Chapter Text
"Again!"
Izuku choked on air, lungs stuttering as a fist wacked his chest - he stumbled back, exhaustion catching his ankles in a tight rope and making his knees buckle. He hit the padded floor with a thump, silence making his wheezes echo in the large room, and Izuku placed his gloved fists on the floor, clenching his eyes shut as he tried to catch his breathe - sweat dripped uncomfortably down his back, his short sticking to his body and making his skin itch. His side ached, and Izuku could feel the bruise swelling around the red mark just below his ribs, blood rushing to protect the bones against the foot that might kick once again.
His opponent dropped back a few steps, taking a silent order and leaving the room; Izuku felt tears burn his eyes. He was still struggling to breathe, diaphragm refusing to cooperate even as Izuku tried to heave oxygen in. He began to panic when his head felt light, gut twisting and cramping in nausea and fear - he couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? The kid pulled his arms against his head and pressed it against the floor, the cool soothing and collecting his tears as they fell. He'd been winded before, but he always recovered quickly. He couldn't breathe!
"Sit up Kitten." Izuku's body moved with the orders, coughing over a sob as his torso straightened - he looked up at the Villain, who cast him a blank gaze. Izuku's fingers twitched, arm itchy, and let out a pained plead. Shouta ordered Izuku to follow his breathes, and before long his heart was back to its regular pace - hitching only when the Villain spoke once more. His voice was low, rumbling as he checked his watch. "I said again. Your trainer has gone now, so you'll be fighting me. On your feet." Izuku tried to swallow down the acid burning his throat as he pushed shakily to his feet, not daring to argue; his 'Father' already looked angry, and the kid didn't want to get further on his bad side.
His ribs shifted, body hunching slightly to the side as he took a few sloppy steps back to the edge of the markings, hands clenching slightly in the fingerless, padded, gloves and bringing his guard up to his head, narrowing Shouta between his hands and felt his nostrils flared. The Villain was relaxed as he shrugged off his blazer, dropping it on the floor and folding up the sleeves of his shirt - Izuku saw blood on the collar and grit his teeth, the ghost of disgust shuffling in his gut. Uselessly, his eyes glowed and his hair tugged against the bun, the pupils seeming to slit as they stared at Izuku.
Prey and Predator.
Cat and Mouse.
As instructed, Izuku went on the offensive first, grabbing the small, bullet shaped, device off the utility belt tacked around his waist (out of place and chunky, digging into his stomach when he moved slightly different), and flipping it in his fingers, thumb digging against the button sharply and shifting his foot so when the metal extended it didn't catch his ankle. The movement was, almost, flawless and practiced - hours upon hours of metal jabbing his skin and arms aching as he held it high and the rough scars of callouses on his thumb from pressing the button led the staff to feel natural in his hands. Another limb as he twisted his fingers around it and felt the cool steel fit into his palm. On the other side of the markings, Eraserhead smirked, shooting forward much faster than Izuku and meeting him in the middle.
The kid ducked under a punch, dropping low and swinging the staff to try and catch the ankles of his opponent; which would have been easier, if the tactic was not the one that had been consistently repeated the past few hours. Eraserhead jumped over it, foot arching to hook around the staff and snap Izuku's arms up, one hand swooping to knock against his head. It was gentle, but enough of a shock that Izuku hesitated, frozen only for a moment - but that was enough. Instead of a foot kicking him in the ribs, as his trainer had done, Eraserhead gripped a handful of Izuku's hair and slammed his head against the floor.
Stars exploded behind his eyes and Izuku dropped the staff, it clanging against the floor and making Izuku's ears ring; the air rushed out of his lungs and he stayed collapsed against the floor, eyes wide in shock. Eraserhead moved so he was stood in front of Izuku, crouching down and using gentler hands to help him up, eyebrow raised. He hummed, lifting Izuku's hair and checking for any blood, huffing a laugh at the red bump already formed. "The more I watch you train, the more I wonder the standards of UA." Izuku ignored the dig and closed his eyes, head thrumming.
"Pl-Please can I have a bre-break?"
'Father' huffed again and nodded, taking Izuku's arms and tearing the velcro to take off the gloves, prodding the welts where the material had rubbed and chaffed. Little words were shared as the two left the training room, Izuku's legs shaky and weak as he followed, eyelids heavy and vision slightly wrung out. The Villain didn't allow for it to slow his walk, and the kid had to nearly jog to keep up, jolting as a loud voice greeted them as they stepped into the kitchen. "My favourite nephew!" Arms wrapped around him, squeezing far too tight, and Izuku forced his joints to relax, allowing himself to be carried a few steps.
Hizashi placed him down onto a chair and grinned, ruffling his hair and only forcing his hand to go faster when Izuku winced, Shouta walking towards the sink and filling a glass with water, scowling slightly. Izuku watched him pop a few pills into the water, taking it when handed even as they still fuzzed and diffused. He took a sip, and Hizashi lent on the counter. "So," he grinned, "I bring the kiddo's time table." Izuku jolted, looking up, but neither of the Villains were looking at him. He took another drink. Shouta nodded, taking the provided documents and looking over the page; eyebrows furrowing. "It doesn't state who his teacher is."
Hizashi nodded, scratching his chin. "They're bringing someone external in; none of the staff have been informed on who it is. There's a rumour the commission are going to be more on Nezu's tail this year." The villain looked over the paper for minute, before sliding his gaze to Izuku and raising an eyebrow, the kid jumping and taking a large gulp of the water that had been handed to him. He sighed, placing it on the table in front of Izuku and stepping behind the chair to look over his shoulder, leaning on the back. Fingers weaved through his hair, assessing the few bumps on his scalp. "Memorise that." He turned to Hizashi. "What's the ratio of skill to money?"
The Hero kissed his teeth, humming for a moment before shaking his hand. "Hard to say - but from what I've seen for the upcoming Hero classes, seventy percent skill and thirty percent money." Izuku chewed his lip as he swallowed another sip, looking at the page. Seventy percent of his class, like him, got into the class through effort. Thirty percent had parents with input. "If you drop within the lowest thirty percent, Kitten, you're as good as blown. You are not to let that happen." Nodding, Izuku gripped the glass as a wave of exhaustion weighed on his shoulders, eyelids suddenly very heavy. He slumped, choking on his breathe as Shouta forced the rest of the water into his mouth, and wobbling as Hizashi pulled him off the chair. The Villains grinned.
"Training isn't over yet Kitten, do you think the Heroes will go easy on you?"
-
Izuku stared at the paper as he lay on the sofa, eyes watching the silhouette of the flames through the thin sheet as the pounding at the back of his head raged on. He could hear Shouta typing almost violently at his desk, the walls of the office making the clicks of the keys echo in a way that sent shivers down his spine. He could tell his 'Father' was annoyed, their training disturbed by a phone call that cut the session short (which was lucky timing as the drug burning in his veins had made it nearly impossible to straighten his legs) and left Izuku alone for dinner.
And when the villain had returned, Izuku had followed him to his office without more than a warned glance and settled to focus on his new timetable. Nerves had begun to grow in his gut, hands sweaty as he once again rattled off the classes, times and teachers. The schedule was a lot, the day filled from eight in the morning until five in the evening; his course requiring additional classes outside the usual hours in order to fulfil the syllabus.
A three hour period dedicated to Hero training every day.
Sniffling slightly, the way he was lying putting pressure on his nose, he placed the paper and nervously peaked up, jolting to find Shouta already looking at him. There was a passive look on his face, shadows hiding parts and reminding Izuku of the danger behind the eyes -he couldn't pull his gaze away, locked onto the threatening orbs as pin pricks ran up his arms, attention of anything else dropping. Awaiting orders in a way driven boy fear and practice, resilience swamped. The man held his hand out, and Izuku rolled off the sofa, sucking in a breathe as his legs buckled. His knees slammed against the ground, and as Izuku scrambled, he found he couldn't find any strength in them. Surprisingly, however, Shouta only laughed, waving his hand. "Sleep, I trust you did as instructed." Izuku nodded, crawling back onto the sofa, but found his gaze wandering, teeth biting into his lip. "What is it?"
Izuku looked at his fingers, arm twisting as he scowered the tattoo. The branding he'd almost forgotten. "When - When All for One takes over," his lungs stuttered, "what will you do?" Shouta stared at Izuku for a little longer than the kid was comfortable with, before leaning back in his chair and nodding out the window. The city was dark, only the lights from homes polluting the sky. "Eraserhead will be a leading figure, and under his rule I'll be given factions. My business has made preparations. But that is not your real question, is it?"
Izuku's face warmed up. "You want to know what will happen to you." Izuku nodded slowly, and apology on the tip of his tongue, but it was squashed by the heaviness in his gut. "I - I'll be sixteen, or eighteen. You - You'll get bored." It had been a worry for months, but one Izuku had hidden. And yet, as he sat there, he couldn't stop the tears burning his eyes and slipping down his cheeks - his breathe hitched and Shouta let out a rough huffed, laugh. "You underestimate me - Kitten, you will not be fully grown at eighteen. You'll still be little and weak and in need of me to look after you. And you will always be mine - whether that's with you by my side, or at my command."
He jolted when Shouta was suddenly in front of him, crouched down and a thumb clearing his cheeks of tears. He was smiling, seemingly overjoyed by the premise of Izuku's cries, and hooked the kids chin between his thumb and fingers, eyes sparkling red as imaginary locks wrapped around Izuku's neck and wrists. "You'll be my Kitten until the day I die - that's the day you should worry. The day my age takes me will be the day you take your last breathe. Now sleep, you've got training to make up for tomorrow."
Izuku nodded, suddenly looking down at the hand held in front of him and the small, round, pill resting in the palm. He remembered the days it was bigger, and there was two chalky tablets he'd be forced to swallow each night, and inwardly sighed in relief. He took it, sitting it on his tongue as a glass of water was tipped into his mouth. The teen swallowed it like he did every night, and his 'Father' ruffled his hair. Not another word shared as Izuku lay back down, watching the fire roar.
Until the day he died.