Chapter Text
Shouta watched the boy's gentle breathing from his side. Izuku's -and wasn't it a relief to finally have the kid's real name- brow was scrunched, a sign of obvious discomfort, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead that made his hair wet on his skin.
His breathing was heavy and feverish, but it didn't look like it was anything serious. Though, that might change if he isn't given a chance to rest without having needles and scalpels pointed at him.
The possibility that one of Izuku's wounds was infected was high, seeing as they only cleaned them with saltwater rags. He needed antibiotics.
Thinking about what kind of fever dreams he was having worried him, especially due to the small whimpers he'd let out occasionally. Shouta could only tuck the blanket higher and brush his hair off his face. He was still boiling.
Shouta looked back over at the link chain on Izuku's ankle and quietly moved over to inspect it closer.
He hadn't been able to get this close to the chain before, but he had an opportunity now. It was a thick metal that had been screwed tightly into the wall. He examined the links for the weakest ones, all while trying not to startle the kid awake.
Moving on to the boy's ankle, he closely inspected the chafed skin, noting the discoloration and dried blood.
This was it.
The infection.
Cold metal dug into Izuku's small ankle. Gods, he was so small. He was just a baby, how could they do this to him? How could people be so cruel? Shouta tried not to jostle the cuff, seeing as that would cause it to dig into his skin, and he tried looking closely at the lock. He would need the key. There was no other way.
He waited until the Asshat came back, this time taking Shouta first. He was quiet throughout the whole session, keeping his mind focused on the one thing he needed. When Overhaul was done with him, he stumbled back to the room and observed more closely as Asshat grabbed Izuku, watching him take a small ring of two keys from his left pocket to unlock the cuff. He tried not to make it obvious that he was staring.
Gods' sake, he was an underground hero.
He could do this.
Shouta was not going to half-ass this. He'd gone on enough rescue missions to know how to do one from the inside. He couldn't rush.
He wanted to scoop the boy into his arms and run, but he restrained himself.
Izuku spent most of the next few days in fitful sleep, laying on the cool floor with the blanket tucked around his shoulders. Sometimes he murmured soft pleas for help or a name that Shouta couldn't quite make out. Sometimes he could hear quiet apologies. For what, he didn't know.
Time passed slowly, but too fast all at once. He thought through plans and times. Eventually, he could tell that Asshat was falling victim to routine as he no longer tensed his shoulders in preparation to fight Shouta off.
It must have been a little more than a week later, Izuku was now comfortable enough to lean against him. The boy hadn't gotten any better, if anything, he must have gotten worse. His arm spasmed occasionally, or his face would twitch. They had stopped taking the boy for sessions, which made sense. Izuku wasn't any use to them if he was dead.
The horn on his head had definitely gotten bigger, and Izuku had to tilt his head down when leaning against his shoulder. When the time came, he didn't think Izuku would be able to run.
His prediction turned out to be true.
Asshat came in like every day, but Shouta wasn't on the floor like usual. He was standing behind the door with the mushroom lamp in hand, waiting.
He brought the lamp down on the man's head before he had time to really be confused, or use his Quirk.
Time was of the essence. The clock started now.
Shouta grabbed the keys from Asshat's pocket and rushed back to Izuku's side. He unlocked the cuff and peeled it gently from his ankle. Dried blood was caked underneath the metal, covering the inside. The visible skin was discolored blues and purples. Different shades showed different phases of healing.
Izuku stirred softly, groans and cries already spilling from his lips that Shouta was quick to hush.
He grabbed the boy's things inside his backpack and swung the thing onto his back. He then snaked a hand behind Izuku's legs and shoulders and heaved him up. Part of him had expected lifting Izuku to be more difficult after all the time without training.
What he wasn't expecting was the boy to be so light it felt like he was picking up a small toddler.
He didn't have time to feel concerned about it. He rushed out the door and closed it behind him, and he booked it down the hallway. He knew he was running at random, but he had no idea where the exit was. But he knew where not to go, so the process of elimination worked for him.
His foot was halfway through a step when a loud boom shook the floor he was standing on. Izuku, who had fallen back asleep due to his fever, didn't wake up when he nearly dropped him.
The air was still for a moment, Shouta huddled down with a handful of child, and then he booked it. He didn't know if the sound was a yakuza or not.
He peeked around corners for exits or people, and sometimes he had to turn around to go a different direction due to a dead end. He was beginning to lose hope when he heard something that nearly made him cry in relief. A voice he almost thought he'd never hear again.
His legs ached but he pushed himself forward and turned the corner to see the absolute love of his life.
Hizashi was running down the hallway with Sir Nighteye and Fatgum at his side. He knew where the crash came from now. He met his boyfriend's eyes and was running full force towards them.
The reunion was a short and tearful affair. The heroes there were thankful that they hadn't had to go searching through the compound. Fatgum took Izuku from a reluctant Shouta into his arms, the boy cradled gently, while Hizashi wrapped an arm around him and helped them out of the building.
It was twenty minutes later that Shouta was packed into an ambulance that had been waiting outside, Izuku carried in as well. He was laid back on a gurney while Shouta sat on the side. A paramedic put a damp cloth on the boy's forehead and tended to the infected ankle.
Shouta felt nauseous even looking at it as the dried blood was wiped away. The skin was swollen and red-streaked away from it. He could see the discoloration in the better lighting, along with the blisters along the wound. The paramedic spent most of the ride to the hospital putting antibiotics on it and wrapping it in a light layer of gauze. Then he rewrapped his and Shouta's dirty bandages, giving them both an antibiotic shot, one that Shouta wasn't very happy about.
Izuku's breath was short and labored and his hands kept grasping for something that wasn't there.
Shouta wondered if he was looking for someone's hand to hold like Shouta had Hizashi's.
Once at the hospital, he watched Izuku get rushed off to the children's ward and he was brought to the hero's ward. A nurse checked over his injuries once again, but there wasn't much more for them to do to help him. He was slightly dehydrated and he'd lost a few pounds, but it was nothing severe.
He asked a different nurse, hours later, what happened to Izuku, and was told basically nothing.
Now Shouta lay in a hospital bed with his boyfriend squeezing his hand from the chair next to him. The fluorescent brightness of the hospital room made him wince. The smell of antiseptic would forever haunt him.
Hizashi was silently crying. "I was so scared," He whispered like it was a secret. In a way, it kind of was. "I thought I'd never see you again. It would be like Oboro all over again. But I wouldn't have you to help me through it." Shouta let himself be vulnerable, if only for that moment and felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as he reached forward and tugged Hizashi in for a hug.
"I was scared too. I love you so much. I don't say it enough, but I love you so much." Shouta cried into his boyfriend's shoulder.
They sat there for several more moments, soothed by each other's presence. Hizashi finally pulled away to wipe his cheeks and chuckled a bit. "So who was the little guy you were carrying earlier?"
Shouta sighed. "Izuku. He was being held captive by the Hassaikai."
"Oh, poor thing. Do you know why?"
"Same reason they took me. To make Quirk erasing bullets. Gods, Hizashi, you should've seen it. They had him chained up to the wall in this little room. He had to sleep on the floor like a dog. They treated him like he was nothing but a tool. And his eyes, it was like he'd completely given up hope that anyone would care to save him. It was awful. It took so long to get him to even remotely trust me," Shouta scowled at the sheets, the images still fresh in his mind.
Hizashi moved from the chair next to the bedside to sitting on the bed with him, gently grabbing his hands. "What about his parents? Do you know what happened to them?"
"No," Shouta sighed. "I know he had a little sister that was killed by the Hassaikai. Some kind of fucked up punishment for trying to escape, probably. Her name was Eri. There were a bunch of drawings in the room with her name. I know that he was held captive for a long time, Hizashi. Four years at the least."
Hizashi was obviously trying to conceal his horror, but Shouta could tell. He could read him like a book.
"So he's been missing for four years and nobody noticed?"
"I don't know," He admitted. "I guess we just see if we can find his parents, and see if they've been reported missing."
Hizashi's brow was knitted. "And if they're..." Dead. Gone. Left the country. Child abandoners. Shouta didn't know that either. It was a sad truth. Something that most heroes don't like to face.
"Well, he'll probably have to go into foster care," Shouta said somewhat bitterly. "That is if it's deemed safe enough to do so. We're still uncertain about the specifics of his Quirk. And part of me doubts he knows how to use it in the first place. An untrained Quirk could be hazardous."
"Yeah," His boyfriend agreed. "But what if-" A knock on the door broke the tense atmosphere that had grown in the room while they were talking, and after a fast "come in", a familiar detective came into the room.
His smile was warm and comforting. "Hello again, Eraser. Do you have time to answer some questions?"
_
Izuku drifted in and out, opening his eyes to see a bright white ceiling before closing them once again and letting sleep pull him under. Voices spoke on the edge of his mind, trying to grab his attention, and he found it too easy to just let go and slip away.
Nothing really made sense, and the feverish dreams he had made even less sense.
It was difficult to make sense of anything, really. Not when his head pounded like a steel drum and his whole body felt like it was set aflame. At least no one was slicing his arms, or if they were, he couldn't feel it. Maybe he was dead and this was Hell? It would explain why he was so hot, and why he kept seeing faces in his mind. But if this was Hell, then it was very bright.
The fluorescent lights were still glowing from under his eyelids, before going dark again.
Time was impossible to understand, but it must have been a very long time since Izuku was awake. He didn't exactly know. Overhaul always said he was dumb. Which was true, Izuku didn't know a lot.
He kept seeing Eraserhead, though.
His hands were gentle, whenever they briefly touched him. They were so unlike the cruel hands. The hands that hurt.
He savored the comfort.
Eventually, he opened his eyes and was able to keep them open. The first thing he noticed was the smell of antiseptic. His muscles tensed and his mind jolted alert.
He shot up and surveyed his surroundings, taking in the soft blue walls and beside table next to him, a vase of red and yellow flowers on top. Gone was the dirty t-shirt and khaki shorts, and in their place was a colorfully dotted hospital gown.
The bandages around his arms were gone, replaced in certain places with light gauze, besides his ankle, that was firmly wrapped. No chain in sight.
There was a large window to his right, sunlight shining through and the sound of traffic from down below. He pushed the blankets off and hurried to the glass, pushing his hands against the warmed surface.
Clouds dotted an open sky, blue as the day he last saw it. Even through the thick glass, the sun felt warm on his face. Trees swayed in an unfelt breeze and cars passed on the street, unaware of the boy above them, watching.
Izuku felt like he could cry.
In fact, he might be, if the wetness of his face was anything to attest to.
He must have stood there for hours, ignoring the aches in his bones and the stinging of his ankle, just staring at the blue blue sky.
When a knock came, he jumped, looking for a place to hide when the door slid open and a head peaked in. It was a man with yellow hair. He felt like he should know who it was, and he knew that he probably knew his name at one point, but nothing came to mind. But judging from the speakers around his neck and the belt on his jeans, he was probably a hero.
"Hello little listener," His voice was soft and gentle, his sunglasses pushed up to his hairline to reveal green eyes. They looks kind of like his own. "The doctors said you didn't need to be quarantined anymore. Thought I might visit and introduce myself."
Izuku kept his jaw shut and his back against the wall, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the next.
"My name his Yamada Hizashi, but you might know me by Present Mic." Right. Present Mic. He needed to brush up on his facts. "I was on the rescue mission, but you might not remember any of that." Present Mic laughed nervously, hand on his neck. "Anyway, could I come in?"
He was being given a choice?
Maybe it was a trick.
He eyed the chair by the bed and nodded slowly.
"Tsukauchi is busy talking to Eraser, and they kicked me out, so I thought I'd just come and check on you." The man looked at him and his position next to the window. "Do you like the view?"
Izuku nodded again.
"You don't talk much, huh?"
Another nod.
Present Mic snorted and smiled. "Well, at least you're honest."
The man stayed with him for what felt like hours, nurses filtering in and out of the room, and the sun traveling across the sky. Once Izuku felt comfortable enough, he sat back down on the bed. Their one-way conversation continued until a man walked in.
He was tall, or maybe that was just his trench coat and hat, and had short black hair. He introduced himself as Detective Tsukauchi, and took Present Mic's place in the bedside chair.
Izuku didn't trust him, but he said he was friends with Eraser, so he let him sit.
Present Mic left, and the detective started asking him small basic questions, like his name and how old he was, before moving onto questions like how Chisaki found him.
Even after sleeping for what felt like years, exhaustion still wore at his bones and demanded he rest. He could barely tune in to what the detective was saying. It seemed he wasn't hiding it as well as he thought because the detective smiled and told him that he had best be on his way, and that he should get some rest.
With a word of his return, he left and Izuku was left all alone to his thoughts and the most comfortable bed he'd ever been in.
And for the first time in what seemed like his entire life, Izuku fell asleep without worry of the next day being full of pain.