Chapter Text
Watching Hitoshi flirt was the cutest thing Shouta ever saw in a briefing, watching his boy winding everyone up, thinking he was single, leaving them all empty and lusting for something that was Shouta’s alone.
Beautiful!
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Izuku was empty, aching in a way he simply didn’t understand, he had so MUCH, how could he be so greedy as to want more?
So, when it got so bad it began to warp his world he did what he’d always done to drive the feeling away, and worked harder.
A tired brain and body didn’t lie in bed, staring at the dark, head spinning with emotions confusing enough to make his soul ache - if he tired himself out enough then he slept.
Of course, doing that was taking not just his daylight hero work now but hours in the night as well, prowling rooftops like some kind of knock off Aizawa-sensei, but even that wasn't enough some days so he’d started on…..
Trying to ignore what happened way back in school when the man caught him at this trick, Izuku flushed in weak kneed trembling dread but….
He was safe!
Izuku was safe, he never got close to Aizawa-sensei nowadays unless he was brought in on an op the man was in charge of, or was involved in, and they spent no one-on-one time together even then so there was no way Sensei would catch him.
Dragging a file off the stack he slowly opened it, remembered words ringing in his mind - "If I ever catch you doing this again, I don't care how old you are, how high ranked you are, I’ll have you bare assed over my knee squalling your regrets in an instant, are we clear little one!" - and got started.
Cold case files filled the empty aching expanse of time when he couldn't be working and yet couldn't sleep.
Even though he knew his much loved demon-sensei would actually kill him if he caught him.
Settling in to read the tale of horrors that lived within unassuming file folders, Izuku got busy, cold cases didn't solve themselves after all.
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There was a new vigilante in the area, and Hitoshi’d been taxed with catching them.
Which he’d done.
Surprisingly easily, and only two nights of looking!
Coming up on the figure as they stood, staring down into an alley, he’d said, voice low and deep, quirk ready to grab, "Whats someone as cute as you doing on a roof like this?"
He almost fell down in shock when Midoriya fuckin Izuku replied, just as sultry, "Waiting for a hero, but I guess you’ll do."
"Actually," he’d used his more normal voice then, "I think you might wanna see this Vex cause, well, yeah."
Joining the NOT vigilante, Hitoshi agreed that yeah, what was going on in that alley really did warrant both of them stepping in!
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"He’s doing what?"
"Night work, he called it, said the limelight is a bit boring sometimes so he goes out at night to keep himself sharp."
Staring in utter disbelief at Hitoshi who’d just told them all about meeting up, and working together with, Midoriya Izuku (problem cub from day fucking one) hero rank nineteen.
Everyone Shouta’d talked to thought the HPSC was cooking the rankings against the kid but no one could prove it though.
But if Izuku was doing night work, and ohhhhh shit, no, just no, not on his watch!
Grabbing his computer he called Nezu, "Can you give me the times Nova was active, per day, across, hmmmmmmm," knowing the kid Shouta took his first guess and tripled it, "nine weeks please."
Not even bothering to ask why, Nezu simple worked for a few moments, before sending the times in bar graph form, which Shouta put on the wall screen.
"Thank you, now, can you do the same for confirmed times the so called Vigilante in Green that we’ve now confirmed is actually Nova fucking around at night, please."
This time it took a bit longer, but again, in bar graph form, the confirmed times Midoriya Izuku, hero Nova, worked at night went onto the board.
"Overlay them please."
Nezu's soft voice said, "The day times are in yellow, the nights are in blue, and the overlap is green."
Studying the now much more colorful graph Hizashi said it for all of them, "How many hours is this kid working?"
"Using just this information, which is simply a first dip into the facts I can most easily find, he is working at least a quarter, if not half again more than he is legally allowed to do. You can see on some days he’s actually active, in hero form, for twelve hours, DOUBLE the legal limit."
"Double," Shouta's voice was low and filled with fury, "the legal limit is six hours on active patrol for a reason, he was TAUGHT the reason, how dare he...."
"Shouta," Nezu’s voice was calm through the speaker, and Hizashi had a hand on his shoulder to help ground him in the moment, "now is not the time for emotion, is it?"
Sucking in a deep breath with a hiss, Shouta replied, "No Daimyo-sama, now it's the time to fix it!"
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Leaning back, sighing as he realized his mug was empty again, Izuku got up, stretched tall, folding into a toe touch, holding it as he rocked his hips slowly side to side to work some of the kinks out, and with a touch of dizziness he finally stood up again.
Ambling into the kitchen, trying to push out the things he’d spent, 'Ohhhh shit,' he double checked the time but yep, twelve hours he’d been reading cold case files, trying to find one that he could solve, but so far no joy at all.
He’d thought he had one but after hours of tracking and backtracking through evidence, he’d hit a dead end and started over.
Hitting the power button on the newly refilled kettle, he leaned tiredly against the counter, glad at least that he was on his day off, it would be hard to explain falling asleep in the air (again) if he got called out.
Maybe a nap? Pondering the merits of more tea against sleep he rummaged in the fridge, pulling out three random half empty take away boxes, dumping them in a frying pan and setting them over a high heat.
By the time the tea was ready the weird mix of prawn noodles, katsu chicken, and house special fried rice was hot through.
Eating it from the pan he stood leaning on his elbow looking out at the view.
It wrapped around the entire penthouse level, an unencumbered look out to the horizon, the sea shimmering in one direction, mountains clothed in cloud in the other, the sprawling vastness of the city spread out like a carpet between the two, all for his eyes only.
He actually hated the view.
The entire top floor of Might Towers was walled with glass, one-way-mirrored-quirk-reinforced glass that let him see out and not in.
Toshinori had loved it, the acres of floor space, all open plan, only the bathrooms were clad in anything other than open air, and even they were walled in opaque glass.
Sighing, Izuku remembered: "It makes me feel a part of it, you know? Like I’m part of their lives, watching over them all." Toshinori’d reached out his hands in a cradling gesture, "Like I can hold them all safe in my arms, be there for them, I love this view so much Izuku, I’m so glad I can give this to you."
Izuku had hidden how that weight had felt, like a lead blanket for his heart, a dwarf star alloy crown for his head, weighing him down, down, down.
Several times in the past few years he’d tried to get curtains put up but no one could believe he was serious, just told him no one could see him, it was totally private and the view was to die for and he'd never use the curtains anyway and and and.
And Izuku hated the view!
It made him feel weak, inadequate, knowing how much was going on just where he couldn't see, things he couldn't help with, bullying, abuse, murder, the list was endless and he was just one person!
Just one.
Still not number one, despite promising Toshinori he’d do it, be the symbol for him, keep them all safe.
Feeling sick he pushed the half finished pan away from him and carried his mug back to the couch.
Alone in the huge expanse of empty space, furniture making isolated islands within it, he wanted to cry, to scream, to rave at how unfair it was!
He just wanted to help people but he was caged and hedged and told what to do and when to do it and he knew All Might had been the same but he wanted something else, something more, and now the guilt at being so greedy hit making him feel even sicker, he had all this, Might Towers was his, free and clear, a gift from his mentor, willed to him when he’d died when Izuku was nineteen.
Losing both his mum and Toshinori that same year nearly broke him but he’d done it, pulled through, become the hero they believed he could be.
He'd lived for them when living for himself wasn't enough to keep him going.
Feeling the weight of the view trying to crush him he pulled another case file to himself, maybe he’d find a lead in this one.
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Waking with his face pressed into paper from where he’d fallen over, he fumbled for the irritating ringing, managing to grunt "Huuung?" in the ear piece but it was loud enough that he didn't have to repeat himself when he flipped the phone over.
"Oh, Midoriya-sama!" (ugh, it was a new receptionist then, he had to break them of using Sama each and every time he hired anyone new) "I have a hero here to see you, I know he doesn't have an appointment but he's very insistent so I said I’d ring up to you and see if you’d see him?"
The mix of hope and please save me in their voice give him enough of a clue that his would be visitor was important to scrub his face hard, force himself to be more awake, and ask, "Who is it?"
"Ummm says his name is Eraserhead, I did look at his license and it looks okay and everyone is looking at him like he's...."
Her voice faded from Izuku's ear as panic took over, "SHIT!" Looking at the scattered files he frantically tried to gather them up, finally remembering to say, "Yes, yes, send him up, ummmmmmm yeah" - now shoving them under the couch with frantic motions - "and can you send down for snacks and coffee and things too, please? I know it's not your job but it would make it so much easier and...."
Her giggle broke through. "It really IS my job Sama, I'll have it sent up, do you need an escort?" This was clearly to his once sensei who said, clear enough to be heard, "No, I know where he is."
The tone was one Izuku knew, one all his class knew, and his guts clenched in dread.
Sensei was coming, and was pissed.
Izuku was doomed!
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Giving four minutes combined for the elevators to bring him to the top floor, three for the walks and waits between the floors where the elevators terminated - three levels for securities sake - Izuku guessed he had eight, maybe nine minutes tops before Doom hit.
He actually had six.
It gave him enough time to make sure no files were on show, get the dishes into the sink at least, scrub fingers through his hair and straighten his clothes.
Sensei had opinions about sleeping in one's day clothes.
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Stepping into what looks more like an airplane hangar that a high end furniture store had tossed bespoke bits and pieces into at random, Shouta looked not at the view but at the kid.
Guilt.
Written all over him.
So, he knows what he’s done, or is he up to more than just cooking his hours?
"Midoriya," he drawled after standing in silence for a long long moment, hearing the elevator ding and allowing a perky young woman wheel a trolley in, covered dishes stuffed onto it, tea steaming gently in the overly cool air.
"Aizawa-sensei, ummm yes, oh, here you can, oh no, I’ve got it, let me."
Watching the kid fumbling the food cart away from the receptionist, the fluttering hands as he escorted her back to the elevator, the tiny darting glances aimed at himself, Shouta realized it was worse than he’d thought.
The kid looked rough.
Looked so much like that time he'd been….. The thought stuttered to a halt because no way, no way would he, but he’s doing so may hours extra, surely though he wouldn't risk that too!
Sleep wrinkled clothes, hair mussed and several faint lines, straight up the kids cheek, like he'd slept on something, something like a folder or file perhaps?
Letting himself be led to the couch, be handed tea and sandwiches - good ones too, quality - he ate in silence, simply watching his former student (cub, mine, always mine) trying to pretend he was at ease in Shouta's company.
Placing a subtle hand down on the couch and it was warm, residual body heat, so the clearly just awakened symbol of peace version two had been sleeping on the couch. Sleeping on the couch with no blankets or pillows either.
And if he’d slept on something like a file or folder, and there wasn't anywhere within easy reach to hide something like that, then either it was swept away into a kitchen cupboard or closet or something, or else.... it was under the couch.
And by how the kid was sweating, Shouta’d put cash money on its being under the couch.
And the only thing that would create this much trepidation in the one time student was, Shouta put his plate down with a tiny click, the sound silencing the worried babel of polite social talk pouring from Izuku instantly, and leaned down to retrieve the first thing his fingers felt as they reached under the couch.
Cold case files.
He didn't even have to look, the kids whitening cheeks told the tale full well.
"Sensei...."
Holding up a hand the kids teeth clacked together his mouth closed so fast.
Breathing even and slow only with iron self control, Shouta savagely held tight to himself, unmoving until he could speak without tremor or falter.
"I can't deal with you right now, I’m too angry."
Voice flat he continued, "House arrest for three days, I don't care what excuse you give your staff, you will remain here until I come for you in three days time."
In one fluid uncoiling of muscle he knelt, reaching under to gather the hated files, the hurtful hateful despicable tools to hurt someone important to him, stacking them as he made sure the contents were copies, not originals, and when he had them all in hand he carried them to the island of office equipment in the near distance, feeding them into a document destroyer.
Watching it glow white as the smell of burning faintly colored the air, when the light faded and the machine pinged he lifted out the canister of ash.
Carrying it to the kitchen he poured it down the drain, watched the stream of water he’d turned on mix and mingle and swirl the ash down the drain.
Residue gone at last he rinsed the container, placed it in the drain and returned to where Izuku had watched it all, hands tucked into his pockets, shivers across his shoulders, a flinch in human form.
That alone would have let Shouta keep control of his reactions, that his cub was frightened, frightened of him.
Sniffing delicately of the air, Shouta’s most carefully hidden skill came to his assistance once again, smell, so powerful it let him detect emotions, feelings, wants and needs, damn near dreams even.
Nezu had taken him when he was young and taught him, honing that innate skill into a razor sharp weapon and Shouta used it now on his kid, his cub.
Dread, rightly earned cause the kid knew he was in trouble.
Fear, and that he could ever frighten the kid hurt Shouta's stomach, the way he could smell the kids own rising nausea.
And need, need and want and an almost physical longing for something, Shouta wasn't sure what but looking again at the empty echoing space the kid lived in, he had a few solid guesses on that front.
But it all combined into a path forward so Shouta said again, "I’ll return in three days and we will," he paused, eyes dark and rage still billowing off him, "Discuss what all of this means."
"Until then," he moved fast, catching the frozen frightened young man and pulling them into a tight hug, tucking the shorter figure under his chin, "until then, you are going to write an essay, to be ready when I return, on everything you have done right across the past six months."
"What?"
A reluctant chuckle pulled from him, and Shouta repeated, "You will write down everything you have done right, correct, properly, done good, all of it, and you will not skimp or ignore anything, if you picked up a yen coin and dropped it in a charity box, you write it down. If you fed a stray cat or smiled at a sad child or gave your receptionist a rise…."
"All of it, every single thing you did right for six fucking months and believe me when I say this, it’s the only thing that might save your hide so do not fail to get it all down on paper."
Squeezing one final time he pulled back, still so angry he could reach out and shake the younger man like a rattle, "Answer your phone when it rings!" And turned and left, holding onto his reactions tighter than he’d had to in years.
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"He’s doing what?"
Hizashi almost broke a window in his own reaction to what Shouta told him, and Hitoshi said, "Huh?"
Letting him explain again how Izuku had hurt himself so badly working on cold case files in third year, how it took months of work with Ryou to get him back to an even keel, how misplaced guilt from reading about so many many victims of savage crimes almost had the kid so deep in his head they almost lost him.
How the careful application of stinging force on his careless ass had worked better than everything else everyone had tried when Shouta caught him with more of the cursed things.
The promise of what he’d do if he EVER caught him with them again.
"But why would he do something like that? He’s like, fucking amazing!" Hitoshi sounded so confused, "I mean, he’s so smart, he’s too good to do something like that, too many hours I get but not this, why would anyone and how could he?"
The words, the tone, the SMELL of him was all like a spike driven straight through Shouta’s chest. Hitoshi thought Izuku was amazing.
It was intrinsically true but Hitoshi was his!
Izuku was his too, his but not, cub but grown.
MINE but after years almost a stranger, adult, male, threat, threat, threat to mine is mine, was mine, not mine, mine, might take mine, hurt them, but mine needs, mine wants, mine he might take what’s mine mine MINE!
Head spinning a low growl tore from him, breathing suddenly so hard, fingers hooked into claws, seeing Hizashi carefully holding Hitoshi back, angling to get between them, Shouta pinned the two with a burning glare, seeing only Hitoshi clearly, 'Mine, both of them, mine!' visions of Izuku and Hitoshi across time spinning through his mind, need drive desire take fight for his pride his people his!
Killing urge ballooning through him, tasting blood in his mouth from biting his tongue, spinning he bolted through the door, slamming it behind him, fog filling his head, need at war with want fighting take give bring-in/drive-away and he was slamming to the ground, rolling to his feet, timeless running, never even pausing as he ran straight at the North Wall of UA campus, knowing it would open, as it did, evaporating before him and reforming behind.
He gave it not even a thought, and the wall of the main building did the same for him, and he was pounding up one of the hidden stairs, running and running and running and that door....
The final door.
Opening for him.
He was in, the smell of peace filling his nose, safe, safe, safe and calming at last because Nezu was there.
Not even pausing he opened his arms and the familiar figure was in them, fur spicy sweet and soft against Shouta's face as he buried it against the safe neck, his eyes closed as he simply breathed.
Safe.