Chapter Text
Midoriya Inko was not an idiot.
Some people may look at her smiley face and her teary eyes and think otherwise, but the statement held true.
She was not an idiot.
The movement of boxes, the mumbling of numbers under their breath, a hesitant handshake. It was wrong.
So, Inko proceeded to do what she could. Meals left by the door, a roll of bandages and a helping hand, an open door for any circumstance.
Better, but not right .
Too many things were out of place.
The reluctance to be anything but on time, caring far too much about social cues, wandering hands up to the nape of the neck while deep in thought, and wounds. So many wounds.
Too many to count.
Midoriya Inko was worried. Worried for one Aizawa Shouta.
Inko’s foot tapped. Shouta hadn’t visited in days , the last time she saw him was when he walked out of the apartment with Kagame-Kun, on their way to the entrance exam.
And she didn’t know how well he did.
She thought back to that time, just barely a month ago, when he had arrived at her door, unable to see.
What if . . . No.
She shook herself out of her stupor. This was the national school . They had hundreds of thousands of dollars, some of which undoubtedly spent on the best of the best of heroes and doctors, what with them having so many accident-prone Hero Course students.
He would be fine.
Even in the event that he had overused his quirk again, causing actual tears and pain , he would be fine.
She stood up from the break room she was seated in. Shouta is fine.
If she had taken another bottle of eye drops from the cabinet, then no one would be able to prove it.
That boy stood for everything that was wrong with this society. He challenged everything that was wrong with this society.
She was sick of seeing so many people, so many children affected by the “heroic” quirks of their peers. Everyone was always defending the assaulters as being “future heroes”. It made her want to shout, ‘would you want a hero fighting civilians?’
The kid gave her hope. Even as he came to her door almost every day with the excuse of a new bruise or gash, he was always fighting . Fighting in his own way.
The quips he hands out like spare change do not elude her. They came far too naturally for Shouta to not be using his tongue as a weapon at any opening possible. Even if it’s at his hindrance.
And that had nothing to say about his exercise habit. She remembers catching glimpses of him running down the sidewalk when he was just starting out, looking as if every fifth step was agonizing.
And yet he continued.
Knowing the boy was walking a very thin line in terms of not being malnourished , she started shoving, or more like throwing, food in his face that would be able to give him the necessary energy to keep working out like he’d been doing. He needed carbs.
And one of the best sources of which was potatoes.
She grabbed 3 bags in the first week.
And he didn’t stop .
This kid, who had been called a villain for his entire life, was standing up and doing something to be a hero . The motivation necessary to do that was astounding.
Even more so when he started confirming her suspicions that the motivation didn’t originate from his parents. At least not directly.
Shouta’s parents were never home, and when they were, Inko could see how much more tense the raven-haired boy was. How much time he spent in the apartment when usually he would readily walk to her own almost every day , sparkle in his eyes as he donned one of her (intentionally vile) aprons, seeming to try and memorize the new recipe she offered within seconds.
She saw something during those moments that she never saw from him any other time. Childhood innocence .
And that's not even getting started on how much he loved to learn .
He took every single piece of advice she offered to heart . Whether it was the proper way to cut potatoes or how to make a tourniquet (which she sincerely hoped he never had to use) he listened. And he’d devour .
All the information she had on a subject within her house was studied. Books read in a matter of hours, medical journals scanned and notes are written; a notebook where he copied down as many good recipes he could find, cutting away all of the over-the-top personal stories; and so many other examples.
Even Hisashi attempted to join in on it. It seems though, that Shouta didn’t find business concepts as interesting as a doctors first-hand account on how they improvised an appendicitis surgery in the middle of a remote forest with barely a knife. He did seem to take note of the money management tips, which she had firmly placed far back into the “don't think about too much” box in her mind.
And yet, she was still worried .
Once in a while, she heard a quick shout from the shared wall, a bang of a door.
And no concrete proof.
Even if she was entirely certain of the situation, it would never hold up in court.
And with no way of consistent contact (besides the quick notes left with plastic-wrapped bowls), there was always a layer between them that she couldn’t fix .
Despite the number of times when Shouta opened her front door, relief washing over his face, there was never a mention of a phone number or anything offered.
And it was painful to see.
With Hisashi, even when he went on long business trips, they still texted each other daily. Drama at the hospital, the exchanging of days, news about anything and everything .
She would crack without the lifeline of communication .
Between Mitsuki, Hisashi, Masaru, work friends, and more . Call her screen-addicted, but she wouldn’t know how she would have a constant support system otherwise. Plus , a nagging voice filtered through her head, how would I be able to call for help if I needed to?
Maybe , she thought, looking down at her purse, I’ll talk to Hisashi about getting Shouta a phone for getting into U.A .
Never mind the fact she didn’t know if he succeeded yet, isn’t the buying of a phone something any parent would do . . ?
A white-haired figure hunched over his desk.
A bow and arrow? No, it would take both hands up and cause extra weight due to arrows. Useless in close-range
Brass knuckles? No. The best thing for a hero that doesn’t use a quirk would be a long-range weapon. The further away, the safer .
Throwing knives? Good for both close and long-range, but it has a lot of extra weight to them. Plus they would be easy to lose. Maybe if paired with something else . . ?
Hikaru bent back, raking fingers through his tousled hair as he groaned in lack of ideas. Why is designing a lightweight and reusable multi-tool weapon for non-physical quirks so hard ? He bemoaned.
He looked over at where his turtle was hissing from his tank.
“No, Spanner, I am not giving Shouta a machine gun.”
Spanner hissed again as he pushed his chair away from the tabletop. Hikaru exited his room, probably closing his door behind him louder than necessary.
Making his way to the fridge, he took a quick breath. A breath that was obviously meant to be a deep, calming one, but chances were that it didn’t complete the task.
Opening the door, making more equally ineffective huffs, he began searching the shelves. Was he just bored and needed a distraction? Probably. Was he actually hungry? Maybe?
“Hey!” called a voice from the living room, “If you feel like you need to eat then . . .” the voice trailed out, waiting for the other to finish.
“I probably should go outside too. . .” Hikaru sighed in response.
He looked over at where his carbon copy of a father was sitting. The jerk is making me go outside , he thought, rather unfairly. He did, in fact, have a deficiency in almost every metal in the human body possible. Including but not limited to Vitamin D.
Deciding that he was bored enough to be hungry, the boy grabbed three oranges, begrudgingly stepping outside on the porch after his father shot him an innocent smile for 15 seconds too long, a firm sound of feet on stone with every step. Why must my father care about my health? He thought dramatically.
Sitting on the steps, the stark-haired boy pulled out his journal. If he couldn’t come up with a weapon, then at least he could try to hyper-analyze Shouta’s quirk again to come up with more ideas for support gear.
Pen tapping against his lip, he sat there thinking for a solid 13 minutes, mind blank.
No new ideas would come.
Almost seething with impatience, he set the notebook down, trying with all his might not to slam it.
Rome wasn’t built in a day! The voice of one of his cousins filtered through his thoughts.
Shut the fuck up, Shiroi.
It has been just over a week since the exams and there has been precisely zero information on the status of the results.
And it was evidently driving him mad.
Others would argue that he already was mad.
Hikaru decided to take this as a compliment.
After-all, in all forms of media, it’s always the mad scientist who makes the ground-breaking discoveries, isn’t it? Granted, the discoveries usually end up being literally groundbreaking and the protagonist commonly has to kill them in the end, but hey.
It’s the thought that counts.
He barely noticed as he heard light feet scrape against the gravel that littered the walk-way as a light package landed next to his legs.
“What the fuck is this about, Hikaru?”
He looked up from the brick where he was previously deep in thought to see eyes, seemingly containing the abyss, staring down at him.
“Ah! Shouta! What brings you here?” It was curious. After all, he had never given his address to the ravenet.
He gestured to where he dropped the package— a letter, “I don’t know, Mr. What the Fuck, you’re the one that sent this.”
He lifted up the envelope as he started his response, “Please, Mr. What the Fuck was my father.” Ah. So it was this letter.
He looked up at his friend’s annoyed expression, parts of the human muscular system drawing the features into— he stopped his mental spiral there.
“You got this today?”
Arms crossed, Shouta’s head bobbed in response.
“Perfect! I can add a new set of results into my data chart!”
“Your what ?” He asked, features beginning to smooth, making room for confusion.
“Data chart! I mail everyone I know a letter as soon as I know their address! After the Quirk Wars and the plateau in technology, the personal mailing system has severely deteriorated,” he counted off the days in his mind, “Today would make it . . . 43 days since I sent it into the post office! And we’re only 18 miles apart not accounting for roads so that would make it—”
Kagame reopened his journal and reached his table, numbers neatly lined up, “ —Wow! That's the slowest it’s been yet !”
“And . . . why are you doing this?”
He shrugged, “For fun.”
Agitation started to once again paint Shouta’s features.
“What’s gotten you so upset?” He asked, head tilting.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe I just failed an exam with no back up what so ever , and then suddenly I get a letter from you , which only had the instructions to come to this address,” he responded, eyes flaring, “I don’t have to pay for that letter, do I?!”
Hikaru waved his hand in a dismissive manner as he thought.
“Ice cream,” he said firmly.
“I— what ?”
The white-haired boy got up and stretched, tucking his journal into his back pocket.
“ You are way too stressed, I can’t get any productive work done, and we need a break,” he started walking past his friend, “Ice cream! On me!”
“ I— ” a look of bafflement washed over Shouta’s face, before dropping, “Fine.” He walked to catch up with Hikaru.
“Got a place you prefer?”
The ravenet huffed, “No.”
“Favourite flavor?”
“Not anything really.”
Hikaru looked at the smaller boy next to him, “Do you have a favorite kind of ice cream? Cone? Shake? Flurry? Sundae?”
He shrugged.
“I am almost scared to ask but— have you ever had ice cream?”
Shouta paused in his walking, staring into the distance, “I— I don’t know, actually. I mean, probably? When I was really young I must have had some but I don’t remember anything specific.”
Hikaru thought back to the time he had decided to visit him by surprise before the entrance exams.
A man with cold eyes answered the door and asked who he was. After introducing himself as Shouta’s friend, the yelling began. First to his face as the man called across his apartment. Then to him , threatening Hikaru to never visit again. And then through the thin wall after the door was slammed into his face.
And yet there was no concrete evidence.
“Bloodbath?” He turned and faced him right in the eye. “I am going to buy and have you eat any ice cream you want.”
Was it surprising to know that Shouta immediately went for the coffee flavor? Considering his sleep schedule, not really, no. In fact, the moment Hikaru saw the flavor, he knew instantly that he was going to have to purchase it for his friend.
“Great! So, what are your hobbies?” He asked as the two stepped outside of the establishment.
The ravenet lifted his head from where he was engrossed with the frozen treat, face falling back into his disinterested apathy.
“I like to exercise,” he shrugged, “And cook, I guess.”
“Well we aren’t going to be exercising, we need a break from all the training you did for the exam—,” Hikaru paused, “You cook ?! But you’re always going around eating those—” he waved his hand, “—packet thingies!”
“Nutritional Jelly Packets.”
“Why don’t you just— make yourself some actual food?”
Shouta’s eyes darted to his own, “I don’t have the ingredients to cook properly in my kitchen. Inko’s apartment is the only place where I have free rein to cook if I so wish.”
Shit. His parents.
“Well, I will certainly keep that fact in mind!” Hikaru chirped, hiding the seething remark he wished to lash against the raven haired boy’s guardians.
Nope, let's not, I don’t even know if he knows that I know.
The two walked in a comfortable silence across the city blocks, until Hikaru looked to his side, noticing how Shouta wasn’t present.
Whipping his head around, he glanced back to see Shouta crouched down by the opening of an alleyway.
He hummed in question as he got closer, “What's up?” he asked, suddenly hearing a hissing noise coming from the dank alley.
“Hey,” Shouta tried to calm the creature, hidden by the shade. “It’s feral, but it’s got a nasty gash on it’s leg,” Hikaru’s eyes adjusted to the dark, noticing flashing eyes and a thrashing tail.
Cat.
“Ok . . .” He began slowly, “We need a game plan. One to catch it, and the other to decide what to wrap and disinfect the wound with.”
The ravenet responded easily, “The second question isn’t hard—” he gestured to his bag, left to the side, “—I always keep a spare med pack in the second pocket.”
Kagame got flashes from the time when he and Shouta first “met”. He was bleeding—pretty profusely—from the abdomen.
God.
Hikaru slowly followed the boy’s instructions, stopping every once in a while when the cat noticeably flinched. Successful in his mission, he kept the bandages and antiseptic at his side, zipping the bag up as much as he was willing to risk.
“Ok, now what about capturing it?”
“I have no clue,” Shouta looked over at Hikaru, “Your quirk directs metal under your skin, right? Does that offer any protection?”
He shook his head, “The layer is too thin. Any cut that would get through the skin would cut the mirror as well.”
“ Shit .” the ravenet cursed under his breath.
“I’m willing to get scratched up anyway,” he offered, Shouta quickly waving him off.
“Then I’ll just have to end up patching you up.”
Hikaru stares for a moment at the cat. Fur bristled and tail thrashing length to length in irritation. It lets out another hiss, air forcing vibrations into the commonly chilling rattle.
“It won’t be the most pleasant but—” he turns his gaze to his friend, “—we could attempt to corner it by the trash can?”
The ravenet glanced over for a moment, “It may be our best bet.”
Before another word could be said, Shouta widened his stance, gearing up the bandages (hastily given to him by Hikaru) into his hand. Just as he made a movement at the feline, it jumped out at him, finding purchase at his shoulders, and clawed its way onto his head, before swiftly jumping off and sprinted away.
The smaller boy looked behind to where the cat ran off and proceeded to chase after it, Hikaru noticing the streams of blood running down his right cheek.
And just after he said that he didn’t want me getting clawed to pieces .
Joining the chase, Hikaru tried his best to catch up. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best, seeing how he was racing against a no longer domesticated lion and a teen boy who decided it was a good idea to sprint 20 miles daily for 5 months, but with the minor traffic and few pedestrians wandering around, he made decent time.
Skidding to a stop alongside the motionless Shouta, he caught a glimpse of the cat scrambling up a tree as they reached the park. Said park was closer to a scenic picnic spot than anything else, but who were they to dispute government-provided titles?
In an instant, the ravenet ran over and latched his arm over a branch, lean muscles lifting his way into the tree, climbing his way up.
The mirror-incarnate, barely getting the chance to catch his breath, clambered his way into the oak, working to match his speed with Shouta. Climbing higher and higher in search of the injured cat.
As they got to the highest branches that could hold their weight, it slowly dawned on the two teens that they had found no cat. Only loose cat fur and scattered dreams.
Hikaru sneezed and felt his eyes threaten to water as the other boy presented evidence of the cat being there to his face.
Fuck my allergies .
“Where the hell could that cat have gone off to?” the other boy asked.
“I don’t see it any—” Hikaru’s words trailed off. After looking around his general location, the stark-haired boy looked down, in hopes of catching sight of dirtied orange fur throughout the foliage. Instead, he had caught sight of the ground. The ground which was considerably further down than either of the boys had expected.
Shaking away the beginnings of vertigo from his eyes, he looked up at Shouta and uttered a single word.
“Fuck.”
The sky dimmed as the day grew ever shorter. After deciding that the tree was probably not the safest thing to try and get down from themselves, Hikaru had decided along with Shouta that they would stay up there until 1. A passerby found them in the tree, 2. Hikaru’s dad called the police on his missing son, or 3. They managed to find their way down on their own.
Or possibly 4. A mix of all the above.
It certainly didn't help that Hikaru couldn’t get any signal to work from his phone.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a tech genius or something?”
“Tech genius or not, I can’t bypass outside sources, such as signal!” the stark-haired boy sighed.
Shouta leaned back in the fork of the branches he had found himself in. “Guess we’re stuck here then,” he looked over at Hikaru, “What’s the game plan?”
“Well,” Hikaru started, “if we see anyone pass by below, I’ll activate my quirk and pass my phone light to you. You’ll work on getting a reflective signal out and I’ll have to pray and hope.”
“ . . . Could be worse, it could be raining.”
The taller boy gasped in horror, “Don’t you say that! You’ll jinx us!”
He shrugged, “The meteorologist predicted a 2% chance of rain tonight. I doubt nature would change just to spite us.”
He could have sworn Shouta mentioned something about 10,000 yen notes but decided not to question it.
He looked on as the sky bled into soft warm hues of pinks and oranges before beginning to deepen as the sky sunk lower and lower into the sky.
It comforted Hikaru. Despite the frankly ridiculous circumstance the two had gotten themselves stuck in, nature continued on. The spin of the earth acting as a massive, ever-moving machine . Not being able to stop for anything that may get in it’s path.
Laughter bubbled up from inside his chest.
“What? What is it?” Shouta asked from higher up.
“Despite how weird this all turned out, I managed to succeed in my goal,” At the smaller boy’s questioning look, he continued, “I managed to distract you.”
Hikaru turned his face up to look at his friend. “Today, when you came over, you were all snappish due to the anxiety from the exams. I proceeded to offer ice cream in hopes to bring your attention elsewhere. And,” he gave a grin, “It worked!”
Tearing his face away from the ravenet’s shocked expression, he looked into the bleeding sky and activated his quirk. For preparation in case someone passes, if anyone asks .
The natural reds, oranges, and pinks reflected and glinted off his skin, strategically dappled so the rays would reflect colored gems onto the deep greens around him.
“Hey . . . Hikaru?”
“Yeah?”
“Aren’t phones able to dial the emergency numbers even without service?”
“ . . .”
After a barrage of curses and apologies from Hikaru, he managed to safely dial the number. Hikaru called his dad to pick him up from the station after the teens got a chewing out from the officers, managing to make it home before 7:00 PM, his dad laughing at him throughout the entire trip home.
As he sat down at his desk and turned the events of the day over in his mind, it hit him.
Fast movement, capture, restrainment, ability to get down from unusual places . . . if he made the material out of long, thin strands of fabric, it could even be used as emergency bandages.
That's it!
A capture rope.