Chapter Text
It was a blur, between giving himself up for Kouta, getting thrown into a portal, and landing hard onto the dirty floor of the bar. Shigaraki smiled at him, but Izuku couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing in his ears.
All that matters is that Kouta is safe.
The cuts on his arms told him this was real. It wasn’t some terrible nightmare that he could wake up from, something that could be fixed easily. He was somewhere that he wasn’t sure of, unknowing of his classmates’ fates, and he could barely move. His head was foggy, swimming in confusion and pain, and the next thing he knew, he was in a simple bedroom, with no windows and two doors. His legs hurt, but he pushed past the pain, standing shakily. One door led to a bathroom, he discovered, after falling on his face twice. Simple, but notably lacking in any sharp objects that could somehow aid in his escape. His head still hurt, but the ache was noticeably retreating. Around his ankle was a Quirk-Suppressor cuff, and the weight of what he’d done started to slowly sink in. He was in a hideout, presumably surrounded by villains, with no hope to escape, or to even use his Quirk to do so. It was likely the villains had Kacchan as well, but then, where was he? Did someone manage to save him, or was he being held the same way Izuku was, confused and alone?
Nothing made sense, his entire body was aching, and he hadn’t even touched the second door.
Steeling himself, he pushed past the pain in his legs, and dragged himself towards the door, leaning heavily on one wall to support himself. It was hard, his arms protesting the moment he moved them forward, but he trekked on, feeling as though he’d climbed a mountain, when in reality, he’d barely walked ten feet. With one arm braced against the wall, he reached the other out, arm shaking, and grabbed the door handle, turning it-
Nothing. The knob didn’t move at all, and he was in too much pain to break the door down, not to mention he had no clue if there were villains on the other side of it. He was stuck here, for the time being. Instead, he resigned himself to his fate, at least until he could move without the risk of his legs giving out. Slowly, he walked back to the bed, collapsing in it and groaning at his nose being squished. Readjusting, he wiggled around until he was on his back, at least slightly more comfortable this way. His eyes had adjusted to the low light, and he could now tell that there was at least a desk in the room, with paper and some pencils lying on top. The walls were bare, no personal accents, so it was unlikely someone slept in this room. It could be used as an office as some sort, Izuku thought. The bed was still made, which meant that someone had merely laid him down on top of it, unless he’d come in here himself? His head was too foggy to recall anything, and if they’d done something to his memory, he didn’t want to make it worse by trying to remember.
He hoped the rest of the class was safe, at least.
~
A day or two likely passed, although Izuku couldn’t truly be sure. He stumbled between wakefulness and deep sleep, and often when he woke up there would be food on the desk. He refused to eat, at first, paranoid about being drugged, until his stomach rebelled hard enough that he nearly doubled over in pain. His arms didn’t hurt anymore, and his legs were certainly more stable, but that didn’t mean the pain was gone. His head was still clouded, but it hurt less than it did. And eventually, he relented, sitting down at the desk stiffly, uncomfortably noting that the meal was katsudon. Water, bottled, with the seal still intact, although that didn’t mean Izuku trusted it. It was strangely, disturbingly, good. It was just how his mother made it, which only raised more concerns. Were they trying to butter him up, so he’d join them?
Sometimes, voices drifted through the wall, whispers about someone called Sensei and asking about a doctor. Mostly though, they were too hard to make out, faint as they were. There must’ve been a camera in the room, he supposed, to tell if he was sleeping or not. Trying not to go down that train of thought, he shoved the bowl away, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He hadn’t been changed (thank god) but someone had wrapped his arms. It was so strange, he didn’t know what to make of it. Hands still slightly shaky, he grabbed a piece of paper, checking for any identifying writing and finding none, he started to write about Shigaraki and the other villains he’d caught a glimpse of during the training camp. It was far from perfect, observations based solely on the brief interactions and combat he’d seen them participate in, but it was certainly a start. He needed something to do, either way, and it was a good way to occupy his mind. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and he needed something to do before he lost his mind.
~
His routine remained mostly the same, drifting in and out of consciousness, food often sitting on the desk when he awoke. His head slowly cleared itself, but the fog that sat heavy on his memories after being taken was still there. He wasn’t in pain, but the confusion hadn’t lessened. There was no one, no villains, no threats, nothing. The isolation was slowly getting to him.
And then Kurogiri appeared.
It was sudden, the shift in the air, and Izuku felt himself scramble backwards onto the bed, the irrational urge to hide under the bed sheets only squashed down by the realization that he’d look like an idiot if he did. The misty villain was calm, seemingly ignoring Izuku’s panicked state, and opened one of those terrifying portals, motioning for Izuku to follow.
There was no reason to, no threats, no bribes, not even any words.
Izuku took a breath, and stepped through.
~
The portal led to a dark room, with beeping machinery and wires strewn across it. A man sat on a chair, tubes connected to him, the top half of his face a map of ropey scars. Only his mouth remained, and it was split into a grin, with far too many teeth to be comfortable. Izuku felt his legs shake, fear suffocating him. There was danger radiating off the man, an aura of terror so strong Izuku was proud that it was just his legs shaking.
“Midoriya Izuku.” The man tilted his head. “Come closer, child. There is no need to be afraid, I am merely… returning what I have stolen.” The voice seemed… familiar. Like a distant memory, something that Izuku tried to remember, but couldn’t quite grasp. Without thinking, Izuku stepped forward, slowly, until he could hear the machinery even more clearly, surrounding him from all angles. A large hand came upon his head, and Izuku had to resist the urge to fidget. The man’s palm glowed red, and Izuku gritted his teeth, confusion overcoming fear. The man retracted his hand, and Izuku’s head felt heavy, and he stumbled back, falling into another portal that dropped him on top of his bed, bouncing him slightly as he landed.
What just happened?