Chapter Text
A tiny shadow dashed through the back alleys. Running from the sounds of explosions and howling laughter. The small green child the shadow belonged to did his best to ignore the burning pain in his ankle, the sprain from being shoved into the flower bed earlier at recess rearing its ugly head.
The tiny twelve year old turned into another opening as it came up, only to skid to a stop as he realized his mistake. The thin space between a hardware store and an old gym wasn't square, and, where the Gym was obviously trying to snag that tiny bit more space, narrowed the alley down until it ended in a dirty wedge piled high with wind blown trash.
The hunted child did his best to make it back to the entrance of the dead space, almost making it out and back into the maze. But an arm caught him around the neck right as he tried to make yet another break for freedom. The choking pressure used his own momentum to launch him backwards to his doom.
Green eyes teared up as the scrawny boy fell to the ground, coughing as his stunned throat fought with his lungs when they lost their breath on impact with the dirty asphalt. A foot to the chest, knocking him back further and pressing with the full body weight of the healthier preteen didn't really help that predicament either. "Damn Deku." His main assailant growled. "You should know better than to run from your beatings. Dirt like you should just lay down and take what you deserve!"
The point was highlighted when the foot pinning the small boy to the ground shifted to lodge itself sharply into his ribs. Izuku Midoriya gagged as bile crawled up his throat. The lack of air and fresh pain making itself known. The other kids who had followed them through the maze of backstreets and sideroads behind their school cackled as they finished surrounding their target in the tight space they found themselves in. Converging on their downed peer at a signal from their leader.
The smallest boy finally managed to suck in a breath, only to release it as a howl when one of his attackers stomped harshly on his already injured ankle. The dark chuckles at his sounds of pain were only accented by more blows. One after the other. Again and again. Kicks, punches, slaps, and stomps. Nothing was off limits, especially not their quirks.
And maybe Izuku shouldn't have tried to run earlier. He hadn't been able to get away fully on his bad foot. And they had instead just caught him further away from any prying eyes. And the adrenaline of a good chase was racing through their veins. His mistake was emphasized by the primal viciousness of his beating.
Claw-like nails raked down his back, shredding the cheap school uniform jacket and shirt. The ruined fabric pulled away as another of his classmates stooped to kneel with his shin pinned across the back of their target's neck, keeping him fairly still as their leader stepped back into play.
Katsuki Bakugo grinned as he raised his palms to the sky, showing off his tiny warm up pops. Basking in the excited whoops and hollers from his goons. His red eyes watched in excited fascination as his ex best friend did his best to thrash his way free, his fear palpable at the familiar sound and smell of the quirk that had tormented him for years.
The blonde let the tension build for a minute or two. Then he crouched down next to his favorite punching bag, the others around them quieting in anticipation. "Dekuuuu… One day you'll remember your place without a reminder. But until then… Well, let's give you something to carry around to jog your memory."
With that Bakugo placed his hands in between the other's exposed shoulder blades, letting his quirk loose with an almost deafening bang. Almost, but they could all still hear the shriek of agony even over the sound of explosive force.
With that they released the pitiful quirkless freak and walked away, laughing and talking amongst themselves about what they wanted to do now that their lesson was over. Debating karaoke and an arcade.
Izuku was left in a dazed heap, doing his best to get air in between his now silent screams. After a moment the shock of his situation started to set in, starting with tingling in his fingertips. His head spinning as his brain tried to process pain and damage. An involuntary twitch of an arm making his vision white out before his body gave up trying to make sense of things and everything went black.
___
Green eyes opened slowly, hazy and unfocused. Not able to process much besides the grey of concrete and the green of a recycling bin. After a few minutes the small teen lying prone on the ground risked a twitch of his fingers. When they responded with minimal added pain he moved up to his wrists, then his elbows. He was well versed in checking for damage by this point in his short life. He decided to hold off on his shoulders for a moment, the familiar tightness of the fresh burns warning him from attempting that too soon.
So he started with his toes instead, hissing when his left ankle very much did not work correctly. Taking a deep breath before testing his knees. Then he gently slid his arms out a bit so he could get his hands to his ribs while moving his back as little as possible though he couldn't get away without his shoulder blades moving a bit. He grit his teeth at the flare of pain, blinking the tears out of his eyes and checking that none of his ribs were too broken.
From there he let himself rest for a minute, taking in the fact that the sun was almost set, twilight settling over the city. He turned his head to look the other way, noting a light high up on the back of the gym that looked whole enough to maybe work. He decided he would try to sit up once it was turned on, he needed to see how bad the bruising on his abdomen was in an effort to check for internal injuries.
He waited, doing his best to psyche himself up as the last of the sunlight faded from the sky. A few minutes later the timer on the fixture seemed to finally go off and the yellow bulb buzzed as it switched on, flickering steadily. He took a deep breath and forced himself to keep his self-imposed schedule.
He rolled half into one side, bracing himself with an arm as he started to lever himself up. He went slowly, working through the shakes as he managed to get to his knees. The small boy took another breath before letting what was left of his uniform top and shirt slide off of his arms. He hissed as the tender burns stretched a bit but pushed through checking on his chest and belly, cringing at the sight of the red splotches that were already starting to turn into bruises. At least he didn't think he was dying right at that moment.
He took a little bit longer to try and think over his plan of action. Eventually he decided that he had to move. He wasn't sure if this alleyway was safe or not, he needed to get back to his little place in the park. The spot under the bushes behind the gardeners shed. He would be safe if he could get there. Plus that was where his first aid kit was, hidden amongst the overgrown ivy.
He should really get back 'home' sooner rather than later. The small boy took a few more minutes of bracing himself before he shifted to get his good foot underneath himself. He stood slowly, praying his left ankle would be good enough to shuffle around on, he really didn't think he had the ability to hop all of the way to the park.
Shakily he took a step forwards, only to gasp when his bad ankle did indeed give out under his weight. In an effort to keep from falling on his face he shifted back into his right foot quickly. Too quickly as it turned out. The movement sent him overbalancing and crashing the point of his shoulder into the brick wall beside him.
If you asked him later he would say he just slid to the ground. But in reality, as the pain of a harsh blow spread across the blistering skin across his back he screamed. His legs folded weakly as he once again slipped into the void of unawareness. Left slumped leaning against the wall that had caused the issue, glazed eyes half open as he stared out unseeingly.
Time passed by without his acknowledgement. The aftershocks throbbing through the burns and down his spine. He wanted to thrash and scream, but he knew from experience that moving would be an awful idea. It was the slow ticklish touch of warm liquid down his back that brought him back fully into the present. He wondered at the sensation for a moment before he realized that he must have popped some of the blisters. If he could see it he bet the liquid would be blood.
Fighting back a shutter he accepted the fact that he wouldn't be returning to his safe space quickly. He shifted slightly so more of his arm and side was pressed to the wall instead of the now bruised part of his shoulder. The pale preteen settled in to at least wait for the fresh blood to clot up a bit and so he could rest for a minute. Feeling more tired than he thought reasonable since he technically only woke up a bit ago after passing out the first time. He guessed fainting wasn't as restful as a nap.
___
Pro Hero Eraserhead jumped from rooftop to light pole to rooftop. Making his way through his regular second Friday night of an even month patrol route. It was similar to his other patrol routes. But just different enough to be able to stop most people from predicting his movements.
It's not paranoia. He's not paranoid. He has a legitimate concern. And plenty of reasons to take precautions.
He leapt for a balcony, hanging off one handed and braced with his feet as he peered down the alleyway next to the small apartment building. This was one of the many entrances to his least favorite part of town. A maze of run down buildings and tiny shops. All homes and haunts to the seedier types. He actually passed through there at least four times a night, sometimes more on weekends or holidays. This would be the first sweep of his shift.
Once he was sure the popular drug deal location was empty he launched back up to the roofs, pausing occasionally to check specific trouble areas or to listen closer to sounds that caught his attention. This area was never quiet. The sounds of drunken laughter and loud music a constant. And Eraserhead was proud of himself and how well he had trained his hearing to pick up the distant sounds of fighting or other trouble over the noise of the district.
So when he heard the tiniest of whimpers he stopped in his tracks, trying to determine where the sound had come from. A slight rustle gave him a direction and he hopped over to the next building, an old gym of some sort, peering over the edge when he got to the other side.
Surprisingly the tiny dead end space was sort of lit, even if the yellow bulb was flickering like it was taking its last breath. And sitting propped up by a wall stained with damp was a small child. The hero's first thought was wondering what a kid was doing out so late, his second was wondering where his shirt was.
The kid was moving oddly, disjointedly. That was a bad sign. The hero quickly scaled his way down, landing in a crouch a couple of yards in front of the small figure on the ground. The kid didn't seem to see him, raising their left arm across their body like they were going to press against the wall and try to stand.
Eraserhead figured he should probably stop them. Now that he was close enough he could see the bruises practically covering his small frame, even in the shitty lighting. Whatever had happened here had been brutal. Staying in his crouched position he made an effort to keep his voice calm and low, not wanting to startle him too badly. "Hey kid, need some help?"
Unfortunately he did still manage to scare the tiny thing. Bright green eyes snapped open, fear apparent as the boy reared back a bit before hissing and collapsing back in on himself. The pro raised his hands, showing they were empty. Doing his best to look at least a little less threatening. He knew his appearance wasn't exactly the most approachable, had cultivated it to be that way, but sometimes he wished he had a little less of a love of black. If only it didn't hide blood stains so well. "Hey now. Relax ok? I'm a hero. I just want to know if I can help you."
Watching as hazy green studied him in the flickering light was a bit surreal. He was almost certain he caught the moment when the kid placed who he was. "Eraserhead?" The name was slurred and a bit garbled from what sounded like a sore throat. But that was definitely his hero name.
Taking a deep breath he nodded slowly. "That's right. So, can you tell me what all hurts?"
There was a full minute of tense decision making where Shouta could do nothing but sit back and try not to pressure the small boy in front of him. But eventually the decision he was hoping for did come. The tiny scrap of a kid deflating, folding in on himself a bit with a resigned look. "My back."
The man frowned, wondering what kind of damage he wasn't seeing if the kids back hurt more than what his front must be. "Ok. I'm going to go around you to take a look. I have some first aid stuff in my belt so we can try to take care of it. That alright with you?" The boy flinched like he tried an aborted shrug, before giving a small nod instead. Truthfully he looked anything but ok with that suggestion but if he wasn't going to protest then Eraserhead would take what he could get.
He did his best to keep low as he edged around, not wanting to make things worse by looming. He couldn't hold back a curse when he was able to go far enough to see the bloody burn across the kid's shoulders. "How did this happen?"
The world weary sighed response of, "Pissed off the wrong person." Was too heavy for someone so young. But the hero was too busy pulling out his phone to think too much on it.
He started scrolling through his contacts pulling up one of his most used. "I'm going to have to call help in for this kid. There's nothing I can really do with what I have." The child in front of him stiffened back up at the announcement, starting to protest even as Shouta found the number he was looking for.
"No. I've already wasted enough of your time. You can just continue on your patrol and I'll go home here in a bit!" Green eyes were wide with fear as they looked as far as they could over a burned shoulder. A twitch of a leg as the kid tried to look further without twisting brought some clarity to the situation. Bright red caught the light and Shouta suddenly understood the situation a whole world more.
Dark eyes snapped to the distinctive red sneakers. Eye catching red. Danger red. Quirkless red. He had seen enough of that shade on the feet of the dead to know exactly what it meant. No hospitals then. "Would you mind coming back to a friend of mine's? She has a healing quirk and owes me a favor."
"You really shouldn't bother sir. I'll be fine." Green eyes looked away, as if trying to disengage with the conversation. But yeah. No. Shouta was not letting this go so easily.
"Kid. I cannot in good conscience leave you here. So you have two options, either we head over to my friend's place. Or you come back to mine and I call her over. Honestly that second one would probably be better in the end. You could stay in the guest room for the night and then we could figure out what else needs to be done tomorrow-"
"Sir. I'm quirkless. You can go, it's ok."
Oh. The kid honestly thought that. He thought that Eraserhead didn't know his status and would leave when he did know. And the resignation in his voice spoke of experience with that very scenario. But the kid had never dealt with Shouta before. "I know you're quirkless. I saw your shoes. It doesn't matter and I'm not leaving you here. Now I'm going to call a friend to bring a car, he should be able to get to the street so I will have to carry you out to it. Think about where you want to go while we wait."
He hit the call button and brought his phone up to his ear, seeming to ignore the look of bafflement he was being given. He was answered after only three rings. It was early enough in the night that Hizashi was probably still up at the studio doing background busy work. "Heya Shou! What is up on this rockin' night?!"
"Zashi. I need a pick up. Can you bring a car?" The underground hero could almost hear his best friend switch modes. The sound of a rolling chair and the jingle of keys coming clearly over the line.
"Send me your location. What's going on? Do you need an ambulance or the police?"
The dark haired man huffed. "I'm not the one that's hurt. But my friend here can't really go to the hospital. I'll probably call Tsukauchi later when I know more but for right now will you call and wake up Chiyo? I don't wanna. If she gives you hell tell her I'm calling in that favor from the class 3-H in gym gamma incident." There were some grumbles but the voice hero did agree to make the call before he hung up, Shouta immediately sending the blonde his location.
He probably had like 5 minutes if Hizashi drove like his normal demonic self. "Hey kid. You got a name?" He shuffled back so he could kneel infront of the tiny human once more, not wanting him to stain himself by trying to twist again.
The confusion on the battered face before him pulled at the pro's very weak heartstrings. "...Izuku?"
"Ok Izuku. You can call me either Eraserhead or Aizawa. Do you know if you want to go to my friends place or my apartment? She probably won't mind too much either way. For all that she acts like a grumpy grandma she's really a big softie."
"Uhm… y-your place I guess?" Made sense. He probably saw Shouta as the safer option since he hadn't met Chiyo yet.
"Sounds good. Means I get to sleep in my own bed tonight and I'll never say no to that." He tried to get the boy to relax a bit with a joke. He wasn't sure if he succeeded but at least he made an attempt.
Hizashi chose that moment to pull up to the end of the alley. Quickly getting out and heading in their direction. "Eraser? You ok down there?!"
"Yeah Mic. I'm going to need your help getting him in the car though." By that point the blonde had reached them and quickly squatted down half behind his friend upon seeing the object of his concern.
"Hey there lil' listener. Rough night?" The boy didn't answer the sort of rhetorical question. Instead looking back at Shouta with wide eyes. "YOU are friends with PRESENT MIC?"
"I know right? I'm not sure how it happened either." That atleast got the kid to crack a small smile, bemused as it might have been. "Alright kid. I'm going to have to pick you up to get you in the car. Can you put your arms around my neck to make it easier?"
A moment pause before the boy shook his head. "Uhm… if I raise them I'll probably pass out again."
Well that wasn't worrying at all. "Again? How many times have you passed out?"
"..Twice I think?
He took a deep breath. "Right ok. I'll make sure thats passed along to the medical professional. Ok… I still need to pick you up. So I'm going to have Mic help you move your arms. It's going to hurt but we won't let anything happen if you pass out. That ok with you? Or do you have any other ideas on how to do this that would be more comfortable for you?"
"...No. Let's… just get it over with I guess?"
The pro nodded, impressed and depressed by the practical and composed acceptance of the situation and what needed to be done. "Right. Well then. Mic?" He scooted forwards, further into the kids' space, not ideal but necessary. And the blonde behind him shuffled to be beside the kid and close enough to help manipulate the small body into a hold.
In the end he was holding the, obviously woosy, boy on his hip like one would hold a toddler. It was the best way they could settle him to stop him from touching the burns that were already bleeding again. Mic raced off to open the back door to his car.
It took a moment to get the kid into the seat. They sat him down and helped him turn and lie flat on his belly on the black leather. Black leather because Mic was a hero and knew well his best friend's hate for ambulances. Once the kid was as comfortable as they could make it Hizashi went around to the driver's seat. Aizawa himself shoved the front passenger seat up as far as he could before crouching in the foot well behind it so he could help keep the kid still as they drove.
Once they were in, Mic took off, trying to go fast but also not be too erratic with his turns and things. No reason to jostle their little rescue after all. By the time they got to Aizawa's building, Chiyo's own car was there. Parked in a visitor's spot. Most likely she had used the spare key hidden behind a loose brick to let herself in so she could set up her equipment.
They managed to get the kid out without too much more pain, and then it was just a matter of getting him to the apartment. It was three flights of stairs, and not the first time Shouta had regretted choosing a place without an elevator
Recovery Girl was indeed inside, boiling water at the stove to sterilize it. Her shock when turning to find Eraserhead carrying a small child was obvious. But at the first clear sight of injuries on the kid she kicked into gear. "Get him settled on the bed Shouta-kun. Hizashi take over here. Bring the water when the timer goes off."
She rushed to her patient as he sat on the edge of the bed, starting her normal round of basic questions. The boy seemed to clam up fully in front of her though, looking uncomfortable and refusing to speak, only answering with nods or head shakes.
Chiyo adjusted her questions accordingly, asking them all in ways that could be answered yes or no. They wouldn't be getting much info on what happened out of him that way, but that wasn't her job. No. Her job was making sure the kid was alive to tell his story when he was ready.
And boy did she have her work cut out for her. She counted two broken ribs, an ankle that was also most likely broken, 29 contusions, countless bruises, and the massive burn across his shoulders.
How the boy wasn't dead from shock she had no clue. But she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. No, she was just going to bring the horse back up to health.
It took an hour of cleaning and disinfecting, but she was able to give him a kiss, sending his already faltering consciousness plummeting into a restful slumber.
She glared down Aizawa once she was done, getting the story of what little he knew before she slumped forwards with a sigh. She had noticed the extra toe joint while she was checking his broken ankle. But having this confirmed as a likely hate crime didn't make her feel any better.
With a sigh she started packing up her go bag. "I want him at UA in the morning. You can leave him resting with me for the day and I can make sure those bones heal correctly."
The underground hero nodded. "Of course. Thank you for your help."
"Don't thank me. I owed you after you saved my intern during that whole quirk accident debacle." The man rolled his eyes. "I still don't see how you owe me for that. They were my students too." They settled back into the familiar argument as the dark haired man escorted her to the door.
Once she was gone he all but collapsed against the closed door with a sigh, turing to find his oldest friend standing behind him. "You staying the night?" Hizashi nodded before running a hand through his messy hair.
"Right. You know where the couch is. The guest bed is taken." That got a snort of amusement from the other man as they headed towards the bathroom, knowing this little ritual by heart. Hizashi showered first while Shouta set out clothes for the both of them. Then they switched and Shouta showered while the blonde went through his extensive hair and skin care routine, using the extra products he kept hidden on his personal shelf in the cabinet.
From there they both headed for the kitchen for a quick cup of tea. Aizawa making a call to his favorite detective in order to schedule a meeting for the next day. He might be ok to keep the kid for tonight but they would have to figure out next steps as soon as possible
Once they both had a mug of sleepy time tea in their hands they parted ways. Hizashi to the couch, Aizawa to his lovely, wonderful, amazing, bed. If he was going to be home early he was going to make the best use of that extra time.
As he passed he peeked into the open door of the guest room, checking on his rescue one more time before he slipped away to get his first full night's sleep in a year.