I swear I haven't forgotten about this fic, I'm just busy. I'm still really excited for this fic.
"Doesn't matter," Izuku quickly hopped out over the edge onto the balcony below.
"Hey! Get back here!"
Izuku barely managed to scramble into the building before an explosion rocked the building. Izuku stumbled, but he was quick to reorient himself and run to the stairs.
At least, where he thought the stairs were. Why was the floor layout so weird?
There was another BOOM and the roof crumbled. The two hero students jumped down after him. Izuku ran, opening a random door, hoping for the stairs, or even another room with a window he could climb out of.
Oh no. Oh please no.
He was trapped in a room with no windows.
As quietly as he could, he tucked himself away in a corner where, with any luck, he wouldn't be spotted.
"I think he went this way!"
"Idiot, he would have tried to escape!"
"We wouldn't be able to find him if he left!"
The voices in the hall were getting closer, louder.
Izuku gripped his now-open knife tightly, silently cursing his lack of combat training - not that his skinny arms could do much, anyway.
Damnit Kurogiri, he internally cried. Why would you send students to me?
The door burst open with a loud crack! Izuku curled impossibly further into himself. Please don't see me, please don't see me…
The angry blond prowled into the room. The redhead followed cautiously behind, eyes scanning the room. Izuku felt his heart thud when his eyes landed on him.
The redhead tapped his partner's shoulder and pointed. Sparks erupted from the blond's palms.
Izuku's eyes widened. The blond was causing those explosions? What a powerful quirk! What-
Izuku's thoughts were interrupted when both boys lunged forward. Izuku quickly unfurled and lashed forward with his knife. The blond jerked back when it came too close to his neck, but the redhead didn't hesitate. The knife glanced off his skin and Izuku was tackled to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, and the hand that closed around his neck wasn't helping him get it back.
"G-get off me!" Izuku choked out. The hand briefly tightened in warning at his outburst.
The blond was the one holding him down. "Don't move, or I'll blow you to bits." he growled.
The redhead crouched down on the opposite side of Izuku. "Dude, what are you doing?" he asked the blond. "He's just a kid."
Just as he said that, Izuku noticed his hood had fallen off again. He really needed a beanie or something to hide his hair, his hood has been falling off an awful lot lately. He glared at the two hero students.
"He's still a villain, Shitty Hair," the blond replied. Izuku reached up and grabbed his wrist when the blond was distracted, but before he could do anything, the blond squeezed hard. Izuku choked, his grip weakening drastically.
"What the hell are you bastards here for, huh?" The blond yelled at Izuku. "What do you want All Might for?!"
Izuku gagged - he couldn't breathe. The blond loosened his hold so Izuku could answer.
He took a few breaths before croakily answering. "W-hy does tha-at ma-tter?"
Anger sparked in the blond's bright red eyes. "Fucking extra!" He squeezed again. His palms were steadily growing hotter. "Tell me or I'll explode your fucking face."
"I-I-I," Izuku desperately tugged down his mask as fast as he could, gasping for air. The redhead quickly ripped away his hands and pinned his wrists together, but Izuku still managed to get the job done. It didn't really help.
"The hell, you really are just a kid," the blond frowned.
"So, are y-ou going to-o kill me or-r no-t?" His lungs burned.
"Not until you tell me why you shitty villains are here!" The blond yelled, a small explosion going off against Izuku's throat. Izuku let out a pained cross between a groan and a gurgle.
Izuku's vision was growing dark. He hasn't gotten nearly enough air in the last few minutes, and now his body was shutting down.
The redhead noticed - at least, that's what Izuku thinks. "-ey, be -areful…"
Izuku thought back to the dead rat in the alley. He should have known it was a bad omen.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Aizawa Shouta came to with a groan. He tried to open his eyes, but only one responded to his command. He blinked at the harsh, white light, desperately wishing to just go back to sleep.
The memory of the USJ attack hit him full-force. Aizawa's one eyes shot open and he sat up as much as he could against hard restraints.
Alarmed cries cut through the room, hands pressed down on his chest, trying to keep him down, trying to keep him away from his students-
"Aizawa-san, you need to calm down!"
He blindly lashed out in the direction of the voice. No, stay back, stay away-
"Aizawa!" Another set of hands caught his own heavily bandaged ones, gentle but firm. The voice was familiar. "Shouta, you're safe, you're alright. Everyone's okay."
"Kids?" Aizawa grunted out, a little muffled by more restraints.
"They're alright." The voice soothed. Aizawa tried to focus on the person in front of him. They were… blond, that much, he could tell.
"Mic?" He tried.
"Yes, Shouta." Mic soothed. "You're in the hospital. All of the kids are fine. Apart from your own, there were no injuries."
Aizawa sighed, relaxing slightly. "How bad is it?"
"Your injuries?" Mic asked. "Or the media?"
"Your elbow and your head got the worst of it." Mic said. Aizawa allowed the hands to push him back down. Glancing down, he realized that the "restraints" were just bandages. "They think there was some nerve damage in your elbow, but they think your eye is fine."
"Can't see." Aizawa mumbled. "Won't open."
"That's because of the bandages, Shouta." Mic explained patiently.
"They took out your contacts."
Aizawa sighed. "Makes sense."
"The media are having a field day." Mic huffed. "You don't need to worry about it right now."
"I have to know." Aizawa grunted.
"It's the usual kind of thing." Mic said. "You know: 'UA Under Attack', 'Who Are The League of Villains?', Is UA As Safe As We Think?' kind of thing."
Aizawa sighed again. "Fantastic. As if the students needed that as well."
Mic made a sympathetic noise. "It's-"
The door opened, cutting Mic off. "Aizawa Shouta?" An unfamiliar voice asked.
"He's not open to visitors right now." An angry female voice said, coming from Aizawa's right.
The blurry figure at the door moved. "Mustafu Police, ma'am."
The nurse (?) huffed. "Come back later, he only just woke up."
"We need a statement." The officer said.
"Here's a statement." Aizawa grumbled. "I'm tired, come back later."
"You'd need my statement as well, yeah?" Mic said, rising from his seat on the bed. "I was there at the very end."
"Come on, let's do this in the hall!" Mic said cheerily. Aizawa watched the blond blob escort the officer-blob out the door.
The door shut with a click.
"I recommend you get some rest, Aizawa-san." The nurse said. "Preferably before he comes back."
"That's the plan." Aizawa muttered.
The nurse giggled. "I'll keep visitors out, except for your blond boyfriend."
Aizawa snorted before closing his eyes. Sleep came faster than he expected.
It had been two days since Izuku had woken up in a holding cell at the police station. Multiple times a day, he was pulled into the most clique interrogation room ever and questioned relentlessly.
I told you, he wrote. I'm not going to tell you anything.
"At least your name, kid." The detective across from him sighed.
Izuku stared at him, deadpan.
He woken up with his voice gone from the blond kid's attack. The police's brilliant solution was, instead of medical attention, just for him to write everything down. So far, Izuku had only filled one side of a piece of paper, with the same message, over and over.
I'm not talking.
The detective sighed. "We're done for today."
Izuku laid his hands palm up, letting them free him from the table. He'd memorized the path to-and-from the interrogation room, and could probably get there with his eyes closed.
All in all, it was one of the nicer prison cells he's been in. Granted, none of those cells were genuine, police cells, but hey, at least the ceiling didn't drip or anything. Actually, they gave him a thick blanket - he had to wonder if that was just pity, or some kind of interrogation tactic. It clearly wasn't working, at any rate.
Izuku coughed. His throat seized up with pain. He rubbed his fingers over the bruises that were surely there, but the lack of mirrors in the cell made it hard to check on them. He thought about using the interrogation room's "mirror", but he had other things to focus on at those times, and he didn't really want to call more attention to himself. Slowly but surely, though, he could feel it healing.
Day after day, it was the same old thing. Sleep through breakfast, get interrogated, eat, shower, stare at the wall, get interrogated again, stare at the ceiling, eat, get interrogated again until it was well past midnight, lights out. He was getting quite sick of it, if he was honest. It was like the station didn't know what to do with him.
Six days after his capture, Izuku woke up to the cell door opening with a clang. This was new, not part of the routine. Izuku glared blearily at the officer approaching him.
"Hand," came a gruff voice. Izuku rolled his eyes, then sat up and leaned against the wall. When he offered his hand as requested, the officer grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, startling a rough gasp from Izuku that left him coughing.
A prick in the crook of his elbow interrupted the dry coughs that were tearing through his throat. Izuku made a noise of protest - a glance confirmed that the officer was drawing blood - and attempted to wriggle away, but the officer's grip was steel.
The needle was removed and Izuku was released. He glared hard at the officer's back, but the man paid him no attention. The jail cell was once again locked with a clank and the jingling of keys.
Izuku rolled over to stare at the wall, bitterly wondering if the police would even find anything from a blood sample. He had been to a hospital a couple of times, when the at-home first aid kit wasn't good enough for an injury, so it had to be on record somewhere, but his father was very good at covering their tracks and erasing information like that. He'd never been to the same hospital twice, at any rate, and always used a fake identity.
What his blood would show, however, is evidence of his quirklessness. He wondered if the police would find him more or less dangerous after finding that out.
Blood samples took a long time to process.
"I think it's safe to clear you from any infections, Aizawa-san." the nurse smiled, folding up the blood report. "Dr. Yaichi will stop by in a little bit for a final check-in, and then we can release you."
"Good. I was going crazy in here." Aizawa muttered. He gave a short bow from his lying-down position. "Thank you for all your care."
"It was no trouble, Mr. Hero." The nurse chuckled. "Thank you for all of the good work you do out there."
"Just like that?" Mic said, incredulous. "You're just letting him go?"
"There's nothing more we can do, other than let him heal naturally." The nurse replied gently.
"Half of his face was disintegrated!" Mic said. "And there's 'nothing more you can do'?"
"Mic." Aizawa muttered.
Mic quieted down. "Sorry."
"I think it's sweet." The nurse smiled. "We'll give him medication and everything else he needs, Yamada-san. Those bandages will come off in no time."
The door to the hospital slid open, revealing the tired Dr. Yaichi. She nodded to the nurse in silent greeting.
"Dr. Yaichi, you are early!" The nurse gasped. "Did something-"
"Everyone is fine." The doctor sighed. "Please leave the room for a minute."
"Yes, of course."
The nurse brushed passed another figure with a quiet "excuse me". When Aizawa realized who the other was, he let out a puff of air.
"Tsukauchi." Aizawa muttered. "Are you here for my statement?"
"No- well, yes, that is something I need from you, but I'm actually here for a favor, if you're up to it." The detective answered.
Aizawa raised a brow. "Depends on the favor."
Tsukauchi passed over a manila folder with a red stamp of CONFIDENTIAL gracing the cover. Aizawa took it, letting an air of seriousness descend in the room.
"That is the case file for the USJ incident." Tsukauchi explained. "We only have three leads right now. The testimonies from the witnesses, the Nomu, and…"
Aizawa's eyes caught on a report that was very similar to the one the nurse had just shown him.
"Midoriya Izuku." Aizawa stared at a blurred picture of a figure with green hair poking out from under a hood.
"One of our undercover agents recognized him as the Great Dragon's Messenger." Tsukauchi nodded.
"What about him makes him a lead?" Aizawa scanned through the sparse profile.
"We have him in custody."
Aizawa and Mic looked up sharply. "No kidding." Mic breathed.
"He hasn't escaped yet?" Aizawa's brows furrowed.
Tsukauchi shook his head. "Strange, isn't it?"
"What's his game?" Aizawa leaned forward, careful not to wrinkle the file. "Have you gotten anything from him yet?"
"No." Tsukauchi sighed. "Kid's not talking."
"'Kid'?" Aizawa's eyes widened.
"The same age as your first years." the detective confirmed.
Aizawa shut the file. "What's the favor?"
"Well. As he's a minor, we can't send him to prison. And as the Great Dragon's son, we can't send him to juvie." Tsukauchi sighed. "His quirk is bound to be powerful, but we have no idea what it is. He hasn't used it once since we brought him in."
"You want to put him in UA custody." Aizawa frowned.
"Under your guard, preferably." Tsukauchi agreed. "Just until we have a better place to send him."
"..." Aizawa glanced down at the file.
"I know this is something you'd do ordinarily," Mic reached forward to lay a hand over Aizawa's bandaged one. "But you're still recovering from the attack. Please put your health first, Shouta."
Aizawa looked at his boyfriend, then to Dr. Yaichi. The doctor took that as a sign to step in.
"Aizawa-san has been cleared by me to take on this task." She told the two teachers. "Midoriya won't be moved to UA for a few more days, which should be enough time for Aizawa to recover his strength and prepare for an unpredictable charge. The other teachers, including yourself, are also going to be guards over Midoriya."
Aizawa looked at the case file for a long moment, letting the blurred CONFIDENTIAL burn into his retinas. With a sigh, he tapped the edge of the folder sharply against his legs, letting the papers inside fall neatly back into place.
"Alright." Aizawa said. "I'll watch the kid."
I'm like, incapable of not writing Dadzawa. Oh well.
I hope you enjoyed!
Appreciate you all! ~BP