Chapter Text
“What the hell were you thinking, Aizawa?!”
Aizawa winced at Recovery Girl’s voice. He couldn’t see her, not with his eyes bandaged to hell with gauze, but he could imagine her livid face.
“30 minutes, Aizawa. You were in that damn fire zone for 30 minutes. It’s a miracle you're even alive. You should have burned up with everything else in that building!” She yelled, whacking her cane against the hospital bed.
“Chiyo-“ He tried.
“No. What you did was irresponsible. You were shot, Aizawa. A bullet went through you, yet you continued to fight. In a fire of all places!” Recovery girl scolded.
There was a silence in the room. Not heavy, as everyone knew what Aizawa did couldn’t be berated, but awkward.
Very, very awkward.
“There was a kid, Chiyo.” Aizawa felt the bandages across his hands, up his arms, down his neck— skin grafts from the burns. They itched and burned even with the slightest movement. “I knew what I was getting into.”
It was a half lie. During the raid, Aizawa never realized he was shot or even remotely injured, but in hindsight, it wouldn’t have mattered. That kid — Ku — was his sole focus. If it cost him his life, then he would have paid happily.
“Did you? Your eyes burned , Aizawa. I don’t know what was going through your head, but this level of carelessness is unlike you. Borderline hypocritical coming from the man who preaches self-preservation!”
Tsukauchi cleared his throat. For the entire hour lecture Recovery Girl was laying on Aizawa, he’d forgotten the detective was even in the room.
“I understand the severity of the situation, but there was a child on the line— unknown until Eraser discovered him. If it weren’t for his efforts, that child would have died,” Tsukauchi said.
“It’s not his intentions I’m angry about, Detective.” Recovery girl finally sighed. “I’ve looked over that boy and know firsthand how close he was to not being here today.”
Her cane whacked his bed again — gentler this time. “It’s my own staff running around with the judgment of a student they supposedly teach.”
Aizawa didn’t say anything. Recovery Girl was right in every way. He shouldn’t have gone into that fire. Not without backup. Not without notifying the grounds command. Not with his emotions so high-strung like they were.
Looking back, he didn’t know what drove him to go down those stairs. He’s been in the situation before — the chance of accidentally leaving someone behind — but to deal with so… illogically ?
It wasn’t him.
Recovery Girl stepped closer to his bed. She slowly tilted his head, examining his wounds before humming. “I’ll have your head bandages taken off this afternoon. You’ll be discharged tomorrow. But I’m putting you on medical leave. No teaching, training, or extraneous movement for the next two weeks.”
“Chiyo—‘
“Don’t ‘Chiyo’ me, young man. You were a half-popped kernel when you came here. You need rest and I’ll force it on you if need be. Sick Yamada on you,” Chiyo huffed, rustling around his bedside.
“Like I need that man babysitting me,” Aizawa rolled his eyes. It hurt like actual hell.
He heard Tsukauchi chuckle in the background as Recovery Girl resisted the urge to hit him.
“Keep it easy, Aizawa. If you fall apart in class because of your impatience, you can have someone else heal you up. Got it ?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
Aizawa felt her kiss his cheek once more before she left the room, reducing the fiery burning behind his eyes to an annoying, dry eye. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
Aizawa resisted a simper. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Recovery Girl,” Tsuakuchi said in the distance. “Before you leave though, how is he?”
The hospital room door opened, but never shut. Aizawa looked in the direction of their voices.
Recovery Girl sighed, less exasperated than with Aizawa and more… sad. “He’s alive. I’ve healed what I could. He’ll be in quarantine till everything goes through his system.”
“I understand. Thank you, again,” Tsuakuchi whispered, his tone matching hers.
The door shut. And the room fell still.
Aizawa rubbed at his eyes. Of all the injuries he had, his eyes bothered him the most. Dry eye was nothing new to him, but this? This was double the dryness and triple the pain.
“You okay?” Tsuakuchi asked, taking a bedside seat.
“I’m fine.” He really wasn’t, but for someone who was half-dragged from a burning building only yesterday, Aizawa would say he was in fantastic condition. He decided to change the subject. Recovery Girl already chewed out his ass. “You’ve talked with that kid?”
Tsukauchi sighed. “Not yet. He’s been unconscious since the fire, but the doctors think he’ll be waking up soon.”
Aizawa remembered a gentle pull on his shirt. A thin fist in his costume. Breath against his neck. All signs of someone alive .
His fingers absentmindedly tapped against each other, remembering thick ash-filled curls downing them only a day ago. The kid was light as a feather. Felt as fragile as glass. One slip from Aizawa, the kid might have shattered.
“Why is he in quarantine?” Aizawa asked.
“Paramedics saw he had a few doses of Trigger in his system. Once it goes through his system, we’ll do an investigation. But it isn’t safe for him nor us to talk,” Tsukauchi explained. “Not now, at least. Recovery Girl’s done the bulk of the work.”
Aizawa frowned at the word ‘investigation’. He knew nothing of that kid, but something told him he was innocent. After all, Ku wasn’t just trapped in that room.
He was locked .
”He was on Trigger?” Aizawa focused instead. Trigger was a common quirk stimulant. It increased the power and durability of a quirk well beyond a user’s normal range. It was a dangerous drug, even more so in the hands of dangerous people. “Do you know who he is or his quirk? I doubt ‘Ku’ is his real name,” Aizawa said.
“Ku? Is that what he’s called?”
Aizawa frowned again. “I overheard a few of them talking about a ‘Ku’. I assume that was his name.”
He heard a few papers rustling, then a huff. “Well… I guess I can see how he got the name.”
“What do you mean?”
Tsuakuchi cleared his throat. “Facial recognition suggests he is Midoriya Izuku. Went missing eight years ago. Kid was deemed a runaway and his case was dropped.”
“You think this gang picked him up off the streets then?”.
“Maybe.” Tsuakuchi filed through his papers again. “We’re still combing through his files, but, according to a neighbor, Izuku wasn’t a ‘runaway’ type of kid. We’ll be talking to her shortly.”
“What about the parents?”
“Dead,” Tsukauchi said, bluntly. He shuffled the papers again. “According to local authorities, Midoriya Hizashi and Inko were killed in a home invasion a few days after Izuku ran away.”
“Damn.”
“Hizashi was a prominent criminal lawyer. Police suspected it was a revenge killing.”
Aizawa didn’t know if he could call the kid lucky in that situation. It was a lose-lose either way.
“What’s his quirk?” Aizawa asked. “If he was on Trigger, then it's probably a more must subtle ability.”
“It’s no All Might level,” Tsuakuchi said. “Izuku’s quirk-form called it ‘Dualism’. A somewhat complicated emitter ability. With physical touch, he can share mental experiences with another.”
Aizawa looked at the detective. “No drawback?”
“Depends on what you want to call a drawback. When he activates his quirk, the person he’s touching perceives what Midoriya feels without physically experiencing anything. Kind of like a one-way mind swap, I guess.”
Aizawa hummed.
Mental quirks tend to be more subtle compared to other emitter quirks. Because of their more complex development, it may take years for a quirk to fully mature. However, once grasped and understood, they could easily stand alone. Some creativity and he’d have a very self-sufficient quirk.
“He’s-“
“We suspect Midoriya’s quirk was heavily used in that organization’s movements.”
The heart monitor beeped in the back. The oxygen tank hissed as a distant announcement echoed outside the hall.
“Why?”
Tsukauchi shuffled his papers. “The Omoi Kane are silent hunters. Their MO is their lack of physical harm to those they take. We’ve interviewed a few victims already, all of whom reported being tortured for their information, yet none of them were physically injured once they were returned.”
“What are you getting at?”
“If this Midoriya Izuku used his quirk on them, he’d be the perfect middleman. Getting the information but leaving no marks.”
“That would imply Ku would have to… torture himself for the victim to feel it,” Aizawa said skeptically. “That would have to be some loyalty to hurt himself for the Organization willingly.”
“The doctors found wounds on him. Wounds typically found on hostages.”
“He’s a kid.”
“You of all people should know the potential of a kid.”
“That level of dedication would be close to brainwashing.”
“Midoriya disappeared 9 years ago. Well enough time to influence–”
“Do you really believe they groomed this kid to torture himself?”
Tsuakuchi stopped himself. Even blind, Aizawa could sense his frown. “What I believe doesn’t matter right now. I want to believe the best of that kid too, Eraser, but presumptions will only give us more questions. We need to take this slow. Only then will Ku get what he deserves.”
Aizawa didn’t comment on that last part. ‘What he deserves’, it could be anything from a foster family to fifty years in jail.
“What are the next steps?” Aizawa changed the subject. “What on the kingpin?”
“Gone. Chances are he’s settling down in another base. The majority of the members got caught up in the explosion, but we were able to arrest a few. I’ll talk to them soon.”
Aizawa’s hand rolled into a fist.
Hawks was specially called in yesterday for his aerial defense. The only reason the Kingpin got away was because Hawks was too busy saving Aizawa’s ass. Granted, Aizawa had that kid with him, but if he had done things more carefully, neither Aizawa nor the kid would have needed saving.
“Don’t worry about it. My officers are working as we speak. Just focus on getting on your feet,” Tsuakuchi interrupted his thoughts.
“I’d like my sight first.”
The detective chuckled. “I’m sure you do. I can get a doctor to see if they can do anything more, but keep it easy, Aizawa. Jumping out of a burning building isn’t easy on anyone.”
Tsuakuchi walked over to the door. “I’ll keep you updated on the kid too. We should be able to speak soon too. I left his file on the table. Take a look if you’d like.”
A soft click of the door signaled the detective’s absence. Aizawa sighed at the quietness. It was nice, in a way. However, it didn’t last long.
Sometime later, one of Recovery Girl’s assistant doctors came in to take off his eye bandages. It burned a hell of a lot more than he was expecting, but the morphine helped dull it down to a manageable amount. A few nurses joined the doctor in redressing his wounds, checking his numbers, and making sure he was alive and breathing.
“Everything is healing well. I’ll let Recovery Girl know you’re set for release tomorrow.” The doctor said. He handed him a pair of very big, very tinted sunglasses. “Wear these in the light. It’ll ease the healing process.”
“Thanks.” With the glasses, Aizawa could barely make anything out. But he could see, and that was enough for him.
The doctor did more routine check-ups before leaving Aizawa on his own. Immediately, Aizawa used his newfound blurry sight and grabbed the police folders Tsukauchi left.
The first was about Izuku’s disappearance, containing nothing more than a school photo of the boy and a short report. The photo showed a young 1st grader with missing front teeth, unruly green hair, and big, energetic eyes the same shade.
(Tsuakuchi cleared his throat. “Facial recognition suggests he is Midoriya Izuku. Went missing eight years ago. Kid was deemed a runaway...”)
Apparently, Izuku had missed school for an entire week without notice or contact from the parents. The school called the police for a home visit where Hisashi and Inko explained Izuku liked to run off sometimes. Neither parent wanted to file a report, so the investigation was dropped.
It was a cut and dry case Aizawa’s seen many times before. A kid runs away because of personal problems, often to a friend’s house or another family member. They stay away until enough time has passed and choose to keep running or return home.
However…
(“What about the parents?”)
(“Dead,” Tsukauchi said, bluntly. He shuffled the papers again. “According to local authorities, Midoriya Hizashi and Inko were killed in an home invasion a few days after Izuku ran away.”)
With a heavy hand, Aizawa opened a second file.
It had a photo of two bodies, a man and a woman, with two bloodied pillows scattered between them. According to the autopsy report, both victims died from a single gunshot in the back of the head with the man having several post-mortem gunshot wounds. Nothing was stolen from the house.
Executioner style , Aizawa deeply thought. It was a style of murder where the killer shoots the victim from point-blank range, either in the head or the heart.
Tsukauchi mentioned Hizashi was a lawyer, but, according to the victim's profiles, he was a criminal prosecutor – the type of lawyer to try defendants in court for their charges. Beyond the heroes and officers, lawyers had the biggest and easiest targets on their backs.
Put all together, that meant three things:
First, Hisashi and Inko’s murders were likely, as Tsuakuchi suggested, a revenge killing. More than probably, someone related to one of Hisashi’s cases goes after him in vengeance. Only he and his wife are home. The killer shoots the wife as retaliation, then Hisashi as retribution. A probable motive, a deliberate plan, and a premeditated execution — it was textbook criminology.
Second, if the kid Aizawa found was in fact Midoriya Izuku, then the only reason he’s alive now is because he ran away eight years ago. The school stated Izuku was truant from September 7th to the 14th. His parents died on September 15th. Lucky or not, the kid was alive simply because he wasn’t home the day of his parents’ murder.
Which brought everything to the third point – if neither Hisashi nor Inko made a missing person’s report to the police when Izuku initially ran off and the events of September 15th unfolded as they were reported, then, in the eight years that have passed since…
“No one’s looked for you,” Aizawa quietly said.
His eyes fell back to the boy’s school photo. At the innocent face completely unaware of what was to come.
It made his heart ache.