! H-he owns a b-bar!"
The smirk crept into a teasing grin. "That's what all the delinquents say."
The greenette buried his face in his hands, mortified. That drew a laugh from the man. He paced closer and patted Izuku on the head. "Don't sweat it, kid. It's not like I'd tattle on you, even if you were."
A sly look crossed his face as he adjusted both bags to one arm to root around. A moment later he slipped a small bottle into Izuku's bag with a wink. "Delinquents gotta stick together." He walked off before the boy could stutter out a protest. He was afraid to look at what the scarred man gave him.
When Tomura finally emerged something must have shown on Izuku's face. The man paused and looked quizzical. "What?"
Guilt made the greenette duck his head and scuff the toe of his shoe against the ground. "S-someone gave me alcohol. T-they thought I was waiting for…"
The man blinked and chuckled. "Is that all? Just don't let Kurogiri see you drinking it." With a shrug, Tomura wrapped an arm around the stunned boy's shoulders to guide him down the street towards home.