Chapter Text
People were starting to get stabby. It wasn’t their fault; with the summer heat came the summer crazy. They were no more protected from it than from the winter chill still fading from their bones.
Still, it was an inconvenience. It was hard to get customers when they were worried about perforated organs and stolen wallets. But Izuku was patient and the nights were still cold. They would come to him drawn by the promise of shelter and heat, and sure enough, a man with no shoes arrived just as late afternoon set in.
“I want a dog.” Said the man. His long hair draped over hopeless eyes. He was probably Quirkless. Most of Akatani was.
“Can you pay?” Izuku asked. The man nodded. “How long?”
“Just a night.” Said the bum. “I ain’t got much.” He reached into his greasy jacket and pulled out an ancient cigarette lighter. Izuku took it and held it up to the light to see how much fluid was left. Not much. Not nearly enough. The man probably knew that, and he shifted on his feet with his eyes stuck to the ground.
He was pitiful. Izuku’s customers always were. Lucky for them the Innkeeper was soft.
Izuku whistled and a large gray dog blinked and rose from where he lay in a sunbeam. He padded over to sniff the man’s hand. “Kaz will show you the way.” Izuku said, and the man’s face lit up in surprise. “He’ll take care of you, but I want you gone by morning. Understood?” The man nodded vigorously.
“I will be.” His voice trembled. “I’ll be long fucking gone I swear.”
Izuku lamented his own bleeding heart. This was exactly why people always tried to move in on his territory; he was too fucking nice. He sighed and waved at Kaz, telling him to take his client and go.
When they rounded the corner Izuku yawned and stretched. More customers might show up, but the sun was setting and he didn’t want to waste the daylight by holding out for lazy strays. Everyone knew where to find him; his humble “inn” was marked by a trail of green ribbons painstakingly lain through the labyrinth of garbage. Plus the goddamn dogs. Everywhere you stepped, a goddamn dog.
He resolved to wait another ten minutes before heading home. When no one showed, predictably, he stood, lit up a cigarette and went to feed his employees. Smoking was disgusting. It made Izuku feel like a burnt-out fireplace. But, it was how some liked to pay him so he said fuck it and had a puff every now and again. (Plus it didn’t hurt to have a surplus of cigarettes in a place like Akatani.)
“C’mon, guys,” He called to the dogs still basking in the dirt. “Time to go home.” Lazy groans and the creaking of joints followed him as he began the trek back to base. He smiled as wet noses bumped his hands warm bodies brushed his legs.
To get to the den, Izuku and the pack had to alternate between climbing and spelunking. The Akatani Landfill was a vast wilderness of twisted metal and metropolitan waste; great for scavenging, tough for living in. One had to be careful not to catch skin on a rusty spike or get caught in an avalanche of trash. It took a devilish mixture of hopelessness and skill to survive here, and Izuku was pathetically talented.
To a homeless kid with literally two dollars to his name, the rusted husk of a bus he and the dogs called home was a fucking castle. He’d filled it with pillows and sheets and all manner of Soft Things mined from the mountains of trash (which took more time than Izuku cared to admit. Akatani was famous not for its coziness but rather the unending misery and lingering stench). Not to mention the metric fuckton of dogbeds. So what if they were ripped? City dogs were too fucking pampered if their owners just threw away their beds at the first sign of damage.
Geraldine saw them coming from the “stoop” (which was just two cinderblocks with a welcome mat) and wagged her tail in greeting. She was a golden retriever in a past life, and hints of the energetic dog she once was shone through from time to time. Geraldine had probably lived in Akatani for longer than Izuku had been alive. She’d helped Mimi take care of him when he was little, and Izuku loved her a lot.
He grinned and cupped her patchy jowls, kissing her head good and loud. “Good afternoon, m’lady.” Izuku greeted. “How was guard duty?” Geraldine whined as if to say, "It was boring as fuck" which made Izuku chuckle. "Anything fun happen while I was gone?" It was rare, but looters had managed to find the den before. What was left of them was buried under a microwave a few yards away. The dog looked at him with intelligent eyes and dipped her head; nothing to report.
Geraldine woofed low and creakily got to her feet. Izuku followed her inside - all the way to the back of the bus where the emergency doors opened up into a compacted trash cave that served as the main den for Izuku and the pack. It had smelled awful when Izuku was young, but years had smoothed the walls into something less jagged, and the air was kept clear by ventilation and strategically placed car fresheners. The whole space was lit by pink and gold faerie lights Izuku had used actual money to buy, which gave the den a sort of ethereal glow.
Izuku was pretty fucking proud of it - of his home. He'd blistered his hands to build it, fought tooth and nail to protect it, all so he and his dogs could live in relative peace among the existential horror that was Akatani.
Izuku was immediately set upon by twenty yipping dogs overjoyed at his return. Getting tackled nearly knocked the wind out of him, but he just laughed and pushed their faces away from his, scratching ears and rubbing bellies where he could. Climbing back to his feet, he ducked into the side cave that was the whelping room. There were only two litters, which was surprising, because usually springtime hit and the dogs fell madly in love (something which grossed Izuku out to the extreme and drove him to sleep outside even on the coldest of nights) which lead to throngs of new additions to the pack.
Geraldine lead him to a caramel-colored lab named Sally. Her newborns wriggled and whined against her belly, still red with afterbirth, and Izuku melted. Puppies were always the highlight of Izuku's day.
Carefully, respectfully, Izuku held out his hand for Sally to sniff. New moms are strange; dogs he’s known for years have snapped at him and growled until he left them alone. It all depended on the dog. But Sally was a friend. She was Mimi’s, just like Izuku was. And so she pressed her exhausted muzzle into his hand and groaned contentedly. Smiling at her permission, he reached out to run his fingertips over the slick coat of a jet black pup who wailed for all he was worth.
Jet. Jet was a good name. “Hello, Jet.”