Chapter Text
Books don't write themselves. Songs don't sing themselves.
Life doesn't just pass. We either let it or something holds us back.
So when Tsukauchi got a call from Aizawa, saying that he should go to their apartment because there was something important, he wanted to take a nap. A really long long nap in his comfortable couch and let this day, this case, pass.
But, because of all the money and the 'wanting to help' thing, it would weigh on his conscience. And Tsukauchi didn't need a heavy conscience. Maybe vacations, a weekend with free hot springs and chocolate. A lot of chocolate. But not a dirty, heavy conscience.
With a groan, the detective knocked on the door and snapped out of his utopia.
"Tsukauchi! Long time no see detective!" Exclaimed the blonde, holding the main door and stepping to the side as an invitation to go in.
"Hey Mic." Naomasa greeted with half a smile and entered the apartment.
It was still bright. Photos of Yamada and Aizawa, one always with a smile and the other with a snarl, hanging on the walls like windows to the memory it encased. Some of them showed the two of them in their wedding, because Eraserhead would never wear a suit and stand next to an almost exploding and enthusiastic Present Mic wearing a pastel yellow tuxedo in any other situation. Some others were just animals or the married couple in different scenarios.
Tsukauchi had assumed the reason why they wouldn't have their best friend hanging around with all those pictures, but it wasn't his place to ask or comment. Not when Yamada invited him the first time to discuss a case. Certainly not now that they had a kid staying with them and five years later.
Now, the kid.
The kid who had escaped from a fire, but was non-existent before his parent's death. That kid was extremely brave. Inasa had said exactly that, and Naomasa couldn't agree more.
However, the detective knew that the kind of bravery that kid had shown could only come from being extremely terrified or insanely lost. Lost in one's own mind. Lost in whatever reality meant, and the world humans seemed to be set on destroying.
"Hello Midoriya." Saluted the detective with a soft voice, half-smiling when the greenette slightly bowed in his position on the floor, where he was coloring in some book that probably Hizashi kept.
"Tsukauchi." Aizawa greeted from the balcony's door with his deep voice, only to be answered by the same gesture from the detective. With a subtle movement of the teacher's black eyes Naomasa took a seat in one of the armchairs across the living room and waited.
He was probably waiting for an 'it seems Midoriya is an experiment and he's a war machine but the government didn't have enough budget for three people', or a little bit of 'Midoriya's quirk seems to be enough to blow up the whole Earth with a single word'.
Tsukauchi would be lucky if the freckled kid ended up being the child of two serial killers and he only needed a whole bunch of therapy and some pointers to not go killing people like a dumbass.
A detective's mind was messed up, not to say heavily sleep deprived.
Tsukauchi was not the exception. So such dark thoughts were his strategy to delight himself in case everything wasn't as fucked up as he had imagined.
Sounds of glass being picked up and murmurs could be heard, again interrupting the detective's spiraling mind.
The married couple had been briefly in the kitchen and now they had returned, two figures side by side as if it was how nature told them to be. However there was no vivid and cheerful voice following a pleasant silence as usual.
Tiredness could be seen in the little gestures from both Eraser and Mic's bodies. Tsukauchi could tell, and he felt that he could share a little of the heavy burden he usually dealt with. It was bad, he knew. He shouldn't be relieved that other people felt like he does, but it was instinctive. Something he couldn't really accept about himself.
The detective was sitting in the same grey couch he had briefly interviewed Midoriya with the social worker just some days ago. Aizawa and Yamada were now opposite from him next to each other in the largest couch, after leaving four glasses and a jar with water in a small coffee table.
Now, the day of the interview he hadn't been truly conscious of what his quirk determined to be a lie or truth. He had trusted the kid, so he didn't need to be hyperaware of the information his always-active power gave him.
But in the present situation, it would be as useful and draining as always.
"What happened?" Naomasa simply asked, looking straight in the eyes to Aizawa.
"Midoriya wanted to talk about his parents, but only when the three of us present." Stated then Eraser as stoically as someone could do, not ever breaking eye contact with the detective. "Kid didn't want to waste time telling his story two or three times."
Tsukauchi couldn't help but curve his lips slightly upwards when Aizawa said his last sentence. Someone who hadn't passed time with the pro hero would've seen nothing out of the ordinary, but to a detective with 'Eraserhead experience' was as clear as a day the almost unnoticeable satisfaction in how the kid's behaviour wasn't plain stupid.
Poor Yamada if he was going to survive with two utilitarian and silent people.
"We were talking by dinner, like, casual talking." Talked Hizashi, breaking from his unusual quiet persona. A huff then escaped his lips when Midoriya laughed a little and Shouta put a hand in his mouth while averting his gaze."And the topic of Midoriya's parent's arose, so here you are now and we just need to listen to the little talker, since his words are super important, so that this situation can actually make sense."
Hizashi was known for his incredible talking skills with all his pro hero and radio stuff, but watching a human just pronunciate so many words without an intake of breath was fucked up. But hey, they lived in a world where people flying or spitting acid was an everyday thing.
Everything and everyone was a little fucked up in its own way.
Anyhow, all eyes were now on Midoriya. The kid never left his coloring book unattended, but the halt in his coloring pencil was proof that he was aware of the attention on him. The adults didn't comment on the gesture since it lasted no more than one second, making the living room fall in silence and slight tension.
Now, one minute was truly short. Short as in sixty seconds, which never stop, so that the next minute comes. A minute was undoubtedly short.
But now?
Now a minute seemed to be enough to build three skyscrapers and a little more.
People didn't usually sense how much could happen in a minute, since more often than not it was a short-lived moment that didn't leave too much space to do something big.
Tsukauchi Naomasa however, just really, really, really, really missed when a minute passed in a blink.
Midoriya wasn't saying anything, changing from a green pencil to a brown one. Then to a blue one, but comparing it momentarily with the indigo and navy ones. There weren't any words coming out of the cracked, slightly dehydrated lips.
When five minutes passed like that, Naomasa could swear that he was going to take a long nap in his seat. Just a little, quick, unnoticeable nap in the cozy living room. A case involving charred suspicious people and a supposedly non-existent kid that would be a huge pain in the ass, could wait.
Just a minute.
"Cabbage, do you want to talk about it now or another time?" Asked Aizawa, covering a yawn with his right hand while looking at an anxious Yamada play with his wedding ring. "We won't force you to do anything."
The next words just made Tsukauchi sigh.
Like, hard sigh.
"I didn't know you wanted me to tell it now." Plainly stated Midoriya, blurring some indigo parts of the pre-quirk era manga in the coloring book. "I don't understand why would you stay silent and expect me to start telling my story when there are a lot of subjects you probably need to discuss."
Tsukauchi heard clearly the choked sound coming from Yamada's spot, since the audacity to laugh in those circumstances couldn't be mistaken. Aizawa would be subtle if he were to laugh at something like that. Cruel and rude, extremely rude if someone asked Tsukauchi, but subtle.
When the detective with heavy eye bags saw the silent repositioning of Midoriya so that his little body was sitting on an empty armchair, the only action he could do was rub his eyes with one hand and hold the little recorder in his pocket with the other.
He had already started to record earlier since no one but the kid in front of him knew when he would spill some useful information. However, now those valuable words would be pretty easy to catch on tape.
"Midoriya, now that I know you will talk, can I record this conversation?" He had already pushed the button to start recording. Tsukauchi was past the formalities of asking permission for something a kid should accept without trouble.
"No."
Naomasa just stared at jade eyes, not an ounce of hesitation in them.
Tsukauchi was, woah.
The detective sincerely just.
For fucking fuck's sake. Why, for rabbit's shit sake, was everything so hard? Why the hell couldn't he choose a simple career? When did he decide this path was the freaking right choice?
"Midoriya, why?!" The desperation in the deep voice broke him out of his stupor. It took Tsukauchi no less than a second to realise he was the one who had said that.
Bitten to a pulp and driven to the edge by a seven-year-old. Inasa was sure to bother him for months.
"Because I only agreed for you to hear this. Most people from the police can't be trusted, but I know you are a good person." Midoriya was fidgeting with two colour pencils, betraying his serious demeanor, unfitting with his innocent looks and every tiny freckle covering his face.
Tsukauchi knew that the kid had just said something pretty deep that probably reflected some key traits in his story and behavior, but the detective's brain was too tired to take all that information in.
So, as the respected and professional justice worker he was, a little box with all he would need to analyse later was put upon him inside his mind. Then, graciously, it went to the back of the dark space within his head and his annoyingly good memory. After that, Tsukauchi let himself think freely for a second.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Now, everything was cool again. There was only one thing left to say.
Fuck fuckydee fuck the day humans decided that smaller versions of them would be a great idea.
÷
Izuku wanted to trust these nice people, but it was impossible to do it. They were two pro heroes and a detective. Bound to a corrupt system where information would be treated to the benefit of individuals who probably didn't deserve it.
They would take advantage of the fact that he was a kid and promise and say things they didn't mean. Dad said it would be like that.
"Promise me you won't tell anyone about this." Asked Izuku, pushing the red pencil into his palm without being bothered by the sting it caused. "Promise me."
His eyes, filled with the colour of a freshly cut jade, found their way to the three adults in the living room. They all promised almost immediately, but the subtle exchange of gestures between Aizawa and Tsukauchi when he averted his gaze to the colours again, told Izuku how little they could be trusted.
Izuku didn't blame them. It was what he learned people acted like.
It didn't make his chest and cheeks hurt a little less. His teeth seemed to be enjoying his inner cheek as if it was a feast.
Izuku was disappointed and his body was pretty sensitive to his emotions.
However, he was going to tell a story. The one he remembered.
÷
There was a knock coming from the door.
Izuku, having looked at how his mother would always open the door to those who knocked, decided to be useful and help his parents.
When the door opened and the chilly breeze fought for space with the warm atmosphere inside the apartment, a tall and thin body appeared in front of the four-year-old. It was a man who dressed casually, not covering his skin and letting anyone observant enough, look at the translucent limbs. It was as if the guy was made out of crystal.
A mutant type quirk that made the skin look like translucide crystal. It probably had an impact in the resistance or pain tolerance of the person, be it minimize or maximizing it. Izuku couldn't rule out the possibility that it was just a superficial trait that didn't hace much influence, changing only the appearance of the organism as a whole.
The green eyes could outshine the sun at that very exact moment. It was the first time he had seen someone different from his parents up close after all!
Questions bottled up one after the other, just like a giant waterfall, and Izuku couldn't do anything more than start patting his leg repeatedly. It was just, too much! Too much information and excitement and curiosity building up inside that tiny body!
However, the greenette could only imprint all those new and invigorating questions on the mental notebook he had created for when there wasn't a physical one around.
His mom took those thoughts away when she almost tackled him and carried him to the laundry room as if the very same Satan had been chasing after them.
Then she shut the door.
Izuku couldn't see anything more than the faint light coming from the space the wooden door couldn't fill. His green eyes could make out the shadows of people moving in the living room. He had to check out if his parents were still awake every night after all.
The clothes however, the sweaters and suits hanging around in the small space were adding to his nerves. Izuku didn't like it when his mom took him suddenly. Izuku didn't like it when people touched him without consent. He came to know that since, when the men in black once tried to touch his shoulder or his mom wanted to caress his cheek, it was like his whole body was electrified.
Every. Single. Pore. Filled with electricity that he couldn't release. It was like hanging on to an electrical cord without the copper to protect it, no one there to tell him to keep it in his hands, but without an option to leave it be either.
And so, there he was. Getting electrified in the laundry room with sweaters and suits, seeing how his parents and some stranger's shadows were the only sign of movement in the dark room.
His hands, punching his head as if it was a door, helped him momentarily so that his body could lie right next to the wooden door separating him from the strange meeting happening in the living room. His ear could sense the light breeze coming from the minuscule space that let the light in.
Izuku's skin was burning. Every single part of him wanted to jump to a different direction and it was driving him crazy. Izuku needed calm. Izuku needed something to make that itching sensation go away. His hands could only do so much by rubbing through the fabric of his pants.
Izuku needed something. Please.
Please. His mom. Father. They should have found him by now.
Why weren't they looking for Izuku? He needed them. So why would they talk calmly to the strangers in their house while Izuku was burning?
"... does he need? This is the last step, right? We will soon get to Omelas, right? We have made it all right." A nervous voice was loud enough to shake Izuku's mind out of his poor state, stepping just in front of the laundry room for a second, just before going back to what should have been the large sofa.
"This is indeed the last step."
Dad! Dad is going to help! That was Dad's voice! When he realised Izuku wasn't in his room, he would come for his kid.
"You need to hand over your strongbox first." That was someone else's voice. It was rough and devoid of emotion. Just like the black suited men. "Pass through here and you'll then be stripped of the strongbox. You'll afterwards be automatically transported to Omelas."
Jade eyes shined slightly in the dark room, tugging some hair strands while focusing on the noises from outside the small space Izuku was in. His limbs were still numb and the stickiness on his cheeks tempted him to start pinching his face. However, he now had something to focus on.
Dad told him how important gathering information was, and now that was exactly what the freckled kid was doing.
"Thank you! Oh my god, we're truly grateful, from the bottom of our hearts!" The same nervous and desperate voice now filled the heavy silence present in the living room, accompanied with the sound of people walking. Izuku could make out three people, all of them with soft and indecisive steps.
Then, Izuku picked up a totally new noise. It made his body twitch, painfully reminding him that he wasn't totally recovered from whatever his brain had caused in his body.
Shoop.
Like a heavy wind breeze crashing into slime. Almost unnoticeable, but just as clear as crystalline water.
That sound.
Izuku couldn't get enough of that new noise. It had been just so amazing! His hands were shaking, bearing the remaining burning sensation, trying to get all of his childish excitement out of the freckled organism.
It was only after hearing hurried footsteps and watching as the shadows disappeared, that Izuku could make out the violent breathing in his living room. Just like a scared animal would sound the moment they encountered the eyes of death. The child couldn't quite concentrate on it, when sudden screams came out of somewhere on the other side of the door.
Goosebumps.
That was the first time Izuku got goosebumps.
He had heard screaming from Dad's tapes, but they weren't nearly similar to the real wails of a human.
There was no 'shoop'. There was no more conversation or negotiations. Just screams.
Begging for mercy.
Begging for someone to kill them.
Begging for whoever that was doing something to them, would spare their little kid.
Izuku listened for what seemed to be one hour, knowing that every minute was adding suffering to whoever it was that came and left his parent's living room. The child couldn't see anything past his short streched arm, making every cry for help even louder than it actually was.
His eardrums started to hurt. His head. His eyes.
Then nothing.
Nothing.
Shoop.
His head moved involuntarily, ending in him hitting himself with the floor. Excitement and panic was building up inside that little body, and the same naive kid who opened the door to a pretty cool person, was now locked in the laundry room wothout any light or help.
His parents were in the living room. Just one door and two steps away from their child.
But no one said anything. No one moved.
Nothing could be heard but the echoes of the family they had sent to their death.
Izuku took deep breaths, just like he had read in a medicine book his mother had left by accident in the hall. The kid was trying hard to regain control of his numb body when glass breaking filled the previously quiet atmosphere.
"What are you doing!?" Screamed Mom. Izuku scratched his cheek accidentally, but it didn't hurt at all. It seemed someone was walking through the broken glass on the floor.
"What am I doing!?" Exclaimed Dad, not using his 'inside voice', making Izuku's head hurt. "You ask me what am I doing, when we just saw how that family suffered after being in literal heaven when they saw an out of this craphole?!"
"What are you trying to say?" Inquired eerily Mom, without any change in her tone that indicated what she was feeling. Dad had been teaching him how to tell people's mood and intention by their voice tone, but his mother was a case they hadn't reviewed.
Izuku was trying to understand what his mother wanted to convey when some furniture was aggressively pushed, and the greenette couldn't help but cover his face and throat. He had learned Dad pushed things before hitting.
"It is your fault we're here, you cursed woman!" Yelled the hoarse voice, scaring Izuku and making him lose the little sensation he had regained in his legs. "Had I not freaking married you we wouldn't have to lure innocent people like twisted psychos!"
"Oh! Well, that's just perfect, right? I am the bad guy." Sarcasm. It had been difficult at the start, identifying when people were being sarcastic that is, but Dad had walked him through it. Mom was being sarcastic. "Well, that's just perfect, because then you don't have to assume responsibility for getting involved with Him!
Your sorry and cowardly ass can't take that those kids are fucking learning what is like to get their hearts ripped out, is your and only your fault!"
"What… What bullshit are you spitting?!" These were shrieks. Dad was losing his voice, but the anger in him appeared to be fiercer than the deadliest weapon on Earth. "I was the one that saved us. I saved us. I did. I did while you did shit! You did nothing! You were useless and still are!"
"How is this saving us, you scum?! How does isolating our kid and killing people make you a saviour? Because please tell me. I can't imagine how much wisdom I am losing without your enlightenment, oh great warrior!"
"Shut up!"
"I won't shut up."
"Shut up bitch! The only thing you did right was getting pregnant!" Izuku had almost chewed all his inner cheek when Dad lowered his voice, saying something for the first time that didn't involve screaming. "And even that you almost screwed up."
"Say that again bastard!" Izuku heard how some crystals were further eebroken. Mom had probably pushed Dad. "Don't pretend to love our child when you only see him as your shitty revenge! Don't come and say I almost screwed up my baby when you are the one who pushed us to isolate him from the whole world!" Mom tried to catch her breath.
"You have the nerve to call him your baby? Yours? Really?" Dad seemed to be tired? It was a mix of sarcasm with tiredness and anger? How were there so many emotions? It was confusing. "You don't care a bit about Izuku. You don't give a shit about him. You just feel guilty that you couldn't kill yourself after knowing you were pregnant!"
"I would have killed you first Hisashi." Mom was now slightly sobbing, seemingly trying to control her breathing and keeping her voice from cracking. "You were miserable. We were miserable and I couldn't bear to see us like this. So yeah! I got freaking pregnant so that we were a little bit less miserable.
And you know what happened, Hisashi? You know? Don't you dare interrupt me now! What happened is that you took our kid, and trained him to be a weapon. You went and put him in his bedroom, so that he would only serve as something to fulfill your poor and pathetic expectations of getting out of this alive and finally live how you wanted to.
You did just that. You turned your son into a weapon only you can use. So you should really find some time alone, and think who the real bad guy is between the two of us."
Muffled sobs and heavy breathing went and took over the scene Izuku's parents had just made. They spent maybe two or three minutes like that, not saying anything. Maybe they were finished? Could he ask Dad to take him out of the laundry room now? Izuku thought to himself.
"Why?" Whispered Dad. Vulnerable and broken. Just like that last movie they had studied in the morning.
"Why what?!" Yawped Mom, maybe trying to hide that she was about to cry.
"Why would you get pregnant? Especially when we were struggling to find food for ourselves? When we had just signed a crontact with the very same devil?"
"Because…" Mom paused, sniffled and took a deep breath. "Because I wanted to be your everything Hisashi."
"I wanted to be your everything, and you treated me like nothing."
÷
Izuku was tired. He yawned and looked at the clock on the wall.
09:13 PM.
In seventeen minutes he was supposed to be back in his room. These past two days he had been too tired to follow his routine, but now that he had more energy and was technically conscious for more than straight five hours, it was starting to bother him.
His pine-like eyes came back to the complicated expression in the detective's face. Then they travelled to the couch where Aizawa and Hizashi were sitting and found a poker face and tired green eyes.
Izuku was sorry. He didn't want them to feel bad. He had only told this part of the story so that his parents wouldn't have to deal with people talking bad and false stuff about them.
"I'm sorry." Izuku finally pronounced, painfully aware of his voice volume, and bowed deeply before the three grown-ups. He had given them the information they needed, and now he could keep his guard low. Be honest with them.
"Little talker! Hey!" Enthusiastically but quietly, Hizashi kneeled before the kid and looked at his avoiding gaze. "Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong. You just need to rest and we will handle everything else. Whad'ya' say, little talker?"
Ths Hizashi in front of him was trying to look him directly in the eye. It was annoying.
But he was also giving him a choice, by his gestures and tone, an honest one. Izuku felt weird. Like a deep but gentle pressure had settled in his body.
So Izuku awkwardly nodded his head and went to his temporary room accompanied by the blonde man. Of course, the short and young human bowed to the detective as a goodbye. He had seen people doing that in movies.
Fifteen minutes later, he was in a different pajamas and tucked in bed.
Hizashi had left and Ray was napping by the feet of the bed. It was a half past nine and he was in bed, so his mind was centered in how the dim light from outside the room showed only one lamp left and one last person in the hall.
Why was the shadow of the unmoving person in front of his door? Was it the detective? Did they decide to take him away?
Izuku's pupils shrank and his body was ready to take his backpack and Ray just before jumping out of the window in a second if the one waiting on the other side was not Aizawa or Hizashi.
"Cabbage, can I pass?" Spoke Aizawa's slightly raised voice, asking without any hint of planning something like giving him to the police.
"Yes, Mister Aizawa."
The door opened slightly, showing the silhouette of a black haired man with Flake napping on his shoulder.
Silence ensued.
Two figures analysing each other. Two cats living their best life. Quite a scene.
"Are you ready to sleep? You comfortable?" Inquired Aizawa, touching his jaw, seemingly uninterested in what happened to the kid.
"Yes sir." Nodded Izuku, looking at the cat sleeping in the broad shoulders of Aizawa. Maybe he could do that with Ray.
"Hm." Aizawa didn't speak for a while. Maybe he was just checking that he hadn't scaped? Izuku thought it was possible. Of course, until the adult opened his mouth again. *Cabbage, thank you for telling us the truth earlier. It mustn't have been easy."
Izuku then nodded. Was Aizawa really thanking him?
"Good night." The quiet man was about to leave and close the door behind him, but before, he turned around briefly. "You can drop the sir thing. Too formal for my taste." Then he went away.
Izuku heard the door closing and pondered the last words said to him. What meant to 'drop the sir thing'? He couldn't drop a word or a thing he couldn't hold, so knowing Aizawa had said it was 'too formal for his taste' meant that adressing him as sir annoyed him. Maybe to drop something meant to not do it anymore? But why would he need to say it like that when it was clearer to say Aizawa didn't liked to be called 'sir'?
Izuku sighed.
Humans were exhausting and complex.
He just wanted to sleep.
Of course, he didn't forget the 'thanking him for his honesty part'. Aizawa didn't know, but Izuku never said your welcome or related stuff. It wasn't as if he was doing them a favor.
"It wasn't as if I was telling them the truth." Izuku whispered to himself.
He had to remember what Dad had taught him. He repeated it to himself so that it felt as if he had done the right thing.
"It's better to tell a half truth than a full lie, because then people won't trust you. You need people to trust you. Just don't trust them."