Chapter Text
This wouldn't have been an issue if it had been any other day.
Hizashi would have seen the signs of someone following him. He would have noticed the shadow following his path, would have seen the person in his peripheral, and the soft footsteps would have been picked up by his hearing aids. He might have had a faster reaction time too, and wouldn't have let them use their quirk to get him to comply.
He certainly wouldn’t be trapped here, muzzled and hands bound behind his back, locked in an unknown room only god knows where.
But it wasn't any other day; Hizashi hadn't picked up on the signs. He had been on his way to the radio station for his show, just having finished a full school day of teaching at UA. The night before he had pulled a double patrol shift; covering for another hero who had a last-minute incident and couldn't make their patrol. He didn’t mind– truly, he didn't. He’d rather pull a double since he had already been on duty, than risk there being a gap in shifts when there was always something happening in the area. He’d only had an hour or two to try and sleep before he had started the school day. He had concluded he’d nap in the teacher’s lounge. There was no purpose in wasting time going to his apartment when he only had a small window of freedom to sleep.
Thinking back on it, before he had started those patrols he had come from yet another full day of teaching. One full day of teaching from Thursday morning until the afternoon, then Thursday afternoon to Friday morning patrolling, and another full day of teaching followed that. It was Friday evening when he was on his way to the studio (when he’d been caught off guard and taken).
Meaning, it had been almost 48 hours since he’d had any real sleep. Not ideal, but Hizashi hadn't been too worried about it. After his shift at the radio station, he had planned to sleep his heart's content into Saturday ( hopefully, at Shouta’s place, if he had his way ). It wasn't the first time he pushed himself into overworking, and it surely wouldn't be his last. It was one of the downsides of being a pro and having 3 jobs.
This also wasn’t the first time someone with not-so-great intentions had captured the Voice hero. Unlike Eraserhead who was an underground hero and didn't have his image shared often across the media, Present Mic was used to being in the spotlight, and that upped his chances of being the target of villains. People knew his face and knew what he was capable of, and it resulted in being the focus of people’s malice at times. For his past capturers, however, it usually resulted in bleeding eardrums and regrets.
Despite having experience with both overworking himself and capturing situations, he’d never had the pleasure ( just kidding, this is awful ) of handling both scenarios at the same time.
Hizashi took some time to assess the situation. He was having a hard time focusing; whether it was because of the adrenaline, or the lack of sleep, he didn't know. His head was pounding, and not your run-of-the-mill headache either; his eyes felt like they were going to split from the pain in his head. They had muzzled him, forcing the metal piece of hardware tightly on his face to cover his mouth. It was so tight his jaw ached, and he was sure he’d have a nasty bruise. His captors had him tied up, of course, his hands behind his back and his ankles tied tightly together with a rope made of some metallic material (it reminded him of Shouta’s capture weapon; strong but flexible).
Clearly whoever planned this knew at least about who he was and his quirk ( given the muzzle ). They’d snuck up behind him, and whoever had touched him had some kind of emitter quirk because he hadn’t been able to move after that. He’d felt a wave of numbness? Disconnect? He couldn't quite place it, but now he was stuck in the position he’d been standing in, unable to do anything as they wrapped an arm around his shoulder casually and said, “You can try to move, but you won’t be able to unless I say.”
He’d immediately tried to respond only to still be stuck.
“You aren’t going to cause a scene or use your quirk; you’re going to walk with me and keep your mouth shut,” the person said, and despite his resistance, Hizashi found his feet moving without thinking. He hadn’t been able to move his neck to take a look at who was touching him until then.
The first thing he noticed was the red hair that was peeking from underneath the stranger's beanie, messy and untamed. The guy was shorter than him and had green eyes much darker than his own that were currently looking back at him intently. His clothes were plain; he wore washed-out jeans and a hoodie. A smug smile was on his face. He looked young, no older than 25 maybe. He was holding on tightly to Hizashi’s wrist as they walked.
Whatever quirk this person had, it so far seemed like it only took effect if they were touching him. He knew they were controlling him but he didn’t know to what extent they could do so, and it wasn't safe to assume. He’d have to wait for an opening; he’d catch them off guard by complying, and as soon as he was free from their reach, he’d fight back.
Except he never got the opportunity to do just that. The other had held onto his wrist so tightly he probably would have yelped and pulled away if he hadn’t been stripped of his control. They walked up to a large van- Hizashi tried to recall the large logo on the side of it– that would be useful for later– but couldn’t exactly remember. Once he was in the van, he was greeted by others, who promptly took to grabbing his arms and restraining him. “Don’t resist,” the other said (a s if he had a choice ), moving his hand from Hizashi’s wrist up to his hair, grabbing it tightly.
He had started to panic at that point but was still unable to move as hands gripped his face, forcing something cold and metallic onto him.
If Hizashi could have screamed, the van would have been in pieces. He almost felt like he was choking; he could feel the scream bubbling up in his throat but was unable to actually let it out. He knew what was happening; knew all too well what they were putting to use. The muzzle was tightened and he felt the hard click of the lock, securing it to his face. Someone else had blindfolded him from behind, a hand still harshly pulling him up by the hair.
He didn’t know when the van had started moving, but he was finally let go of and pushed harshly onto the floor of the vehicle. Suddenly he was able to move but found it moot as they had already tied him up. Struggling against his binds was useless; he was starting to hyperventilate— Hizashi didn’t have a good past involving muzzles. He needed to calm down if he wanted any chance of getting out of this. He took a deep breath, holding it for a second before breathing out again.
Just like Shouta had walked him through many times in the past (and just like he’d done for the other as well).
In.
Out.
Breathe.
He repeated that multiple times until he found himself slightly more grounded. He had no idea how long he’d be in this van, and he tried to listen for any clues that might help him figure out where they were taking him but was unsuccessful. The sound of the city blended in and nothing in particular stood out. He didn't know where his captors were (in another part of the van, maybe?)
Then the vehicle stopped.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he’d guess an hour at most. He hears the doors open and rough hands grab him, forcing him up. Whatever was used to tie up his feet was removed, and he heard the same voice from earlier say “If you try to run, try to kick or anything like that, I won’t hesitate to use more than my quirk,” he was pushed out of the van and feels someone grab his shoulders from behind. A familiar wave of numbness hits him again and he realizes: it’s the quirk from earlier. He can’t see but he’s walking (or rather, being led) somewhere indoors.
That’s where he finds himself now. They had led him to some kind of room, thrown him in it, and quickly restrained his ankles again, not a word said to him as they locked the door behind them. He can tell when he’s no longer under the influence of that quirk because A) nobody is touching him and B) that feeling of disconnect stops as soon as it’s gone.
He knew that people had to be looking for him now; his lack of presence at the radio station would be enough to set off red flags. His boss would call, and when he got no answer, they’d call his emergency contact, he was sure of it.
They’d call Shouta. He feels his heart clench at the thought of Shouta finding out about his sudden disappearance. Shouta was the most composed person he knew; many people knew Shouta as reserved and withdrawn, which is exactly the facade he wanted people to see.
Hizashi knew otherwise though; he knew when the other put on a mask to hide the fact that he cared. Very few people have the privilege, ( Yes, privilege Hizashi thinks, because just knowing Shouta is a privilege ) to get close enough to him to see the soft center that was hardheaded selflessness the man displayed when it came to helping anyone, especially people he cared about.
Once Shouta was made aware, he’d be a force to be reckoned with. If Hizashi wasn't able to escape on his own, he knew he’d be found.
…
The obnoxious ring from Shouta’s cellphone caused him to groan. He wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t get through grading these papers without interruption, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be annoyed. He grabs the phone and answers with a dull, “This is Aizawa,” getting straight to the point.
He expected to hear the familiar voice of Hizashi, but instead, he was greeted with hearing the man’s boss on the other line. The bored look on his face changed to one of concern. “No, I have not heard anything about him missing his show tonight, he was actually quite insistent on it as always when I spoke to him earlier,” the voice on the other end drawls on. “I will call him and see what’s going on,” he says before hanging up the phone.
Hizashi had not shown up for his show at the radio station. Shouta has known Hizashi for years, more than half his life, and he knew it was not normal for the other man to not show up to a job, especially without notice. He had just talked to him about it today, recalling the look of exhaustion on his friend's face. The slightly disheveled clothes, the bags under his eyes, the way his hair hadn’t been perfectly styled. It didn't matter if the blond had tried to hide it; Shouta knew him better than anyone else. He knew Hizashi was running himself thin this week and when he suggested getting someone to cover his show, Hizashi had ushered him off with a casual “No go, Shou. What would they do without me? It's not my fault the world can’t get enough of Present Mic!”
It was an act; one Shouta knew all too well. He also knew how stubborn his friend was. He had rolled his eyes and responded, “You should at least make sure you’re eating. You can't run off fumes.”
His response was to finger gun in Shouta’s direction and laugh, “Of course, Shou,” he turned around and started to leave for his class, the loud ring of the bell in the background, “But don’t forget to take your own advice! You and I both know Jelly packs aren't real food! I’ve seen your pantry at home!”
Shouta had noticed the lack of the usual skip in Hizashi’s step as he walked away.
Now, he was mentally noting the fact that he just called Hizashi 3 times, only for it to go directly to voicemail, the familiar message of “It’s Mic, do what ya gotta at the beep!” playing once again. Shouta would usually at least get a text back from the other, even if it was a ‘ srry busy ttyl ’ letting him know that he just couldn't pick up the phone.
Something was wrong, he knew that much. He sent a quick message to Nemuri; ‘ Mic didn't make it to the radio station, he with you? ’
He couldn't think of anyone else Hizashi would be with, or anywhere else he’d go suddenly with no warning. He had made it a point to Shouta that he wanted to sleep at his house once he was done with his show; a regular request that wasn't out of the ordinary. His phone buzzed with a reply;
New message from Nemuri: ‘ He’s not with me, I haven't heard from him since he was done with his class.’
He jumped into action at that point, disregarding the pile of ungraded school work and heading towards the door, capture weapon in his hands. He ignored the uneasiness in his stomach, making his way to Hizashi’s apartment. Whatever game he was playing with him right now wasn't funny. He was going to find Hizashi, and he’d make sure to give him a good lecture for scaring him. Because that’s all this was; some kind of prank to get him riled up. Shouta wasn't going to let himself assume the worst. Hizashi had been exhausted; he probably decided to go home and crash, dealing with the repercussions later. He wasn't one to let up and ditch his responsibilities, especially when he knew people would be affected, but lack of sleep is a powerful thing. Shouta knew from experience.
He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge the growing anxiety in his chest until Hizashi was still nowhere to be found after checking all his usual places.
His apartment was empty.
He wasn't at the school.
He hadn't been called in for an emergency patrol.
He hadn't called or texted anybody. Not the students, not any of his fellow heroes, not Nemuri, not even him.
He never showed up to do his show.
He knew the other was running on no sleep; even if he didn't know the exact length of time, but that meant the blond was most likely not as alert as he usually was.
Shouta hadn’t seen him since his free period; Nemuri and a few other teachers saw him briefly as he left the school grounds at the end of the day.
He determined that something must have happened on his way to the station. There wasn't a huge amount of ground to cover between UA and the radio station. There was a large chance that someone saw something; Hizashi was a pro hero after all. The loud and boisterous Present Mic stuck out in a crowd.
He’d already informed everyone of what was happening; Nezu would undoubtedly call a meeting with faculty and the police any minute now. Whatever happened to the Voice hero wouldn't be unknown for long. Even if Nezu, the entire police force, and every pro hero assigned to the case came up with nothing, he’d find out what was happening.
Shouta would make sure of it.
…
It felt like it had been ages since Hizashi got there. His entire body hurt; his ankles and wrists sore from being tied up, his jaw throbbing due to the lovely muzzle they decided to use, and his still splitting headache. The adrenaline had worn off at this point, and his days without sleep were starting to weigh on him. This wasn't the time to sleep; someone could enter the room at any moment and he needed to be alert for that, ready to make a plan at any point. Someone was going to have to come in at some point. His years of being a pro had shown him that most villains were immature and loved to boast when things were going their way. As much as the blond would be happy with never having to hear another villain again, he needed to get as much information as he could.
He feels his body jump as he catches himself drifting again; god he would love nothing more than to be asleep in Shou’s bed, nestling into the other man’s sheets as he listened to his grumbles. His friend always groaned about the invasion of his space, but he never even tried to get him up and out of his bed (not that Hizashi minded at all).
It’s the click of the door unlocking and opening that makes Hizashi snap out of his exhaustion-fueled daze. He hears a chuckle and multiple sets of footsteps move around the room before the blindfold is suddenly taken off of him. His eyes squint as he adjusts to the brightness. In front of him are 2 people; a woman he hasn't seen before, and the same red-headed kid from earlier who had captured him. The woman doesn't stand out much appearance-wise. She has long blond hair pulled into a ponytail, her bangs falling onto the side of her face. She’s wearing plain clothes as well, but hers our slightly more professional looking: black slacks and a plain white blouse. He sees a twinkle in her dark brown eyes as her lip curls up into a smirk before saying, “I’m sure you’re uncomfortable, but unfortunately for you, we are going to take every precaution needed to make sure you behave yourself.”
Hizashi only stares at her at her in response, trying his best to look at least somewhat intimidating. If he does, the woman gives no indication of it. She goes on, “Not that your comfort is a priority here, because honestly, I could care less about it. What I do care about is keeping you as subdued as possible. I really do not feel like dealing with any escape attempts, or that dreadful quirk of yours. You’re here simply because the public has a clear positive image of you, and you’ve got a powerful quirk. I would have much rather had All Might of course, but I know better than to bite off more than I can chew.”
Hizashi sure hopes she’s not looking for a reply, because well, the muzzle was enough to prevent that. If he wasn’t so damn tired he’d probs think her speech was funny, because as useful as the information he was getting was, can’t one villain do something without giving him an earful of useless banter ?
His glare is response enough because she continues, “Famous pro hero, beloved UA teacher, and host of popular radio show Put Your Hands Up is missing? That’s going to get plenty of media attention, which is exactly what I want. I want the public to go nuts about your disappearance because I need UA backed into a corner. It won’t look good for them when they can't find you, and I want them desperate to get you back so that they’ll even agree to my terms.”
If he was able to respond, he’s sure he would say something about how they have no idea what they’re up against, but instead, he’s forced to communicate by glaring at her and struggling against his binding.
“We’ve got to let them know that you need help, give them a bit of urgency,” she says in a mocking tone. She gestures over to the door, where the redhead from before opens it, letting another person in. Another man joins them, and this one doesn't say much, just walks over to the woman. He’s fairly plain-looking, with short brown hair and glasses almost too large for his head. He doesn't say anything as the woman whispers something into his ear.
Before Hizashi can even start to guess what is going on, the man comes over and puts a firm hand on his shoulder.
There’s a sudden pain that is so excruciating he forgets how to breathe. He hears a faint snap and it feels like his whole shoulder is twisted in sharp pain. He can't scream because of the muzzle. It’s pain and ithurtshurtshurtshurtsHURT-
The man lets go and the most intense part seems to be over. He’s panting heavily into the muzzle trying to catch his breath, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder that is wafting through him. It definitely sounded like something broke. He can't gather any basic thoughts together before he feels pressure on his wrist and the same explosive pain, white, hot, and searing–
He lets out a scream that only comes out as nothing more than a muffle.
He can't recall how long it lasts. He’s sure it was only a couple of seconds, but it felt like forever. He feels dizzy and nauseous and everything hurts, he can't focus straight, the blonde woman walks up to him and laughs. Hizashi can't think about a damn thing that's funny, except the idea of blowing this woman’s eardrums out and making this whole building fall. He snaps a picture of him, and kneels so she’s at eye level with him. “You can call him Pointbreaker,” she says, “I bet you can guess what his quirk does.”
Neither of the two men in the room have said a word, and the man– Pointbreaker , apparently– stands silently next to her. “I’d tell you what my quirk is, but that would take the mystery away from you, and I want your head reeling with thoughts,” she cups his ear and whispers, “You will not sleep.”
She gets up and turns around towards the door, “That way you’ll have plenty of time to think.”
The door shuts, the click of the lock echoing, and Hizashi is left with nothing more than pain and his thoughts racing in his head.
He needed to get out of here.