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He stepped silently, weaving his way through the cramped halls in a dance that only he knew. People parted like water, providing him perfect currents to duck through. Izuku moved quickly and efficiently, but it was never enough.
Even as the crowd thinned, escape plans shot through his mind like an over-excited flock of birds. In mere moments, Midoriya had managed to escape the crowd, and arrive at the school’s back exit.
He could’ve risked going the more populated route, but that could lead to people ganging up on him, and Izuku wasn’t in the mood for that. Besides, no one ever left through the back anyway.
Usually.
Unfortunately, the universe was hellbent on proving Midoriya wrong.
An explosion sounded off next to Deku’s head, sending sparks flying into his face. A few landed on his cheeks, dotting them with burning pinpricks of pain. The force of the explosion sent Midoriya flying to the side, slamming him into a nearby wall with a loud thump.
Rubbing his ears, which were now filled with a high pitched ringing sound, Izuku flinched as a new sound exploded into a louder volume in his mind.
One of these days, I’m going to kill him. A voice hissed, laced with venom.
Shut up, Echo. Deku mentally grumbled. Of course, this would do no good, as Echo never shut up.
Echo was one of Izuku’s many daily hindrances. His quirk.
Echo wasn’t even supposed to be possible. He was nothing at all close to either of his parents’ quirks. This was because, technically, Echo wasn’t really a quirk. He was Deku’s twin brother. Was being the key word.
Before they were born, something ended up causing the two to fuse together. Some doctors theorized that Deku would’ve been quirkless had they not fused, others thought that he might have a quirk similar to Inko’s which involved drawing objects or people towards him, while Echo would probably have the same quirk he actually had.
Oh, yeah. Another one of Izuku’s daily annoyances. He didn’t have any powers, while his psycho twin that liked to posses him did. And wasn’t it just his luck that he could turn into a human torch?
From what Deku could understand, Echo drew in heat from around him and used it to raise his body temperature. If it was hot enough out, or if there was fire near him, he would breathe flames. If it wasn’t, which was true most of the time, he could cough up some smoke.
Theoretically, Izuku could do the same. After all, they shared a body, which meant that his body could draw in heat and combust, but, for some reason, it had just never worked for him.
Which was extremely unfortunate, because spitting fire would probably have been extremely helpful in the situation he was in.
“What’re you doing here, Deku?” Katsuki spat, a malicious grin on his face.
Deku kept his mouth sealed shut, glueing his gaze to the floor as he shouldered past Bakugou. Fear leaped into his throat, but he firmly shoved it down. There was a time and a place for fear. This wasn’t one of them.
I could probably take care of him. All you have to do is give me control, and I could light him up. Echo purred, excited with even the idea of injuring Katsuki.
I shouldn’t have to tell you why setting people on fire is a bad idea. Izuku snapped back.
A hand shot out and grabbed him by the shoulder. Small explosions went off, singing the fabric of his shirt. More pinpricks of pain wormed their way up Izuku’s arm. He flinched, much to his own dissatisfaction.
Don’t show that your in pain. The only place that gets you is bruise-ville. He firmly reminded himself.
Bruise-ville? Really? You couldn’t come up with anything more creative than that? Echo grumbled.
Deku ignored him, instead focusing on assessing his escape routes. If he went straight down the alleyway, it would be easy for Bakugou to catch up to him, but if he managed to escape into the crowded city streets, he might make it out without a scratch. Clambering up the a wall was also an option, climbing being something Izuku became practiced at over the years, but, then again, Katsuki could fly. Running back into the school could work if Izuku ran into one of the friendlier teachers, but they were few and far between.
Straight it is.
Izuku swatted Bakugou’s hand away, his scowl deepening. A single thought popped into his mind. Distraction.
“Oi, where are you going, Deku?” Katsuki said smugly, a smirk twisting the sides of his mouth upwards.
A spark of fear shot off in Izuku’s chest, but it was quickly quenched. ‘Not now.
“Nowhere. Just debating whether or not I should let you and Echo have a little talk.” Deku leered, his voice taking on a strange, silky aspect.
I must be rubbing off on you. You sound just like me. Echo observed, his tone sly.
Not the time, Echo. Izuku hissed impatiently.
Katsuki stiffened. His eyes narrowed as he spat, “Excuse me?”
“Oh, you heard me perfectly well.” Deku purred, in a tone that was all too similar to the tone of Echo when playing a game of cat and mouse. A calm tone, filled with teasing, all with the underlying threat of danger.
He shook Kacchan’s hand off, and walked down the alleyway, trying his best to stay calm. Katsuki stayed behind him, frozen in some strange mix between anger and wariness.
Bakugou had only met Echo two times.
The first was the day he pushed Izuku off the edge. Deku ended up losing control and Echo stepped up to the plate. At the time, Katsuki didn’t know anything about Echo’s quirk, and he was stupid enough to set off an explosion right next to him. Echo instantly combusted, giving Kacchan a burn that he wouldn’t forget anytime soon, seeing as it left a scar the size of an orange on his forearm.
The second was the following day, in which Bakugou found Izuku and proceeded beat Echo out of him. The two ended up locked in a wrestling match. Kacchan didn’t use his quirk, and ended up knocking Echo out, along with Deku due to the whole “sharing a body” thing.
Katsuki had the brains to know to be careful around Echo ever since then. Unfortunately, he also had the brains to know that Izuku would rather get beat up than give Echo control.
After a few moments, Deku lost his gamble.
“Get back here you piece of shit!” Bakugou barked, bursting into a sprint.
Instantly Izuku did the same, darting down the alleyway as if his life depended on it.
Thing is, someone propelled by nitroglycerin fueled explosions moves a lot faster than a kid on foot. Barely even a second passed before Katsuki rammed into Deku, throwing them both to the floor.
He quickly pinned the greenette, and raised a hand threateningly above his face. “Wanna say that again, you damn nerd?” Bakugou growled, his voice edged with venom.
Fear rose in the back of Izuku’s mind, enveloping him in it’s choking embrace. Resigning himself to his fate, Deku fell into it. He froze.
Bakugou grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, screaming a string of curses and insults. Inside his mind, Echo was screaming back at him, only adding more noise to the din. A burst of flames flew into existence inches away from his face, causing pain to explode across his cheeks.
Deku was dimly aware of the fact that he was shaking.
A fist briefly came into view before connecting with his face. Pain and fear howled within his mind, tearing at one another just as the tore at Izuku. Six more times, the fist appeared. Six more times, there was a flash and a bang as Katsuki finished each blow with a burst of heat. Six more times, the fist flashed backwards after delivering a collection of bruises and burns to Deku.
Finally, tears of pain welled up in his eyes. Bakugou caught sight of them quickly. With a sneer, he chucked Izuku downwards, sending him sliding into the wall behind him.
After a few departing kicks, punches, explosions, and threats, Katsuki disappeared down the alleyway, leaving Izuku to wallow in silence.
Shouto never took much notice of the boy. He just always seemed so... unremarkable.
He knew a grand total of three things about him.
One. He sat in the back corner of class. During homeroom, when most other students might be talking, or goofing off, he sat and wrote in his mysterious journal. The only sound that Shouto ever heard coming from his direction was muttering.
Two. He moved about silently, in a practiced way. When the bell rang for class to end, he was already packed up, with his backpack strung onto his shoulders. Then, in the blink of an eye, he always would disappear out the door. Shouto wouldn’t doubt if someone told him that the kid was on a track team. He could take off at a moment’s notice.
Three. He looked broken. He walked with a certain tiredness. The kind of tiredness of someone who has simply given up. Given up on the world just as the world had given up on them. His mouth was permanently set in a subdued scowl. And his eyes... they were so empty. One was an emerald green pool of sorrow, while the second was amber, the color of a glowing ember that was just losing it’s spark.
Shouto didn’t even know his name, yet here he was, slumped against the wall with bruises not dissimilar to his own painting his body black and blue.
Shouto bit his lip. He did have a first aid kit, and might be able to patch him up. And Enji was expecting him home late today because he needed to talk to one of his teacher’s about making up a test (Shouto was absent the previous week because Enji had given him a black eye, and he couldn’t have his son running around with proof that his father beat him). In reality, Shouto had made the whole test up because Momo was in desperate need of a “wingman” because of some cute girl she met.
But Momo wouldn’t be mad if he stopped to help someone along the way.
Tentatively, Shouto crouched in front of the boy. He was curled inwardly, with his knees hugged tightly to his chest and head tucked into his arms. His school uniform was burnt on the shoulder, turning it to a more charred texture. Now that he was closer, he could see that a number of what he thought were bruises were actually dark burns, which he found just made the entire situation that much worse in his eyes.
“Hello?” He asked, his tone cautious.
A solid ten seconds passed while the boy didn’t respond. Eventually, a watery green eye peeked at him from beneath dark tangles of hair. It regarded him warily, suspicion shining behind it’s pupil. The silence pressed down on Shouto, making him want to squirm under it’s analytical gaze, but he stayed still, staring back levelly.
After a long moment of the awkwardness mounting, a small voice croaked out of the mess of hair. “Leave.” The tone was quiet, and subdued, but underneath it there was a raw anger that tore at the speaker’s throat, mangling the word ever so slightly.
Shouto swallowed as sweat dripped down the back of his neck. This wasn’t going well...
Steeling himself, he tried again. “Are you okay? You’re injured.”
He snorted, causing the pile of hair to wave slightly. “No shit, Sherlock.” He grumbled, a small hint of humor glimmering in his tone as he lifted his head. Shouto had to hold back a gasp. The kid’s left eye was swollen shut, and both were badly bruised. His face was dotted with small burns, and his nose was pouring blood. The kid couldn’t look worse if he got run over by a car. At least Enji avoided bruising anything that couldn’t be covered. Apparently whatever, or whoever, had done this to him had no such qualms.
“I’ve got a first aid kit if-“
“I’m gonna stop you there.” He said, his tone holding no room for argument. “You don’t want to help me.” His voice felt empty as he stood up, brushing himself off along the way. “Trust me.” The two words held far too much power. They rang outwards in a terribly final way, making Shouto reconsider continuing.
His legs shook as he stood, and all of his movements were dulled from pain. His steps were wobbly and uncertain. After the first few steps he flinched, as if struck by lightning. “Fuck!” He howled, slumping against the wall once again.
Shouto shot upwards, reaching out a hand to catch him in case he fell. Immediately, the greenette took three steps backwards, placing as little weight as possible on his right leg.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Shouto blurted quickly, throwing his hands in the air in a makeshift sigh of peace. The kid flinched as if he had just put a gun to his head. Gulping, he hesitantly stopped backing up.
Slowly, very slowly, Shouto shouldered his backpack and placed it gently on the ground, then opened it. He winced at the loud sound of the zipper echoing about the silent alleyway, which caused the greenette to jump slightly. His throat felt dry as he sifted through his bag, eventually pulling out a small first aid kit contained in a ziplock bag. He vaguely gestured for the kid to sit down. Thankfully, he seemed to under stand what he wanted, and warily sat down in front of Shouto, wincing slightly as he did.
The split-haired teen popped open his first aid kit, and grabbed an ice pack, which had mostly melted due to being stuck in his backpack he entire day. Passing it to his left hand, he cooled it for a minute or two. Meanwhile, the greenette watched the icepack stiffen with subdued curiosity. Shouto held the icepack out to the kid, who, after a moment of consideration, slowly took it, keeping his eyes glued to his face the entire time.
Gently, he pressed it to his cheek. His entire body relaxed slightly and he closed his eyes, breathing in the relief that the cold brought.
Shouto silently grabbed some gauze and began to unravel the roll. The kid sent him a suspicious look, so he sighed and briefly explained, “Compression helps bruises. Hold out your arm.” He hesitated, but ultimately resigned to roll up his sleeve and stick his arm out, which was dotted with black and blue splotches.
Shouto worked wordlessly, quickly wrapping the boy’s arms in gauze, along with a large bruise towards his ankle, which explained why he was having trouble walking. He, unfortunately, didn’t have anything that would help with burning (you would think his quirk would, but every time he tried to use it to help his burns, they ended up hurting a lot more), so, after he had patched up the kid as best he could, the two began to walk home.
The greenette seemed marginally more comfortable around Shouto after that, but the two still ended up walking most of the way home with a blanket of silence hanging over them. Along the way, questions bounced around Shouto’s mind, but it felt to rude to outright ask him how he got injured.
Eventually, the silence became too much to bear, and Shouto had to break it. “So... you’re in my homeroom, ...right?” He asked, his tone uncertain.
“Yeah.” The kid answered, his voice monotone, even a bit bored.
“What’s your name?”
He hesitated for a moment, before begrudgingly replying, “Izuku.”
Shouto paused for a moment, before tilting his head and replying, “Shouto.”
The two managed to hold a short, monosyllabic conversation before once again dropping into silence.
Soon enough they arrived at the train station, where they were forced to separate to board their trains. Just before they parted, a quiet voice sounded from Izuku’s mouth. “Do you want to... ha-hang out some time?” He asked hesitantly.
A small smile pulled at the edges of Shouto’s lips. “Sure.”