Chapter Text
“It’s no good” sighed Shigaraki. “We’ve played with it beyond repair, yet this fucking NPC won’t change!” He looked down in disgust at the smiling figure sprawled on the floor, violently twitching in their unnatural position, their limbs spread in ways that could only be achieved with multiple broken bones and joints.
“We need to go Shigaraki,” Kurogiri murmured from behind him, more visibly irritated than he’d appeared to be in a long time. That was understandable; they’d wasted months on this project, just to somehow be tracked down from the USJ attack last month, leaving them with no choice but to ditch this failed attempt in order to ensure their own escape. This was not the satisfying ending Shigaraki wanted, in fact it left the taste of blood and bile in the back of his throat. But there was no point continuing with this little ‘experiment’.
“Don’t bother hiding it Kurogiri. That shitty Eraserhead is too observant to not find it, and there’s nothing to be done about the blood…” Shigaraki glanced around the bar, cringing slightly at the blood spewing from the young boy’s thin, trembling body onto the floor. There was no salvaging that carpet or hiding the evidence. “On the bright side, I doubt this character will say anything that will help the heroes if they attempt to interrogate it. In fact,” Shigaraki leered as he leaned down to have one final look at the victim’s haggard, bloody face, four fingers lifting up the limp yet spasming figure by the chin, “I doubt it will say anything that makes sense ever again! Its coding is completely glitched!”
“Shigaraki.” Kurogiri repeated, his dark wisps flaring up as his words practically dripped with annoyance, “We need to go! I know you like to play with your…“unsolvable puzzle” over there, but the boy can’t be used for his original purpose at this point! He’s worthless to us! Now come here now, the erasure hero could be here any second!”
“Ugh, fine….” Shigaraki sighed again, dropping the broken toy back into the increasing pool of blood and sauntering over to Kurogiri’s side, sliding his finger along the spotless bar table for what could be the last time as he slowly placed one foot in front of the other. “Take us to master, I suppose.”
In an instant a black swirling pool of darkness opened beneath them, swallowing them and leaving the room completely empty. Completely empty except for the underweight figure lying in the centre in the room, left there to smile, laugh and mutter to himself as the puddle of blood surrounding him continued to grow.
-__-
Aizawa Shouta clenched his teeth together, suppressing the urge to groan as shooting pains shot down his back into his legs. Recovery Girl was a miracle worker, but even she couldn’t completely undo all the damage that had been inflicted on him at the USJ in less than a month. He couldn’t miss this mission though, he had to take down those fuckers who dared try to hurt his students. One of them had even pulled out of his class after receiving severe injuries to their arms from that Noumu creature. It was a shame really, they’d had decent potential with a quirk that allowed them to manipulate light into different weapons. They had great technique; it was just a shame that their inhumane opponent could snap their weapons faster than they could make them…
He couldn’t let the League get away with that. Plus the mission was simple enough for him to not push himself: most of the League had been taken down during the attack with only the ringleaders escaping. There was backup outside in case the League had a trick up their sleeves, including Best Jeanist, Endeavor… and All Might himself. Shouta felt his headache increase – there was nothing that worsened his pains more than thinking about that lumbering obnoxious oaf teaching his students – the fool could barely look after himself, let alone a classroom of powerful teenagers. How he ended up the number one hero was beyond Aizawa, though he guessed it was more or less because of his flashy quirk and charismatic exterior.
As Shouta turned the corner, his heartbeat quickened in pace when his eyes came across a small figure lying on the ground. This was the first person he had come across so far since entering the building, and he didn’t seem to be readying for a fight. Was this a trap? Did the League know they were coming and prepared to lower the heroes guard? Maybe the (boy? It looked like a boy from here…was that a school uniform?) person on the floor was stronger than he looked? Shouta activated his quirk on the figure, just in case…nothing happened, the person (definitely a boy, it was clearer the closer he got) wasn’t using his quirk (were his limbs meant to be positioned like that?). He continued to cautiously creep closer to the shuddering boy, now peering around the rest of the room in case this was an ambush (the blood seeping out around the boy mixed with the sinking feeling in his chest told him otherwise – this kid was clearly malnourished and injured). Soon he found himself standing directly above the boy, and the sight he saw made his entire body stiffen up as if the cogs that kept him moving had suddenly had a knife thrown into it, screeching to a halt as the knife scraped along the protesting cogs.
Shouta had thought that the kid’s body was going to be the most horrifying thing he saw that night. He had been wrong. The face on the child was…wrong. Nothing about it matched the situation: despite the gauntness and paleness on the face, a massive smile was plastered on. It wasn’t a happy smile, it was more like each corner of his mouth had been pulled taut, just to then be stapled in place, making it impossible for the mouth to relax, the unnatural smile completed with the coating of blood on his molars. It put Aizawa’s own ‘sadist smile’ to shame. Then there were his eyes: how could Shouta react to those? Those putrid green eyes shouldn’t look like that, both distant and hyper focused, both empty and full of emotion, both gleaming with joyful insanity and shadowed with absolute primal fear. Accessorised with bags that more than rivalled Shouta’s own just added to the wriggling that took place in Shouta’s organs as he continued to look into the rancid depths of those haunted eyes, the only thought racing through his head being how wrong wrong wrong this was. No child should possibly be able to look like this, it should be impossible!
Aizawa later reasoned with himself that this fear made it perfectly understandable that when the boy jolted particularly violently and let an abrupt giggle slide out from between his bared teeth, Shouta leaped from his position over the boy to the polished surface of the bar, hissing as a jolt of pain spread from his hip down to his right knee (the pain at least helped distract him from the clench of his stomach as he looked down to see his shoes covered in the boy's blood, the issue not being the substance but who it came from), followed by him shouting "Hey, stay where you are!”.
The boy (if you could even call it that) didn't attempt anything; he just continued to lie there, giggling through clenched teeth while murmuring to himself, continuously flinching and jolting around in the surrounding blood, the slapping sound of his twitching limbs against the liquid surrounding him nauseatingly reminding Aizawa of a fish out of water.
He decided to use this moment to analyse this person (can't be a person a person doesn't look like that): he appeared to be young, definitely a student, probably around the age of 12, though that just could be because of the obvious malnourishment. He also didn't seem to be bleeding out as badly as initially thought due to a lot of the blood on his figure looking crusted and dry from most likely older scars. However, the amount of fresher blood on the floor indicates he's been bleeding out for a while, and those arms and legs were definitely not meant to be like that (neither was the face the face!). The rest of him was seemingly clean, the too pale skin tainted grey clinging to his bones as if it might fall off his it loosened. This skin tone only added to the monstrous impression his face made, draining the life out of the figure before him. The hair was also clean, Aizawa noted. It was overgrown and knotted, but not as matted as it should be considering the state of his clothes, and apart from the blood soaking the bottom of his head there seemed to be little to no grime in the hair, letting the dark green sheen of his locks glow in the light from the dim overhead-
Wait. Dark green hair? Shouta thought process stopped dead in it's tracks. It couldn't be...could it? Shouta quickly recited what he remembered on that case: dark green hair, check. Green eyes, jarringly different from the old picture he'd been given, but check. Was fourteen, would be fifteen by now, could possibly be the case with this kid? Freckles, yes, he could just about make out some faded freckles dotted across his cheekbones. Quirkless, possibly as no signs of a quirk had been shown yet…
All the pieces slid into place, revealing this truth to Aizawa who's guts somehow managed to become even more twisted inside him upon the realisation. He was pretty sure all his insides had finally teamed up against him to play a game of musical chairs (in which they constantly swapped positions every. Fucking. Time.) as it dawned on him what this meant happened to the cheerful boy he was given a picture of all those months ago, what became of the smiling, kind, quirkless boy....shit, what was his name?
Shouta's body started acting before he had the thinking time to stop it; he found himself jumping off the table towards the obviously damaged child (he really needed to learn this kid's name). He knelt down next to the child and said the first words his scrambled brain could comprehend: “… you’re that boy, the one who went missing a while back?”
Aizawa hadn’t been expecting an answer, not considering the state of the child (he’s just a child just a child what did Shigaraki do?), but the lack of response added to Shouta’s increasing amount of worry and dread making its way up his throat. He still hadn’t acknowledged Shouta’s existence, still just lying there, chuckling and murmuring to some unseen audience, or maybe just himself? Begrudgingly, Aizawa leaned in towards the boy to here what he was saying, maybe it would reveal…something, anything about this case, what happened to create the demented shell left in front of him? Ignoring his gut instinct to run away, placed his ears as close as he dared to the smile (the smile that can open up and swallow you whole, run!) and heard faint mumbling saying “…heroes a-are always s-smiling. I m-must s-smile. I must. I must….”
Shouta gulped, pulling his head away as the boy dissolved once more into a quiet fit of giggles. How was he meant to answer this rambling? The boy was waiting to be rescued by heroes from the sound of it. Months of waiting just to end up being so disjointed from reality by the time help arrives that he doesn’t even realise it’s there. “Sh-shit, don’t worry kid, I’m a hero, you’re safe now, the League is gone,” Shouta rambled, aware that the boy most likely wasn’t aware he was speaking. Honestly Shouta was using the flow of words to ground himself more than anything, the sound of his own voice reverberating in his throat keeping back the static that threatened to take over his vision and hearing. Shit, Aizawa wasn’t normally like this, why was this child affecting him so much? Maybe he should’ve taken more time off from the USJ before taking on cases like this? He glanced back at the boy’s eyes to finds two glazed pinprick pupils staring back at him, so small yet sucking in all the light in the room, as if they were two black holes embedded into his skull rather than regular, human eyes. Aizawa kept his stream of words going, refusing to stop until he was interrupted by a high pitched, ecstatic laugh:
“Shigs h-here m-must smile a-at Shigs heroes s-smile.” His voice was definitely growing in volume, the quiet laughter from before mutating into abrupt waves of hysteria. Shouta had to do something quick, the boy seemed of realised he wasn’t being attacked anymore (he couldn’t know that the boy’s completely disassociated he can’t know what he’s saying right now) but was instead losing any form of composure he had, his breathing becoming frantic and his eyes widening.
He said the first mildly comforting things that entered his empty head, a last ditch effort to calm the boy down while also cautiously lifting up the boys head to give it more support than the floor did, carefully adjusting his limb’s as to not cause even more pain, “Listen, we’re the only ones here, the League left when All Might arrived, just calm down-“
“Shigs hates smiling! Bad Shigs hates smiling!” the crazed kid interrupted Shouta’s rambling with a shriek, his eyes bulging from their sockets as if they were going to burst any moment just as he separated his teeth for the first time, revealing a bloody tongue. The boy (for fuck’s sake! How can he not remember this boy’s name already – he’d worked on the case for a few months until the police decided it was a cold case!) wasn’t breathing in anymore; in fact he seemed to be forcing all the air out of his lungs in weakening bursts. Before Shouta could even begin another attempt at calming him down (it would fail anyways of course it would this kid had completely dissociated or worse) his eyes rolled into the back of his head, unconsciousness claiming him as a final splutter of a laugh left his lips. The open-mouthed smile that stretched to breaking point did not budge from it’s etched in position on the boy’s face, his body (finally) going completely limp.
He hadn’t known what to expect when he took the mission of sneaking into the League of Villains ahead of the main forces of the operation. He had half expected to be out of depth, with his injuries not fully healed. But until now, as he knelt supporting the head of the unconscious vessel of pain and suffering, trying to figure out the least damaging way of picking him up, Aizawa had never felt so useless.
-__-
Yagi Toshinori, also known as All Might, stood at the ready, muscles tensed as he prepared to smash the building in front of him to pieces at a moments notice. It was lucky this was his only hero job today; he had a full two hours left before he’d have to return to his other form.
He sighed to himself. Two hours would have to be enough. He knew the League was powerful despite being small in numbers, and if there were any more of those Noumu things he’d have to risk losing more of his time limit. Plus this would be all he’d be able to do today as far as heroics – one measly fight that he might not even be needed for before spending the rest of the day as a frail shadow of his muscle form that can’t protect others, let alone himself. God he was pathetic for a ‘number one hero’! At least he could find a little comfort amongst his mountains of self-pity in knowing that One for All was going on to someone who would use it better than he did.
Yet even that left a sour taste in his mouth. Sure, Mirio would be an amazing hero, there was no doubt about that, in fact he reminded Toshinori of a younger version of himself, a young, bright, selfless figure who fits the mould of a perfect new symbol of peace. Sure, he was a very nice, determined young man who had a good quirk which when combined with One for All would make him an unstoppable force of justice. Sure, choosing Mirio meant he’d been able to reconnect with Nighteye, and while there was a clear void of awkwardness between them the faith Toshinori had put into his choice of successor had helped form a base to rebuild their relationship off of. Sure, Mirio was the most logical choice, the most well-suited person, the perfect student to pass on the immense power and responsibility to but…
Mirio wasn’t his student, he was Nighteye’s. He was picked out and trained by Nighteye. Yagi had already missed out on being trained by his predecessor, and a big part of him hurt knowing that he wasn’t mentoring his student either. I was selfish, Toshinori knew that, but he just wanted to have that student-mentor bond that he never got the chance to have. He wanted to feel pride when looking at his successor, knowing that he’d helped create the shining hero who would play a big role in shaping humanity’s future against evil.
He didn’t have that with Mirio.
Toshinori pulled himself from his thoughts. Shit, he needed to stay focused! This wasn’t any small-time villain group – this was the League of Villains, the ones who somehow managed to infiltrate UA! He couldn’t afford to lower his guard, they could counterattack any moment! All Might raised his head, focusing on the wall in front of him, determined to not let his personal thoughts distract him at this crucial time.
Then Aizawa exited. With someone in his arms.
All Might’s heart skipped a beat, feeling his built-up bravado slip from his grasp. Something was wrong here. In all the time he’d known him, he’d never seen Aizawa look so shaken, including after having his head smashed into the concrete floor of the USJ by a man-made bird monster mutation. Yagi watched as Aizawa stumbled out of the building’s entrance, arms trembling slightly despite how light the person looked (was it a child? Please say it wasn’t a child). To most people his face would look eerily neutral, but Toshinori noticed his eyes were wider than usual, his mouth parted slightly as he breathed in and out breaths that were slightly too heavy and controlled to be natural. Toshinori had saved enough people from peril as All Might to recognise the signs of fear, no matter how much they were suppressed. Something was very, very wrong.
“The League was gone by the time I got inside. They knew we were coming. This boy was all they left.” Aizawa announced in his monotone, factual tone. If any of the police or other heroes noticed the slight tremble underlying Aizawa’s words, they said nothing. “I believe the boy is a kidnapped victim from a previous case I worked on. The rest of the building seems to be inhabited, but I’d still recommend a police check,” he continued. Toshinori winced as Aizawa’s attempt at talking at a steady pace started to fall apart towards the end of his last sentence. And a boy? A literal child had been thrown into the League’s plan, no wonder Aizawa was stirred up, especially considering how his class was attacked by this same organisation. Any one of them could’ve been taken in the attack and ended up in this position.
As the unneeded heroes started to depart and the police force efficiently made their way into the abandoned bar, Yagi himself decided it was about time to head off. Considering he didn’t take part in the actual event, he wouldn’t have to do the debriefing, and who knows? He may still have time for one decent fight, time to stop at least one robbery.
And it as he turned away to seek out this one final event for his day, so he could at least return to his lonely flat with some sense of accomplishment, that he saw the boy’s face.
The whole world stopped.
That was the boy he’d been looking for. After the sludge villain he’d gone searching all over the city for three days to try and apologise to him for what he’d said before (such a hypocrite, telling a kid to give on his dreams of being a hero cause he’s quirkless!), and to offer him One for All. But Toshinori had never found him, had thrown in the towel, declaring it a lost cause, and this was why: the League had fucking kidnapped him while All Might was off having his little pity party about losing the quirk that wasn’t his in the first place!
Toshinori lept over the police cars to land by Aizawa’s side and began talking before Aizawa could deny him, ignoring the taste of iron lacing the inside of his mouth, “That kid! What exactly happened to him? Is he okay?”
Aizawa blinked in mild surprise, before replying in a steadier, colder tone than his previous one, his eyes narrowing, “He was taken by the League around 11 months ago, it’s not the type of case you’d be alerted about.” Ouch. That was supposed to hurt. Aizawa had made it clear he didn’t like the more…centre stage heroes, a definition that suited All Might to a tee, and he was not one to hide his opinions.
Aizawa continued talking: “And for your information, his injuries aren’t as severe as they first seemed, just some dislocated joints, a broken left arm and a gash from his left side that I’m guessing was caused by Shigaraki touching…”
Toshinori found himself zoning out. 11 months? That meant he could’ve been taken while All Might was looking for him. If that’s the case… god, why did Yagi have to be so damn incompetent?! If he’d searched just a little bit longer, a little bit harder, none of this would have happened! For 11 months the boy had been with some of the most violence-loving criminals in modern Japan, and if Tsukauchi’s theory was correct and…he…was a part of this…Toshinori looked at the young boy’s face; despite being unconscious the kid had a massive smile (there was no joy in that smile, it barely counted as a smile by default) plastered on his face. It was…concerning, to say the least.
“All Might?”
Toshinori looked up from the boy to meet an irritated Aizawa. “S-sorry, can you repeat that last part?” he asked sheepishly, which was an emotion hard to bring across in his muscular form, ending up with him looking more awkward than anything.
Aizawa rolled his eyes, let out a huff of air and spoke again, “As I was saying, the main issue seems to be with his mental state, from which he so far appears to be in one of the worst traumatic states I’ve seen in… a long time.” Now Aizawa was the one looking down at the boy in his arms “...perhaps ever.”
After a moment of silence between the two teachers, Aizawa raised an eyebrow, re-establishing eye contact with Yagi “Do you know this kid or something?”
“Not really, I saved him a while back from a villain with a sludge quirk. He was quirkless, I believe?” Aizawa didn’t answer, just twitched his left eye. Toshinori cleared his throat awkwardly (he might as well use this moment to clear out the bubbles of blood he felt forming) and continued, “He asked me if he could be a hero and I replied with an answer I regretted, especially after watching him attempt to save his friend.” He could feel Aizawa’s glare burning through him as he spoke despite refusing to look directly at him as he continued his recollection. Aizawa was right to be angry, he’d basically discriminated on the quirkless, jumping to conclusions before even learning about the kid behind the label, “I tried to track him down afterwards to apologise and….make an offer, but I never found him.”
Aizawa was quiet for a moment, before saying “Well, as touching as your story is, I need to get this boy to hospital quickly before he wakes up. If you remember anything useful about the boy’s case, tell the police. See you at work, All Might.”
Toshinori blinked. Of course, why was he telling this now? The most important thing was to get this boy the medical attention he needs. “Goodbye Eraserhead!”, All Might called out as Aizawa started heading towards one of the nearby ambulances.
He watched a team of paramedics take the poor child (he’d been through so much and All Might could’ve prevented all of it!) from Aizawa’s arms, laying him carefully down on the fold out bed within the ambulance, immediately placing 2 IV drips into his arms (he looked so thin, and the pain must be unbearable).
Toshinori sighed as the door closed and the sirens started going off. “What did they do to you, young Midoriya?” he whispered to the night air, hoping he would find out before it’s too late for him to do anything at all to help the child his heart had chosen.