Work Text:
Inspiration:
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT6qhUbER/
https://youtu.be/iNkbcKPdoXM?list=RDiNkbcKPdoXM
“The first blood you draw will be the hardest to forget.
You’ll see the bloodstains on your skin for the rest of your life, no matter how hard you scrub your skin.”
Nedzu told Shouta those words on the day he graduated UA High as the only underground hero in his whole graduating class. He knew Shouta would face far more bloody situations than all the other limelight heroes who graduated with him. There would be no coming back from the depths he was soon to dive into, and he was right. Shouta could still look down at his own hands today, years later, and see the stains of the first life he watched fade from a criminal’s eyes - the first person he had to kill in order to beat, in order to survive.
How did one impart that wisdom onto a child without ruining their whole worldview? Shouta had yet to figure it out. Nedzu wasn’t human, he didn’t have silly things like human emotions, and he rarely exhibited compassion, either. It was no surprise the Chimera could tell Shouta something so profoundly cruel, and expect him to just go on with his life like nothing happened. Ironically, it was the best piece of knowledge ever imparted to him. Not because it shattered the way Shouta’s younger self looked at the world around him, but because it grounded him, reminded him that there are some things in this world that should never be forgotten, things that we carry with us through every season of life.
The cracking pop of a single bullet rang through Shouta’s ears, cutting out all other sound for several long seconds. The villain who’d had a knife to his throat froze above him. His eyes went wide, blood dribbled down his lips, splattering Shouta’s face. A second later, the light faded from his eyes and he was no more. His body collapsed like lead onto Shouta’s chest and was quickly shoved away so he could find the source of the shot.
Eyes blurry, fear pumping through his veins, Shouta found the gun, pointed down in two shaking hands, and above it, a teenager - a kid. His kid . Eclipse, Shouta’s adopted vigilante, was holding the gun, tears streaming in rivers from his bright green eyes. Neither of them moved once Shouta made it to his feet. Shouta was too scared to startle the teen and it was obvious Eclipse was frozen from the shock of firing a gun.
“I killed him.” The teen croaked out.
Shouta’s heart snapped right out of his chest like an apple falling from a tree, only to hit the ground and split into a thousand pieces. The look in his kid’s eyes could have been another gun, ready to fire and fill Shouta with dread, and grief.
“Give me the gun, kid.”
The very second his arms slipped down, Shouta grabbed the gun and checked that the chamber wasn’t loaded before wrapping himself around the little vigilante and pressing the kid’s face to his chest.
“I killed him!”
“No.”
“The first blood you draw will be the hardest to forget.” - Shouta wouldn’t let this kid draw first blood so young. He would not allow this child to know the anguish that comes with ending a life. There was no way this child would know that kind of sorrow before he turned eighteen. It took no thought for Shouta to decide on a course of action.
“All you did was shoot him.” The gun cocked. Shouta aimed for the villain’s back and squeezed the trigger. Another crack sounded from the offending weapon. Shouta locked the safety and placed it back into the holster behind him. “I killed him, okay?”
“But-”
“You didn’t kill him, Izuku.”
“I- I didn’t?”
Shouta pulled the kid’s face up from his chest and shook his head with a gentle smile, the soft kind of smile that could make an injured bird fly, because that is what he desperately needed right now. He needed to heal an injured baby bird and all he could use to prove it was his smile, and the fingers crossed behind his back.
“Go back to my place. Tell Present Mic you need patching up and I sent you. Okay?”
Slowly, Eclipse nodded. It took him several more seconds to pry his fingers from the back of Shouta’s shirt and stumble away from the scene on a lonely, dark rooftop. Once he was gone, Shouta collapsed on the ground, clutched both hands over his mouth, and screamed every single ounce of sorrow in his soul into them.
No child should ever have to endure the knowledge that they’d taken life away from someone who had every right to live, just like they did. Weeks. Shouta had spent weeks and months convincing this child that he had a right to exist in this world, and in one second, it was almost ruined. Had he not been here when Shouta got jumped and lost both his knife and his gun? Shouta, Eraserhead, would be dead.
Shouta let himself lay back on the rooftop. His head lulled to the side to stare into the empty eyes of the villain who jumped him. A hand reached out to press three fingers over the man’s quickly stiffening skin. The hand came back bloody. Shouta spread it across his fingertips and closed his eyes to say a prayer - not to any particular God, more to himself, and the man he’d taken responsibility for.
“Your blood will be my stain to carry.”
At least for tonight, Shouta would rest easy in the knowledge that his kid wouldn’t be haunted by this kind of nightmare. Shouta would carry it for him, until he was ready to carry the weight of his own stains.