Chapter Text
Izuku's door had been open when he'd gotten home.
Not his front door, nor the porch door, but his bedroom door. It was only slight, as simple as the latch not being pushed in properly, but it was enough to have Izuku's heart hammering. He didn't touch the handle, fingers hovering just above the metal, and felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.
His Mama wasn't home - she had a shift that covered from before Izuku awoke and until after he was supposed to be asleep. He had definitely closed his door, he had to hear the click before his hand pulled from the handle.
Taking a shaky breath, Izuku let his hand fall back to his side and furrowed his eyebrows. He covered every possibility, wracked his mind for an explanation, for something that he was missing.
In the end, he stepped back, watching the door.
The hallway was the main skeleton of the flat, each room branching off, and Izuku's was at the opposing end to the front door. He fumbled to pull his shoes back on, not daring to drag his eyes away, and yelped as his elbow thumped the wall.
When his door pushed open, he bolted.
The adrenaline was burning as he scrambled down the steps, feet slamming down the pavement without a sense of direction. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he just needed to go.
Adrenaline made his vision blur and the image of his door opening pushed his legs to move, and he hadn't realised he'd made a mistake until it slammed him in the face. He startled back, panting in exhaustion and looking around.
He was in big trouble.
Izuku didn't have time to backpedal before he was lifted by his neck, feet scrambling. "Eh? What's this? You think you can just run into me and then try and leave?" Izuku's eyes snapped up to the large man holding him, screaming out apologies.
The hand tightened, and tears speked Izuku's eyes. He was going to die. He shouldn't be here - this side of the city was particularly bad and Izuku had run straight into it. His throat closed and his lungs burned.
He was going to die. He was going to get killed. He was -
"Enough!"
Izuku cried out, spluttering as he was released. Even without the thick fingers gripping his throat, nails digging into the skin, he couldn't breath - his own hands grabbed at his neck, mouth open and lungs heaving in desperate gulps.
The adrenaline seeped from his limbs, twisted together in a huddle on the floor, and pushed into his torso. There was a pressure over his chest, a cage trapping his heart in a small corner and unbreaking as the organ slammed against it over and over - he was sure it was beating so fast his ribs were beginning to crack.
Or maybe it was the foot now pushing on him, keeping his body pressed into the gravel.
It was not like the boy was planning to move anyway; his legs could barely twitch from where they'd landed when he'd been dropped, tucked awkwardly under him, and his arms were too busy assisting his hands at scrambling around his shoulders.
He searched for the restriction in anguish, finding nothing responsible for continueing his asphixiation and instead pressing on tender skin, agitiating the bruises that already sprung to the furface.
A jolt ran through him when the presence above him was shoved away by an invisible force, a sharp bang making his ears ring. Something akin to familiarity strung in his stomach and a new urge broke free - escape.
Izuku could easily recognise the shot of a gun, and despite knowing that it hadn't hit him, a warmth feeling flooded through his body - his vision flashed red and all Izuku could see was blood. Blood on the walls. Blood on his clothes.
Blood on his hands.
Without a sufficient stream of oxygen, exhaustion hit Izuku quickly, and he made it to only sitting before scrambling back. Lying at his feet was the man who'd held him by his neck only a minute before, face pale and twitching, a hole the size of Izuku's fist striking through his chest.
He backed away kickly, feet kicking at the ground and elbows buckling under each scramble, his motion uncoordinated and fueled by terror - but he could not drag his eyes away from the body. The concept of a corpse wasn't foreign to him, but seeing one this close - one that had been alive and kicking him not too recently - made his heart palpitate and brain shut off.
He was fueld by fear, and fear only.
Darkness covered his vision, and the preteen gasped, head snapping up. There was a figure crouched in front of him, arms dangling from where his elbows rested on his knees and red eyes tinted with muffled doubt - there was a single speck of dirt of his white hair, a momentarily speck of Izuku's attention aimed at it before falling to the object in his hand.
The gun.
This time, his arms truly did cut from beneath him and Izuku landed on his back, knocking both the air from his lungs and the man from his sight. His diaphram gave a spasm and the scream cut before it gathered, a tingling spreading through Izuku's legs.
His muscles lurched when the figure moved to his side, arm shooting out and fist in a loose ball, shoulder protesting at the sudden movement. If it had been aimed, it wouldn't have hit, a large hand catching it and holding it extended up.
A laugh echoed through Izuku's ears.
"Someone as small and weak as you saved my Eri?" The words failed to register in his fog filled mind, Izuku's body beginning to struggle to hold onto his consciousness. He screamed and cried, the sounds no more than a pitiful whine, as those red eyes snapped within his brain.
All for One.
The King of the World that caused the country's grief - the man of the organisation Izuku feared more than Death. Those same red eyes had belonged to a girl he had simply caught before tripping only a week ago, except those innocent ones hadn't seen the death and destruction these had.
Her name was Eri?
A hand pressed forward, fingers wrapping around the sides of Izuku's head and palm pressing against his face - locking his world into darkness. The kid couldn't struggle, his limbs seizing and tears stilling in his eyes.
"You saved my daughter, and now I will save you. A debt is repaid."
=--=
Izuku's Mama had always said it was the kindness of his heart that this city would kill; that the people in his home would crush, stomp and kick it. She told him, when he was only four, that he was different and that being forgiving and tender was going to get him targetted.
She made him hide, forcing a mask onto him and making him promise only to show the softness of his Soul in the safety of her four walls.
So, he had.
Izuku had turned a blind eye when he walked into a classroom to see four bullies beating another; had ignored the scream as the women offering flowers to him was dragged into an alley the second his gaze vanished; had stepped around the fallen shopping bag as the elder women shook and reached for it.
Kindness had no place in this city, the thick walls separating it from the neighbouring locking in the evil.
Izuku's bedroom window faced the wall. Despite being metaphoric, it burned his hands to press against, the rough edges of the invisible boundary confining them enough. He saw the City next over, was able to feel the safety radiating from it.
A shift in laws drove a division between the two; in one, the Police Force was strict and passionate, the other, the Police Force was bribed and brought.
There were less laws and leicancy in their enforcement. It allowed for rent to be overdue for years before eviction and the products in shops were easier to steal. It allowed Landlords to kill pests and shop owners to exterminate rats. Life was both easier, and more threatening.
Perfect for Criminals. Essential for the poor.
Unfortunately, Izuku fell into the latter.
They were working on it - his Mama promised that some day, they'd leave and not have to worry. He wouldn't have to worry when she returned late from her shift, and she wouldn't have to worry when he left for school. They'd live in a house that followed health and safety guidelines and his pet cat wouldn't be disemboweled when rent was unpaid or they took a step slightly too loud outside a neighbours front door.
But Izuku feared, a deep twisting in his gut, that that would be no more than a dream. A fantasy they were never to fulfill - a wish on a birthday cake with one lit candle remaining. It had been a fear he'd held his entire life, but it was a fear that grew and chewed on his heart as his hands twisted within the cuffs binding his wrists.
And alongside that fear, a new one; would he ever see his Mama again.