Chapter Text
I.
Adam made love to his wife Eve, and she became pregnant and gave birth to Cain. She said, “With the help of the Lord I have brought forth a man.” 2 Later she gave birth to his brother Abel.
Now Abel kept flocks, and Cain worked the soil. – Genesis 4:1-2
It was like every other night when Shouta, hacking up half a lung and a good quarter of his intestinal lining, met Abel. The night was still young, dusk’s shifty moon having the humour to slip between the wispy white of clouds. He could hear the bustling of a lively night from where he was keeling over, the tang of iron particularly heavy on his tongue.
It was an ordinary Friday, the exact same one that came every week, every month, and Shouta had little better to do than overtime when it was a weekend the next day. He’d left his home after giving his husband a peck on the cheek before his radio show that lasted till early dawn, goggles tight on his face and scarf around his neck.
Shouta patrolled the streets that were darker with three less lampposts than the usual back alley. It stank, like usual; it was nasty, also like usual. He’d taken down another – the third, to be exact – Villain and it would’ve been also the usual if not for the fact he’d gotten gravely hurt while beating down the bastard in a game of nude chicken.
Nude, because Shouta had the unfortunate luck to encounter someone with a Quirk like Best Jeanist. Only, the bastard’s Quirk was exclusive in unravelling fabric. Effective, if taken out on his Hero Weapon. Downright shameful, if taken out on his Hero costume.
He’s had his fair share of going into public baths and hot springs, but being naked in public was… utterly unpleasant. He’d felt entirely too vulnerable letting his private bits just swing about and when Shouta had instinctively covered up his dick, for God’s sake, the villain did one on him.
Shouta had barely managed to launch a surprise attack that finally knocked out the piece of immoral shit. Unfortunately, he himself was left in a precarious situation and Shouta was maybe not so ready to drag his and someone else’s ass across to the hospital, and then police station, for help.
The Villain could wait until Shouta didn’t act like his cats high off catnip. Fumbling, swaying, and tripping over his feet as a throaty groan of displeasure bounced off the walls of wherever he was.
Abel’s – not that he knew his name at the time – hand was a surprise when appeared within his blurring vision. Shouta looked up, tensed from head to toe because despite being delirious to high heaven, he should have at least noticed someone get so close to him.
Who was he? Enemy? Ally? A civilian with a working phone, perhaps? He was hoping for anything but the first. Two out of three couldn’t be too hard to get.
It was, because the man had the gall to ask if he was alright. Being polite was good an all, Mother Earth knew she needed more folks like that in general. Due to his state, Shouta spat blood on this clueless Samaritan’s red sandals instead. He wasn’t sorry, nor was he going to say so just for the sake of it.
He was not okay, goddamnit. Even the stupidest of his students had more brains than this guy.
Shouta did not hide his displeasure when he squinted out on what he hoped was an intimidating enough glare. Blood was dribbling down his chin, lungs aching with every shallow breath he took. Worse of all, was his pounding head that rivalled a migraine after four days of all-nighters.
He couldn’t think like this. Shouta was simply man’s baser survival instincts when he nodded, and woozily wondered if he’d told Hizashi about the box hidden underneath his bed. It had his safe details, bank numbers, and so on.
He was an orphan, and he’d explicitly stated in his will to have two-thirds of his savings go to charitable organisations whereas the remaining one-third was left for the free use of his husband.
Also, the adoption form for a new cat he’d been planning to take home for weeks now. The scrawny thing was blind in one eye and had three working legs as its back right leg was amputated in surgery. Had he mentioned how the cat was also hit by a car and survived? It also punctured two holes into his arm when he was busy getting it to the vet. Shouta fell in love faster than when he said ‘yes’ to Hizashi’s marriage proposal.
He vaguely felt himself being lifted by the armpits to sit up against a grimy wall. The man’s figure fluttered between black and green, Shouta’s consciousness doing its best considering the poor state he was in.
Something, something, “… Live near here,” the man said.
“… Back…” And then the words ‘happy’ and ‘interesting’ and ‘sheep’.
No. No going back with strangers he had difficulty piecing the Japanese language together from. They weren’t even anywhere remotely close to places containing sheep! Shouta wasn’t above begging. Hospital, please.
Similarly, beggars were hardly choosers, and Shouta’s brain hit an off switch when he felt himself being jostled gently in a warm, muscular hold.
His headache had subsided greatly when he woke up to the gratifying smell of freshly brewed coffee. There was a brightly coloured yellow blanket on top him too, which reminded him of his beloved banana cocoon. It was… comfortable, he guessed. Much more than UA’s couch which he’d spent so much time breaking in until it carried the shape of his caterpillar body bag.
Heroes. Yes, Shouta was an Underground Hero with an apprehended Villain –
Though in bits and pieces, the memory of being picked up by some stranger who’s first thought in seeing an injured man was to bring him to his home rather than a hospital made him shoot up immediately.
Shouta groaned, placing a gentle hand over his chest. He glanced downwards, seeing his injured body wrapped up nice and tight, the scent of something herbal and medicinal which he didn’t recognise lingering in the air alongside the coffee.
“Baa–!” Shouta froze, body jerking in time with the startled sound that escaped the back of his throat.
The bleat of a sheep. Through the tangled mess of his hair, he glanced to the side at the corner of his eyes.
He wasn’t mistaken was he? Black fleece, rectangular eyes, and two curled horns on the top of its head. There was a fucking ram at his bed side.
“You’re awake!” a familiar voice said, its owner in possession of a tan, freckled face and hazel green eyes that widened with genuine concern and happiness from his awakening – Shouta assumed. The man without a speck of common sense clicked his tongue in admonishment when the ram trotted up to him. “Back to the living room, mister, or I’ll cut down your alfalfa cubes.”
Watching the ram’s head sink sullenly before leaving as ordered, Shouta did not gape.
His fists gripped the blanket like a vice and he could almost feel his knuckles go white at the pressure. Weariness and adrenaline flooded Shouta, Quirk on the edge of its trigger in case he needed it. Pain may claw up his chest and stomach like a wild animal, but Shouta had more important things to address.
“Who are you?” he asked as evenly as the tension in his jaw allowed. “If your intentions were to help, I should be in the hospital.” An inquiry of his Villain take down went unasked. It wasn’t relevant right now, so the perverted bastard could wait.
“Right!” the man said, chipper, if his smile was a little awkward. He scratched his cheek, muscular and scarred arm flexing with the motion. Shouta noticed how they looked like stab wounds, the kind one got while possibly trying to defend themselves through instinct. To protect their face, usually.
The stranger continued, “I, uh, I’m not exactly a resident here yet? I don’t have an ID, you see, so I brought you back with me because a) you needed the help, and b) I could provide it, and c) I really can’t afford a questioning for the time being. I’m sorry if you woke you scared! I can totally understand, it’s terrible… Oh! You should eat and drink something, I–”
“… Hey.”
Tracing his scars – Shouta got the impression that it was habitual – the man stopped talking. Shouta continued, “You.”
“… Me?”
“Yes, you.” Who else? Jesus. And stop acting like an anxious high schooler who didn’t know the answer for a question he was about to ask. “Slow down. And what do you mean you don’t have an ID? Are you illegal?”
“Um, no? My ID will come soon. There was a small delay in the delivery.”
Shouta was pretty sure IDs weren’t delivered through postal or some sort. He’ll let it slide for the time being, though. “Lend me a phone,” he said, thankfully not so clipped to be taken as an insult. But if Shouta could hear his own impatience bleed in the demand, then the stranger could as well.
“Can’t do that right now, sorry.”
What. “Why not?”
“I need an oath from you; promising you won’t reveal me in any way unless I give explicit permission.” His tone broke no space for argument, a strange contrast to the almost jittery way he carried himself earlier.
Shouta frowned, confused. Did his Quirk have something to do with words and binding? Those were tricky to deal with his Quirk. Sometimes the binding had a trigger, sometimes not, and it was hard to pinpoint one from the other. Or keep his eyes open for that long because some people could talk for a long-ass time, with verbal fine print.
Shouta sighed.
“Do you plan on doing any crime?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“No?”
“Anything illegal that may endanger the safety or lives of anyone?”
“Now? Not really.”
“Why aren’t you in the system?”
“I’ve been out of the country,” the nameless stranger confessed sheepishly. Shouta nodded: He did look rather foreign, someone from the Middle East possibly. “Running away from my mom, dad.” Shouta honestly didn’t know what to feel. It wasn’t expected. He didn’t know what he was expecting.
The man added with a strange sort of tone, features scrunched and looking rather helpless. The line continued, “Brother. Grandfather, maybe. Although I’m pretty sure He knows where I am and He’s just humouring me. He always does.”
“Elaborate.”
“I got kinda desperate...? So I took some gold, stepped through this portal my uncles and aunts set up and appeared here. I don’t even know.” He was whispering towards the end, obviously lost, but not distressed. As if being related with several somebodies with extremely rare teleportation Quirks were the usual, getting lost in another country with almost nothing on his back was also the norm.
Not to mention the considerable amount of plot holes his story had. Or did not explain.
Shouta didn’t even want to think about it.
“What’s your name?” He asked instead. Going a step above, just to buy some time: “Your parent’s, brother’s, grandfather’s?”
The stranger looked amused now, mirth dancing in his eyes. In the distance, Shouta could hear the black ram bleating away.
“My name’s Abel, but I’m Midoriya Izuku in Japan – it’s a nice name, rings well – My mother’s name is Eve, my father, Adam. My brother is called Cain, and my grandfather is God.”
Hm. Shouta felt his eye twitch.