Chapter Text
His patrol had been long and arduous.
In only five hours, Shouta had stopped two gang fights, four attempted assaults, and six attempted muggings. Overall, an active night, but still rather slow for a Friday night.
It was what came at the end of his patrol that made the night so difficult.
As Shouta ran, capture weapon dragging him from rooftop to rooftop, he felt his weariness grow stronger. All he wanted was to be at home and in his partners’ arms, wrapped up in a heavy weighted blanket with the additional pressure of their cats laying over his feet. In his tired state, Shouta slowed his run minutely to give himself a bit of a break.
It was because of this that he spotted them.
Bright red shoes, lying neatly next to the barrier of the roof he was on. There was no note, but Shouta knew the significance of both the shoes and their placement. Breath catching in his lungs, he rushed over to the edge and looked down-
His eyes slipped shut at the sight that greeted him, a silent plea going up that he still hadn’t been too late. However, as he lowered himself to the ground with his capture weapon and got a good sight of the kid- because that was a kid, they were wearing a middle school uniform- he realized his prayers had gone unheard.
The rooftop had been too high.
The kid’s skull hadn’t stood a chance.
Closing his eyes again, Shouta bowed his head for a moment before crouching next to the body. The stench of blood was overwhelming, and red coated the child’s hair and uniform. Their limbs were twisted at odd angles, and their skull was…
Shouta nearly gagged, but- out of respect for the child- managed to hide his disgust.
But it wasn’t disgust at the child, nor their decision.
Never them.
Shouta had been there, himself, after all.
The gore was overwhelming, but Shouta still managed to pull out his work phone and dial for a non-emergency ambulance to come take the body away and-
A sharp gasp took his attention away from his phone, and he looked around himself for a moment to try and find the bystander who was wandering around at four in the morning. However, he couldn’t see anyone around. As far as he could see were mere dimly lit streets and a few shrubs here and there. Overall, it was a neglected part of down, even more disheveled than the Hero himself.
A small whimper echoed through the night, and Shouta’s head turned sharply towards the noise. Towards the body.
The child’s eyes were wide open, a bright emerald green that would haunt Shouta’s nightmares for months to come.
Shouta immediately dropped to his knees, sending out another message- this time telling the ambulance to hurry the fuck up- before turning to the kid to assess the damage once more. “Hey, kid,” he spoke loudly but calmly, catching the child’s attention.
And then, the cracking started.
The cracking of bones realigning as the child’s limbs snapped back into place, their neck straightening up and their skull reforming itself.
The child’s eyes flashed over to Shouta, their mouth opening as they tried to speak, but only a rough cough came out. They tried to sit up, limbs frantically shaking and chest heaving.
“Hey, there,” Shouta spoke again, more concerned this time, putting a hand to the child’s chest to both keep them lying down and calm. “Stay down, kid, you’ve had a hell of a-” Don’t mention the fall, “-night tonight, haven’t you?”
The child’s eyes shut tightly as they settled onto the blood-soaked pavement, whimpering deep in their throat. The sound was filled with pain- of the physical or mental kind, Shouta didn’t know. “Hey,” Shouta said a third time, reaching over to hold the kid’s hand with his free one, “squeeze my hand once for yes, and twice for no, okay?”
The kid whined once more but squeezed Shouta’s hand once. And hell, the kid had a grip.
“Are you in any pain?”
Two squeezes.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Two hesitant squeezes, followed by a short pause, then one weak squeeze.
“You… you do?” Shouta asked, mouth feeling dry as he hoped desperately, he misunderstood.
And then, the child spoke.
“Y-Yeah,” they croaked out, tears welling in their eyes, “I r-remember e-everything.”
Oh, kid…
The sound of a siren at a distance echoed towards them, and the child winced at the noise.
“It’s okay, kid, it’s just the ambulance-” Shouta tried to explain, only to be cut off by the child’s frantic noises.
“N-No! You c-c-can’t- I can’t a-afford to g-go to a h-h-hospital, I- I- I’m Q-Quirkless, Eraserhead-”
Several things about that sentence sent off alarm bells in Shouta’s head, but none more than the child admitting to being Quirkless.
“Kid,” Shouta croaked out, not sure how he should reply. “Kid, you were dead when I got here, and I’m not sure for how long. Your…” Your skull was caved in. “You didn’t look good… I don’t know if you’re as Quirkless as you think you are.”
Shouta had expected the child to whimper again, to cry, to scream, something. But instead, the child breathed out the quietest “oh” that Shouta had ever heard. It was downright heartbreaking.
But before the Hero could respond, an ambulance was pealing up towards them, coming to a screeching halt. The doors to the back opened, and two EMTs rushed out with a stretcher.
Shouta moved to give them space, but as he went to take his hand away from the child’s, their breath hitched, and they clutched onto him like a lifeline.
“P-Please-” the child started, only to devolve into a coughing fit. “D-Don’t-” they coughed and couldn’t continue, but Shouta understood.
“Hey, hey,” Shouta murmured loud enough to be heard over the sirens, returning to his previous spot and squeezing the child’s hand tightly. “I’m not going anywhere, kid.”
One of the EMTs maneuvered around Shouta to place a brace on the child’s neck, the other lowering the stretcher towards the child’s side.
At a loss for more words to say, Shouta merely asked, “You got a name, kid?”
“…I-Izuku. My n-name is I-Izuku.”
…
It was two hours later that Shouta received a frantic phone call.
They’d gotten to the hospital and Izuku had been examined, Shouta staying by their side and holding their hand the entire time. When the doctor arrived, she asked all of the necessary questions, glossing over Izuku’s murmurs of being Quirkless. She did, however, focus heavily on the whole suicide attempt thing. And, God, Shouta was so glad it was just an attempt…
Even if Izuku had technically been successful.
The mere thought made Shouta want to vomit.
He’d seen plenty of suicides in his tenure as a Pro Hero. And he’d seen plenty of successful ones. But he’d never seen someone come back from the dead before. And with no injuries? No pain? Everything healed?
It was a powerful Quirk, if not a terrifying one.
The nurses took blood samples from Izuku, jotting down their heart rate and blood pressure. The doctor had already left the room, saying something about a Quirk counselor before she had left. Once the nurses were finished, they offered Izuku a fresh change of clothes- even if they were just scrubs- and said they could shower off in the bathroom.
Shouta had requested they leave the door cracked, and Izuku had blushed from ear to ear. It made them look like a strawberry, and it took a great amount of willpower for Shouta to not grin. He’d been told his grin was terrifying in the past, and it wouldn’t do to terrify the poor kid.
Once Izuku was in the shower, Shouta realized his patrol had been officially “over” for about two hours. He pulled out his cell phone- on silent, as it always was on patrol, even though his patrol was technically far over with- and winced when he saw the notifications.
23 texts from Hizashi. 13 missed calls from Hizashi.
34 texts from Oboro. 8 missed calls from Oboro.
3 texts from Tsukauchi. 2 missed calls from Tsukauchi.
Shouta winced a second time when he saw Naomasa’s name pop up. If Oboro and Hizashi had called the detective, then that meant Shouta was probably being considered a missing person at the Precinct.
The last missed call had been from Hizashi, a mere ten minutes ago. Shouta decided to call him first, considering.
But, before he could even hit the dial button, his phone was ringing again. The caller ID showed Hizashi Yamada.
Sighing with the knowledge that he was in for it as soon as he picked up, Shouta answered the call.
“OHMYGOD SHOUTA ARE YOU OKAY-”
Another voice echoed from across the line.
“Zashi, babe, inside voice.”
There was shuffling, followed by arguing, followed by the pressing of a few buttons that told Shouta he’d been placed on speaker.
“Sho? Babe? Are you there?”
“Sweetheart, please talk to us-”
“I’m alright,” Shouta said, voice thick with emotion. Of course, he knew his partners cared about him, they’d been together for fucking years. But hearing their concern and love so blatant in their voices still got to him, even now. Not to forget, he’d been through a hell of a night. “I’m at Musutafu General.”
“SHOUTA! Being in the hospital does not constitute as alright, ohmygod-”
“Zashi, babe, gorgeous, love of my life, please let Sho finish.”
Shouta chuckled, making the other two men quiet down. “I’m not injured.”
“Then why-”
“Zashi.”
Shouta smirked at the banter before remembering exactly why he was at the hospital.
The shower in the bathroom was still running, and the door was only open a crack, so Shouta lowered his voice and prayed that Izuku didn’t have good hearing.
“There was… there was a jumper tonight.”
Hizashi and Oboro both inhaled sharply, but it was Oboro who asked, “Did they… succeed?”
“…Yeah. Yeah, technically they did.”
“Technically? Babe, what do you mean technically?”
Shouta sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as his eyes squinted shut. “That’s just the thing, Zashi. Kid’s got a healing Quirk. Or a resurrection Quirk. We’re not quite sure… They thought they were Quirkless until tonight.”
Leaning forward on his knees, Shouta exhaled deeply. His partners were quiet, now, and Shouta deeply appreciated their silent understanding. They knew he was trying to process, and, as frantically worried as they had been, they were giving him time to breathe and think. Shouta had difficulties with words sometimes, and Oboro and Hizashi always knew just when he was trying to think of what to say.
It was just one of the reasons why he loved them so much.
“…Their name’s Izuku. I haven’t gotten any family name or details, but I’m hoping they’ll be open to talking soon.”
“Are they nonbinary?” Hizashi asked.
Shouta replied, “Not sure. I’ll ask in a few minutes. Kid’s in the shower now. They were…” coated in their own blood, “a bit of a mess. Figured they could use some time to themselves.”
“Maybe they’ve had too much time to themselves,” Oboro theorized. “And you sound exhausted. Do you want us to bring you anything? A change of clothes? Your sleeping bag?”
“Coffee,” Shouta demanded. “A metric shit ton of coffee.”
“Sweetheart,” Hizashi crooned, “You’re not gonna be able to sleep-”
“I won’t be able to sleep anyways, Hizashi,” Shouta snapped. Immediately, he felt guilty and apologized. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap, I just-”
“You’re overwhelmed,” Hizashi sympathized. “You’ve had a long fucking night and you’re worried about the kid. I understand, Sho, but thank you for the apology anyways.”
“Now,” Oboro said, “Coffee. Anything else?”
Looking down at his costume, the black fabric tacky with blood, Shouta said, “A change of clothes would be nice, too.”
“Can do. Hizashi, call Naomasa and tell him to call off the search.”
Shouta groaned. “You had them searching for me?”
“You were two hours late, Shouta! We were worried.”
“Hizashi was theorizing all of the terrible things that could have happened to you, so I called Naomasa. He hooked up the MIA report and put out an APB for you.”
“Great,” Shouta sighed, slouching in his chair. “Mind calling him for me?”
“On it, babe,” Oboro reassured. “And… Shouta?”
“Hm?”
“Take care of yourself, too, tonight, okay?”
A small, sad smile lifted over Shouta’s lips. “I will.”
“Alright. We’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, sweetheart!”
Shouta hung up right as the shower was turned off. Steam was coming out from under the door, flowing past the crack between it and the wall. Shouta could barely hear any pattering around- Izuku was light on their feet, a concerning piece of food for thought- but even so, Shouta heard quiet murmuring coming from the bathroom.
Izuku hadn’t had a phone on themselves when they were retrieved, so they couldn’t be talking to anyone else. Frowning, Shouta stood and crept silently over to the door, putting his ear up to the wood.
“-stupid, stupid, stupid. You messed up again, Izuku. You failed… But- but Eraserhead… and… I have a Quirk now?... The activation requirements… I- I never would’ve known unless I’d done it. I never would have…”
The kid took a deep breath, and Shouta pulled himself away from the door, settling back down in his seat just before Izuku took a step out into the room.
They froze when they saw him, blinking owlishly.
Now that there wasn’t blood all in their hair, Shouta could see that it glinted green in the yellow lighting of the hospital. Their freckles were more prominent, too, even if their cheeks were pink from the heat of the shower. They had put on the scrubs, leaving their arms bare- their scarred arms. Shouta’s eyes didn’t waver from Izuku’s own, but in his peripheral, he saw multiple burn and slash marks crisscrossing over the kid’s pale limbs.
“Hey,” Shouta said plainly.
“H-Hey…” Izuku said back, looking utterly confused. And then, they asked meekly, “You- You’re s-still here?”
“Of course,” Shouta replied easily. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Izuku looked even more confused, and maybe a little concerned, as they walked over to the bed slowly. They sat down on the edge facing Shouta, crossing their arms over their chest and rubbing at their shoulders.
“Cold?” Shouta asked, looking around for a blanket.
“Y-Yeah,” Izuku murmured, looking uncomfortable.
Shouta stood, and Izuku flinched at the abrupt motion. The hero paused, then made his way over to the bed, stepping louder than he usually would have and telegraphing his movements as he pulled the scratchy blanket off the mattress and gently placed it over Izuku’s shoulders. The child’s wide eyes looked up at Shouta, searching the man’s face for something.
They must have found what they were looking for- or perhaps, they didn’t find it- because their shoulders relaxed and they murmured, “T-Thank you, Eraserhead.”
“Call me Shouta,” Shouta replied as he sat back down. Leaning forward with his elbow on his knee, propping his chin up with a hand, the man tilted his head and studied Izuku’s face. The child was uncomfortable, even if they had relaxed a little, and cold even after the hot shower. Perhaps the chill was a side effect from their Quirk? Or perhaps it was from the adrenaline crash or the panic. All were valid theories.
Shouta cleared his throat. “First things first, kid.”
Izuku tensed up again, retreating in towards themselves and looking at Shouta with a mix of distrust and confusion.
It nearly broke Shouta’s heart, such a young child looking at him like they were a wounded animal, and he was a predator.
“What are your pronouns?”
Izuku paused, blinking owlishly once more as they mimicked back, “P-Pronouns?”
“Yeah. Mine are he/him. My partners are he/him and he/they. What about you?”
“…H-He/him,” Izuku said, and Shouta nodded back.
“Alright. Now, Izuku, are you hungry?”
The boy paused, looking contemplative, before shrugging.
“Okay. When my partners get here with my change of clothes, I’ll go out and grab us something to eat.” Shouta then stretched, arms over his head as his shoulders and back cracked like a glowstick. But without the benefit of actually glowing, Hizashi would have said. “Any preference?”
“…N-No, s-sir.”
“Sir isn’t necessary, kid. Like I said, just call me Shouta.”
“…O-Okay, Mr. S-Shouta.”
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Shouta turned back to his cell phone and saw that Hizashi had texted him.
does the little listnr want anythin?
“My partner wants to know if you want anything.”
Izuku paused again- he seemed prone to that, the freeze rather than fight or flight. “Um…”
When it became apparent that Izuku didn’t know how to respond, Shouta encouraged him with a few options.
“Would you like a change of clothes? Or maybe a softer blanket? Some slippers or a hoodie?”
“…Y-Yes, p-please. I-If it’s not t-too much t-trouble-”
“No trouble at all, kid,” Shouta interjected before Izuku could spiral. “I asked you after all.”
“…N-Not all a-adults mean it, t-though…”
And oh, if that couldn’t break Shouta’s heart anymore.
Placing his cell phone aside, Shouta looked up into Izuku’s eyes, putting as much sincerity into his voice as possible. “I don’t do things I don’t want to or don’t mean, Izuku. It would be illogical.”
“…Illogical…” the child mulled over the word for a moment. Then, Izuku nodded firmly- the first kind of determination Shouta had seen from the kid since he’d met him. “Alright. T-That makes sense.”
“My partners might disagree with you,” Shouta smirked, picking his phone back up as he shot a text back to Hizashi. “But I appreciate the support.”
The corner of Izuku’s mouth quirked upwards, and Shouta counted it as a win. But then, not a moment later, the child’s face fell, his chin tilting down towards his chest.
“Y-You… you’re gonna a-a-ask me w-why, aren’t y-you?”
Shouta paused in his typing, glancing up from beneath his bangs at Izuku. The child was hugging the blanket around himself in a vice, as though it were his only lifeline.
“…No,” Shouta admitted. “I’m going to ask you questions, yes, but you don’t have to tell me why you did it.”
“…Not y-yet, you mean.”
“Not ever, Izuku,” Shouta amended. “Sure, I’d like to know why, but only so that I can better know how to help you. But if you’re uncomfortable talking about it with me, we can find someone else for you to talk to.”
Izuku’s face bunched up, lips pursed. “Like a t-therapist?”
“Yes,” Shouta nodded. “Like a therapist.” When Izuku’s face shriveled up even more, Shouta continued. “There’s nothing wrong with talking to a therapist. I see mine once a month. I used to see her twice a week, but I’ve gotten to where I can go longer in between sessions.” I’m more stable than I used to be, Shouta wanted to say. But his own story could wait. This was about Izuku, not him.
Izuku’s face unbunched, but he still looked conflicted. “O-Okay…”
“Do you have any questions for me?”
At that, Izuku looked even more confused than before. “W-What?”
“Do you have any questions for me?” Shouta prompted again. “Anything on your mind?” Shouta would have to be asking the questions soon enough- or rather, a police officer would- but that would wait until Izuku could be matched up with a social worker. It was policy for all cases with minors, even if the guardian was present and supportive.
Shouta couldn’t help but wonder about Izuku’s guardian- were they supportive? Were they abusive? Was Izuku safe at home? A kid who felt like they were safe wouldn’t have jumped off a fucking building- but the hero knew now wasn’t the time.
In the meantime, he’d try to get Izuku to relax and calm down. The kid seemed to like theorizing about stuff- his mumble episode had told Shouta that much- so Shouta supposed giving him the reigns on asking questions might help.
“…Y-You m-mentioned a partner?”
Shouta nodded. “Partners, but yes, I have partners.”
“…A-Are they n-n-nice?”
Contentedness filled Shouta’s chest, a softness making his shoulders relax- he hadn’t even realized he’d been so tense before. “Yes. They’re very nice.”
“…W-What are their names?”
“Hizashi and Oboro.”
Izuku’s face screwed up again, but this time, it looked not like he was disgusted, but more like he was thinking. “H-Hizashi… Yamada? And Oboro S-Shirakumo? Present Mic and Loud Cloud?!” the child’s voice grew louder, more excited, as he spoke.
Shouta cocked an eyebrow. “Yes. How did you-”
“W-Well, you’re a Pro Hero- Eraserhead- and you went to UA when you were younger- I saw your Sports Festival clips, your Quirk is amazing, Mr. Shouta- and I know that Present Mic’s first name is Hizashi, because it’s public knowledge- the same with Loud Cloud’s- and they both were in your class at UA- and how Loud Cloud took down Present Mic with the reflections on his clouds was legendary, ohmygod- so I figured that they were your partners because you said-”
And then, Izuku let out a squeak before growing quiet, flinching away from Shouta once again. “I- I’m s-sorry, I shouldn’t have r-r-rambled -”
“You’re okay,” Shouta placated the child, feeling even more concern blooming in his chest. “Again, I asked you, Izuku. You didn’t say or do anything you weren’t supposed to. In fact, it’s pretty impressive that you know our Quirks. You said you pulled up footage from our Sports Festival?”
That had been years ago, and Shouta was surprised there was even still footage out there, but Izuku nodded excitedly at the man. “Y-Yeah! I l-love analyzing Q-Quirks, and- and you’re my favorite hero, s-so I- I learned as much as I c-could about you…” Suddenly shy again, Izuku looked down at his feet. “S-Sorry, I know that c-c-creepy, I-”
“It’s not creepy,” Shouta said, feeling a little disoriented at the idea of being a middle schooler’s favorite hero. But he couldn’t ask why- he had far too much dignity for that- so instead, Shouta countered with, “You like analyzing Quirks, huh? You want to be an analyst?”
Izuku’s face crumbled.
Turning in on himself once more, Izuku sniffled, and Shouta saw tears welling up in the boy’s eyes. Before the man could say anything, however, Izuku muttered out, “N-No… I w-want to be a H-Hero…”
A Quirkless Hero, huh? Oh, kid… The world probably tried to crush you, didn’t it?
With that in mind, Shouta sat back in his seat casually and shrugged. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
Izuku gaped at him. “W-What?” the boy asked, sounding utterly lost.
“I said it sounds like a plan to me,” Shouta responded. “You’ll have to be clever, but I can already tell you are. You’ll just have to muster up the determination to do it, but you can be a Hero, Izuku.” You just have to live long enough to see that day, kiddo.
“R-Really?” Izuku croaked out, tears flowing down his cheeks, now. “Y-You r-really think I c-can be… be a H-Hero? Like y-you?”
Oh, Shouta’s heart was utterly shattered for this boy.
And so, he sat up in his chair and looked Izuku straight in the eye when he said:
“Yes, Izuku. You can be a Hero.”
In the next moment, Shouta had two armfuls of a sobbing preteen. In two strides, Izuku had all but collapsed into his arms, a snotty and teary mess. Shouta froze for a moment, not sure how to respond. Izuku had flinched when he was approached before, but now he was seeking out comfort. Should Shouta hug him back? Or would that trigger him?
But then, Izuku’s face burrowed in Shouta’s neck, and the boy was choking out on a whisper, “T-Thank you, Eraserhead.”
And Shouta hugged him back.
Taking Izuku into his arms, Shouta hugged the boy to his chest, cradling the child like he was a toddler and not nearly a teenager. Izuku’s sobs only grew at the motion, but he clutched onto Shouta even tighter, his skinny fingers wrapping up in the hero’s capture weapon as he cried and cried and cried.
Shouta didn’t shush him the whole time. Instead, he rubbed firm circles into Izuku’s back, allowing the boy to be with and feel his emotions. A silent, steady support.
…