Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku was Away. This wasn't a rare occurrence by any stretch of the imagination. Izuku was no stranger to curling in on himself, letting his eyes go unfocused and his vision go hazy. Letting the world float away.

Days with a haze covering him, separating him from everything. The mocking words and voices. The sneers and disregard of teachers. The bruises blooming over skin. The burns.

It had been a while since Izuku had been... There. He had been Away for... how long now? Minutes? Hours? Days? Izuku wasn't sure.

He had been talking with All Might! Why was he Away again? Shouldn't he be There? He loved All Might!

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Izuku!"
"Be realistic."
"Take a swan dive!"
"Midoriya is applying to UA too."

Oh. Right. Never mind.

Izuku looked up at the clear blue sky. He should probably go home. He stood up. Since when had he been sitting down?

Doesn't matter. Just like it didn't matter that his eyes burned from tears or that his school supplies were strewn across the roof, thrown from a rough landing and later frustration and anger. He gathered up his notebooks and pens, papers and books.

His backpack on his back, the weight pulling slightly at the haze between him and the world, he walked to the roof-access door.

Clunk.

Clunk-thunk.

Locked. His hands on the doorknob made that clear. Red and swollen from his banging on the door earlier, pleading for someone, anyone, to let him in. Before he made a choice he couldn't take back.

After a while Izuku decided to sit back down next to the door. His backpack laid beside him neatly.

Tilting his head back until it rested on the wall behind him, he watched the sky. Clouds passed by, and with time it began to darken as night approached.

He'd have called for help, but his phone was full of sludge. The cracks from being stolen, and thrown, and blown up hasn't helped to protect its functionality.

No phone. No open door. No help.

Izuku stared at the sky to not stare at the railing of the roof. To not stare at the edge of the roof. To not stare at the ground below.

He was starting at the ground below. Why was he starting at the ground? It was dark too, he didn't remember that happening.

Tears blew away with the wind at the edge. He was distantly impressed he still had tears left to cry, what with how much he had already cried today.

His throat felt torn from the sludge villain and all the coughing up of residual sludge. His eyes were sore from tears and scrubbing them away. His body hurt from injuries and the stiffness of sitting on the roof for hours and hours.

He was sitting on the other side of the railing, staring up at the stars. Sure there weren't many, it was much to bright in downtown Musutafu for a particularly good view. But the few that were there beside the moon were a comfort all the same.

He held his notebook, burned and water damaged and full of dreams out. Out over the dark abyss below him. The notebook that with its siblings had been his hope for a future. Any future. His tangible worth. Proof that Midoriya Izuku existed.

His notebook spiraled down toward the ground where he was sure it would be trod underfoot until it was nothing but paste or thrown in a garbage bin to rot.

Night continued to pass. It got colder. The wind bit and the moon hid behind clouds.

And Izuku pushed.

He fell.

He flew.

He was relieved.

He regretted.

He fell.

And then he was caught. Wrapped up in cloth. Pulled back up, away from the ground. Away from being Away.

And before the full weight of his actions and emotions and sojourn into the sky hit him and he fainted, before being placed gently back on the roof, he briefly saw two red lights shining in the dark. Two glowing red eyes locked on him with fear and relief lighting them up just as much as if not more than the quirk attempting to erase that which didn't exist.

Then Izuku was fully Away, this was more rare but usually meant he would be fully There upon his return, and wasn't that just an exhausting thought.

Chapter Text

Eraserhead was starting down at the tiny body in the bed. A head of curly, fluffy, green-black hair. Hair that was freshly washed. The damp and slimy patch of sludge left on his jumpsuit attested to that need.

Once the kid has been placed on the bed, treated, and cleaned up he had immediately curled up into a tiny ball beneath the blankets. He looked so very young, pale behind freckles and injuries. The doctors had been thorough examining him, what with him being brought in unconscious.

"-dozens of bruises-"
"- indications of head trauma."
"- percent of his body is covered in scar tissue-"
"Fresh burns, likely caused by explosions with high concussive force-"
"- improperly healed bones-"
"Multiple green-stick fractures-"
"- prolonged abuse-"
"- early stage pneumonia."
"- signs of suffocation-"
"Beaten."
"Handprints."
"Fist marks."
"Malnourished."

The list went on and on. Eraserhead was about 3 seconds away from going full vigilante, he just needed names. With a sigh he checked to make sure the kid wasn't pulling at his IV fluid line in his curled up position. The kid wasn't so he sat heavily in a chair by his bedside.

Suicides weren't something new for Aizawa, being an Underground Hero he operated at night. Finding people on rooftops, or bridges, or by rivers was not nearly as rare as he would like. But he usually found people before or after. Not during.

And not children. Not usually.

He was lucky he had been able to catch the kid without hurting him, either from the force of stopping his fall or by worsening any of the many injuries he had.

Aizawa pulled out his phone and texted the room number to Sansa, an officer he worked with regularly, to update the ongoing file. Sansa was opening a case for the kid, just the result of the medical examination more than called for it.

Running a hand through his hair and leaning back he pulled up Hizashi's contact. The contact photos made him smile. Just a little. It was a photo of Hizashi, hair halfway up for hero work with Creamsicle, a tabby orange kitten, mid pounce towards the updo. Hizashi was screaming. The photo was great and never failed to make Shouta smile. Spending the hour after that photo freeing Creamsicle from Hizashi's hero-grade hair gel, washing him, and helping Hizashi get all the cat fur out of his hair? Worth it.

As the phone rang Shouta stared up at the ceiling. Despite it being around 3 in the morning Hizashi picked up fairly quickly. Five rings was speedy for Hizashi to wake up and get his hearing aids in and answer the phone.

"SHOUTA! ARE YOU OK? ARE YOU HURT? OF COURSE YOU ARE! WHAT HOSPITAL-"

"Hizashi."

"-ARE YOU AT? I'LL BE RIGHT THERE! HOW BADLY ARE YOU HURT?"

"Hizashi, I'm fine."

"OH MY GOD ARE YOU NOT EVEN AT A HOSPITAL? DID YOU GET KIDNAPPED? DO YOU NEED A RIDE TO THE HOSPITAL? DID YOU GET STABED AGAIN?"

"Hizashi!"

"WHAT?"

"I'm fine. Not hurt, not kidnapped, not stabbed. And that was just the one time."

"Nice try Shouta, it was 3 times. Not counting that time with-"

"Nope. We don't talk about that." Shouta sat back up slightly to check that he hadn't disturbed the kid any, the kid was still curled up in his ball completely unchanged. "I'm at Musutafu General Hos-"

"I KNEW IT!"

"Shut up, I'm not hurt. But you're gonna hurt Creamsicle if you aren't careful." He heard a soft apology to a discontent but not angry sounding cat. "I caught a jumper-" Hizashi sucked in a harsh breath. "-and brought him to the hospital because he passed out. They found some pretty concerning things during his initial exam so I'm waiting for him to wake up."

Rustling was heard over the line. "On my way. What room?"

"Zashi, you don't have to come.  Its-" he checked the time. "3:23. I wouldn't even normally be home from patrol yet, I just didn't want you to worry if I wasn't back before you needed to head out for radio show."

"I don't have to do anything, I'm choosing to come and sit with you." A grin could be heard in his voice. "So what room number is it and do you want me to bring anything?"

God Shouta loved that man. "Coffee." He grunted, relaxing a bit. With that slight relaxation he became aware of the damp part of his jumpsuit again. And it's smell. "A change of clothes too."

Hizashi's laugh felt like it could power the sun itself with its brightness. "Sure Shou, I can do that. Text me the room number, yeah? Love you! See you soon!" Hizashi hung up the phone before Shouta could reply.

With a wry but fond grin hidden behind his capture scarf, Eraserhead returned to his vigil of the child huddled under blankets and curled into himself. After sending Hizashi the room number of course.

Chapter Text

Now, Hizashi knew he wasn’t an idiot. Being top of their class at UA for all 3 years was more than enough to prove that. Hizashi also knew that Shouta wasn’t an idiot, but sometimes… sometimes he wondered.

“Shouta. Darling. Love of my life,” The coffee cup was starting to burn his hand and Shouta was lucky he loved him or else he would have dropped it. “That’s a child.”

Shouta looked up at him, the lower half of his face hidden in his capture weapon. Between that, how he was slumped in the chair, and how red his eyes were (from tears rather than dry eye for once), he looked rather piteous. And normally Hizashi would have already been doting on him due to it.

Hizashi dumped the large canvas bag he had walked in with on a side table and placed the coffee besides it. Then he made an emphatic gesture with both hands, instead of with his whole chest due to the sleeping child, toward the bed which he felt was clear enough for Shouta to give an explanation.

Shouta however had scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “…yes? Of course that’s a child?”

Steepling his fingers in front of his face Hizashi took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Shouta. You said you caught a jumper and were waiting with them due to findings from their initial exam. You never said they were a child. Let alone one so young!”

Shoutas eyes widened as he tried to recall what all he had said during their brief phone conversation.

For all Hizashi loved this man, and love him he did. Desperately so. But for all of that, his husband was a disaster. An amazing Underground Hero? Absolutely. A good heroics teacher? For all his complaining it was clear that he cared so much about all the kids he teaches. A loving husband? Of course! But a competent human outside of that? No, not a chance.

Shouta retreated back into his scarf. Upon further inspection his hero suit was splattered with green… sludge? And his capture weapon was a mess to match. With a sigh and a quick peck to his darling husband’s lips Hizashi retrieved his bag, handed Shouta a change of clothes, and ushered him off to get changed. With reassurances that he would stay with the Little Listener, to make sure he wouldn’t wake up alone (or stop breathing while Shouta looked away), Shouta headed off to change.

Then Hizashi got his first proper look at the kid in the bed. How old was this kid? They looked like he couldn’t be older than ten or maybe eleven if he was being generous. The way they had curled in on themselves even as they slept disregarding the pain they must have been in painted a picture that, when combined with how Shouta looked when he’d arrived, was not pretty.

After getting cleaned up Shouta came back out, picked up his still scalding coffee and gestured that he was going into the hall to call either Sansa or Tsukauchi.

“Oh Little Listener, what in the world happened to you?” He murmured to the pale face and head of curly hair. Freckles speckled the face, shining through the blooming bruise on his cheek. Hizashi could tell that would likely end up becoming a black eye the next day.

As he watched the child began to shiver and make little noises. He quickly layered another blanket over the child, and while that helped the shivering the noises continued. The kids face began to show some distress and Hizashi wasn’t sure if he was having a nightmare or was in pain. Gently, carefully he placed his hand on the kids head. The green-black hair was curly and thick but rough and brittle, likely due to malnutrition but he couldn’t rule out them just not knowing how to care for their hair type. They pushed up against his hand so he began to slowly stroke through it.

And the kid melted.

They stopped whimpering, stopped clenching the blankets like they were the only thing protecting them and keeping them from flying off the earth itself. They relaxed into the warmth and Hizashi was struck by the fact that it was the first time the kid’s face was fully relaxed. It made his heart ache, that this child was so used to being in pain or discomfort that it looked natural enough on their face that he might not have noticed the slight tensing if not for the clear relaxation of their brow and jaw.

Continuing to run his hand through the Little Listener’s hair he began to search up hair care tips for curly hair.

Chapter Text

Izuku was having the best dream. He knew it was a dream because he was warm, and comfy, and being comforted. How long had it been since someone. Anyone. Genuinely anyone, had touched him without it hurting? When was the last time anyone had been gentle with him? If he wasn't dreaming he was sure he'd be crying. He thinks he'd do anything, say anything, BE anything whoever was being so gentle with him wanted, if only to feel that comfort longer.

The deciding factor that proved this was a dream was that he wasn't in any pain. Ok, that wasn't entirely true. He was still feeling a little pain, but it was just that. A little. He hadn't been in such little pain since... well even before he was diagnosed Bakugo had played rough. He hadn't Meant It to hurt Izuku yet, but that didn't stop Izuku hurting more often than not. So feeling this good? Hadn't happened since he was probably around 3.

Thus, it had to be a dream and Izuku was going to stay in it for a long as he possibly could. And commit the whole thing to memory. And make sure he'd never forget the feeling of fingers gently carding through his curls. Gently working through knots. Gently scratching at and massaging his scalp.

It was all so gentle. None of it hurt. It was all so warm. It was so nice. It was so pleasant. It was so... overwhelming. No one touched him. Not anymore. It was so scary. When would the calloused fingers turn on him? Yank at his hair, dig into his scalp, rip at his ears. Hit him. Hurt him.

Gods, he'd even let them. Let them hurt him, ask or beg them to, so long as he could have this.

He could feel tears streaming down his face with the sheer desperation of it all.

Soft, gentle shushing noises and humming began at that and he nuzzled into the hand. The warmth. The softness he would never feel, never experience again.

A whine left his lips unbidden at that thought as he chased the hand, followed by a plea.

"... I'll do anything. I'm sorry, please don't leave me. Sorry. I'm so sorry. Please. Please."

Sleep was dragging him back down into the dark. Izuku was confused about that. How did that work? He was already dreaming wasn't he? Can you fall asleep in a dream?

Questions and hopes left unanswered he feel back asleep, still warm.

Chapter Text

Shouta knew he wasn't handling all this well. He knew he was really only keeping it together because Hizashi was here, watching over the kid. Making sure they were alright. (Making sure he wasn't dead.)

Leaning against the wall, resting his head back against it, he listened to Sansa.

"We just got the medical records from the hospital. And damn, you weren't kidding when you said there was a case beyond the kid getting up on that roof somehow." Sansa's voice rang through the phone, some shock notable even with the even tone the cat-quirked officer tended to use. "Is there any part of that kid that hasn't been hurt?"

Shouta closed his eyes. "...no. No there isn't. Anywhere that doesn't have scar tissue has a bruise, anywhere that doesn't have a bruise has a wound, and anywhere that doesn't have a wound absolutely used to. They are talking about doing a full-body MRI and CT scan."

The sounds of the hospital echoed through the hall. Nurses, doctors, family, and visitors talking quietly. Machines and beds rolling by. Far off beeps and alarms. Lights buzzing.

Gods, Shouta hated hospitals.

"Well, I hope that goes well," Sansa replied, clearly not expecting anything good to be revealed from further tests. "Moving on,"

This is why Shouta liked working with Sansa, he was good at recognizing when to move on. Especially when it was work related.

"I'm afraid we really don't really have anything further on the kid yet."

Never mind. Sansa is getting decaf for the rest of... at least the week. He doubted he'd care enough to keep it up much longer than that. Not unless he had more bad news.

"I went to the building and I honestly have no idea how he got on the roof. The roof is only accessible with a keycard and it logs all access. If he tried to open it without a keycard it would have triggered the buildings fire alarm." There was the sound of shuffling papers. "Building security checked, there were no attempts to open the door logged."

Huh, so not impossible but still difficult. Especially for a kid.

"Maybe a quirk? Like a technopath or lock-picking quirk?"

More shuffling papers. "Not that we can tell, no kids matching his physical description with any potentially relevant quirk to getting on that roof were reported missing." A sigh, "no kids matching his physical description at all were reported missing."

Sansa continued, "on the roof we found a backpack, it had a phone and a wallet but it's not going to be of any help either."

Two weeks. Maybe three.

"All of the papers are completely unsalvageable. They were covered in some sort of slime? Or sludge? I don't know, the lab is looking at it. The phone had a lot of damage that appears to have occurred prior to yesterday and what with the slime," Sansa trailed off.

Shouta wanted to bang is head against the wall. Would it help anything? No. Would it make him feel better? Also no. Would it be satisfying? ...maybe.

"And the wallet?" He nearly growled.

Hizashi would be disappointed if he got a head injury out of frustration. Damn, that was right out then.

"It only had 1423 yen and what was a photo before the slime stuff got it." Sansa sounded nearly as frustrated as he felt.

"What about the uniform?"

"No dice. 6 middle schools around here use it, and we don't even know if he's from the area. It's a pretty generic gakuran." A pause. "It does have burns to it, and lots of patched and repaired spots."

"That matches some of his injuries and scars." Sounds like long term abuse of some kind, likely occurring at school. "Does it look like the repairs were professional or like an adult did them?"

"I think you can guess the answer to that one, Eraser."

Great. Neglect, physical abuse, likely emotional abuse. When they got more info on the kid he'd have to dig into that school. Probably sic Nedzu on them too. Just to add some spice to their destruction.

"You have anything helpful for me?" He just wanted to get back to Hizashi and the kid.

"Well, like I said. The stuff in the backpack was pretty throughly destroyed but me and a couple of the guys think, and I have to reiterate that we aren't sure, but we think the kids given name starts with 'Izu'. Do with that what you will."

Izu. At least a bit of the kid's name. Maybe. But still, it's a start. 4 days of decaf. A harsh but ultimately fair punishment.

"Keep me in the loop if you find out anymore about the kid, ok? And let us know when the other tests come back."

"Got it. Will do." Hanging up he rubbed his eyes and resisted the urge to rush back into the room to make sure that the kid was still ok. (Still breathing. Still sleeping. Still Alive.)

Instead he headed down the hall. He trusted Hizashi with his life, but more importantly: he trusted Hizashi with kid's life.

Hizashi could probably do with some coffee. As cute as it was that the kid, Izu, felt so safe with Hizashi's petting of his hair it had been a rough night for them all anyway.

Right. Coffees and then checking on the kid. Izu.