Chapter Text
It was just supposed to be a raid on a villain hideout. One night. Bust a small group of criminals, confiscate anything suspicious, arrest the people involved, and move on. That’s what Shouta told himself as he prepared. He went through the motions of putting on his uniform, checking his weapons, and wrapping his scarf around his neck. It was just a simple villain raid.
Of course, when does life ever make things easy?
* * *
“ Perimeter is clear. Eraserhead and Redfist, you are clear for entry. ” Shouta nodded at the other hero, and the two slipped through the side entrance of the warehouse, stepping into a maze of hallways. Checking each room, they only found a few villains, which were quickly subdued and left for the second sweep of the police.
Soon, they came upon a large door, which Shouta presumed led to the rest of the warehouse. Nodding at Redfist, he slowly pushed it open, wary of an ambush. Slowly stepping into the cavernous room, Shouta stiffened. The place was filled with rows upon rows of glass tanks, filled with some sort of clear liquid and glowing with sickly green. Upon closer inspection, he realized with no short amount of horror that some of the tanks actually had people in them.
Most of the people in the tanks were malformed in some way, extra limbs or strange skin or appendages that looked sewn on . They were all wearing oxygen masks with tubes leading to the base of their tank. They’re experiments, Shouta realized. Specimens . None of them looked conscious though, and he couldn’t decide whether or not that was a good thing. Moving slowly forward, Shouta made his way to the center of the room, where he found an entire medical setup, with a gurney, surgical supplies, and a chair with metal cuffs on it. Resisting the urge to throw up, he turned around, and had to stop himself from yelping.
The tank he was facing had a kid in it, and he was awake . Eyes wide, the boy slowly formed the sign for help with his hands. Shouta stumbled back. There’s a kid here why’s there a kid in a tank this is bad . Shoving down his panic, Shouta beckoned Redfist closer, flinching at his gasp when he saw the boy.
“There’s gotta be some sort of release for it, right?” the other hero choked out. “Some way to let him out.”
Nodding, Shouta knelt down cautiously, peering at the row of buttons on the base of the tank. Spotting one that read RELEASE , he glanced up at Redfist, before pressing the button and stepping back. The liquid slowly drained, leaving the boy to lean heavily against the back of the tank and rip off the mask. Once all the liquid was gone, the front panel of glass slid away, and the boy tumbled down into Shouta’s arms.
He weakly clung to Shouta’s suit, thin fingers trembling. Getting a closer look, Shouta saw that the boy couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, and his skin was patterned with scars. “Redfist, clear the rest of the building. I’m taking him out of here; we can meet back up outside.” Redfist nodded in confirmation, and then he was gone. Shouta picked up the boy he’s so light why is he so light and carried him back the way he had come, picking his way between the tanks and keeping an eye out for anyone else who looked conscious, of which there were none. He relaid what he’d found over his comms, and was assured that there would be an ambulance awaiting at the rendezvous point.
Shouta slipped out the side door he’d entered through, feeling the boy’s breath hitch when the fresh air hit him. Weaving his way through buildings, he came upon emergency vehicles a few blocks away. Spotting the promised ambulance, he tried to set the child down on the stretcher, but the kid stubbornly clung to him, refusing to let go. Remembering all the medical equipment in the place he’d been kept, Shouta realized that leaving a terrified child alone with strangers and paramedics was probably not the best idea.
He beckoned Tsukauchi over. The detective blanched upon seeing the kid, eyes searching Shouta’s face for some form of explanation. “He was being kept there in the base,” Shouta said. “Tsukauchi, there were more than just him. Dozens more. I don’t think this is just a small-time villain operation, it’s much more.”
Tsukauchi nodded, swallowing thickly. “Okay. I’ll let the rest know; you should go with the kid to the hospital. I don’t think he’s letting go of you anytime soon.”
Nodding, Shouta pulled himself up into the back of the ambulance, the boy still clinging to his front like a baby koala. Smiling at the mental image, he moved the kid to his lap once he sat down. “Okay,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m Eraserhead, a pro hero.” At this, the boy lifted his head. “Do you have a name we can call you?”
Raising a hand, the boy fingerspelled I-Z-U-K-U, then made the sign for green . Shouta blinked. So he really did know sign, huh? It was a good thing that Shouta was fluent.
“Izuku, huh? That’s a pretty name, did you know it means valley?” The boy nodded, unruly green curls falling over his matching eyes. “The people over there are called paramedics; they’re here to make sure you’re not hurt and help you feel better. Would you be okay with them touching you?” When Izuku’s mouth tightened, he hurriedly continued. “I’ll be here the whole time, and I’ll make sure they won’t hurt you or touch you without permission, okay?” At this, he nodded slowly. “Okay, I’m going to put you on the bed over here now. That will make it easier for them to check you over and finish quicker.”
Deciding that distracting Izuku might be a good tactic, Shouta searched for more questions that weren’t too invasive. “Izuku, do you know how old you are?”
He tipped his head, pondering. What is the date today? His signs were jerky; he was clearly still uncomfortable with the situation.
“It’s the twelfth of September, and the year is 2171.” Izuku’s hands twitched, the gears turning in his head.
Twelve years old , he signed, jumping when one of the EMT’s pressed a stethoscope against his back.
“That’s a stethoscope, Izuku. It helps the medic listen to your heartbeat,” Shouta explained gently. “Can you take deep breaths for me?” The kid complied, still looking nervous, but slightly less terrified. Spotting the look one of the paramedics gave him, Shouta moved forward to be closer to Izuku’s field of vision. “Good job. Now, try laying down on your back.” He did, mouth tightly pressed in a firm line. “Can one of them pull up your shirt to check over your chest? If it makes you too uncomfortable, you can always say no, okay?” Shouta explained, keeping his voice gentle. Izuku looked panicked, eyes blown wide and fingers clenching the fabric of the bed, but he nodded ever-so-slowly.
Shouta watched like a hawk while the two medics gently checked over Izuku, listening to his breathing and feeling for any broken ribs or abnormalities. Meanwhile, his mind spun. Twelve years old? He’s so small, and he’s been hurt so much. I mean, look at all those scars. What the hell did those people do to him?
The ambulance ground to a halt, and Izuku shot up, head jerking around as he tried to see what was happening. “We must be at the hospital now. Do you think you can walk or would you like me to carry you?” Izuku had seemed weak before, and Shouta didn’t know if he could even stand up without aid, but it was still important to present it as an option.
Carry please. His expression was like a punch to Shouta’s gut; as if he was expecting to be denied and forced to walk on his own.
“Of course,” Shouta said gently, carefully lifting him off the bed and holding Izuku close to his chest. He stepped down out of the vehicle and headed through the hospital doors.
When they stepped inside, they were immediately greeted with glaring white walls and the reek of antiseptic. Izuku whimpered, the surroundings obviously way too familiar to him. Shouta murmured to him softly, assuring him that it was okay and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.
They were greeted by a doctor, who completed a more comprehensive check-up on him, before asking him some questions. “Izuku, are you in pain anywhere? Any wounds or broken bones? Even something like your chest hurting?”
The boy’s signs were choppy, unsure. No breaks. Nothing hurts a lot but... he trailed off, before raising a hand to his face and brushing aside a section of his bangs.
Shouta and the doctor both sucked in a breath. Cutting across his forehead was a jagged scar, puckered at the edges and coloured a vivid, angry red. Newest hurt, he signed sullenly, eyes cast downward. They didn’t want to W-A-S-T-E S-T-I-T-C-H-E-S on me . Shouta scowled. Waste stitches my ass.
“Okay, we need to make sure that it isn’t infected then, so we’ll have you take an antibiotic for two weeks until we’re sure you’re clear. Is that okay?” the doctor asked patiently. When Izuku nodded, she pressed on. “You’re also malnourished, so we might have to put you on an IV drip for a while.”
Here, Izuku recoiled. N-E-E-D-L-E-S?
“Usually, but if that makes you uncomfortable, there are alternatives. We need to keep you here at the hospital for a while until it’s safe for you to be out of constant observation.”
I have to stay? Here? He was shaking now. Where do I go after? Or I am here forever?
“Hey, hey,” Shouta knelt down in front of him, gently taking Izuku’s hands in his own. “I promise, you won’t stay here any longer than you have too. They just need to make sure you don’t get sick, okay? I’ll make sure you feel safe and comfortable, really.”
Izuku sniffled. Can— his hands dropped momentarily, before moving again. Can I hug you?
“Of course, Izuku,” Shouta replied, drawing the trembling boy into his arms. “Whenever you need to.”
Suddenly, a thought struck Shouta, and he stiffened. Drawing back, he looked at Izuku assuredly. “I need to go make a phone call. Do you think you’ll be okay in here for a few minutes? The doctor won’t hurt you, I promise.” He nodded, and Shouta stood, fishing his phone from his pocket.
Once he was out in the hall, he fumbled through the contact list, before pressing on his husband's name. Shouta tapped his foot anxiously as the dial tone rang, waiting for him to pick up.
There was a click, and a sudden, loud voice. “Shooooo~! Everything okay? Did something go wrong with the raid?”
“‘Zashi, hey, um, no, but…” Shouta took a deep breath, steeling himself. “How would you feel about adopting a kid?”