Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

-Monday-

The old industrial building was unremarkable at best. 

It sat silent on the outskirts of the warehouse district, unused and forgotten in the way many outdated properties in unsavory locations are- not quite in a state of obsolescence, but certainly nearing it. 

Anyone passing by would not give it a second thought: the structure nearly invisible due to its apparent decrepitness and lack of life.

Inside however, a different story could be told: 

A low thrum of overlapping basslines shook the floor like a muted heartbeat. 

The sound (whatever it was) could be felt more than heard, promising a cacophony of violent noise at its source.

Sure enough, from further inside- down a long, dark hall- there was a smallish room tucked in the belly of the basement that harbored the source of the sound. 

The difference in volume from the outside of the room to its interior was incredible . Chaos in noise reigned ; the riotous din barely contained by an earnest and markedly decent attempt at soundproofing. 

Within the space, a mix of electronics were spread out on every available surface: radios, tvs, stereos, amplifiers, even alarm clocks could be found- all on and turned to top volume; blaring in unceasing competition.

Even so, this was not the strangest thing going on, for In the center of the mess was a lone man, as unremarkable as the building he inhabited; his bearing completely unaffected by the violent noise surrounding him.

Rather, he looked lost in thought- as though his mind was drifting as he started off into space- ignoring the auditory waves crashing around. 

He bore no insignia, and wore a grey collared shirt, dark pants, and white tennis shoes- utterly forgettable in style and color. 

His own appearance was just as plain: his most distinctive features being a squarish jaw, wide nose and thick-framed glasses. 

Still, somehow- amidst the dissonance- the strange little man seemed unbothered. 

Shingin Takada had done his best to soundproof every inch of the old basement space, and he had succeeded fairly well- effectively trapping the majority  of the overwhelming noise within the small basement space.

Now, sitting cross legged on the floor- in the direct center of the sound- he refocused; closing his eyes in deep concentration. 

For a long while, he simply let the discord engulf him until finally, slowly, he lifted his hands. 

His palms were up, as though in a prayer of supplication, when in a split second, the gentle gesture morphed into one of violent strain.

Fingers spread into clawlike shapes gripping the air, hands twisted and shaking in their vicious pose. In a single moment, black orbs of energy emerged from his hands and began to grow, slowly engulfing the man, the space around him, and eventually filling the room. 

Within the span of the field, where before was abrasive noise, there was now absolute silence.

The sound was seemingly suffocated; no - not suffocated, but absorbed by the man and his power. Sucked in by the strange dark orbs he had cast…

Within the sphere, Takada held the barrier of silence- pushing his ability and doing his best to soak all of the vibrations into his being. 

He could do this- he knew he could . After all, his quirk was not complex, but it did demand concentration. If he broke his hold, the noise he was straining so hard to take in would shoot out like a sonic blast, and he needed it . 

He needed to test the limitations of his own abilities . 

So hold it he must…

After a long while, the field began to shrink back into its source, and as it did, the racket of the electronics returned at full blast- carrying on as though nothing had disturbed their song.

In their midst, Takada huddled in on himself, straining to contain the soundwaves he had just drawn in- desperate in his pursuit of control. 

For a few moments, he continued his struggle, sweat beading on his brow as he tested his abilities. 

Finally- suddenly- In an abrupt motion, he slapped his hands on the floor, and with a great heave, pushed a pulse of that energy into the ground beneath him- focusing everything he had into the blast. 

Immediately, there was a rumbling of seismic activity. 

Directly underneath him, from the epicenter where he sat, a ripple of movement could be seen and felt- launching outward from the building to the street and continuing for several blocks; disturbing sidewalks as it went- causing trees to sway and phone lines to swing.

Outside of the basement and within the radius of the tremor, civilians cried out in surprise at the apparent earthquake- some seeking safety even as the shaking gradually passed. 

The event was mild- not enough to cause any kind of damage, but still alaming- leaving those who felt its rumble unnerved and on edge- concerned by the unpredictable groanings of the earth. 

Ignorant to the public’s fear and still deep within his hold, Shingin grinned as he felt the ground shudder beneath him. Pleasure filled him as he reveled in his output- thrilled at his amassed power- before he realized exactly how quickly the quake faded. 

It only took a moment for his pleasure to turn into a grimace of dissatisfaction. 

What an utter let down.

The pulse was weak, still upsettingly mediocre. He needed more volume. He needed more sound to absorb. He needed something better than what he had.

How disappointing… 

Slowly getting to his feet, he gave himself a moment of petulance before moving to clean up the space; determined to not lose hope.

Turning off each of the screaming electronics (many of which had toppled in the aftermath of his experiment) he released a despondent sigh- allowing his frustration to leak. 

This should have worked! He should have been able to produce better results… So why hadn't he??  

That was the question that haunted him . He was certain he absorbed everything- every sound wave that had been produced in that room… and he was sure he could even take more! That had to be it then… Right?

“Yes, I just need more. I just need it to be louder- Of course it’s not enough… Why is it never enough???”

His mumbling was utterly drowned out- overwhelmed by the still-loud cacophony that filled the room. 

Gradually however, the din began to quiet. Alarms were unplugged and stereos turned down; followed by a lone hairdryer. A line of televisions- all on different channels were next, their volume pitched to the highest degree. 

Switching each one off, he rolled his eyes as he tried to tune out the drivel on the screen- annoyed and wanting silence to think. Finally- only a single tv was left; still blaring at top volume and turned to a news station- exclaiming the events of the day.

Takada huffed as he fiddled with its controls, muting it before continuing his task of shutting down the various items still left on. 

Once done, he grabbed a nearby office chair that had toppled over, righted it and sat down, deciding to flip through some channels to help squash his frustration. 

He needed to come up with a better plan; his abilities were untested, and he was sick and tired of pretending his quirk was less than it was. He knew he could be powerful, knew that if he pushed the limits of his quirk, he could be seen as a force to be reckoned with, but the question remained: how ?

Bored and disheartened, Shingin was about to start clicking through various programs- not paying much heed to what was actually on until suddenly, the screen lit up with a “ Breaking News! ” flash- tempting him to leave it. 

Startled, he tuned in: raising the volume as the onscreen reporter urgently explained what was going on.

“ This is a developing story: several villains have attacked the Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall- multiple stores have been destroyed - a number of injuries from bystanders reported. We believe it to be a robbery turned hostage situation; it is unknown if there are any casualties, but Heroes nearby have been notified and are enroute to engage. ”

On screen, a helicopter view displayed the shopping center. It was in a state of disarray and a group of the supposed villains were standing off against the growing police force. 

The main antagonist was a hulking figure with a blueish crystalline form- lines of white ran over his limbs in geometric patterns, seeming to glow through his translucent appendages. 

Taking a look around, the being onscreen gave a wrathful snarl- his expression vindictive and cruel. He then stretched out his hand and--

The reporter on-scene gasped as the cameraman adjusted the view, zooming in to show bursts of glass from multiple storefronts within the mall. 

Various pieces of technology shot forward from all directions, pulled to the villain in rapid speed and encircled him like a wall- impenetrable and daunting. Immediately, the accumulated tech began to ungulate, warping together to form a massive electronic suit of armor. 

“It looks as though this villain has some kind of control over technology! They have surrounded themselves with machines and appliances from the shopping center and are now attacking the police and civilians outright! Several other villains are engaging as well, seeming to follow suit-”

The scene, which already was tense, had quickly devolved into outright madness. Villains were charging, unleashing their quirks while civilians and bystanders scrambled to get away.

The reporter at the scene was maintaining a hurried narration, detailing the situation as it played out live. Abruptly they quieted, putting a hand to their earpiece as they received new information, “ I have just got word that a hero has arrived on the scene- ” they pointed, and for a moment the view went shaky as the cameraman swung around to track the action before jerking abruptly to a halt. The image was blurry as the lens focused on the new entry, and finally the hero came into view.

Shingin Takada watched with vague interest as a tall, gangly whip of a man with the most ridiculous hairstyle he had ever seen, strode into the fray. He was dressed head to toe in what appeared to be some sort of vague-punk-getup; his blonde hair in stark contrast to all the dark leather he wore. Around his neck was some curious piece of machinery, almost resembling a speaker system- A support item no doubt… he thought to himself, rolling his eyes in disdain- all these heroes and their ridiculous gear.

“ Yes, we see him now, the Voice Hero: Present Mic has arrived! ”

Hearing the title, Takada leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of him. Huh, Voice Hero? That could be something worth paying attention to.  

Admittedly, Shingin had never given heroes much thought. He saw them as an extension of celebrity culture which bored him in its vapidity; even past that, there were so many to keep track of- and why should he care if they didn't care about him? In fact, beyond the notoriety of All Might and Endeavor (who were impossible to ignore), he only vaguely knew one or two other hero names, and that was only thanks to the various tabloids at the grocery store which he often pointedly ignored.

On-screen, the villains had somewhat assembled to meet the interloper. 

The big one that was manipulating technology had created a series of droid-like robots that were poised to attack, looking threatening in a way that would have most running for the hills.

Still, this alleged “voice hero” did not seem bothered in the least. He had stopped an ample distance from the threat, analyzing the situation before planting his feet in a firm stance. 

He must be a range-fighter then , Shingin thought as he took in the action. 

Onscreen the blonde flashed a charismatic grin, looking almost jovial in the face of his opponents. For a brief second, he analyzed the situation before nodding in satisfaction- apparently pleased with what he saw. He then leaned back as if taking in a deep breath before snapping forward and opening his mouth, letting loose what appeared to be a deafening scream.

The result was extraordinary . 

A sonic blast had emanated from the man's throat, violently knocking back the attacking villains and decimating the immediate surrounding area. 

The remaining panes of glass that were within the targeted zone exploded instantaneously, and the droids that moments ago had been functioning, were now shorted out in useless piles on the ground.

In a split second, the cybernetic villain had gone from imposing to a crumpled mess on the floor; his hands grabbing at his ears as he curled in on himself, piteously trying to get away from the auditory assault.

The other villains, realizing that their leader was down, lost whatever organization they had maintained until that point. Several ran towards the hero, while others took the opportunity to flee. No matter the decision, it was the wrong one. 

This “Present Mic” was fast and capable; meeting the oncoming attackers with a bright and piercing shout- voice pitching high then low- never losing volume- as he expertly targeted his sonic attacks. The few ruffians that were left standing were disoriented, and easily went down with a deft right hook. Those that chose to run had not gotten far when once again, an almost gleeful yell of “AND WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING?” had them cowing in an instant.

Takada stared at the screen in disbelief. This was incredible; it was magnificent. It was as though fate itself had led him to this exact station, and here he could see the answer to all his problems parade about on live tv.

As soon as it started, it was over- each villain professionally targeted and not a single hostage hurt.

The Camera zoomed in on the hero's face showing a bright smile and electric green eyes hidden behind orange glasses. He waved at the cheering crowd in a gesture of thanks before turning to assist several civilians who had been caught up in the fray prior to his own intervention. In tandem, police descended and were now taking the various criminals into custody while others moved forward with paramedics to help those who had been in close proximity to the mayhem.

The reporter returned to the center of the screen, clearly relieved amidst the broken glass and piles of destroyed tech, but the hero could still be seen in the background- looking all parts confident and reassuring as he crouched next to a young woman; obviously calming her with an expression of genuine kindness and honest concern. 

Shingin focused on his face- studying it and committing it to memory, even as he began to structure a plan. 

Reaching for his phone, he immediately pulled up a search engine- suddenly needing to learn all he could about this intrepid “voice hero”. 

Instantly, a flurry of results answered his query, and Takada’s eyes widened at the onslaught of information regarding one Present Mic .

How had he not been aware of this guy before? Apparently he was everywhere : A radio personality, DJ, Emcee, celebrity hero, UA teacher and fashion icon... the list seemed to go on and on.

Back on the tv, the reporter had concluded their detailed play by play of what had just happened, closing with a statement of “ It's always amazing to see a crowd favorite in action on the field! Today beloved Voice Hero: Present Mic single handedly eliminated the threat here at the Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall! What an incredible feat! We will -”

Takada muted the tv- not wanting to be distracted by whatever else would come up. He had research to do and a plan to formulate; one that could launch him forward into his own pursuits of notoriety. 

He never wanted fame, but he did want respect and distinction- he wanted to be seen as someone to be taken seriously ; a thing he had never before experienced in his life. If people wouldn't listen to him, then he would show them- with his quirk.

To do so would require him pushing the boundaries of what he thought he could do, and that meant risk, cunning, and maybe what could be misconstrued as villainy. But that was fine . It was all fine now, because here in front of him was the key to his success.

Grinning, and feeling confident in a way he never had before, Shingin Takada ran a finger over the screen of his phone, caressing the picture of the hero who had just become central to his triumph- giddy at the prospect of what was to come. 

“Present Mic. I look forward to meeting you… very soon.” 

Chapter Text

-Monday, 8:20 PM-

Shouta Aizawa hummed into his drink, unable to help the feelings of pride and admiration that filled him as he watched the Monday night news: rerun footage of a villain attack from that same day where Present Mic, in all his glory had come and conquered with equal parts skill and dramatic flair.

Placing his bottle of barley tea to the side and sinking further into his spot on the couch, he turned up the volume to enjoy the favorable commentary that followed the video clip; nodding in quiet approval as the anchor sang the Voice Heroes praises. 

It was no secret that Shouta made little effort to stay on top of the daily news cycle. He had enough on his plate already, and knew that anything relevant to him or hero work (U.A. or otherwise) would certainly be told to him directly : at least via phone call or associate. 

Still, whenever his husband made it on tv, he was sure to track down a recording and watch.

The reel ended, and gradually the reporters shifted topics (something about a mild earthquake that reportedly happened earlier that same day?); all insignificant clips that were somehow still news-worthy.

Losing interest, Aizawa flicked the tv off and stood to pick up several police reports he had left on the countertop- taking the opportunity to stretch his shoulders and groaning in satisfaction at the release of tension. 

Scrubbing his face, he moved to gather the documents, working to stay focused despite his minute disinterest.

It was harder than he cared to admit…

He was assisting on an investigation regarding a string of music store robberies. While a terrible occurrence, it seemed relatively unimportant for him to spend too much time on- but the lead detective (Naomasa Tsukauchi) had a hunch it was connected to a greater crime ring in the area. 

That piqued Shouta’s curiosity.

While it was the job of every hero to combat crime and take out villains as they made themselves known, Eraserhead preferred to nip villainy in the bud before it could make its way center stage. 

That was one of the defining traits of an underground hero after all…

Indeed, being underground required strategy, patience, research and a lot of coordination with others; working quietly and behind the scenes to stop crime in its tracks before it swelled out of proportion. In this case, Shoutas best aids were the lead detective Tskukauchi, their anonymous informants, and a handful of other heroes working the same grounds.

It was a small team, but they knew how to get stuff done…

Sitting down once again, he was joined by one of their three cats: a large, agreeable grey tom named Jellybean. The feline leapt onto Shouta’s lap, making several rotations before settling down and rumbling out a satisfied purr.

The man smiled, stroking the back of the animal with one hand while the other thumbed through the pages of a report, only half paying attention. 

The information was straightforward and dull- nothing remarkable standing out aside from the fact that all of the robberies had the same MO: no sign of a break-in and no alarms triggered, only amplifiers and subwoofers stolen.  

To Shouta, this implied the thief had either a warp or teleportation quirk; that and (most likely) the goods were being taken for a particular purpose- not for mere gain. 

After all, If stealing for profit with a guaranteed escape, no thief in their right mind would leave thousands of dollars worth of movable product untouched.

And that was another thing: stolen merchandise would usually circulate through a community- being sold, pawned or traded around- but there was not a single sign of any amplifier in the surrounding or even more distant areas. It was easy to conclude that whoever was taking the items was a part of something larger than a typical robbery sting.

If that was the case, then this person was likely not acting alone- implying either a partnership, or perhaps working for a broker. 

It was that fact that led the detective to bring in Eraserhead for an additional perspective. 

Brokers were tricky- scummy in all the ways that counted. They connected villains, pushers and traffickers, but never actually got their own hands dirty, making them frustrating to deal with and difficult to pin down.

Huffing in annoyance, Shouta picked up another report and realized that even the Jiro-family music store had been a target. 

Well, that was a shame… he should probably check in with Kyoka and make sure she was all right… He knew the store had been insured, but that didn't diminish the upset a situation like this could cause…

Before he could contemplate further, the sound of the front door being thrust open pulled him from his musings. 

Almost immediately, a familiar shout of greeting sounded as his husband- Hizashi Yamada- burst his way into the room, just having returned from his 6-8 pm Monday night radio show. 

Despite his long day, the man was beaming in a way that rivaled sunshine.

“Hey Sho!” he greeted brightly, “Did you catch me on the news babe?”

The blonde was practically buzzing with excitement, and (not for the first time) Shouta wondered how the hell he maintained the visage of constant upbeat energy.

Sauntering into the living room, delight dancing on his face, Hizashi leaned over and planted a small kiss against his husband's temple before striking a dramatic pose. 

He was still in his hero costume looking only slightly scuffed, though his hair had begun to droop from its overly styled form and long strands of gold were now framing his face. 

Undeterred by the theatrics, Shouta cast a critical eye over the other, looking for hidden injuries, bruises or anything that might raise a flag (a normal evaluation whenever one of them returned from patrol or any kind of hero related work). Finding none, the brunette nodded for the blonde to continue- used to the bombastic entries.

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I was awesome !”

Hizashi was practically gleeful as he unclasped his directional speaker and spun around, striping off his jacket with a flourish before lobbing it onto the couch, unintentionally disturbing an affronted Jellybean.

Giving no mind to the cat, he continued “Honestly, between the station, U.A. and all the night patrols the agency’s been dishing me, it’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to take out a real villain, let alone a group!”

Shouta smiled as he listened to his husband carry on, glad to hear the others upbeat tone. 

He knew that being in the limelight was a delight for Hizashi, and while the voice hero did his night patrols diligently, they left little room for showmanship and less for extreme volume.

Still, the blonde continued: “I mean, I only ever get called in for big things now! Which I guess is a good place to be “career-wise”, but sometimes it gets boring and feels like I'm just kinda waiting around to do something… but today was great! It reminded 

me of when I was just starting out as a hero- when I was all fast and loose and action ready . And past all that, no civilians were hurt! How often does that happen nowadays?” 

As he spoke, Yamada shucked his combat boots and placed them neatly by the door before finally going to drape himself on the couch, half on top of Shouta who teasingly leaned away. 

“No Zashi, go shower… you’re disgusting. You smell like sweat and old hair product”

The voice hero laughed as he rolled over to more firmly plant himself on his husband;

“Shouta I’m wounded! Here I am, the hero of the hour, and you reject me??? Also, you're one to talk- How many times have you come home from a patrol and stunk? not even bothering to change before getting in bed… like a… like an animal!!!” 

Aizawa had nothing to say to that, rolling his eyes and leaning away, refusing to meet the others accusing stare. 

Hizashi smirked at the guilty silence before continuing- his voice feigning devastated hardship: “You have sullied so many sheets that I can't even go to the department store anymore; at the rate I buy new bedding, the employees there think I'm either a freak or a nutjob!” 

The proclamation was absurd, and Shouta couldn't help the snort that escaped him at the others dejected grumblings. 

“How you suffer; your life is truly a misery.”

The blonde tilted his head up to pout, “It is I’ll have you know! And your mocking isn’t helping at all…”

“You could just not purchase new sheets so often… that’s certainly an option.”

“And condemn us to sleeping in filth?! How often is your jumpsuit covered in blood and viscera when you come home from a patrol?? Like, I know you're an underground hero- wallowing the filth of the world… but babe, but that doesn’t mean you have to track it in with you.”

At that, Shouta laughed- bemused at Hizashi’s pious indignation- his outburst earning him a playful smack.

Backpedaling, the brunette raised his hands in surrender, “All I'm saying is that we do own a washing machine...” 

That was apparently the wrong thing to say as his offering was received with a scathing glare.

“Oh I am well aware,” the voice hero snipped back, “after all, who does the laundry?”

“Well I would do the laundry if someone didn't specifically tell me not to-”

“ That's cuz you ruined like, all of my fancy clothes in one go!” Yamada squawked, “You can't just spin-cycle wool and cashmere!” 

Aizawa snorted, begrudging and familiar with the way the conversation was going; “They didn't look that fancy- and I know the difference now … at least for the most part…”

Reaching up, Hizashi took his husband's pouting face in his hands and with grave seriousness, he made sure their eyes met before speaking in a solemn tone: “Shouta. Babe. Love of my life. You put my hand-tailored-crushed-velvet blazer in the wash with your nasty-ass boxer briefs.”

There was a beat of serious silence before both men broke into wide grins. 

Knowing he’d been had, Aizawa couldn’t help his blush as he recalled his devastating flub- the memory of his error causing the blonde to laugh brightly, enjoying the others bashfulness. Gradually the happy fit died down and they each heaved a sigh of satisfaction, reveling in the relief that came when both were home- safe after a long day. 

A warm calm filled the room, and the voice hero adjusted his position to get more comfortable: his long body stretched out on the couch, head in Shoutas lap, eyes half closed in contentment. 

For a beat, both men simply enjoyed the peace- relishing the moment for the delight that it was. 

Regardless, the moment could only last so long. 

Shouta knew his husband was tired. He could tell by the sustained quiet, and lack of questions- a far cry from his usual chatter and end-of-day gossip. 

That villain encounter probably took more out of him than he wants to admit, he thought to himself; And he already had such a full day with UA and the station… it feels like it never ends… we should probably try to get to bed early tonight; that would definitely benefit us both… but i guess it won't hurt to just sit here for a little longer….

Putting his police reports to the side, the brunette reached out a calloused hand to gently run through the others hair, stopping short when his palm was met with stiff and stringy gel. 

The texture was gross, and his brief notion of just enjoying time on the couch evaporated in an instant.

“Ugh. No. Zash, you can relax after you wash your hair. It's melting anyway.”

Hizashi, who for a moment had closed his eyes, blinked in surprise at the demand before shooting the other an exaggerated glare. “Wow, Rude.”

Still, he knew Shouta was right- he wouldn’t be comfortable until he was clean and de-gelled. Breathing out a whiny huff, he stretched languidly before finally sitting up- face shining with flirtatious mischief. 

“Fine, I’ll go- IF you defeat me in a battle of speed and cunning!” 

Pitching his voice up theatrically, Yamada let out a fairly convincing maniacal laugh, striking a pose before saying: “You see, oh “ Eraserhead ”, I have been working on my hand to hand skills with my devil-of-a-husband… and now it is time to put them to the test.” 

Pointing at Shouta, he then voiced his challenge, “ If you want me gone dear listener, you must pin me in combat! But, if I beat you... you must join me in the shower!”

Aizawa rolled his eyes- familiar with the bargain. 

While typically he would love to share a shower with his husband, he was adamant he would never join when Hizashi was “washing Present Mic out of his hair”. There was so much gel and detangling involved- it always turned into a dangerous and labor-intensive event. 

One would think that with two sets of hands it would make the process easier, but rather, it just became more complicated and claustrophobic.

In fact, the one time he had made the mistake of agreeing, he had been slapped in the face by the mess of gravity-defying hair so hard, he had fallen right out of the shower- pulling down the curtain rod and all its effects with him. After that, he vowed: never again . 

Smirking at the proposed deal (endeared but feigning annoyance), Shouta heaved a sigh, “Fine- sure, whatever it takes to get you off me...”

The voice hero smiled in triumph, waiting only a moment before launching from his position on the couch to tackle his husband to the floor. Shouta anticipated this (being familiar with Hizashi’s antics), and quickly maneuvered his weight so that he was one top of the spluttering blonde. All in all, the conquest took less than a second.

“Pinned ya,” he smiled as he gloated, then planted a small kiss on his husband's nose. 

Hizashi blushed from his spot on the floor; “Hey no! That's completely unfair. You know the rule! No kissing tactics!”

Shouta laughed again, enjoying how flustered Hizashi was getting. “If I recall correctly, you made that rule up, and I never agreed to it.”

“Yeah, well- it's still illegal! You can’t distract me with nice things! It's straight up villainous yo!”

“What you call an illegal distraction, I call a rational deception...”

Hizashi scoffed, though his voice was bright with mirth.

“Oh man, please do not use that line on me; your poor students… I almost feel bad for them.”

Shouta rolled his eyes and moved to get up off the floor, satisfied with his win. The brunette had barely moved when once again, Hizashi shot up like a rocket- aiming to grab at the erasure hero's waist and pull him back down. In a near perfect repeat of action, Aizawa twisted out of the attack and reversed the situation, this time straddling his husband and holding his hands over his head.

“Pinned ya again,” he deadpanned.

Hizashi pouted from his position on the floor, “Boo- this is why I stick to the ranged attacks…” he whined, “though I gotta admit, I wouldn't mind you pinning me like this more often.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed stare, Shouta refused to acknowledge the tease, “I won- now go shower. You’re sweaty.”

Letting out a dramatic heave, the blonde relented. “ Fine , but when I get out, I request you make me a fancy drink or something. I have twenty or so essays to finish grading and I need some liquid motivation for the task.”

“Good to know you are demanding as always, but yes - if a fancy drink is what you want, I’ll see what I can do…” with that Shouta stood and pulled his husband up off the floor after him.

Hizashi grinned as he straightened up, a rascally glint to his eye- “You sure you don't want to join me?”

The brunette ignored the hopeful tone, unfazed and not fooled. “Absolutely not. I know from experience that you just want help washing out all that .” With one hand, he gestured to the now drooping mess that was the “ signature Present Mic look yo! ”.

“Uggghhhh finnee;” Yamada relented, “but when I’m out you have to braid it!” He sang- eager to see how much he could get out of the bargain.

“Once again, you are so demanding… but fine .” Shouta huffed, “Drink and braid- now hurry up and go.” His tone held dry amusement- clearly unbothered by the requests being laid on him.

Hizashi’s triumphant smile was dazzling, and without another word he sped down the hall to the bathroom.

Shaking his head at the others' antics, Aizawa made his way to the kitchen where he began to boil water and sift through the cabinet for options. 

“The things I do for love,” he grumbled under his breath, knowing full well that he had no problem performing the menial task- rather, he relished it. In a world so often filled with strife and uncertainty, the precious moments of quiet domesticity were cherished things, however small they were.

From his place in the kitchen, he could hear some unknown song drift down the hall and smiled, finding delight in the background noise of his husband being home. 

He poured two cups of tea and prepared them to taste (one herbal, the other- matcha with a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk) before placing them down on the kotatsu in front of the sofa. 

Settling back in his corner seat, he returned to studying the police reports until finally, Hizashi ambled his way back down the hall.

He had his civilian glasses perched on his lightly freckled nose (the frames nerdy yet chic), and was dressed in soft gray sweatpants and a ratty old band tee (it had once been Shouta’s and should have been thrown out years ago). 

The shirt hung loose on his frame, stretched and worn from years of use- highlighting that while Yamada had an advantage height-wise, Aizawa was still significantly more broad. Regardless, he looked comfortable and refreshed… pleased as he reentered the room.

Beyond that, the blonde had brought along his work bag, evidently ready to start in on his grading- but not before ensuring Shouta fulfilled his promise. 

With smug coyness, the voice hero moved to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the erasure hero; then, (with a brief wink) he leaned back and flung long damp hair over his shoulder in a silent demand for it to be braided. 

Aizawa laughed at the gesture, ruefully mumbling “little brat” before reaching out- deft hands pulling gently at the length, twisting and plaiting with surprising skill. 

In no time, Hizashi’s shoulders dropped- fully relaxing into the touch. 

It was no secret that Yamada loved it when Shouta played with his hair- claiming it was one of the best feelings in the world. The brunette enjoyed it just as much- finding delight in the mindless zen of it and teasingly referring to the action as “Zashi’s off switch.” 

As he worked at the tresses, the blonde continued to melt and Aizawa found himself reflecting on the events of the day- quietly amused at his spouse's bonelessness.  

Eventually however, the erasure hero spoke- breaking the warm calm by finally responding to the unanswered question posed from earlier: 

“I did see you, by the way… on the news earlier.”

“Hm, yeah?” came the dreamy response from in front, “any notes from mr. teacher man?”

“Tch, don't call me that,” groused Aizawa, “but no. You did great… Loud and obnoxious as always.” The last bit was murmured with dry humor, a sly smile ghosting across his face.

Beneath him, Yamada’s eyes peeled open- slivers of green peering out from half hooded lids.

“Oh ho ho, don’t start with me babe;” he quipped back, shooting a harmless glare out of the corner of his eye- teasing and amused. “I know for a fact that you enjoy just how loud I can be!” he then gave a cheeky wink, before waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Shoutas smile grew as he finished braiding, equally entertained and unsurprised at the others' antics. 

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against the voice hero's temple in a chaste kiss before whispering “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” directly into his ear.

Hizashi turned and pouted, a look of faux devastation painted across his features.

“Shoooutaaa, you shouldn’t be so mean; I am a delight loved by many! Say you love me and my obnoxious self!”

“No.” Aizawa deadpanned. “Absolutely not.”

Hizashi could not help the laugh of indignation that escaped him for his husband's blunt retort, and standing from his spot on the floor, he once again draped himself into the others' space as though in a faint.

“Fine.” came the lofty and pained acknowledgment, “But just know that I am withholding affection and your sleeping bag from you until further notice.”

Shouta grinned and took the bait, “Well, if it's for my sleeping bag...” 

“HEY!”   

At that both men playfully elbowed each other in the side, haranguing and wrestling before Hizashi came dangerously close to kicking the kotatsu, nearly spilling tea all over the stack of essays he had previously set out. 

The close call was enough to get them back in order, and settling into the comfort of the couch, the two heroes continued their light banter as they reeled themselves in to return to work- Aizawa with his reports and Yamada with his grading.

Hizashi had pulled out his laptop and set some quiet music to play in the background (some soothing productive beat), and every so often, the calm was broken as they asked for each other's insight on their individual work. 

Progressing in their respective tasks, the night carried on with them sipping tea and petting the cats that had meandered between them (Fish and Pocky; Jellybean refused to return- apparently still offended from being disturbed earlier).

Finally, the night began to wind down.

It was nearly ten-thirty when Aizawa began to put his work away, wanting to get to bed before eleven. School mornings started bright and early at six-thirty, and while he had no problem napping at U.A., he would prefer to try and get a full night's rest in his own bed if he could- especially when he didn't have to worry about patrolls or other hero work. 

Running through his mental calendar, Shouta considered his tasks for the following day: It would be Tuesday, which typically meant he would be spending a lot of time doing practical physical training with his homeroom class.  

While it was true that the kids in 1-A had several teachers who worked with them, Eraserhead was their default instructor in most (if not all) of the hero-related education they received. Aside from that, he monitored their extended study hall periods on Wednesdays and Fridays, and (following regular classes) often oversaw any after-hours quirk training that might be scheduled. During the week, Shouta also was on call to chaperone the Heights Alliance dorms- though he mostly did so on Wednesday and Friday evenings (a time slot he had requested since Hizashi would be at the radio station both nights anyway).

He was lost in thought and considering his schedule for the week when his husband cleared his throat- posture turning weirdly tense and instantly putting him on edge.

Aizawa looked up sharply, catching the guilt in Hizashi’s voice; and zeroing in, he turned to study his spouse for tells and he waited for Yamada to speak. 

“Sooo, It's gonna be a long weekend for me- just so ya know...”

He recognized that tone immediately- it meant that the blonde had stretched himself too thin and knew it.  

It was no surprise that (after years of friendship, dating and marriage) both men had seen each other fall prey to overbooking, overworking and regular bouts of burnout. 

To his credit, Shouta had been able to curb the habit to some degree and find more regular rhythms of work-life balance (especially since the USJ incident), but Hizashi still didn't know when to quit.

It had become a primary source of tension; one that they were certainly able to work through… but a frustration nonetheless. 

And sure, Aizawa understood his husband's desire to be the best hero he could be, but sometimes his work ethic became destructive- stemming more from an inability to say no rather than actual, personal or professional drive.  

And again, yes : he understood that the voice hero Present Mic was popular… that he was good at what he did in every capacity- because of course he was... 

Mic was a heavy hitter in the hero world- renowned for his work in radio, tv and other various forms of entertainment; he also occupied a demanding role at U.A as the head of the English department, yet still he somehow managed to find other bits of work to tack onto his already overwhelming load.

It was a lot- and Shouta did not relish watching it all pile up.

Struggling to keep a neutral tone, the brunette nodded- indicating that he was listening before urging the other to continue .

“Alright-” he responded (still sounding skeptical), “how long, and what for?”

Hesitantly (sensing that he was already treading on thin ice), Hizashi responded: “Well, it’ll start after school on Friday. I’m gonna head straight to the radio station; they asked me to come early so I could pre-record separate interviews with Manual and Edgeshot for the Saturday and Sunday shows.” 

Mic's radio show did not start until eight on Fridays, so that was a significant leap in time to demand he be there.

“And why can't someone else do the interview?” Shouta asked, already hoping to relieve some of his husbands workload,

“It's in my contract Sho-“ the blonde responded in a placating tone, “any hero interviews we record are hosted by me- numbers say that listenership skyrockets anytime it's a two-hero show… This weekend all the different DJs are doing a big feature on local heroes so they needed me to block out the time for the recordings and do a couple ad-reads.”

Seeing that his explanation was not reducing the stern look on his husband's face, Hizashi winced but continued with his schedule, “Anyway, after the interviews i'll be doing my regular Friday night slot, and was scheduled to do an all night patrol after.”

Shouta blinked, calculating the hours. 

“ Zash , your Friday show ends at one in the morning , and the night patrols your agency has been giving you are in eight hour blocks … Our school mornings already start at six a.m… Are you telling me that on friday, you are going to work a full twenty-seven hours??”

Hizashi grimaced, hearing the disappointment in Shouta’s voice, “Well, not exactly, I have to be at U.A by ten on Saturday to meet with the rest of the English department… We’re implementing new curriculum next semester, and as head of the department I have to review and sign off on whatever supplementary materials the other english teachers want to include,”

Shouta stared in disbelief, the to-do list just racking up and up and up . 

Still he had a feeling the other was not done… 

“There’s more, isn't there?”

Hizashi paled at the assertion, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment “Eh, yeah... at noon I'm doing JSL with your two favorite problem children...”

“No. Absolutely not.” Aizawa cut him off before he could go further- voice stern and laden with audible frustration. “Hizashi, you have to know that's too much to take on; we've talked about this… you can't keep burning the candle at both ends- you already run yourself ragged. What are you going to do when you are in a situation where you are too exhausted to react? To save lives ??”

The blonde blanched, at least having the good sense to look abashed. “I know Shou, I know - and really… I didn’t plan this! I've been trying to be better about overworking, but this weekend just kinda snuck up on me. Old habits and all that jazz… Anyway, I swear , this is the last time this will happen! Or at least, I won’t let it get this bad again!”

Shouta was dubious; having heard similar promises before. 

Still… he had to admit: Hizashi was indeed improving when it came to taking time off. He had even started delegating tasks more regularly... and why shouldn’t he? There were plenty of other competent people in his professional circles!

Heaving a sigh of exasperation, the erasure hero shook his head in doubt. “You know how I feel about this; you know that I am only worried about you, and you know living like this is unsustainable…“

Reaching out, Aizawa gently rested his hand against his husband's cheek, guiding the blonde's face back towards himself. Yamada had turned away, chagrined and despondent in light of his husband's scolding, but still- he allowed himself to be maneuvered, and tilting his head up- their eyes met: bright green to jet black.

“You have been getting better at doing less, that’s true. But I'm still worried . I'll always worry.”

At that, Hizashi smiled; abashed but reveling in Shouta’s concern.

“I know… and right back at’chu.” 

Sighing, the blonde grasped the hand that was currently stroking his jaw, and pressed his lips against the rough knuckles in a sweet kiss before allowing himself a muted laugh,

“Ya know, between my general chaos and your constant showdowns with death, it's amazing that neither one of us have an ulcer.” 

Shouta scoffed, unimpressed. “Speak for yourself; do you have any idea how often I visit Recovery Girl for ulcer related issues? It’s why I sleep all the time.”

Hizashi barked out a laugh at the sarcasm, enjoying the levity that had returned to the conversation, and adjusting his position to lean heavily on his husband, he raised his hand to rest melodramatically on his forehead in the approximation of a swoon. 

“Look at us! A couple of worry warts! How domestic! How droll! How utterly old-person-ish!”

This time, Shouta did laugh, enjoying the others' silliness. 

He wasn't quite ready to let the conversion drop, but also wanted to avoid burdening the other with guilt right before a long stretch of absence. They would talk seriously and revisit the conversation once Hizashi's workload had ebbed and he had recovered from the upcoming weekend . 

Hopefully at that point, Yamada would be exhausted enough to listen to reason; In the meantime, it could wait… 

Satisfied at the notion of returning to the topic at a later date, Shouta stood from the couch and stretched. He then moved to pick up Fish- abruptly closing the laptop that was still playing music as he did so. 

“All right,” he stated in a low commanding tone, “We both have a crazy week of school and work ahead of us. If it's gonna be the last I see of you for a while, then I demand you come to bed with me- right now.”

Yamada’s eyes widened at the order, “ Well, well, well, look who’s demanding now??”

“Still you. But come on- the work will always be there tomorrow-”

“But I might not be!” Hizashi finished teasingly, knowing the phrase by heart with how often they flung it around. 

Upon hearing the familiar joke, something twisted in Shouta’s heart and he could not help but stare- lost in some distant thought as the blonde extracted himself from the couch and piles of essays.

Words spoken in jest often held seeds of truth, and that was a horrible thought to end the night on.

Even as they went through the regular routine of bedtime- laughing and teasing as they shared the bathroom- the brunette could not shake the tight strain of apprehension that had made its home in his chest. 

Later (settling back against the pillows), Aizawa watched as Hizashi removed his glasses and hearing aids before sliding under the covers, and found himself lifting an arm in invitation- in that moment wanting nothing more than close proximity to his husband. 

Yamada smiled at the gesture and scooted closer- tucking himself into the other's space. He whispered a quiet “Night Sho, love you” and closed his eyes, oblivious to his spouse’s vague feelings of disquiet.

For a while, Aizawa could only watch the blonde's face relax into sleep- barely visible in the dark of their room- and still, even despite the warm safety, the ominous feeling remained…

What a terrible notion , Shouta thought, to have a world without you .

But he shouldn’t think like that- couldn’t focus on that quiet fear.

Hizashi would come back- he always came back, even if somewhat worse for wear; and Eraserhead would always do his best to ensure the same. 

Firmly deciding to end the train of thought that had led him to such foreboding unease, Aizawa wrapped his arms around his husband and dragged him closer, finding solace in his presence as he worked to find rest. 

Dark quiet enveloped the room; peace replacing fear in persistent waves, and finally he too, fell asleep.

___

-Saturday, 3:15 Am-

Hizashi couldn't help the exaggerated groan of discontent that escaped him as he glared at the overcast sky- wishing (not for the first time) that he could control the weather. He had hoped that- after an incredibly long day, he would be able to get through his patrol uneventfully, but apparently nature intended otherwise. 

The already humid night had been stifling, and (while he rocked his hero look), leather and gel did not pair well with sweat and damp. 

He might need to make some changes to his costume- perhaps a summer look??? His gear and design team would love that. 

Shouta always said he should go for something looser and more breathable, and while he might have agreed, he knew better than to take any kind of style advice from his husband. Unfortunately, it was his curse to have fallen in love with someone who was a notorious fashion disaster... but no matter! He had enough panache for them both!

Smiling as he thought of his taste-deficient spouse, Yamada pulled out his phone to check the time. 

It was just after three in the morning. Rough . 

He slipped the device back into his pocket and once again heaved a sigh of frustration, wishing to no avail that time would go faster . Ultimately, there was nothing else for it but to continue his patrol, so: on he went.

His route was a familiar one, circling and threading through the financial district of Musutafu. It was a wealthy area filled with various shops, restaurants, small shrines, offices and banks- a hot spot for both daytime tourism and professional interest. Because of its notoriety, it was not unusual to have one or several high profile heroes visible on the street, their presence deterring any potential troublemakers looking to upset the everyday bustle. 

Many flashier heroes vied for the route, as it was a great way to be seen and garner attention from an adoring public; but that was only during the day, when there were actually people around to bear witness.

At night, when the streets were empty, the area cleared out- becoming a target for more daring villains looking to seize opportunity. “High risk, high reward” and all that- especially near Musutafu Central Bank, which Hizashi knew was the largest vault and physical store of yen in the city. 

It was after dark that the eager crowd of attention-seeking heroes thinned and those who had more clout took over patrolling the area. 

In fact, several of the larger banks had direct contracts with the Hero Commission- requesting certain agencies place specific heroes in the district to keep it under tight guard. 

It was an unsavory part of hero bureaucracy; one that made Hizashi and many other heroes uncomfortable. 

The notion of essentially being “hired muscle” did not sit well with him, and in his mind, completely defeated the purpose of true heroism. Shouta absolutely agreed, and would often remind him that “independent hero work is still a viable option” (usually with some level of smarmy-self-satisfaction… Eraserhead relished his independence and it was no secret that he held great disdain for the Hero Commission as a whole). 

And sure , Hizashi knew Shouta wasn’t wrong, but still: Mic liked his agency and was happy to continue working with them so long as they kept public welfare at the center of their creed (it also helped that they took Hizashi’s opinions, scheduling and patrol requests into serious account when first signing him- a luxury he’d worked hard to attain). 

Indeed, Present Mic’s agency was very good... and was widely considered to be one of the most highly regarded groups in the industry- working specifically with high profile “media based” heroes in Japan- primarily recruiting those who dabbled in film, music, tv or fashion (assuming of course, that their Hero resume was as ambitious as their other pursuits).

Naturally, Present Mic was one of their darlings . 

Being successful in entertainment and having his own formidable reputation as a hero had made him something of a household name, and his agency loved it. That adoration translated to (what one could consider) special treatment: meaning- he had a lot of say in his missions, routes, and bookings for various events.

That flexibility worked well with his busy schedule; because of course- being the head of the English department at one of Japan's top high schools was an incredible amount of work. Moreso (while it was slightly less demanding), his radio and Dj work was too precious for him to ever give up.

The emcee, modeling, and tv opportunities that filled every other nook and cranny of his life were all obligations from his agency- both to keep relevant in the public eye and (to his own embarrassment and Shouta’s incessant teasing) to boost merch sales. 

What could he say? Present Mic plushies sold like crazy.

Also, due to the destructive nature of his quirk, he was usually on retainer for more intense situations anyway… So, as long as he stayed in active duty as a hero to the public, made substantial appearances, and remained on call for those “dire situations”, he could usually manage to juggle three jobs and a marriage with startling competency.

Still, there were times when things piled up... Then there was nothing for it but to slog through the chaos and do his best not to drown in the excess.

UA’s midterms and finals seasons were often the catalysts to long bouts of overworking and exhaustion. During those times, he would prioritize his students and school workload without hesitation, leaving many other duties to wait- not forgotten, just pending and piling up.

And unfortunately, while his agency was gracious, they still demanded results and action during his busy season (even if to a lesser degree). 

When he was too busy with his UA workload to stay in the hero spotlight regularly, he still had to satisfy performance and time requirements from his agency. It was then that he would be assigned random blocks of patrol time to make up the difference.

That was what he was doing now- much to his own chagrin. This was his fourth randomly assigned night patrol in a month, and hopefully his last for a while... 

His schedule had recently been incredibly congested (thanks to the UA fall midterms), and as such, he had focused all of his energy on his duties as a teacher- temporarily pausing his agency obligations… Now however: it was time to pay the piper.

UA had finally finished its testing, and the students were granted a long weekend to celebrate. 

Hizashi was kicking off that weekend by walking one of his least favorite routes in the dead of night- sweaty, tired and wanting nothing more than to be in bed with his husband and three cats.

For a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the fantasy: dreaming of being showered, fed, well rested and in the company of Shouta. That would be so nice… They should take a vacation. It had been forever since either one of them traveled for non-work related reasons, and even longer since they had gone anywhere together…

Just as he was pondering the weather in Barcelona (or perhaps Greece), a fat raindrop landed on his glasses, pulling him out of his brief reverie. 

Well shit. That was just great.

Quickly dodging under the awning of a nearby storefront, Mic moved to secure his gear: less concerned with getting wholly wet and more preoccupied with the safety of his phone and hearing aids.

His headphones were waterproof (as was any good support item), but his aids (while sturdy and water resistant ) were still a pain to get fixed or replaced, and he wanted to take no chances. He had a backup set of course, but he preferred they stay that way- as a backup set.

Taking a moment to seal the cups of his headphones over his ears (and to ensure the safety of his phone), Yamada straightened his back and strode forth into the now rainy night, admittedly frustrated with the now-bleak conditions.

This night was just not going how he wanted, and try as he might to ignore it, he could feel exhaustion creeping its way into his body…

He was barely thirty one, but god-dammit, he was already way too old for this shit… All-nighters were for the desperate students he worked with and stupid villains; why else would he need to be out here?

That thought was as amusing as it was irritating, and rolling his eyes, Yamada moved to pick up his pace- shivering at the feeling of water dripping under his directional speaker.

And yeesh… Even without this added patrol, his day had been busy and he was tired . School days were already long enough on their own- and as head of the UA English department, there was perpetually more work to go around- especially during testing seasons. 

Past that, he still had “Hands Up!”, and (while his position at the radio station was fun and perfectly suited to him) it was still demanding and had fixed hours- adding to the constant weight of work work work… 

It was just so much all the damn time. 

And shit- he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t getting tired faster; because of course he was. 

Shouta had been right, as usual… he couldn’t keep burning the candle at both ends- it was totally unsustainable; but still, it was so hard to say no! People depended on him yo!

Regardless, he couldn’t keep working at this pace- not if he wanted to avoid serious burnout… 

But fuck- maybe it was too late for that anyway… in fact, he already felt drained- a sensation made worse by the fact that his long workday was technically, just beginning to ramp up… 

That thought was certainly not helpful to his mental exhaustion; the grim recognition dulling his usually upbeat attitude- and (in an attempt to buoy his energy) he had scrambled to his favorite late-night cafe, purchasing the strongest coffee on the menu (with probably far too many espresso shots) before dashing back to be on air for his friday night show. 

Now here he was: still going- so many hours later- tossing longing glances at the vending machines that lined the sidewalk; doing his best to ignore the siren song of more caffeine.

He really shouldn't… After all, he was probably wrecking his heart with the amount of caffeine he already consumed…

With a wistful sigh, the voice hero moved on- continuing his patrol down the block.

All he wanted was to get through the remainder of the night without incident; then, hopefully find something quick to eat… If he could just grab something ready-made from either Seven-eleven or Family Mart, that could tide him over for a bit! At least until he found something more substantial… and hey, seven-eleven onigiri was actually pretty good, thank you very much… but geez, he probably shouldn't be thinking about food right now. He had snacked on some Calbee Fries at the station, but his last “full meal” was a shared lunch with Shouta at UA, and his stomach was making sure he knew it.

Resisting the urge to mellow-dramatically tighten his belt, Yamada focused back on his task- determined to get through the rest of his patrol as simply as possible.

There was just one problem: 

He had a stalker.

Indeed, Present Mic was being followed… likely for the past half-hour, if not longer. 

He had to admit, whoever it was, they were very good at being stealthy; in fact, the only reason he had picked up on it was thanks to his hearing aids. The devices were specially designed for him as a hero- the battery life lasted days and they were able to hone in on (or block out) specific sounds and frequencies (depending on the situation). 

In this case, they had boosted the unmistakable beat of a walking gait- faint and distant, but consistent in a way that was too strategically paced: far enough behind him, but close enough to keep watch. Occasionally, the muted steps would halt and he would pick up the telltale pop of warping air, just barely audible thanks to his hearing aids.

He would bet money that whoever was tailing him had a teleportation quirk . 

Mic frowned, annoyed but admittedly intrigued. It was a common enough occurrence to get a stalker now and then; more often than not, a rabid fan who was a touch too bold. 

Still (while he wouldn’t dismiss that as a possibility) this felt different. 

More likely, this person was either a villain or a petty criminal- probably hoping to gain intel on the patrol route through the district. 

Psh… Well, good luck to them, Hizashi thought , since it changes regularly with whoever is manning the turf…

Once again, a faint popping could be heard- reality distorting around a new form. 

His pursuer was nearer than before. 

They were closing the distance.

He was on high alert now- cautious and tense. Stopping, he turned and looked behind him into the empty streets, hoping to see if he could spot his mysterious pursuant. The rain was pouring in sheets, cool even despite the warm humidity. A vague steam was rising as the water evaporated on the pavement, giving the block a ghostly appearance; pristine buildings fading into a cloudy fog.

Still, there was no one there...

Suspicious, Mic moved to continue his track. 

He wanted to find a cranny to slip into; see if he could get the jump on his mystery-listener. And true: stealth was never his game, but he could get by in a pinch; he did live with Eraserhead after all…

Quickly, he ran over his mental map of the area- plotting paths through alleys and alcoves that could be useful- however, upon rounding the next corner, all thoughts of sneaking around ceased instantaneously . 

For there, standing in the middle of the street, was a single figure: bold and alone.

The stranger was of average height and appeared to be well-built, while atop his head sat a wild shock of electric blue hair- only slightly flattened due to the rain. Past that, he had broad shoulders, a hungry grin, and was shrouded in a dark, cloak-like jacket; its frayed ends swaying in the ghostly mist. 

The most notable thing however- were his eyes: wild, manic and dangerously gleeful. 

Something was not quite right with this one - Mic was sure of that- he could tell, even from his significant distance. 

Still- whoever he was- Yamada had to give him points for style.

The silhouetted figure was ominous, mysterious, and (in a word) cool- his pose striking in a way that screamed drama . 

It all worked- aesthetically speaking…

Before he could spare any more thoughts for the notion of stylish villany, the mystery man spoke- his tone pretentious and obnoxiously cocksure: 

“Well well well- if it isn't a little birdie who's all alone on a dark night! I have a friend who’s been wanting to meet you, my parakeet…”

Hizashi rolled his eyes at the mocking voice, immediately docking whatever style points he had just awarded. What a joke… this guy was definitely a novice in the art of performance. The line sounded rehearsed and utterly cheesy in its delivery- plus there was no creativity… Birdie? Parakeet?? Really??? Like, c’mon- actually try something original next time…

Putting on his trademark grin, Mic struck his own dramatic pose- shoring up his energy before responding in a too-bright tone “Sounds great, listener! Why don't you bring ‘em on out and save me the trouble of hunting ‘em down. It's been a quiet night for me, so I dig the idea of bringing in two baddies at once, ya feel?”

The guy had momentarily deflated- apparently disappointed that the hero failed to respond with any kind of fear or nervousness; regardless, he quickly masked his upset with a vicious sneer.

“Ah ah ah, I’m not going anywhere, hero ; you on the other hand, are cordially invited to come with me- whether you want to or not.”

That response was unsettling, and taking a moment, Present Mic stared at the guy- trying to assess the threat as best he could. 

It wasn’t that uncommon to get a rando here and there who would target specific heroes for any number of reasons. Whether it was an obsessive-stalker, or someone with a grudge or vendetta- unknown encounters could range from laughable to deadly. 

Whatever the case, Mic didn't want to deal with this guy long enough to figure out what his issue might be:

“Hey bud, I'm not sure what you’re on about, but first, I gotta tell you: I’m not going anywhere with you, and second: I am really not digging your vibe.”

The jab was playful, but the blue haired man scoffed- actually looking offended at the lighthearted drag. His face scrunched up as he reckoned with the heroes words, irritation obviously growing as he threw out an arm- pointing at Yamada as he shouted:

“If you think you have any say in the matter, you are mistaken… Present Mic, prepare to go down!” 

Hizashi blinked in surprise at the theatrical declaration; at this point, he was almost certain this guy was drunk- or maybe this was part of some over-the-top dare? It had to be… right? No way this guy was a serious villain.

Raising an eyebrow and resisting the urge to shake his head in disappointment, the blonde couldn't help but ask: 

“Wow. Really my dude? An actual “ prepare to go down”? You’re seriously gonna go with that?”

Rather than directly responding, the mystery man let out a frustrated scream (or maybe it was supposed to be a battle cry?), eyes widening in rage as he ran forward at breakneck speed- launching himself at the waiting hero with his fist pulled back. He was set on aiming a solid punch, and while Mic had to admit that the guy was decently fast, he was still not fast enough.

His hit never landed. 

Mic easily sidestepped- baiting the man into one direction- and watching with quiet amusement as his attacker fell forward, unable to redirect his momentum.

Still, he was hesitant to fight the guy- especially if it was a civilian pulling a shitty prank…

Testing, he called out, “Hey pal! I’m not sure you know what you're in for… Do you really wanna do this?”

Blue-hair was still sprawled on the pavement where he had fallen- apparently shocked that he had gone down so fast. A split second passed and he scrambled to his feet- letting out a savage growl as he looked up- poisonous clarity shining bright in his eyes. 

There was no way around it- this dude was serious- he was actually looking for a fight. Even beyond that, Hizashi could clearly see the anger and embarrassment painted all over his face- crazed expression growing more vitriolic. 

Ah, so he’s one of those guys, Yamada thought to himself- the kind that hinge everything on pride .

Well, he could certainly play into that; especially if it caused ol’ blue-boy to get flustered and messy in his attacks. 

“Man! This must be pretty embarrassing for you, isn't it?” he baited, kicking out a long leg and placing his hands on his narrow hips, “that was a pretty hard tumble you took there- you sure you don't want me to call someone for you? A doctor?? or maybe your mom?” 

It was a silly tease- spoken in bantery jest- but the wannabe villain did not take it that way in the least. 

Letting out a heated snarl- face white with anger, blue sprung up to attack once again. 

Hizashi moved out of the way without missing a beat, “Oi! Buddy! This is not a good look for a new villain… Face planting in the rain? Failing to land a single hit? You sure you don't wanna go home and call it a day? Someones gotta be worried about you being out past dark- these streets are dangerous now-a-days!”

The man let out a scream of rage (an incomprehensible “I’m the fucking danger! ”) before turning on his heel and working to close the space between them; no longer rocketing forward, but actually attempting to gain some kind of ground. 

He was woefully unsuccessful.

Present Mic was ready and dodged each blow easily: years of intense training and hero work made his movements smooth and effortless. And sure- the guy certainly had energy (Mic could give him that), but his moves were unrefined and chaotic- fueled by emotion rather than strategy; at this rate he would tire himself out with his frantic attacks.  

Still, Hizashi wanted to take no risks- whoever this guy was, he hadn't used his quirk yet and that typically meant one of two things: either his ability wasn’t particularly useful in this situation or he was biding his time. If he did have a teleportation quirk, he had no grasp on when to use it in a fight- if not, Mic didn’t want to give him any opportunity to spring a surprise.  

No matter, the blonde was ready for this to be done. 

Turning so that his directional speaker was aimed true, Mic planted his feet and took a measured breath before barking out a commanding “Alright, that’s ENOUGH !”

Blue dropped like a sack of potatoes, hands sealed over his ears, obvious shock written on his face. 

Yamda couldn’t help the tiny curl of satisfaction at the man's expression. He knew how often celebrity heroes were blown out of proportion (largely thanks to the over-enthusiastic media); they were made to seem larger-than-life, but when it came down to it, many could not perform to the standard that had been advertised. Naturally, there were just as many that went beyond- All Might, Endeavor, Kamui Woods, Mirko, (just to name a few)- 

But Present Mic was also the real deal- a little too real, if he was honest with himself . His quirk could devastate, and it was only through long practice and intense training that he had honed his skills enough to be the accomplished hero that he was.

To the point: Mic knew his strength, and was hyper-aware of it as he approached the downed wannabe villain. The man was still on his knees, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his bearing- gritting his teeth even as the hero walked up beside him. 

Doing his best to appear nonchalant (and almost feeling bad for the guy), Hizashi leaned forward in contemplation. 

“Yo, I’m gonna be honest and say this doesn't seem like your kinda gig- Still, let's use this as a teaching experience,” he maintained his charismatic enthusiasm, even as he got down on one knee- sincerely wanting to check that the man was alright. And good; there was no blood coming out of his ears (Mic had been sure to keep his volume to minimum stunning-force).  

Satisfied with his assessment, he continued: “When going in for a fight, patience is everything ! You gotta learn to control your actions; to wait and respond. Check-it dude: strategy is just as important as zeal, if not more so!”

Blue did not respond; he was staring bleakly up at Hizashi with muted contempt. 

Yamada ignored this and carried on. 

“You've got a lot of intent my guy, I'll give you that... and you are pretty fast- but still: sloppy is as sloppy does. I would give you more pointers- if I didn't think you were gonna go nuts.” 

Pulling back, Mic splayed out his hands in confusion, “And by the way, what gives? You got a vendetta against me? Or did you just take a bad dare? Cuz I gotta say: you don’t seem like serious villain stock to me! Like, If you’re going through a rough patch, there are programs out there to help you… I’d be happy to point you in the right direction, listener!”

As he spoke, Hizashi pulled out a set of handcuffs and once again leaned forward- this time intending to restrain the man. The guy hadn't done Mic any physical damage, but he had attacked with intent to harm; he had also claimed that there was someone who wanted to to meet him, something about “being cordially invited whether he wanted to or not...”- an odd statement. It meant this guy wasn’t working alone... that at least warranted a visit to the nearby police station.

Meanwhile, blue-hair had gathered himself enough to straighten up; though he did deign to remain on his knees in the wet. A contemptuous look was still on his face, and briefly, he focused on the restraints in the hero's hands. 

His own hands had finally dropped from their protective position over his ears, and were now poised in front of him- fingers twitching, antsy and clenching- looking almost like the claws of a praying mantis.

Yamada tracked the twitchiness with silent caution- ready to react just as (with surprising speed) one twitchy hand thrust its way into the man’s dark jacket- immediately pulling out something small and unmistakable.

Present Mic’s eyes widened- lurching to the side just in time as a loud “ BANG” cut through the night; a projectile having shot through the air where he had been moments before.

A gun??? He thought- Really?? What kind of two-bit wanna-be villian uses guns anymore??? 

A soaring number of villains relied on quirks, stealth or numbers… but hardly anyone bothered with guns nowadays… This guy must be desperate.  

Hizashi could only grit his teeth, ”Ok, NOT cool listener! You just made this a lot more serious for yourself” 

Yamada’s proximity to the villain proved beneficial; his voice booming with dangerous force, and instantly, blue flung back as though physically stuck- doing his best to drop into another protective huddle as he fought to protect his ears. 

The hero wasted no time; leaping to his feet, he kicked the gun away- ensuring that the man could not easily reach for it again. As he did so, he noted that it was very light- and not a model he was immediately familiar with. 

Whatever- he could examine it later.

Once it was far-enough away, he stepped over to restrain blue; more cautious and irritated than he had been before. He opened his handcuffs and barely leaned back down when- all of the sudden, several things happened at once.

A faint popping of distorted space sounded behind him, and Hizashi whirled around just in time to see two newcomers join them on the misty street. 

But these two new figures were actually ominous; the threat coming off them genuine and truly dangerous- especially when compared to blue.  

The first of the duo was an athletic looking woman. She was dressed in dark clothes and had a hood pulled over her face. Short, purple-ish hair jutted out like bangs, and covering her hands were a set of dark, fingerless gloves.

Beside her was an enormous hulk of a man-beast-mutant. He was as broad as he was tall; skull wide and squat. His face bore a vague resemblance to Ectoplasm: jaw filled entirely with dull, molar-like teeth. Beyond that, no flesh covered his mouth- resulting in the uncanny illusion of a perpetual, eerie grin.

The intruders appeared out of nowhere and sprung into decisive action- their movements smooth in a way that spoke of trained precision. Without hesitation, the mutant type rushed forward, slamming into Hizashi and pushing him violently away from the pathetic form of blue on the ground. 

Mic only had a second to react- scrambling to regain his balance and quickly back away.

Immediately, he could see that this new attacker was much too large for him to take on close up.

He needed distance.

Like. Now .

It was no secret that Present Mic was primarily a range fighter; after all, his most impressive attacks required a certain level of space for amplification. Still, he could rock close-combat in a pinch ( D.J punch was one of his signature moves for a reason, yo! ); and sure- it was true that he wasn’t as good as someone like Eraserhead, but hey- only a few heroes could make that claim anyway! Regardless, Yamada was no slouch, and being married to Shouta (who demanded that they regularly train together) had done wonders for his ability in hand-to-hand. 

No matter… A single look at the enormous mutant told him all he needed to know: odds-wise, if he was to brawl with this guy, he would be flattened. 

Coming to terms with that truth, a flash of movement caught his attention, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the hooded-woman had bypassed blue and gone straight for the gun lying on the ground. Wasting no time, she picked it up and aimed for the hero- pulling the trigger with no ounce of hesitation. 

Again, Mic dodged- simultaneously aiming an aggressive shout towards the woman attacker ; but fuck! she had disappeared! Where had she gone to ?

There was little time to consider that question when again- the hulk rushed him; the beast swinging a powerful fist that was (no doubt) meant to fully incapacitate him. 

Turning on his heel to get some space, Hizashi whooped - putting more power into his voice now that he was on the defensive. The auditory blow landed, and his assailant paused- a look of genuine confusion and pain creasing his brow before he shook it off and lunged forward; once again in pursuit.

Yamada clenched his jaw in irritation- mildly surprised that his attack didn't do more.

Ok, if that's not gonna cut it, let's increase the volume ... 

He had gained just enough space to feel secure about his immediate safety, and taking a deep breath- he neatly twisted around and targeted a thunderous “HEY BUDDY, BACK OFF ” at the villain.

There was the jarring bellow of pain (followed by a heavy rumble of flesh meeting pavement) as teeth-for-face crashed to his knees; the mutant having just taken the full brunt of a sonic punch. 

It must have hurt, but admittedly, Hizashi didn't feel any kind of remorse.

Straightening, the voice hero pulled out his phone- fully intending to call for backup when (to his immense frustration) a quiet pop sounded directly behind him. 

Mic’s eyes widened- working to ignore the cold sweat that now beaded on his brow- hyper aware of the unyielding gun barrel pressed into his back. 

“Drop the phone hero”, rasped the woman. “Do it now”

Ah, so that's where she got to. 

Obediently, Hizashi opened his palm and the device clattered to the floor; glass fracturing as the lady slammed her heel into its screen, ensuring its demise. 

The single moment of distraction was all he needed. 

Wheeling around, he snatched the hand that held the gun and shoved it into the air, intending to force her to drop it. With a yelp, she pushed to the side, and rather than drop the weapon- she did something completely unexpected. With surprising force, she lifted her free hand and grabbed at his face- not hitting or clawing, simply grasping desperately; palm wide, trying to cover as much surface as she could. 

Then with a pop , she was gone. 

Mic staggered back, confused and winded. 

Something was wrong - beyond the fact that the teleporter had escaped... She had done something to him ; where before he had the high of adrenaline pumping through his veins, he now felt weak in a way that was unnatural.

Another pop ; this time at his left side. 

He faced her and shouted, a vague feeling of panic beginning to well up in him- but as soon as she had appeared, she vanished- and from the right, a firm hand seized the side of his face once more: this time, knocking off his glasses.

Of course it was a feint, and he had fallen for it.

He slapped her hand away, but again, she was gone… and again, the strange weariness that had settled into Hizashi’s body grew. He was sluggish now, feeble even. The world was blurring- the kind of blur that turned everything to watercolor: hazy and washed out in a way that spelled danger.

Taking a strained breath, the blonde shook his head; wiping away tracks of rain and trying to clear his now blurry vision. With grim recognition, he understood things were now in dire straits- He needed to get away, call for help, blast them away with his quirk... anything!

Then, once more, he heard a quiet pop- this time from directly behind him. The sound was immediately followed by thin hands gripping at either side of his now-uncovered face. 

It was like a siphon- invasive and abrupt as the last of his strength was pulled from him, and he fell hard to his hands and knees. 

An inexplicable exhaustion sat heavy in his bones- deep and obtrusive; and with grim terror, Hizashi realized that- whoever this woman was- she had literally drained all the energy out of him. 

It was completely unnerving.

He had no option but to stay down and focus on breathing: fighting to move- to lift his head- to do anything . Vaguely, he realized that the woman was moving around him, and (after a second) felt her yank off his headphones; she then unclasped his directional speaker, and jerkily pulled it off- leaving his throat unprotected and his quirk unconstrained.

This was bad, this was bad, this was bad… and still he couldn't even get off the floor. 

With all the strength he could muster, he tilted his head up- hoping to spot some kind of last minute miracle. Without his glasses, everything was fuzzy, but Hizashi could see that all three of his assailants were on their feet and had closed in.

The woman rounded on the blue haired man, furious anger clear in her textured voice as she growled out a wrathful: “ Shit , Fusion. What the fuck?! You said you could take him “no problem”...”

Blue (or Fusion, apparently) blanched- and (in a sulky-defensive tone) said “I was! I could have! You shouldn't have stepped in Glitch… I had it handled .”

Glitch looked dubious, “Tch, “Had it handled” my ass ,” she scoffed, “If Maw and I hadn't stepped in when we did, you’d be in fucking intake by now. Do you even realize how bad that would be? For everyone involved???” 

Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the massive mutant type, saying: “Here Maw, destroy this-'' as she handed over Mic’s directional speaker. Hizashi could only watch in dismay as his support item was shattered in the grip of “Maw”; the smooth metal shell of his gear being reduced to (what looked like) crushed aluminum. 

Ah, damnit…. Those things were expensive to replace! And sure, while his agency would cover the cost to get them fixed- a brand new one would certainly take time and paperwork to get… but he shouldn’t be worried about that right now. No, right now, he needed to figure out a way out of here- needed to put some distance between him and this strange trio.

Straining once more to get to his feet, Yamada had to concede: it was of no use. He was still wobbly and weak in a way that unnerved him- as powerless as a newborn lamb. 

Raising his head, his eyes sought out the form of the villain who had taken him down- grinding out a rough “W-What did you do to me?”. 

The woman turned to face him; stance casual as she schooled her expression to one of stern calm- keen eyes assessing before responding in a dry tone: “Relax hero… It’s nothing too serious- I drained your energy is all: an effect of my quirk. The more I glitch, the more juice I need, and- well… you certainly have enough zest to go around...” 

She then knelt down to be on the same level as him, and Hizashi dimly realized that she still had the strange gun in her hand. Casually, she pulled out what should have been a magazine of ammunition. It was only then that he realized there were no bullets, only a line of neat little darts. 

Tranquilizers his mind helpfully supplied- but the woman was talking once again, “...Regarding the effects of my quirk: a good night's rest and a meal or two will have you right as rain- assuming I don’t drain you too often, of course… This however, is the thing you need to worry about-” she carried on, heedless of his ability to focus or pay attention. 

Mic blearily watched her hands- struggling to see as she pulled out a tiny projectile and held it carefully between her fingers. Ah fuck . He knew what was coming, yet still- he didn't have the power to stop it. 

Once more, he tried to scream or shout or do anything- desperately reaching within to summon his quirk. 

All that escaped him was a low, wheezy groan.

Around them, the rain had slowed- it was still coming down, but was now more of a heavy mist: leaving the cityscape muggy and damp. 

Subdued, Hizashi continued to kneel in the wet- pushing away the grim feeling of defeat and summoning his courage in the face of uncertainty; finding solace in his daydream from earlier- of being clean, well-fed, comfortable, and spending time with his Shouta. 

He only hoped that his husband wouldn't tease him too badly when he found out he’d been beaten, by a measly-three villains no less! One of them who (frankly) barely qualified…

A cruel hand then knotted in his now melting and messy hair.

He cast his eyes up, and with vague disinterest realized it was Blue… or “Fusion”, he supposed… 

The man looked gleeful, and some far off part of Mics brain realized he should watch out for him. Afterall , he seems to hinge things on pride, and I might have bruised his… And man, I sure hope that doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass…

Suddenly, his head was wrenched up, and a tranquilizer slammed into the side of his bare neck: sharp and pinching, followed by a thick dullness that spread with surprising ferocity through the rest of his already leaden body.

Yamada let out a quiet gasp- surprised and unused to having his throat so exposed and ruthlessly manhandled; regardless, he didn't have long to dwell on it.

His blurry vision had already begun to darken, and as he pitched forward, Hizashi cast a silent prayer to whoever-might-be-out-there that Shouta wouldn't worry too much.

Then, the world went dark.

Chapter Text

-Saturday, 11:20 Am-

The Saturday afternoon sun spilled lazily through the wide windows of the UA teachers lounge- warming the space with its gentle light. 

The weather had finally started to change; gradually cooling as the heat of summer gave way to something more temperate - a whisper of autumnal chill tailing the day.

Of course, it was all still in flux, thought Shouta Aizawa as he stared out the window. And while today felt fine- yesterday had been sweltering, making the idea of “fall” feel distant and unrealistic... 

With a sniff, the erasure hero considered the previous afternoon's humidity and then spared a brief moment of pity for his husband. The fool had been running around all day and night in his tight hero-uniform, and was probably as miserable as he was sweaty … 

Wincing, the brunette shook his head- uncomfortable on his spouse's behalf; still, it didn’t take long for him to drop the sentiment. Hizashi was stubborn, and far too attached to his ridiculous look; if he chose to suffer for fashion's sake, that was his burden to bear, not Shouta’s.

Turning his attention back to his desk, Aizawa tried to ignore the gentle daylight and thoughts of his dramatic blonde… Rather, he had to focus on the work in front of him: a dry mix of leftover grading and lesson planning. Neither selection was terribly thrilling, but both were important and needed completion. 

With a quiet sigh, he picked up a red pen- choosing to at least finish the grading. He was nearly done anyway- having finished the majority of it while chaperoning the Heights Alliance dorm the night before. 

Might as well tackle the rest and finish it in one fell swoop.  

Still, it was hard to focus.  

The sun-warmed air invited a soporific calm. Birds could be heard: their songs ringing faintly in the distance, and beyond that- the far off hum of conversation danced lightly in the air. Happy calls of teenagers sounded out as groups of students roamed the school grounds- their chatter audible even in the closed off teachers lounge- filling the space with a lively, youthful ambiance. 

The kids were (no-doubt) happy to be done with their midterms, and were probably excited to take advantage of the long weekend. Many had already left for home, while others had remained- holding games and meetups on the school grounds… All in all, it was a pleasant soundscape to zone out to.

Shouta hid a small smile beneath his capture weapon- endeared despite himself.

Admittedly, his students were working hard and had come so very far… He would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud; and yes- they definitely deserved a little break. It went without saying that (as much as he wanted them to be prepared and ready for the wilds of the world) they were still children, and he would staunchly defend their right to enjoy the freedoms of youth.

As he considered the kids of 1-A, a now familiar bubble of protectiveness formed in his chest and the brunette couldn't resist pinching the bridge of his nose in fond irritation. 

These kids were gonna be the death of him. 

Making him feel things. 

Ridiculous… 

Standing from his desk, Aizawa moved to stretch his back- humming in relief at the pop that cricked down his spine. Once satisfied, he stood to his full height and looked around for his discarded sleeping bag. 

He’d decided that the only way to get rid of his “paternal exasperation” was to take a nap. He couldn't focus anyway, and (admittedly) had gotten very little sleep the night before. 

And damn… He couldn’t even blame that on his students… They had been good. “Well behaved” even… Not a single shenanigan all night. It was just: he had a hard time relaxing when he knew Hizashi was out on patrol. Sure, he’d been able to catch a few hours of rest, but the night had certainly been rough and far too long.

All that aside- conditions were perfect for a brief rest: no one was in the teachers lounge, the temperature was comfortable, the ambiance was sweet, and (until his husband finished his JSL lessons with “problem-child one and two”) he had no reason to leave the building. 

He had a plan after all.

Remembering his scheme made Shouta pause- intent on refining the details in hopes of exacting it to the highest degree: 

He could do this. Easily . 

He’d wrangled worse before… 

Still- his husband was sneaky, and too smart for his own good. Even if he expected Yamada to be tired and running on fumes- he’d still need to be firm- decisive, and completely ready for any excuse that might be thrown his way… 

All that to say: once Hizashi wrapped his last class, Shouta would be ready and waiting. 

He fully intended to gather the man up, drag him home, make him eat something (that wasn't 7-11 onigiri), and finally- get him to bed (hopefully for a good long while). Eventually, they would have a serious conversation about the blondes' penchant for overcommitting, and then, well... who could say where the weekend would lead them? In fact, aside from meeting with Tsukauchi, Aizawa's own schedule was (for once) relatively open- they might as well stay in bed and enjoy the down time…

And he could think of plenty of things they could do together…

For just a moment, Aizawa allowed his imagination to run wild (considering possible “activities” he could do with his spouse) before shaking his head and reeling it in- working to “will away” the warm blush that now heated his face; No , he internally chastised: it is not the time… first, focus on the plan .

Grabbing his sleeping bag from under his desk, Shouta returned to his objective of taking a nap; deciding that (until it was “go-time”) he may as well indulge.

With a yawn, he moved to the couch that sat along the back wall of the room- it’s favorable location making it his preferred spot to recharge.

Indeed, the weathered sofa was strategically placed, and sat directly between the coffee bar and the snack table; simultaneously, it was adjacent to one of the wide windows (allowing for sunlight) and an air-conditioning vent (keeping the spot perfectly temperate).

This was one of Aizawa's favorite “work-time” spots; a location he occupied so often that many of his coworkers referred to the space as “Erasers Nest” (a nomenclature he was reasonably ok with). 

What helped was that the spot was always “mysteriously free” for him at pivotal points in the day (a coincidence that did not escape him and only made his fellow teachers slightly more endearing).

Settling down, the brunette tossed a quick glance at his phone to read the time: 

It was barely 11:35. 

Alright... 

So he still had to wait for a bit before he could drag his overworked spouse home; and not to their (admittedly very nice) UA apartment, but to their actual home… the one away from the school and its many responsibilities.

In the aftermath of the USJ incident (and with the implementation of the dorm system), many teachers had been asked to relocate to on-campus housing. It was optional, but Nedzu had been incredibly persuasive- and had worked with Cementoss to artfully design the teacher’s residences. Together, they ensured that all staff were supplied with stunning, well-furnished, amenity-filled homes.

The principals conniving worked, and while many instructors decided to enthusiastically move onto UA’s campus- a small handful chose to decline. Even fewer decided to split their time between the offered apartments and their original residences- unwilling to fully give up their private spaces but eager for the work-week convenience. 

This last group included both Eraserhead and Present Mic.

While their place at UA was perfectly fine , there was something special about having a space that was all and only theirs. Frankly, It was a relief to get away from the chaos of the school (and to not be “on call” for student drama… it was exhausting to constantly be the guy who broke up petty-teenage arguments).

Their second apartment was also closer to the city center and was directly adjacent to a train station; that proximity meant that the radio station, hospital, and Hizshi’s agency were all less than fifteen minutes away, making it extremely practical as a central location. 

Even past all that, the tsukemen spot on the corner of their alley was the best in the district… they couldn’t just give that up! More importantly, the cats preferred the city apartment. That alone made Shouta want to keep it.

With a quiet nod of conviction, the erasure hero pulled up his sleeping bag- getting comfortable before closing his eyes and letting his mind drift.

There was still a vague to-do list running through the back of his head: things he needed to accomplish before the day was through. 

It would be a takeout night- that was for sure… probably something light, like spring rolls and crispy tofu. They could go to that one spot- just outside the station by their place; their food was consistently tasty and was always hot by the time they made it home... And sure- he didn't mind cooking, but tonight he just wanted to relax with Hizashi and not have to worry about clean-up (nevermind the fact that they hadn’t gone grocery shopping in days). 

Regardless, he still had paperwork to tackle- some for school, but most for his investigation with Tsukauchi… No matter, he wouldn’t bother with any of it until Yamada was asleep. He was certain his husband would go down early, and that would give him plenty of time to work without distraction.

Thinking of distraction: It was a good thing he didn't have any patrols set for the weekend. It was one of the benefits of working a research case with local law enforcement; as long as he was consigned, he could hand off his routes to another available hero- that meant he could really take his time… And while typically- just doing research on a broker investigation might bore him, he found he was grateful for the small reprieve in scheduling.

Whatever the case, all of that was a problem for later. For now, he found himself warmed by gentle sunlight- slowly becoming loose and lazy as he basked in the comforting ambiance of distant chatter and birdsong.

His sleeping bag was weighty and reassuring, and Aizawa allowed himself to fully relax into it- satisfied with his plan for the remainder of the day. 

Slowly yet surely, his breathing evened out, and time stretched into something intangible and hazy. Then, lulled to sleep by the peaceful familiarity around him- Shouta drifted off.

__

“Yo teach, wake up” 

The growling demand pulled Aizawa out of his sleep- mildly surprised at the impatient and juvenile tone. 

Because that certainly wasn't the voice of a fellow teacher…

Sitting up, the brunette threw a quick glance at the time, noting that it was already 12:28. 

Huh, I really slept for nearly an hour- he thought, admittedly refreshed. He hadn't realized he was that tired, but regardless: was glad for the solid nap. Though I probably should have set an alarm… he considered as he blinked awake.

Oh well; there’s always next time, and it’s not like Hizashi is done yet anyway...  

Unbothered by his own passivity, Shouta finally looked up to identify his guest… or guests, actually. 

Plural .

Because of course there would be two…

Katsuki Bakugo and Izuku Midoriya (general “terrors of the hero course”) were hanging by the open door of the U.A. teachers lounge: the first looking mildly irritated, the latter nervously excited.

For a split second, Aizawa stared- perplexed by the teens presence.

While it was still unusual to see the duo together in a capacity that didn't spell death or imminent chaos, Eraserhead knew that they were slowly yet surely making progress in their relationship- and while it was far from thriving, they were much further along from where they had been at the start of their time at U.A.

No matter. Why were they here?

Before he could voice that particular question, Bakugo (seeing that he was awake) wasted no time and tossed out a brusque “Where’s Present Mic?” 

The teens' query hung in the air- perplexing in its implication. 

Mic should be with them , shouldn't he? Wasn't their JSL tutoring supposed to be happening right now?

Again, he looked at the clock- and yes; just as he thought. The pair should be halfway through their extracurricular with the voice hero right now.  

“Well?” urged an impatient Bakugo, huffing slightly even as Midoriya flew in to explain: “Um, well, you see Mr. Aizawa, he was supposed to meet us at noon- after his meeting with the English department; I’m sure you know this already, but he’s been teaching Kacchan JSL, and a few weeks ago I asked if I could join the lessons! Cause well, I think it would be helpful for me to know- especially since Kacchan and I have been training together more and more and-”

“He never showed up,” Bakugo interjected- jumping to the point.

“Right!” agreed Midoriya, “He’s always on time too; so we thought it was pretty unusual that he never came. We thought that maybe we got the date wrong, but he confirmed it with us after English class yesterday, so that can’t be it… Maybe you might know where he is? Or it could be he was just in the teachers lounge?” As the teen spoke, his eyes combed over the room, seeing that the only occupant was in fact, his homeroom teacher.

Aizawa frowned, faint worry blooming in his gut; he was well aware of Mic’s crazy weekend schedule, but one thing was constant - “No matter the chaos, rain or shine, Present Mic is always on time!”. The stupid jingle rang in his head, one that Hizashi always sang when he was ushering Shouta out the door to get to a joint event.

Quelling his concern, the erasure hero set his expression to one of neutral regard. “Hm… that’s unlike him,”

From the door, the blonde teen furrowed his brow- annoyed with the assessment. “Yea no shit- I've got better things to do with my weekend then get stood-up by a teacher for a class I didn't even want to take.”

Shouta merely fixed Bakugo with a warning glare, unimpressed with the kid's attitude. He knew the teen was just grousing; moreso, he knew for a fact that Bakugo was taking to sign like a fish to water. Even Hizashi had been surprised at how much the boy seemed to retain.

He briefly thought back to the discovery of Bakugo’s declining hearing- a thing that no one (aside from the teen) had really been surprised by. At first, Katsuki had been stricken; maintaining a level of denial that was exhaustingly impassioned. Eventually however, that denial transformed into grim recognition and slow acceptance. 

The boys pride was gradually thawing, and It certainly helped that the students of class 1A were so aggressively supportive of their explosive friend getting the help he needed.

A true turn in his attitude came when Hound Dog (UA’s resident youth counselor) called for a meeting with the Bakugo family, Recovery Girl, Aizawa and Present Mic. 

It was a dramatic event to say the least. 

Katsuki’s parents (while appropriately concerned and wanting to know treatment options), still had an attitude of “ I told you so” regarding the state of their son's hearing, and a bickering war soon spouted between mother and son. The teen had grown irate, and it was only due to Recovery Girl sweeping in that they were able to avoid a full-blown Bakugo family shouting match.

“Now, because we have found out about his auditory decline relatively early on, there is a lot we can do to preserve his hearing.” the Youthful hero assured as tempers settled down. “I’m afraid it will continue to deteriorate due to the volume of his quirk, but assuming we take precautionary measures, he can avoid total deafness and will get by with just moderate loss. It's no use sugar-coating the situation: his hearing loss may advance to severe in the future, but again: steps taken now can help you avoid that, or at least help you deal with it better.” 

Aizawa remembered the boy's face as he took in his probable future; he had worn a mask of huffy indifference, but underneath, despair was easy to spot. It was then that Mic had taken the floor, voice devoid of its usual showmanship and holding a non-patronizing tone of empathy. 

“Hey Listener, I know it’s a rough thing to go through… there's no getting away from it. When you find out that your body is breaking down because of your own quirk- well, it can feel like a pretty extreme kind of betrayal, and that stings . Still, this does nothing to diminish your value or your potential- both as a regular person and as a hero in training. It's just another hurdle to get over; one that's gonna be new and different, but at the end of the day, nothing you can't accomplish.”

Bakugo had stared at Mic as he spoke, face impassive as he took in the words. 

Present Mic continued, voice still earnest and sure: “This thing won't stop you from going beyond, and it certainly won't stop you from being an amazing hero- but you gotta accept that you can’t ignore this. There are people here to help you kid, and I promise we will come through in every way we can, but you gotta accept that help too… cause at the end of the day, it's your decision to make.”

Katsuki had a calculating look in his eye- obviously suspicious and confused as he listened to his English teacher, finally responding with “What makes you think you know anything about this? Why are you even here??” 

His tone had an edge of challenge to it, but more so, there was a genuine curiosity. The explosive teen had never thought much of Present Mic beyond him being “the abrasively loud English teacher and radio guy”, but for some reason- here he was, sitting in on a personal meeting with his parents and homeroom teacher .

Mic had not responded with words; instead, he simply pulled off his headphones and turned his head so the boy could see. And there: tucked neatly inside his ear was a tiny hearing aid, nearly invisible if not for the barely-there plasticine sheen.

“I've had hearing loss nearly my entire life... Having a quirk that basically makes me a super sonic noise machine will do that… but still, it hasn't stopped me in any way. That’s not to say there won’t be unique challenges that come up, but what’s life without a few puzzles?”

All three of the Bakugo’s had looks of shock at the revelation of Present Mics reality; still, the hero carried on, “I gotta tell you that mines a bit more advanced than what you’re currently dealing with: I’ve had moderate-severe loss since i was a young teen, and use these guys almost every day,” he gestured at the aid in his ear. “When I don't use them, I can still make out certain sounds and frequencies, but speech is a lot harder for me to get- that's where sign language has really helped me.”

Now, as he spoke, he began gesturing wildly with his hands in near rhythm to his speech. Katsuki belatedly realized he was signing along with his words, “Sign is great for a million and one reasons; first off, it's always great to know another language, second, if you get to a point where your hearing loss is so severe that you can't understand spoken words, sign still gives you the ability to communicate freely! Also, very practically, it can be a lifesaver when you’re a hero yo!”

Here Eraserhead cut in, and as he spoke, he too began to sign along “Mic is right- in fact, many hero’s use sign language regardless of their hearing status. The ability to communicate without words can help you in any number of stealth situations; or consider, if you are trying to inform another hero of a dire event without alaming fearful citizens, or if you are in a situation where you can see another hero but can't hear them… Sign can help you in all of those instances and more.”

Bakugo’s look of stunned enlightenment was starting to shift into something more alive.

A challenge had been proposed, one that could be both advantageous and invigorating. Gradually, a grin began to spread over his face, and in a conniving tone, he asked “So what you’re telling me, is that if I get a grip on this hearing shit now and learn sign language, then I’ll be more useful then the incompetent extras in class???” 

At this, Mic had to hide a wry smile. Eraserhead fought the urge to roll his eyes, unsurprised and well acquainted with Bakugo’s need to outperform everyone. 

Recovery Girl did not look impressed in the least.

“Young man, I prefer that decisions about your health be made with more gravitas and less ego. Self care and maintenance of your physical well-being is dire when you are a hero; but yes, to answer your question: taking steps to preserve your hearing and learning sign will benefit you immensely- now and in the future.” 

And that had done it for the most part. The teen's change in attitude was palpable; instead of fighting his parents when they asked Recovery Girl for recommendations on a good otolaryngologist, he seemed genuinely invested and surprisingly non-confrontational about the whole thing. It was the most agreeable he had been for the entire meeting.

Toward the end of the conference, it was Mitsuki Bakugo who had raised the question of JSL lessons for her son; “When should we look into that? And is that something available here at UA?” She asked as she stared down Present Mic expectantly. 

“JSL tutoring is available here!” The voice hero responded enthusiastically, “the school also offers it as an elective during students second and third years. I would recommend starting lessons sooner than later, just for fluency sake. Of course, In situations where a student is learning out of necessity, I highly encourage the parents to take classes themselves.” 

“Well obviously we would learn,” snipped Mitsuku before aggressively ruffling her son's wild hair. “This brat can't escape talking to his parents that easily.” Mother and son had then broken off into what could only be a familiar routine of antagonistic bickering when Masaru Bakugo (completely unaffected by his family’s combative display) asked “Who are the available tutors?”

Hound Dog (who had been mostly forgotten until that point) rattled off the names of several UA staff who were tutors in that arena, ending with “And of course, there’s Present Mic who sometimes tutors one-on-one.”

Aizawa had to resist tossing a vague glare at the counselor for outing his husband's availability- but was shocked out of it when his student jumped in with an absolute: “Him. I want him to teach me.”

All the adults in the room had stilled, looking with mild surprise at the prickly teen as he declared his preference to the world. 

Noticing the eyes trained on him, Katsuki bristled, “What??! If I have to learn a stupid thing I'd rather it be from someone who’s an actual hero and knows what he’s talking about… Not some random-ass general-studies teacher who I don’t know! Not that I actually want to waste more time on another dumb language class...” he growled petulantly. 

Mic looked genuinely surprised, and excitedly responded with: “Wow listener! I’m glad to hear it! I’d be happy to take you on as a student… though I gotta let you know: my time is pretty limited, so I would need you to be very serious about this.”

“Yeah, yeah- I’m serious in everything I do” the blonde stated dismissively (to which Aizawa silently concurred). 

From then on, it was a scheduled thing. They started once a week, alternating between Wednesdays and Saturdays for hour-long lessons. 

At some point (to Present Mic's shock and delight), Bakugo had shown up with an eager Midoriya who timidly asked to take part in the lessons with his classmate. The Voice hero had been thrilled but cautious, “I’d love to have you join little listener! But you would have to attend the sessions I already have with Bakugo here; unfortunately I can’t add another one-on-one slot to my schedule-” “It’s fine” Bakugo had interjected, before grumbling out, “I already told him it’s whatever… so long as he isn't a pain.”

As surprising as that development was, Aizawa had it on good authority from Hizashi himself that both problem children were excelling in their extracurricular class and religiously attending every lesson. 

That brought the erasure hero back to the present: these kids should be with Mic, not in the teacher’s lounge harassing him for anything. Schooling his expression to keep his growing concern at bay, Shouta stood from the couch and stepped back toward his computer.

“Hold on, let me see if he sent out any announcements on a change in schedule- it could be that his other meeting ran long.” As he turned to the screen he surreptitiously pulled out his phone to check for any missed messages. None . Ok- that was not ideal, but still, there was no need to jump to any conclusions...

Sitting down, he pulled up the teacher's digital bulletin board and went through the newest updates that appeared since his nap- thankful for the ease of the process. He had to hand it to Nedzu; the principal knew how to run a very tight ship. 

The school operated on a system that was like a well-oiled machine, both in the real world and digitally. The digital system was efficient, thorough, and intuitive- and the very front page was a live bulletin where class scheduling, gym use, special training, emergency preparedness, and even staff birthdays were all scheduled and accounted for. Naturally, only UA teachers could access it, but being able to log in was like having a key to the kingdom. 

One part of the constantly cycling updates was a staff wide chat and message board. It was mostly used for idle conversation and requests- things like: “Hey Lunch Rush, what's the special today?, ” or “Fair warning, my class punched a hole in the floor of Gym Gamma. Cementoss pls send help.”  

If the English Departments meeting had indeed gone late, it would certainly be mentioned here.

Scrolling through, Aizawa frowned as the only thing he came across was a brief note from another staff member in the general studies branch; it had been tagged for the English department and simply read “Yamada still isn’t here, we can postpone to next week.”

Well, that was decidedly unhelpful , he thought, as he shot a glance over at the two boys who were still hovering in the doorway. 

Satisfied that they were an ample distance away, he navigated to another window and this time pulled open his and Hizashi’s shared calendar.

Shouta had never kept an amorous relationship with technology; he found it tedious and frustrating in how often it changed. However (while he had little patience to keep up with the newest trends or systems), he was very clear on how to use his online calendar. That was largely due to the fact that it was helpfully synced with Yamada’s- an idea he initially scoffed at.

When his husband first proposed the concept of joining their calendars, Aizawa showed little interest. He had no desire to engage in yet another frustratingly-complicated technological hassle; but Hizahi had been patient, and gradually he got the hang of the small system. 

As they both became busier and busier (Present Mic with his three high profile jobs and Eraserhead with his demanding two) it became incredibly important to know how and when to budget time... Especially if they wanted to see each other.

Shouta distinctly remembered one night after patrol, having arrived home exhausted from a brutal fight- he had slumped into the bedroom and nearly jumped out of skin upon seeing his husband sound asleep in their bed. It then dawned on him that it had been over a week since they had even passed each other at home. 

At that moment, he committed to using the calendar. 

That was now several years ago, and since then their lives and relationship had drastically improved. Now, both men made it a point to never work on Sundays (unless absolutely necessary), and would always fight to keep Saturday evenings free as best they could.

Certain that if Hizashi had made any kind of rapid change to his day, evidence of it would be here, Aizawa clicked through until he found the date he was looking for.

His jaw tightened as he stared at the screen. There it was in bright red font: 12:00-1:00 Pm Saturday, JSL W/ Bakugo and Midoriya . 

No notes or amendments had been made whatsoever.

“I’m gonna call him,” he said aloud, more to himself than to the students- and without waiting for any kind of affirmation from them, he hit speed-dial and put the phone to his ear. 

It didn't even ring, instead going straight to the Voice Heros mail.

Immediately he hung up and dialed home, then their UA apartment. There was no answer at either address. Worry now rolled in his stomach; he decided to call one last number before beginning to assume the worst.

He had known he wouldn’t hear from Hizashi until after he was tutoring JSL; that left a large gap of time for anything to have happened. He briefly thought back to this morning when he woke to no texts or missed calls on his cell. He hadn’t thought much of it since he was so preoccupied with chaperoning the Heights Alliance dorm, but now that he considered it, a strange wave of guilt washed over him. 

Of course Hizashi always texted him after a late patrol, both to let him know if he was alright and to give him an ETA on when he would arrive home. Shouta should have known something was wrong a long time ago…

He knew Mic had finished his show at the station last night without any hiccups- he had the radio playing quietly all night to affirm it. That meant from the start of his patrol last night to now, anything could have happened. That was over 12 hours of time where Hizashi could have been missing, or injured or captured or… no. He wouldn’t even think of THAT as an option.

The phone rang once before the person on the other side picked up, answering with a: “Hey ‘Zawa, it's unusual for you to call so early on a Saturday afternoon; what's up?”

The feminine voice was alight with curiosity, and Shouta could make out what sounded like chewing; he must have caught her at lunch… or breakfast. She probably just woke up .

“Midnight, have you seen or heard from Mic in the past few hours?”

He could hear her pause in whatever it was she was doing, “Isn’t he supposed to be at UA doing his sign lessons?”

“Yes, but he apparently never made it- I have Bakugo and Midoriya here with me.”

Another pause, this time more ominous; then “Sorry Eraser, I haven't heard from or seen him since yesterday… should I be worried?” Genuine concern laced Nemuri’s voice (she was after all, like a sister to both men).

Frustrated but still unwilling to give in to panic, Shouta rubbed a hand over his eyes. “No, I’m sure he’s fine- I’ll text you when I find him.” Then, without waiting for a response- he ended the call. 

He knew the somnambulist was accustomed to his abrupt patterns of communication, and he had no doubt that she would start making her own calls to try and track down his intrepid husband.

Staring at his phone, Aizawa sat quiet for just a moment; gathering his thoughts and trying to subdue the knot of fear and uncertainty within him. Ok. A 12 hour window. That was still less than a day.  

Finally, he stood and addressed the two waiting boys- their forced expressions of innocence implying that they had listened in to his conversation with Midnight. “I need to make some calls- see if Mic’s had contact with anyone since his last patrol. He could be fine, but frankly this is unlike him.”

As he spoke, he stuffed the papers he had been grading into a folder and pocketed his phone and keys. He then grabbed his capture weapon (which had been unceremoniously dumped into the vacant seat next to him) before winding it around his neck and striding purposefully out of the teachers lounge toward Nedzu’s office.

Bakugo and Midoriya watched him pack in haste- both sharing a look of surprise before following Aizawa out the door.

“Wait a second!” called Izuku, “Mr. Aizawa, do you really think something is wrong? I mean, he could just be late- or maybe he forgot our lesson? I know he’s super busy all the time, and that was even before he started teaching JSL to Kacchan and me…”

“No.” The brunette cut in, “That’s not a possibility.”

This time it was Bakugo who piped up, his tone dry as he stalked behind.

“How would you know? You're making this seem like a bigger deal than it should be.”

At that, Aizawa huffed into his capture weapon. He wanted to skirt the subject, but knowing his two problem children, they would not leave him alone until they had a satisfying answer. He needed to think of a plausible reason for his response that did not “out” the details of his marriage.

“Present Mic and I are very well acquainted.” he finally ground out, “I know when something is out of character for him.”

He stopped his march down the hall to turn and make eye contact with both students, deciding to hide his concern under a flimsy teaching moment- mostly hoping to put them off the scent of his real relationship with Hizashi.

“It’s rational to have other heroes in your circle who know your patterns, scheduling, and general obligations; that way if any irregularities appear, they can suss out if something has gone wrong on your behalf.”

Midoriya’s eyes lit up with understanding, “Oh, I see! Like a buddy system! Sort of like a sidekick- but for everyday life!”

Nodding sagely at his own revelation, Izuku pulled a tattered notebook out of his bag and began making quick notes, even as Aizawa resumed walking down the hall. “That makes sense, don't you think Kacchan?” 

Bakugo squinted in doubt for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders in vague assent; “Sure… whatever. Like a hero spouse” he grumbled before turning to once again follow his teacher.

Aizawa resisted the urge to slap his own forehead in disbelief. So much for putting them off the trail of spouses. Hopefully they would take his answer at face value and leave it.

No such luck.

Midoriya “eeped!” as he jogged to catch up, “Wow Mr. Aizawa! That must mean that you know Present Mic really well! Especially if you are his life-schedule-sidekick-sorta hero spouse-buddy! Is it just him that you keep track of? Or is there a sort of network that helps you all keep track of each other? And is this a thing we will be covering in class at any point? How many other heroes would you recommend sharing schedules or this kind of information with? I’m wondering if it would just cover patrol routes and times, or everyday things like going to the grocery store and vacation spots; even so, I know you and Mr. Yamada have known each other for a while- and since you work together here at U.A. It's clear to me that you would know his school schedule, but considering you’re an underground hero and he’s pretty often in the spotlight, it seems like you two wouldn’t naturally be involved in each other's hero careers… Is that helpful in your case? Or does the difference in hero tracks make it harder to know what's going on with each other? Did you discuss this with each other? And to what point to you keep personal and work lives sepa-” 

“DAMNIT Deku, shut UP.” Bakugo was bristling, though there was no real bite to his words.

Aizawa, for once, was thankful for the blonde's outburst; he really did not have it in him to follow Midoriya’s incoherent string of mumbled questions. 

Having finally reached Nedzu’s office, he turned to the two boys who (for some reason) had followed him all the way here.

“I am going to speak with the principal and see if he has any insight into Present Mics whereabouts. Don't worry about this, just go back to the dorms; I don't want to catch either of you two starting anything, so behave.”

The command had a steely edge to it, leaving no room for argument; Midoria responded with a “Right! Yes Mr. Aizawa” while Bakugo rolled his eyes and growled an assenting “Tch, whatever...”

Aizawa raised a warning eyebrow and glared at the teens, trying to determine the likelihood of them actually listening to his orders. Once satisfied, he turned to let himself into the principal's office and without another word, slammed the door shut behind him.

__

From outside Nedzu’s office, Izuku and Katsuki stared at the space where their teacher had been just moments ago. The sense of urgency emanating from Aizawa had set them both on edge, but without any more information (and the direct instruction to go back to the dormitory) neither could do much about it.

With a huff, Katsuki turned to walk down the hall, back towards the dorm grounds; Izuku followed, obviously troubled. For a moment there was terse silence before the green haired boy broke into a concerned flurry for his teacher.

“Kacchan, I don't know about you, but I think Mr. Aizawa is really bothered about Mr. Yamada.. Do you think this is serious? I've just never seen him look so worried for another teacher…”

“Tch, what's it to you Deku?” the blonde shot back, “And why should Aizawa be worried? There's no evidence that anything has happened, and even if it did- Mic’s a pro, though he’s a seriously lame one...”

“Don't be mean Kacchan!” Izuku admonished, “Present Mic is an awesome hero! When I was studying him for my hero analysis, I learned that he is super powerful… Like way more than anyone thinks! Did you know that at top volume, his scream has been recorded to have the same force as a sonic boom? That's like a jet engine breaking the sound barrier!! All from one guy!!! Also, his quirk is classified as a “last resort” due to its destructive capabilities; At close range, he could shut down organs, mess with the central nervous system, even liquify brains! I heard he can even level buildings with just a shout- How is that not cool?!”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, admittedly impressed but unwilling to admit it.

“Then why the hell does he do the whole “entertainer bit” like a damn ditz?”

Izuku put a finger to his chin in thought- “Well, most heroes take on some kind of persona when they get big; it makes sense that since he already has a voice quirk, he would lean into the music thing… Also, he is an actual DJ and emcees most of the major hero events... even beyond that, he has said in class that he wanted to be a musician if he wasn't a hero...”

“Yeah , yeah, I get it… he found a niche and ran with it”

The boys had reached the doors leading out to student residences; most people had gone home for the long weekend, but here and there were meandering groups of teens, sprawled out on the grass and enjoying the day. 

In the distance, a familiar bunch of students from their class waved jovially, beckoning them over. Eijiro Kirishima was leading the group. He was dressed casually; arms loaded with bags full of snacks- smile blinding as he broke off from the group to meet them.

“Hey guys!” he called excitedly as he jogged over. “I thought you still had your Saturday class! Otherwise I totally would have invited you!! We just got back from Lawsons; gonna make a junk food feast and have a Mario Kart tournament- you both should totally join!”

As the group made their way back to Heights Alliance, Izuku tossed one last look over his shoulder towards the main campus building. As happy as he was to hang out with his friends, he still had a weird feeling about their homeroom teacher and the “supposedly-not-missing” Voice Hero. Turning back around, he caught Katsuki’s eye and realized the other boy must be thinking something along the same lines. 

Aizawa had told them to let it go, which he would do out of respect… but only for now. After all, meddling when you didn't need to was the essence of being a hero .

___

“Principal Nedzu, do you know why Present Mic hasn’t come in today?” Shouta asked, wasting no time on pleasantries as he burst into the office; he needed to get to the bottom of where Hizashi was and “beating around the bush” with faux politeness was illogical.  

“Why Eraser! I expected you-” the mouse/bear/dog thing chimed- completely unfazed by the invasion. Rather, He was calmly sitting behind his desk- laptop open, ever-present cup of tea steaming at his elbow. “Unfortunately, I am not sure of where our English head is. He had a meeting with the rest of the department today, but according to the other teachers, never made an appearance.”

Shouta felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance. “And why was I not informed of this directly ?”

Nedzu and all of the immediate Heroics teachers were aware of Aizawa and Yamada’s marriage- several of them having even attended the wedding itself so many years ago. It was quite normal for a fellow staff member to pass a message or general information to either Eraserhead or Present Mic at the request of one another.

Unbothered by Eraserheads terseness, Nedzu responded with a gracious calm: “To be honest, I was only made aware of the situation myself- Why, just before you walked in, I was on the phone with security. Apparently our Present Mic has not been on campus at all today; his ID was not scanned for the teacher residences either. Here, have some tea.”

The principal thrust a teacup into Shoutas hands before continuing- “Yamada has always been an excellent communicator, and this is so unlike him that I anticipate something being terribly amiss. You being here is obviously testament to this. Now tell me, what information do you have and what can I do to help?”

Shouta took a deep breath, thankful that the principal was so well acquainted with both he and his husband that it took no convincing to see that something was wrong.

Pulling up Hizashi’s calendar on his phone, he handed over the device while explaining the situation, “This was his schedule for the weekend; he was supposed to get here right after his patrol and prep for his meeting. After, he should have met up with two of my students for an extracurricular tutoring session.” 

“Ah yes. JSL with young Bakugo and Midoriya if I am correct?” 

Aizawa smirked in concession, “Nothing gets past you sir.”

“Nor should it!” He heartily agreed, “Which is why I am somewhat flustered by the fact that I currently do not know where a top member of my staff is!” 

Reigning it in, the principal scrolled through the phone for a moment longer, “This is quite the schedule, and due to his patrol, there is a wide window of time for anything to happen... I advise reaching out to his agency and the Radio station. Also, it would be prudent to call the hospital and see if anyone matching his description was admitted in the past 12 hours. Would you like for me to assist?”

Aizawa shook his head, “No, thank you though. I’ll make the calls myself; In the meantime, I’m gonna head to our off-campus apartment; he may be there, and i don't want to raise the full alarm just yet….”

“Of course! Please let me know if you need anything; you must recognize that myself and the other UA staff would do anything to help. I certainly hope all is well.”

“Yes, me too.” Shouta then dropped into a respectful bow before turning to leave, “Thank you sir. I’ll keep you updated.”

As he strode outside, the erasure hero tried calling Hizashi’s phone (just to be sure)  and growled in frustration as it (once again) went straight to voicemail. Damn . 

Whatever this was, he didn't like it. He needed to hurry.

Prioritizing speed, Aizawa decided to forgo the train and instead, headed for the staff parking lot- seeking out Hizashi’s stupid Shelby. He hated driving in general and avoided it when he could- but (more specifically), he hated driving his husband's American-made sports car. 

The thing was loud, obnoxiously blue, difficult to park and was obscenely expensive to maintain … 

Still, Yamada loved the damned thing, and (in an effort to placate Shouta over its high maintenance costs) he had promised to do all the driving whenever they took it out together. 

Unfortunately , thought Aizawa- Hizashi isn’t here right now to make good on that promise… 

Pushing his irritation to the side, the brunette approached the car and fished out both his keys and phone. 

He figured that before he left campus, he should shoot Nemuri a text update. It felt too soon to ask for Nedzu’s involvement, but Kayama would beat his ass if he didn’t keep her in the loop- especially after alerting her that something might be off.

For a moment, his thumb hovered over the screen, unwilling to type out the message. He felt like once he did, it would make whatever was going on a real thing rather than just a few unanswered calls and missed meetings. 

Eventually, he settled on something short and to the point, nodding in satisfaction as he hit send: 

“ Not sure where Hizashi is- checking with his work. Let me know if you hear anything. ”

Getting inside of the Mustang, Shouta pulled the door shut and started the ignition- letting the car idle as he scrolled through his phone- seeking out the number to Yamada’s agency. 

The line began to ring, and without any more delay, Shouta buckled himself in and sped out the lot. He was ready to harass whoever he needed in order to get some answers- whether that be at the radio station or Mics agency.

At the same time, even despite his determination, a quiet dread began to build- cold and weighty deep in his stomach. 

Adjusting his grip on the steering wheel and stepping on the gas, Aizawa furrowed his brow as he stared at the road ahead.

He had to steel himself for whatever he found out. Good or bad.  

No matter the case- regardless of what was uncovered: he would find his husband, and god help whoever got in his way.

____

-Unknown time-

Hizashi slowly woke to the dark stillness of an unfamiliar place- groggy and unfocused in ways that were unnatural to him; limbs too heavy and uncoordinated to truly be his. 

Usually, he could wake with full alertness- able to shake sleep and go as soon as his alarm went off. Currently, he found himself struggling to even be cognizant.

What was happening?? When had he even passed out?? Where was his alarm??

While Shouta had a troubled relationship with sleep, Hizashi always occupied a strange space of “all or nothing”. Given his constantly busy schedule, the voice hero knew the value of rest and was fairly well-regimented when it came to planning his sleep. 

Typically, he could go and go and go without feeling the need for rest- but once he went down, all bets were off. Yamada slept like a dead man: unmoving and silent in a way that could only be described as eerie. Truthfully, only the harsh-vibrating buzz of his alarm (or a gentle prod from Shouta) could snap him out of it. And once he was awake, he was fully awake: bearing no trace of lingering sleep- only bright enthusiasm to greet the day. 

Because of his odd pattern, he had accumulated a series of hand drawn signs from his coworkers- one for every time he had snuck-in a nap while at UA. They all had some variation of “NOT DEAD, JUST RESTING” or “RIP PRESENT MIC: GONE TOO SOON” inscribed on them. 

Aizawa thought they were very funny.

Returning to the present: Hizashi fought through the confusion and bleariness that bogged down his mind. He hadn't felt his alarm, and as far as he could tell- there was no one around to wake him. He had crawled out of unconsciousness on his own, but nothing about that sleep had been natural. His body still felt weak, and exhaustion was evident in every slight movement he made. 

There was also a terribly bitter taste in the back of his throat, accompanied by no small amount of nausea. 

Gradually, memories began to return to him.

Oh right , he recalled- had been drugged... or tranqued? Either way, a cold attentiveness began to set in, pushing out the unwanted heaviness. 

His hero training was kicking into gear and slowly helping him reorient- even as he lay on the floor in the dark.

Ok- first thing, he thought, I gotta take stock of myself. Where am I and what is my physical condition?

Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to assess his situation- wanting to be sure he was alone before making any visible movements. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax- and listening hard, strained to catch any bits of conversation or telling-sounds that might inform him where he was.

 He was only met with silence. 

For a moment, he was concerned that (whoever his captors were) they might have taken his hearing aids, but those fears quickly subsided when he tapped a fingernail on the floor. It was a faint rhythmic pattern- barely loud enough for him to hear, but hear it he did. 

Relief coursed through him, glad for the break- and as he focused, he could make out a barely-there hum of electricity. Uncertain of what that was, he decided to shrug it off for the time being and focus on getting other answers first. 

Ok, time to catalog what he knew: First- he still had his hearing aids (good), but that meant his sound-proof headphones were definitely gone (bad).

Finally opening his eyes, he realized with frustration that his glasses were still missing too.

So, vision will be rough… That’s another “bad”... One that went beyond inconvenience; Cuz those glasses weren’t just a fashion statement, thank-you-very-much . 

Holding back a sigh of frustration, Hizashi spared a quick thought for his grim-sensory-reality:  

While his voice quirk was killer, he (unfortunately) had less impressive stats when it came to hearing and vision . Since infancy, his hearing has been in jeopardy (obviously due to the uncontrolled nature of his quirk), and had steadily declined as he grew older.

His vision however, had always just sucked. Sure, he was far from blind, but the world was definitely much blurrier than he preferred it- lines were fuzzy, and shapes distorted like he was looking through a murky pool. He certainly wouldn’t be able to read anything at least…

Damn it.

He should probably invest in contacts at some point… but that was so boring! He much preferred the fun of accessorizing. 

Of course his love for fashion would bite him in the ass now…

Annoyed but ready to press on, the blonde continued his personal assessment- still seeking more answers regarding his current situation.

Gradually, he shifted his weight- then (slowly and carefully) he moved each finger and toe, followed by wrists, ankles, elbows and knees. He needed to take stock- to know if he had been hurt, but hey- so far so good… 

Still, he knew to be gentle; the drug was still coming out of his system, and he preferred to gauge whether or not he had any injuries now rather than be surprised by unexpected pains later. 

The familiar weight of his directional speaker was gone ( another “bad”, damn it) , and vaguely, he remembered it being crushed in the fist of someone called Maw. That aside, while his support item was no more, it had been replaced by something new: lighter in weight, but uncomfortably tight around his neck.

Now that was alarming… 

Reaching up, he intended to see what was constricting his throat, but instead made another discovery; this one less surprising and more expected than anything else:

His hands were bound in front of him; not by rope, but by what looked like seamless handcuffs- perfect metal bands that had no break in their surface, but were linked by a few inches of chain.

Ok. So that wasn't good- still not much he could do about it now…

Raising his hands together, he moved to feel the band around his neck- fingers running lightly around its circumference. 

The outside of it was as smooth as the bands on his wrists: there was no break, panel or clasp to be found, though he did find a D-ring which was attached to another chain. The length of this one was looped through a sturdy looking ring that was welded into the floor and padlocked securely.

Admittedly, Hizashi felt the need to roll his eyes in bemusement: Wow, a padlock. I’m sure I'll never get out.

Turning his attention back to the mysterious bond that could only be called a collar, he this time ran a finger along its inside, and quickly found something deeply unsettling: Three sets of dull prongs were pressing relentlessly into his neck, one on his jugular, the other two on opposite sides of his throat. 

Immediately, Yamada jerked his hand away with a sharp inhalation- feeling the blood drain from his face, he was suddenly queasy in a way that had nothing to do with his waking bout of nausea. 

Well, at least now he could guess what the weird electrical hum was… and if this thing was what he thought it was, then his captors were some next level type of barbaric. Shock collars on animals were monstrous enough, but to put one on a person? Well, villains were villains for a reason he supposed…

Even beyond the dehumanizing affront of having a shock collar wrapped around his neck, there was the very real sense of alarm that went beyond indignation. Hizashis throat was a precious asset, one that he strove to protect whenever he was on active duty. His voice was integral to his work, and there was a reason the lip of his directional speaker had been designed to come up so high; the support item was meant to double as armor- just as much as it worked to guide his quirk.

Pushing away his feelings of disgust, he continued checking himself- doing his best to stay focused on his task. His feet were unbound ( good ), and thankfully he still had his boots ( even better ), though his captors had stripped him of his jacket, gloves and belt (bad but expected) . The rest of his effects were missing as well: no wallet, handcuffs, hidden knife or brass knuckles. Bummer.

With a wince, he felt at his chest and realized that his captors had also taken his wedding ring- chain and all, from where it hung around his neck.

Well- that fuckin sucked. 

He wasn't looking forward to explaining that one to Sho… Still- If he was lucky and could get outta here, maybe that and the rest of his gear were stashed together; it could still be recoverable.

Regardless, he clearly remembered his phone getting crushed, and (while that would typically upset him) he knew it was a surefire way for someone to realize that something was wrong.

Present Mic always answered his phone; for him to not do so for any length of time was an automatic red flag.

Shifting on his side, he finally took the time to examine his surroundings. 

Even without his glasses, he could see the room he was in was small and dingy; more of a glorified closet than anything else. 

The space was dark- only dimly illuminated by a single naked lightbulb that hung from the ceiling directly above him. The light flickered eerily, and Hizashi had to admit that the effect was very “on point” for a villain's den ( especially with his ill-defined vision).

Craning his neck, his eyes swept the space as he tried to spot more details, hoping anything would give him some clue as to where he was. 

A closed door was on the wall closest to him, and against the far side, there was little he could make out but murky shadow. The only thing he could see were dark shapes filling the corners of the room- maybe old office fixtures? or a bunch of stacked boxes?

Before he could contemplate more on his surroundings, the tell tale sound of steps coming down the hall jerked his attention- setting him on full alert. As far as he could tell, there were several people walking toward his door- and while every instinct was demanding he use his quirk and fight his way out, he was far too aware of the thing around his neck to take that risk.

If these villains had any level of competency, they would not have left him alone unchecked. If they had enough faith in the threat of the shock collar, then he should take that seriously- at least until he knew more. 

The length of chain that tethered him to the floor was just long enough to allow for him to sit up with ease; doing so, Mic quickly faced the door and criss-crossed his long legs. It would be no use pretending he was still asleep, especially if they had properly measured out the whatever drug they dosed him with. Also, he preferred not to delay the inevitable. He wanted to know who his captors were and what they wanted.  

Resting his bound hands in his lap, he adjusted his expression to one of blank calm- wary and prepared to meet his captors.

He did not have to wait long.

The door swung open and with it came a wave of fluorescents, harsh and glaring against the dimness of his room, its intensity causing Yamada to wince at the intrusion; then, without preamble, a small group of people walked into the tight space. 

Blinking against the light, Hizashi immediately recognized two of the three figures; the woman with the dark purple undercut was standing to the left, and to the right was (of course) the angry blue-haired guy. The man standing between them was unfamiliar though, and as Mic’s eyes continued to adjust, he grew more confused at what he saw. 

The newcomer was average in every way; nearly unforgettable in his plainness. His face was squarish, and over his wide nose sat a simple pair of black framed glasses. He looked like a mild mannered accountant who had been pulled into the wrong crowd, and for a second, Yamada wondered if that was this guy’s actual situation. 

Nothing about him looked villainous; even the way he was dressed was unremarkable- more typical of a standard office worker than anyone uncouth (gray slacks, dark shoes, a white button down).

Before he could examine the guy further, the leering voice of Blue broke Hizashi out of his study: “I wouldn’t use your quirk pretty boy- or you might make that fancy new necklace of yours go off, and believe me when I saw it packs quite a punch. It was made special for you after all...” his voice had an unsavory tilt of eagerness.

The man in the middle raised his hand in a placating manner, “Now now, let's not start off on the wrong foot- we don't want to make an already-rough first impression worse, do we Fusion?”

Hizashi raised an eyebrow incredulously- they were way past the point of good first impressions.

The man turned back to Mic and studied him for a moment, genuine interest and excitement flickered in his dark eyes- almost like a scientist studying a particularly interesting specimen.

After a beat, he stuck a hand in his pocket and slowly pulled out what could only be the remote to the shock collar around Hizashi’s neck. For a brief second, he toyed with the dial before tuning the device around so the hero could see the adjustment.

“You may speak in a low whisper...I promise, it won’t set off the collar, so long as you stay very quiet and do not use your quirk... Of course, I can easily adjust it to not allow for such a luxury, so I advise you to be cautious. But for now, please feel free to ask any question you have. This whole situation is no doubt unpleasant for you and I am sorry about that, but if I could get your cooperation, things will be easier.”

Mic stared hard at the man, uncertain of how to respond. He swallowed, weighing his options- he could stay silent, not engage with any of their game and wait for the right moment to make a break for it, or he could play along. Get some answers and risk a little bit of himself in return.

No matter the case, he planned to escape- but why not go out with some intel?

Finally, the voice hero nodded his understanding and, keeping his voice a low murmur, asked his first and most burning question: “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

The plain faced man smiled, looking pleased at his captives directness, “Of course! Why beat around the bush? And how rude of me to have not given any proper introductions…” 

Turning, he first gestured to the woman, “This is Glitch, she is a remarkable talent when it comes to stealth; can teleport like nothing! It’s honestly incredible... oh and the secondary part of her quirk is magnificent too- draining other people's energy to power her own ports, which I hear you already experienced! It’s a double whammy of quirk, that's for sure.”

The woman looked impassive even despite the praise being heaped on her. She had her arms crossed and Hizashi got the sense that she wasn't particularly interested in being present for well… whatever this was.

The man then gestured to blue, his voice alight with palpable enthusiasm: “This here is Fusion; his quirk is more subdued but certainly advantageous and diverse in its uses. He can melt apart and join together almost any non-organic substance!” “-Hey!” Fusion broke in defensively: “there are some organics I can use my quirk on…” his tone was huffy and childish- clearly petulant as he attempted to bolster his own ability. 

“Is that so?” asked the plain man, seemingly unfazed. “Well, that's incredible , just incredible . You should know: Fusion was very eager in helping me secure you, and he tells me that he had you on-the-ropes for quite a bit!”

Mic’s eyes widened at the absurd lie- taken aback by the bold dishonesty. Sensing the heroes incredulity, Fusion refused to meet his eyes, though even Glitch was giving the henchman a disapproving glare. The plain faced man in the middle either did not notice or or did not care; instead he pressed forward in his introductions- oblivious to the tension that occupied the space.

“I know you already met Maw, however briefly it was… He is in essence the muscle of this little operation; mutant type quirks are so varied, but his is remarkable in its brute strength. And then of course, there’s me!”

With a bright smile, the little man leaned forward- enthusiasm coming off him in waves.

“My name is Shingin Takada, and it really is a genuine pleasure to meet you! I don't usually care too much about fancy-big-name-heroes, but you definitely caught my eye, especially with that fantastic quirk of yours…. Anyway, moving forward, I was thinking of giving myself a new name… is that what heroes and villains do? Just pick something and go with it?? If so, I rather like the sound of Pulse. I feel like it might be appropriate for my quirk; but of course, I'm getting ahead of myself.”

The man, Takada , suddenly sat himself down on the floor, far enough away so that he was out of reach, but close enough so that he and Mic could see each other eye to eye.

“I bet you’re confused as to why you’re here- and while the circumstances of your arrival are (admittedly) not as welcoming as I would have liked, we couldn’t think of another way to get your undivided attention; so for that I apologize. Anyway, to understand why you’re here, I need to tell you a little more about myself and my goals- call it a holistic approach if you will!”

Sitting up a little straighter, he gathered himself before continuing his explanation: “First off, I’m on a mission: a mission to prove to the world that those with lesser quirks are not lesser for it. (A noble pursuit if I do say so myself)- you see: when my quirk manifested as a boy, it was only seen at face value and deemed unimpressive, useless, and silly… An assessment that I was forced to agree with, because at the time, all I thought I could do was make little bubbles of silence…” As he spoke, he opened his palm; in seconds, a small black orb grew and floated above his hand. 

It looked iridescent, like a pearl of black oil. 

“Since there was no apparent use to it, I was told to focus on other things; to find pursuits that were more “beneficial”: a notion I was honestly fine with... So I did! I focused on my studies, I excelled in school and university, I devoted time to my community and hobbies. But as I grew up and leaned into all those other things, I saw my peers- first at school, then at work, then in my social groups, (all with more impressive and stunning quirks than mine) who- for some reason, kept pulling ahead in life. Far, far ahead of me…”

The man sounded tired and sad, his expression meek and despondent. Admittedly, Hizashi felt bad for the guy; he was well aware of how society (as a whole) placed too much emphasis on flashy and powerful quirks- which of course was completely stupid. 

Unfortunately, Takadas story and others like it were not unfamiliar- and for a moment, his mind drifted to Shouta whose own experience as a teen had been frustratingly similar… Still , none of this exposition explained why he had been kidnapped!

Unaware of his prisoners' wandering thoughts, Shingin continued his story: “At first, I was convinced that it was because they were truly deserving of their successes, but eventually I saw a pattern. Those who had showier, more robust or inspiring abilities were always given more attention! More praise- more opportunities! Even if they were less qualified!  In every single instance, I and others like me were surpassed by those who society deemed more worthwhile.”

He released a somber sigh, “For years, I felt nothing but disappointment, and (being honest), bitterness took root. But then, something amazing happened! My own quirk (which I rarely used and often ignored), developed into something… more .”

Takada paused here with a rapturous look on his face before pressing on, “You probably know that many children are encouraged to go to a quirk counselor several times as they are growing up- first when they are very young, and again before they enter high school. Sometimes, adults even go as they learn more about their powers- updating the registry of what they can or can’t do. After my first time meeting with a counselor, I was told it was unlikely that my little quirk would develop into anything more… but oh, how wrong they were.”

As he spoke, Shingin once more opened his palm, and again, the iridescent bubble appeared- only this time, it continued to grow and grow. Swelling first to the size of a melon, and then to that of a beach ball; and still it kept growing until it was large enough to engulf the upper half of the strange man. 

Mic was alarmed, watching as the other sat in his own inky sphere of silence- he could see Takada was still talking, but sure enough, he could hear no sound- and still the bubble grew. 

Leaning back as far as the length of chain would allow, he realized that the quickly growing orb would soon engulf him- along with its source!

And then, it happened. 

Hizashi had closed his eyes, unsure of what to expect when he was finally consumed by the oily looking sphere, but to his surprise- it was as though nothing had changed, except within the space, he could once more hear Shingin speak.

The man's voice sounded strangely tinny and hollow- especially compared with how clear it had been outside of the orb; and blinking, the hero realized that the sensation was similar to being in an anti-echo chamber.

“You see!” Exclaimed Takada, “ This is what my quirk was the whole time! If only I had been told to pursue it, I could have been seen as so much more in life and-” “-Wait…” Mic whispered, holding up his hands to interrupt.

He was confused… What exactly was the little man showing him? And how was it relevant to Present Mic? To his understanding, this guy's revelation was just about his own quirk- that he could make the scope of silence larger than he initially thought… and that meant what exactly?

Pressing on, the voice hero asked: “What does this have to do with you kidnapping me? And what does your quirk development have to do with anything? I thought you said you wanted to prove that those with lesser quirks aren’t lesser for it… so none of this should matter if that's really your crusade,”

Takada looked surprised at having been interrupted before gathering his thoughts and stammering back an answer, “It all ties together- just let me finish and I’ll explain how.” 

His palms were still open, and as he composed himself, the dark translucent barrier around them wavered, then stabilized.

“You see- because of other people's assumptions and failings, I never actually found the extent of my own quirk. For years, I simply thought that all I could do was create tiny bubbles of silence; but recently, I found there was more to it- so much more!” 

The man's grin had returned, this time looking somewhat manic and unhinged. 

“What I have is not a silencing quirk: rather, it is an absorption and emitter quirk! A two in one combo!! Isn't that fantastic!?! I was never silencing the sound- I was absorbing it! and with concentration, I can turn those soundwaves into sonic energy- and create a pulse, not unlike your weaponized voice- except mine is raw energy…”

Shingin abruptly released the orb around them and the barrier shrunk back into the man, snapping almost like a rubber band. “Even after absorbing the sound of our voices from that mild conversation, look at what I can do!”

He then pressed his hands to the concrete floor beneath him and pushed. 

Instantly, Hizashi’s eyes widened as a sharp CRACK sounded , and the space under Takada’s hands split open- fractured and smoking.

The man looked up, glee clear on his plain face, “You see?!? I am powerful!!! Much more than I ever thought I could be… And I can show the world that now too- show them that they had no right to put me or anyone else down, especially when they are the reason that we never reached our full potential! The bullying, the preferential treatment, being written off like I didn't matter… now everyone will see how wrong they were to treat me that way!!!”

Hizashi was tense, he had a feeling he knew where this whole monologue was going and did not like it at all. Also, this guy’s “mission” of wanting to “uplift those with lesser quirks'' had devolved into vengeance pretty quickly. Mic held back a groan of frustration; there were so, so many things wrong with his approach… 

Obviously it was terrible that he had been treated poorly- that he had been dismissed and forgotten; and absolutely: discrimination for any reason was a horrible thing, and of course it was a problem in modern quirk-focused society… but if Takada’s vision of equality was simply “showing-up” his abusers, well... that wouldn't really help anyone. At the end of the day, he was still buying into the quirk-based-value-system and thereby not addressing the problem, only feeding into it. Even beyond that, his drive seemed to solely focus on proving himself significant- and was seemingly tethered to his own vendettas rather than actually engaging with the problem as a whole.

Before he could ruminate further on quick ethics and equality, Shingin spoke once more- the little man's voice taking on a slightly more conniving tilt: “See hero- the thing is: the power of my Pulse is directly tied to the amount of sound waves I absorb… and of course, that’s where you come in.”

Ah- there it was… Hizashi immediately felt himself tense up further- now certain of where this was going.

Blind to his captives concern, Takada continued- voice pleading yet certain: “I need you to help me test the limitations of my quirk- I need to see what my full potential is; and once that is realized, I am going to fight my oppressors and show them what true power really is… Anyone who has ever misjudged me, who has stood in my way or told me i can't do or be more- well, I finally will show them how wrong they are!”

His expression was heated; full of vindictive frustration.

“Now, I've tried everything to this point- using speakers and amplifiers… Even building my own echo chamber- but everything I try to absorb hits a limit before I do. But you, YOU , Present Mic, are the answer . I’ve done my research; I know how powerful you are… The volume you produce is breathtaking , and if I absorb your quirk, then I know I will finally be able to see what I am truly capable of. So, to answer your question as to what I want with you, it's quite simply this: I want you to scream for me.” 

Takada was euphoric in his explanation, his face beseeching and expectant, and for a beat there was silence as his request hung in the air. 

Yamada could only stare in alarm; shocked at the blind absurdity of his captors want. Did he actually expect compliance? If so, he was obviously not tethered to reality…and that did not bode well. In fact, this entire situation was going downhill fast, and he needed to figure out a way to navigate through it- quickly. Takada was obviously unstable, which made him dangerous and unpredictable- but even so, Mic needed to see if he could back him down from the ledge; he was still a hero and would be remiss if (even here) he did nothing to help. 

Speaking low- in a plaintive yet kind voice, Hizashi cleared his throat and whispered his response: “Takada, I hear what you are saying, and I understand that you were treated very unfairly. That’s awful, really it is, but I need you to reconsider this plan of yours… I can't help you in the way that you want me to. It wouldn’t be right. This isn’t the way to go about this, and even beyond that, we don't know how your quirk would react to mine, or if you would even be able to absorb my volume… That is a serious risk- not only for yourself, but for the surrounding area as well. People could get hurt; you could get hurt… but there are other things we could do to help you find the breadth of your quirk- I work with other heroes whose specific job is exactly that; and as for your other goal- of fighting your oppressors, well, there are other people and programs who can help you in that pursuit. There are better avenues that would bring real social change- without resorting to violence or vengeance and I-”

“ Wait ,” Shingin interrupted, voice and expression suddenly hard. “What do you mean you “ can't help me in the ways I want you to?? ” What are you saying exactly? You are a hero . You should want to help me… I know it might be hard for you to understand, but I thought after explaining you would at least be willing to consider-”

“Takada, I just meant that-”

“NO. All I need is for you to scream or shout! It's not that hard, and once you are done, I can let you go!!! It’s easy! Simple! Am I not being clear or are you just stupid?”

Mic grimaced, ignoring the barb. He was quickly losing control in this conversation and needed to make his stance clear. 

“I’m sorry Takada, I won’t be able to help you like that; the way you are going about this is wrong- and I wouldn't want to hurt you. But if you let me go now, then I could take you to other heroes who would be able to safely help and-”

“Don't LIE!” the little man shrieked, face turning red with anger, ”your quirk wont hurt me if I’m able to absorb it. And I know for a fact that there are NO people who want to help me… I’m not blind! I can tell that you just want to get away!” 

Taking a deep breath, Shingin composed himself before continuing: “I only need the one thing from you, so please be reasonable. I’ll have you know that I am willing to do a lot for the sake of discovery, and that means things could get very nasty for you-” he fixed the bound hero with a meaningful glare, one that promised all sorts of unsavory things. Behind him, Fusion was grinning openly, obviously thrilled at the prospect. Still, Takada continued- voice now friendly and beseeching “-but it doesn't have to be that way. I just need you to scream.”

Hizashi could only meet the man's eyes with a steely look of his own. 

“I’m sorry, but my answer is still no.”

At that, his captor deflated. For a moment, he stared at the hero with clear disappointment written on his face, then he slowly got to his feet. 

“Well… I’m sorry to hear that Present Mic. Just know that your stay here has just become very unpleasant; all by your own hand.” As he spoke, he once again pulled out the dial to the shock collar and adjusted it so that the knob was nearly turned all the way up; the electrical hum (which before had been quiet and easy to tune out) ramped up to a constant crackle- threatening and raw. 

Takada only sniffed in approval. “Here is the new situation. Since you are so unwilling to lend me your voice, I am now taking full control of it. You will remain silent until I want you to produce sound. If you make so much as peep, anything beyond breathing, you will be shocked. Brutally and indiscriminately. I invite you to test me. In fact, I ask that you do… Tomorrow, I’ll come back and see if you feel the same as today, but for now.. Enjoy the silence.”

With that, the man turned and vacated the room, followed closely by Glitch who seemed eager just to leave. 

From his spot on the floor, Hizashi could only watch them go, surprised when Fusion paused in his exit. The blue haired henchman waited until his peers left, then turned to smile at the captive: his leering grin hungry and full of malice. 

“You know, I can think of a lot of ways to get you to scream… though I’m not sure you’d appreciate all my ideas.” The offer was twisted and soaked in perverse implication, causing true unease to twist in the Voice Hero’s gut.

Clearly enjoying himself, Fusion then gave a lecherous wink then turned to follow his comrades out the door, but not before shooting a taunting “See you tomorrow, hero” over his shoulder.

With that, the door slammed shut, and Hizashi was once again left to the dark stillness of an unfamiliar place.

Chapter Text

-Saturday, 5:48 Pm-

Aizawa glared at his phone, brows furrowed in dissatisfaction as he read the time on screen. It was nearly six pm and he had been running around all day trying to get a lead on Hizashi’s whereabouts. 

To his mounting frustration, he had very little to show for it. 

After his abrupt meeting with Nedzu, Shouta had driven to the off campus apartment he and his husband shared- only to find it untouched and (aside from their cats) completely empty. After feeding the three felines and checking the apartment for any notes or clues, he made his way to the station where Put Your Hands Up Radio broadcasted. 

Upon his arrival, he’d been enthusiastically greeted by the station manager. 

Aizawa was a familiar face around the studio; and every so often, he would drop in after a patrol to watch Present Mic DJ, or show up right on time to escort the Voice hero home. Even aside from his little visits, he consistently attended many of the events the station hosted: showing up to office parties as the blonds plus one- always quietly tailing behind an enthusiastic Yamada.

Mic’s radio coworkers knew Aizawa- and were fully aware that he was “ the Partner '' the DJ so often gushed over. Still, despite the “in-house” knowledge, the hero's relationship was never directly specified. Rather, the other station personnel maintained thoughtful discretion at the request of the couple- providing a warm balance of courteous respect and welcoming enthusiasm. 

And while Shouta always felt somewhat out of place amid the radio crowd, he found that he certainly liked them well enough. He appreciated their consideration, and relished the fact that his husband was so well regarded. In fact: everyone who worked with Hizashi was emphatically protective and supportive of the voice hero, and it made Shouta’s heart swell to know that his partner was so well received in an arena that he loved.

Of course, Hizashi was insistent that the crew felt equally endeared to Aizawa, but the erasure hero had a hard time wholly believing that; afterall he had nothing to offer the studio- why would they even pay attention to him (outside of the fact he was married to one of their stars)? 

Eventually however, he had to concur that he was the recipient of (at least some) special treatment. 

Small and subtle moments of generosity (such as finding his favorite snacks with his name labeled on them in the community fridge) soon gave way to flat out allowances (like being given his own staff pass to gain access to the studio- without having to secure a visitors badge).

Yamada had laughed uproariously when Aizawa first showed him the badge, claiming that he didn't even get his own pass until at least eight months into working at the studio. Even then, it had been a frustratingly difficult affair; something to do with how he was “unrecognizable” from his staff picture (feat. him in full Present Mic gear) as opposed to when he came in wearing street clothes.

“When I told them I wasn’t gonna show up in hero gear for every recording session, the badge-lady nearly kicked me out!” he laughed, reading over the pass Aizawa had offered him. 

“Also, how can you think they don’t like you???” the blonde exclaimed, bright mirth in his voice; “I bet they’re keeping me around just to make sure you still show up every once in a while! I outta start reminding people you’re taken...”

That last bit had been muttered under his breath, but prompted an incredulous laugh from Shouta nonetheless, and finally (charmed and blushing) he had to agree: his presence at the station was not as insignificant as he initially thought.

That truth had certainly been appreciated: especially in this instance.

Once he arrived to pursue leads on Hizashis whereabouts, he was met with complete cooperation: the radio crew doing all they could to help. Aizawa was given all the information they had, including Mic’s schedule, confirmation that he had completed his show, and even video footage of him leaving the building.

Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Aizawa had suspected that would be the case, but would be remiss if he was not thorough.

Thanking the station staff for their help (and asking for their silence on the matter) he then set out for his next destination: Present Mic’s agency.

It was here that Aizawa had to grit his teeth… preparing himself for the tedium that was sure to come.

Still, (his own misgivings aside…) Hizashi’s agency was a good one and was notoriously known as The H.E.A.D.Line Group (H.E.A.D. standing for Heroics in Entertainment, Arts and Design).  

And sure - while it went without saying that Shouta was proudly independent, he had to admit that he was glad for his husband's affiliation with the agency- largely because Hizashi himself was satisfied there (they also took very good care of Mic, monetarily speaking). 

Regardless, an agency was an agency- and not immune to standoffish bureaucracy, overinflated egos, rigid legalism (in accordance to the hero commission), and (as was more common with larger groups) a gross prioritization of corporate brand over employee welfare.

It was exhausting .

Even so, there were still a handful of good directors that both Shouta and Hizashi approved of, and (since Mic was so well regarded) he had the good fortune of picking his handler. 

Jin Matsuda was the woman Yamada chose. 

She was a protean and detailed manager, responsible for confirming Mic’s cases, calling him in for “last resort” scenarios, scheduling his patrols and appearances, and booking his various events, photoshoots, shows and interviews.

All in all, she was something of a powerhouse.

For her part, Matsuda was a petite woman- several years older then both men, and had plenty of experience dealing with the extreme pace of entertainment and heroics. Her demeanor was stern (but not unkind)- and she was able to navigate most circumstances with focused calm and bold decisiveness (she also had an interesting mutant quirk which gave her an owl-like head and brilliant gold eyes).

Admittedly, Aizawa liked her. 

He appreciated her directness and her ability to so deftly engage with Hizashi in a way that was neither demeaning nor idolizing… He also found it endearing that she would literally ruffle her feathers when annoyed. 

No matter- even considering Shouta’s admiration, he was not looking forward to meeting with the manager. It was an impersonal sentiment, with no malice directed at Matsuda; it was just- dealing with agencies was infuriating- regardless of the mouthpiece.

Upon arriving at the polished front desk of the H.E.A.D.Line Group, Shouta immediately bypassed the receptionist (completely ignoring her cry of indignation) and strode straight for the elevator- staunch determination fueling every step. 

He intended to waste no time, and was only mildly surprised when the lift's door opened to reveal a ruffled looking Jin, already waiting to receive him. 

Fixing him with a shrewd look, the manager turned to the receptionist (who was still upset at having been bypassed) and calmed her down with a quick: “It's fine Kayo, I knew he was coming.” She then turned to greet the man in front of her, holding the elevator door as she gestured him in. “Eraserhead. It’s always good to see you, though I’m less than thrilled over the circumstances. Please, let's go to my office for some privacy.”

Shouta gave a curt nod and stepped inside- though he chose to remain silent for the duration of the short trip. 

It wasn't until the door to Matsuda’s office was securely closed that the quiet broke- a tense undercurrent charging the air.

Aizawa had turned on his heel and stared at the avian woman- reading both her posture and expression before speaking in a stern voice: “Tell me what's going on with Present Mic. Right now and in extreme detail.”

Jin met his gaze, then let out a deep, steady exhale, “Yes, might as well get right to it.”

Moving to sit behind her desk, she gestured to the free chair usually reserved for Mic, inviting her guest to make himself comfortable. Shouta didn't bother, opting to stand with his arms crossed as he waited for an explanation on his husband's whereabouts.

Ignoring his choice, Matsuda pulled out a remote and quickly flipped on the flatscreen TV that sat on the wall across from her. The display mirrored her computer screen, and on it was Hizashi’s schedule and bookings. 

Seeing that her presentation was clear, she then began with her own insight: “I’ll tell you all we know at this point, but I have to warn you- it’s not much... Mic’s assignment was to patrol the ten blocks that make up the heart of the financial district- it’s a standard route for several hero’s with our agency; one that is pretty straightforward and routine. We had no intelligence or suspicion that there was anything unscrupulous going on there, and it was essentially just a “fluff spot” to even out his patrol requirements with Headline; particularly since he was missing hours earlier this month.”

Taking a quick breath, she navigated to the route in question and put it up on the display before continuing her story:

“Anyway, he called the agency to state he was enroute right before his patrol began- (its standard procedure for our heroes to confirm placement before beginning a scheduled track). Typically, I would be the one to speak with him, but because I wasn't working last night he left a voicemail on my line. Afterwards, I know that he checked in with another manager who was operating during that time. According to them, that call was less than a minute with no conversation- it was simply a confirmation for the route; again, standard stuff.”

Aizawa nodded along, familiar with the systems the agency employed. So far nothing seemed out of the ordinary ; still, he wanted to press for more. “What about the voicemail he left you? Can I hear it? And did he say anything that might indicate suspicion of danger?”

At this, Matsuda scoffed, “You can certainly listen to it, but I’m afraid the only thing it indicates is that Mic was extremely caffeinated before he began his patrol…”

As she spoke, she moved to play the recording off her desk phone, and abruptly, Yamada’s enthusiastic voice cut through the air- jabbering at a speed that was somehow as impressive as it was concerning:

“YOOO!!! Matsuda!!! My feathered friend!!! I need you to make sure I NEVER get this route again; I hate it and it’s dumb and BORING … Like, there has to be someone at the agency who would prefer this track? Give it to them !!! Why me ??” 

His voice was petulant and full of melodrama; still the recording continued: “ ALSO , I know you’re probably asleep right now, and that you don’t really listen to my show (It’s fine , I’ve made peace with it…), but I am telling you, you GOTTA catch the interview I did with Edgeshot. It won’t air till tomorrow evening, but the dude kept talking about ninjas… Literally it was ninja code this and ninja way that, and “everything I do is ninja ninja ninja”... Like I get it, hero’s have gimmicks; obviously I’m first in line to claim that- but HOLY SHIT was this guy into it. And don’t get me wrong: Kamihara is a great dude, but he might need to put away his costume for a sec and catch a breather…”

There was a brief pause as he took an audible sip of whatever drink he had, then: “ ANYwho , I’m off to the races (like the show pony I am) ahaha... But man- remind me to pack snacks for these kinds of patrols next time. I swear I could probably eat enough for ten right now. I wonder if that grab-n-go place is open; I tried to stop by Family-mart before leaving the station, but was running short on time, so thank GOD for vending machines… Though I could go for another coffee at least. But uugggghhhh…… I shouldn’t think about food right now: it will only make me more miserable. Still, speaking of food- my husband made the BEST curry the other night; like… Mind-blowingly good. I had three bowls! For a guy who mostly sustains himself on jelly packs during the day, he is a damn good cook, and I have no idea how I got so lucky…”

Another pause and audible sip- “Speaking of which, I forgot to mention that I am finally taking your and Shouta’s thoughts into consideration on a costume change… This weather is hell and I am finally man enough to admit that mixing-it-up wouldn’t be the worst. Could I pull off shorts do ya think? Or maybe something more flirty??? Like, I know I’m all leg but would that be unprofessional? I mean, Yawara with the Pussycats rocks a skirt, and he looks great … but- oh shit… Hang on, I just saw the time. I should actually talk to someone and confirm the damn route… Well, sorry for rambling at your machine again! One of my English students must be rubbing off on me- kid’s an incredible chatterbox; crazy good at English though! Hahah, oh man… Alright, that’s enough from me. Gotta go! Enjoy your night off! BYYYEEEEE!!!”

The recording clicked off and even despite his worry, Shouta found himself smiling at the now quieted message- charmed at his husband's antics. 

That’s Hizashi all right- he thought to himself. He must have forgotten to eat, the dumbass… and of course he would blame his chattering on Midoriya- there was always at least one student who Mic would try to pin his “motormouth capabilities” on, but there was no denying it: that was all his husband- through and through.

Stifling his mild amusement, the brunette met Matsuda’s bright eyes and allowed a beat of silence before conceding: “Well, you’re right. I can't exactly say any of that sounded unusual...”

Jin only snorted in response, “Yeah, I didn't think so. Congratulations on your curry by the way- he won't shut up about it; also (while at risk of breaking confidentiality), I'm compelled to inform you that he wants you to make fried chicken more often. Apparently that’s his favorite- but you didn't hear that from me.”

Shouta’s small smile grew, “Hm. Noted. Now what other information do you have?”

Matsuda’s seriousness promptly returned, “Right. We know that he was active for at least the first two hours of his patrol; that’s thanks to video footage we obtained along the track, but then, well…”

The owl headed woman sighed before continuing, “At approximately 3:20 am, he disappeared from the route… The CCTV footage we pulled from the area has been unhelpful, and not for any simple reason. It’s alarming and suspicious, but many of the cameras within the two block radius where we think he last was have been seriously damaged.”

Aizawa stiffened at this news, and leaning forward asked a gruff “Damaged how ?”

“We sent another hero to retrieve several for evidence… Here- I can show you.” Carefully, the avian reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a simple nondescript security camera- the kind one might see on a street corner. 

It looked almost whole aside from the front; the area where the lens should have been was completely twisted over- almost like someone had heated the plastic and folded it in on itself.

Shouta felt his stomach drop. There was no question. This was a strategic move. “So someone planned this- disabling the cameras was preemptive.”

Jin nodded in agreement, “Yes, I’m afraid so. It appears as though Present Mic may have been targeted, but we are not sure by who, how, what or why.”

Here, the older woman took another deep breath- seeming to steady herself as she stood from her chair. “To be perfectly honest, the agency didn't realize anything was out of the ordinary until you called us earlier... Usually I am the one Yamada notifies when he finishes a patrol, but since I wasn’t working, I expected him to call another manager to report the end of his block. The assumption was a mistake. The other working coordinators believed that he had communicated with me, and that is how we lost track of him. It’s an error I take full responsibility for.”

At that, Matsuda bowed in apology, eyes downcast as she continued, “I sincerely apologize for my lack of judgment, Eraserhead, and I promise I’ll do all I can to find Yamada.”

Aizawa stilled at the manager's apology; somewhat taken aback. He had plenty of mounting frustration, but it was not directed at her- rather, it was towards the unknown. He had more questions than answers, and Jin Matsuda could not be expected to have tabs on his husband at every moment of every day- that was unrealistic and petty.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Shouta willed himself to calm. There was a beat of silence, and finally he spoke:

“I understand that this is not your fault. Blaming you would be irrational, so while I appreciate and thank you for your apology, it is also unnecessary. Hizashi is a Pro hero- there are risks that come with the job that both he and I are very aware of.” 

Here he sighed as he collected his thoughts, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before pressing on in a weary tone: “I won’t lie, I am upset and concerned for him- not knowing where he is, is… unsettling . But you are his manager- that is to say, you are a civilian with a life that does not fully revolve around my husband. The flexibility and freedom you offer is one of the reasons why Mic is so glad to be a part of this agency… Who could know that because of that leniency, we wouldn't realize something was wrong until too late. I myself didn’t even recognize something was wrong until some of my students brought it to my attention… All that to say, I do ask for your help, but please don't burden yourself with unnecessary responsibility.”

Matsuda had straightened from her bow and was now watching the brunette's face; taking in his words with thoughtful gravitas. The erasure hero looked stressed and guilty- strained in a way that spoke volumes to his levels of concern; her own disquiet (however severe she may have felt it), was insignificant in comparison. 

“Well Aizawa- in that case and with all due respect, I say the same to you. You and Mic are some of the busiest and most dedicated Pros I know, and I work with them for a living. You throw yourselves into all that you do for better or ill; the amount of work that you take on is- in my own opinion- unjustifiable. Just because you didn't immediately recognize something amiss does not make you culpable in any way. That being said, the best we both can do now is get on the trail and find Mic; shall we continue?”

Shouta stared at the avian, only mildly surprised at her brusqueness- of course she would be so bold… his mouth quirked in a small smile, and he nodded his assent. “Yes, let’s find Mic.”

Matsuda hummed in agreement and immediately dove back into her account of the day. 

“Right. Well- once we recognized something was wrong, we dispatched two heroes from our agency to check the route. That was at one this afternoon, and subsequently when we discovered the cameras. However, aside from that discovery, we have made little progress. We acquired video footage of Yamada on his patrol early this morning, but so far we have no indication as to who or what he interacted with post-blackout. We can go through footage from the past week to see if we find anything suspicious, but I’m afraid that will take a significant amount of time. I’ll be honest: Headline is wanting to keep this mum for now- mostly to not “cause a panic” and to see if we can close this as soon as possible. The higher-ups are wanting to see if they can locate Mic in-house; they don’t want to reach out to other heroes or agencies yet to sound the alarm… Of course, this can all be tossed out at your word- just let me know what you would like to do. As Mic’s manager I have the most say in what the Agency does regarding this situation, and whatever move we make, I want to ensure it is in line with your wishes.”

Aizawa grimaced, disgust twisting in his stomach. Of course the agency would look to cover it’s own ass first … And that was another revolting thing to deal with: keeping an abduction quiet was not unheard of. The Hero commission took great pains to ensure confidence in the agencies it worked with; as a result, many shocking events would be downplayed or kept quiet until a situation was wholly resolved- then the story would be dropped as a triumph in the aftermath.

It was repulsive falsehood that warped the dangerous realities many Pros faced; it turned their work into soft success stories devoid of hardship, and it frustrated Shouta to no end.

With a sniff, he crossed his arms: “The agency is not my concern- but I will have you know that I fully intend to look for my husband, and I will inform those who I believe would be helpful to my cause. Don't expect me to stay silent on this for Headline’s sake; my priority is Hizashi and his safety, and I will do whatever I must to find him. All that to say, I would appreciate the help I can get, but I am independent and will act outside of the agency's demands.”

Aizawa’s voice had a steely edge to it, daring Matsuda to push back. 

Rationally, he knew she would see eye to eye with him and assist in whatever ways she could; but she still represented the agency, and the Hero Commission to another degree. Therein was the tension: If Headline wanted to keep this in-house, that meant a smaller and more subdued response- if only to maintain the illusion of normalcy. Present Mic was afterall, a household name- deeply loved and celebrated by a wide audience. If it got out that something had happened to him, the vultures would descend and call into question every aspect of Heroics as an industry and construct. But Shouta did not care and was feeling far from gracious; that was their problem. He had a husband to find.

Straightening up, the erasure hero mentally set his course- certitude fueling his drive.

“If you could check the footage from the week and send me whatever else you have, I would be deeply appreciative. Tell your higher-ups to pick up their search, and that I demand to be informed and kept up-to-date with whatever Headline uncovers- as is my right. I don’t care if it seems unimportant- just send it to me. That being said, I’m gonna look for him myself and will involve whoever I deem necessary… but don't expect me to follow the agency's protocols.” 

Jin promptly agreed, and immediately forwarded Aizawa everything she had on Yamada’s patrol route (including his recent arrests, current investigations, and whatever other items she deemed potential leads).

Shouta thanked her and after a brief discussion on what the agency's move might be, he finally excused himself.

Turning to head for the door, he paused and addressed the manager once more: “Thank you for your help Matsuda- I have no doubt that you genuinely care for Hizashi. You know I have my own reservations about Agency work, but for what it's worth, I really am glad that you’re in his corner.”

The woman had fluffed a bit at that, preening at the comment which (from Eraserhead) could be considered high praise.

Bowing in gratitude, she walked him to the elevator and waved him off.

Aizawa wasted no time and (having formulated a plan) quickly drove back to UA. 

Armed with his new intel, he intended to ditch the car, inform Nedzu and Nemuri of his discoveries, and then continue his efforts on foot.      

Initially, he was not overly keen on getting Nedzu involved (the idea seeming somewhat drastic in light of the unknown), but the discovery of the melted cameras provided him with a change of heart. The notion that Mic had been targeted significantly increased his sense of urgency, and his willingness to bring in the strategist increased.

Pulling into the staff parking lot, Shouta parked and made a bee-line for the principal's office, hoping that Nemuri had already arrived and was waiting for him with Nedzu. He was completely honed in on his goal, and as he walked- completely tuned out the noise of the still lively campus. In fact, the only thing he vaguely registered was the far-off forms of both Bakugou and Midoriya. 

Distantly, he could see the two students walking across the grounds, apparently bickering as they made their way to the main building. Still, the teacher brushed it off. While the sighting was a little odd, the boys did not look like they were up to anything destructive- and so long as they behaved themselves, then who cared what they were doing? He didn't want to bother wasting time with scrutiny, and instead, chose to continue his route. 

Upon his entrance, he was thankful to see Midnight and Nedzu present- both having agreed to meet with weighted concern and earnest professionalism. What Eraserhead did not expect however, was a sheepish-looking All Might standing awkwardly in the corner.

As soon as he spotted him, Shouta stopped short, mildly irritated and confused as to why the senior hero was there. 

And It wasn't that he disliked All Might… Rather- he was embarrassed to admit how quickly he had grown to appreciate the man. 

What the Hero lacked in teaching skills, he made up for in his earnest attempts to become a better instructor. He was kind, patient, jovial and serious in equal measure; despite his larger than life and bombastic “TV” persona, he was also surprisingly contemplative and introverted. Yagi’s character was (in truth) impeccably just- and even though his days as a Pro were behind him, his consistent and honest desire to protect, save, and uplift were nearly overwhelming. He was simply a good and generous man- through and through.

So no , Aizawa held no personal dislike of Toshinori- but, he did not relish the way the Hero was always around. Uninvited. In his business. Meddling…

In the context of UA- Shouta and Hizashi’s relationship was kept relatively under wraps: and only the full-time staff were aware of their marriage. Naturally, when All Might was hired, he had been informed out of courtesy, and that was fine ; however, Aizawa was still an exceedingly private person. While he was comfortable with the older man knowing about his relationship with Mic, this current situation was too fresh, too unknown to bring in outsiders who were not (for lack of a better term) safe- even if they were the world's most celebrated hero.

Seeming to sense his annoyance, Yagi, stepped forward and gave a small bow- expression open and apologetic as he explained his presence:

“Ah! Uh, hello Aizawa. I know you probably were not expecting me to be here, but I had just been visiting with Nedzu and he insisted I stay- I hope that’s all right.”

Shouta cast a brief glare towards the smiling rodent, who simply responded by giving him a thumbs up and taking a sip from his ever present tea cup.

Nemuri, who was seated on the desk wearing comfortable civilian clothes, stifled an entertained laugh; she was familiar with Aizawa’s cagey privacy, but in this instant, was more intrigued to see how the brunette would respond to the earnest sensitivity of All Might.

For a moment, Aizawa remained quiet- weighing his options. He could easily dismiss the blond; he knew that Toshinori would honor his request and leave immediately- or he could trust that Nedzu had invited him to stay for a reason.

Sighing, his gaze met All Mights and he waved his hand indicating peace: “It’s fine, you can stay. I just wasn't expecting you to be here.”

All Might’s shoulder relaxed, and he gave a brief nod of understanding before moving to take a seat in one of the unoccupied chairs- long legs crossed and hands folded neatly in his lap.

As he settled, Nedzu broke in, guiding their meeting to a starting point. “I was just explaining to Yagi that our dear Present Mic may be in some form of danger- we are all appropriately concerned. Now, Aizawa- you said you have more information for us? Please, elaborate.”

Shouta nodded, glad for the straightforwardness, and without preamble, he began his story. 

“To be brief: last night, during a scheduled patrol in the financial district, Mic disappeared from the route. We don't know what happened, but his agency confirmed that he never formally ended his patrol and as of now, are following procedure in line with an abduction. If he was taken, then by whom and for what reason remains unclear... There is evidence along his patrol that implies this encounter was premeditated. Multiple cameras have been tampered with, but only within the radius of where we assume Mic was last. Headline has mobilized some of their own pro’s to scout the area and do recon; in the meantime, they have a tech team scrubbing through the available CCTV footage. For my part, I've reached out to local hospitals- looking for him, or for someone who matches his description; so far, there have been no leads- for better or worse.”

Aizawa paused here, his own stomach lurching in worry. Speaking it aloud made it real, and now that he was actively informing the others of what he had learned, there would be no denying the seriousness of the situation. His husband was missing: he could be injured, or unconscious, or tortured or dead and Shouta had no idea . 

Letting out a shaky breath, he tried to ground himself; he needed to have more faith in Hizashi. Yamada was capable and could take care of himself. He was an amazing hero and a better tactician; he had to be ok. No matter: it had only been thirteen hours since his disappearance; not even a full day. While far from ideal, those were not terrible odds .

Feeling marginally better, Shouta once again addressed his audience.

“While the agency is pursuing an investigation, I refuse to wait around. I'm going to look for Mic and won't stop till I find him, whether that be today, tomorrow, or however long it takes. I wanted to inform you of this for two reasons:” (he turned to address Nedzu) “So that if necessary, you can make arrangements for my classes” (then, turning to look at Nemuri,) “and to ask for your help in my search. I’m not sure why Hizashi was targeted, but- aside from the fact that he is my husband, a grave concern is warranted... Whoever is capable of taking down a pro so effectively is a significant threat… one that should not be taken lightly.”

His closing statement was ominous in its truth, and there was a beat of silence as the others digested the information. Finally, Kayama spoke, her tone firm yet comforting as she responded to her friend's address: “Shouta, you continue to be an insufferable dumbass. Of course we’ll help; that’s not even a question. Beyond Yamada being a coworker and one of my oldest and best friends, he’s also essentially my brother… If you think for one instant that I'm not going to involve myself, then you haven't been paying very close attention.”

All Might nodded and hummed in agreement, “I realize we are still getting to know each other, but you must understand: I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and Present Mic. I know that my power is limited, but I’ll offer you whatever aid I can; whether it be in the search and rescue, or here at UA.”

Here the skeletal man paused, rubbing his chin in thought before continuing his speech: “I have to say, I really do like Yamada, and consider him a good friend. In fact, he was one of the first instructors to interact with me normally rather than getting stuck on the whole “me being All Might” thing. It would bring me great honor to help you in any way you need, and thank you for entrusting me to be here.”

Aizawa gave a small smile, both in gratitude and in quiet amusement; afterall, while it was true that Hizashi had indeed put immense effort into welcoming All Might to the UA fold, the untold story was that the Voice Hero had nearly imploded in secretive excitement while doing so. 

Yamada always had a deep love and admiration for All Might, (of course, nearly everyone did) but Mic’s enthusiasm could only be described as giddy: more akin to that of a youthful crush- equal parts earnest and revoltingly bashful.

Thinking back to when it was first announced that the legendary pro would officially be joining the UA staff, Hizashi had quite nearly lost his mind, and after receiving Nedzu’s email confirming the hire, the voice hero had run into the bedroom where Shouta had been reading- a look of dreamy delight warming his face. 

“Sho, Sho… my love, my darling, my sweet one… You know I would never in a million-and-one years cheat on you or do anything to put our relationship in jeopardy because you are my favorite-fucking person on planet earth and I am obsessed with the fact that we are married… but I gotta be completely honest: I will always be a teeny-tiny bit in love with All Might. Like, it’s a universal constant; and now? my childhood dream of working with him??? Is actually coming true??!?! I honestly have no idea how I am gonna keep my shit together!!!” 

At this point, the blonde had started pacing across the length of the room; long fingers tugging nervously at the ends of his hair, “I mean, what do I say ? What do I do ??? I can't make a fool of myself, but obviously I need his autograph… Would that be weird? What if I pretend I need his signature on a document or something- do you think he would catch on? But holy shit, could you imagine if he did?!? I would die - just straight up spontaneously combust. And fuck! What if he can tell I have a crush on him?!? Cuz oh NO. that would be SO embarrassing… And ah! Shouta!?! How are you not freaking out??? I need your input here! Give me advice!!! C-mon, I’ll take anything!!!”

Aizawa had been long suffering during this rant; simply content to observe his frantic spouse flutter about the room in teenage-like anguish, but at the end- Yamada had fixed him with a pleading gaze, clearly sincere in his begging for reassurance. 

Sighing, the brunette had lowered his book and in a flat tone, responded with “You're an idiot, ya know that.” 

The blonde squawked in indignation before Shouta continued his insight, “It'll be fine Zash; Just treat him like a regular person- or think of him like a guest on your show… You always manage to reign it in and behave professionally when you meet someone you fanboy over.”

“HEY!” Yamda huffed, “I do not FANboy… I simply appreciate the culture and talents of my peers; very loudly, and often... with many collectables… and merch…”

Rolling his eyes, Aizawa let out a deep sigh and put down his book. 

“Hm, whatever you say… anyway- to your actual point: Do you remember the other day, when you were ambushed by a group of obsessed fans? You were on your way home, and there were a whole bunch of them waiting outside the station for you. You said at first it was nice cuz you “ love” your fans, but then several of them kept trying to follow you- first on the train, then home. You had to be stern, tell them to back off, and when you finally got in the door, you were pretty upset… It frustrated you because they could only see you as a hero, or as a performer. They forgot your personhood and your privacy, and you had to actively remind them of that… Just apply that memory to your “love” of All Might. It’s fine that you’re excited about him, but just be sure to treat him like a human being rather than an untouchable hero. Sure: be friendly- but also give him space, privacy and agency. At least, that's what I would want.”

Hizashi could only stare at Shouta with bright eyes, “Shou, you are a genius . Of course you are right! Normalcy is the answer ! I am going to be so casual, it's going to blow your mind . I’m gonna be his FRIEND and COWORKER and be INCLUSIVE , and NOT crowd him!!!!” 

With every word emphasized, he slammed a fist down into his palm- dedication ringing clear in his voice- “ And I’m gonna ask him to join us for staff bar nights!!! but NOT in a creepy way... I just need you to know, I might come home and have to scream a lil bit… Cuz babe! I gotta get the excitement out somehow!!! So fair warning! I’m telling you now !!!”

Shouta merely returned to his book, grunting in mild assent: “Mnhm. Wouldn't expect anything less...” 

Sure enough, from the beginning of the teachers orientation, to the entrance exam, and all throughout the entirety of the school year, Yamada had taken very measured steps to befriend one Toshinori- and to no one’s surprise, he was met with great success. 

Initially, (in the face of Mic’s efforts) Yagi had gone from his extreme, “always-on” All Might persona, to something more stilted and awkward (as though trying to figure out how to respond to pure friendliness without the hero worship). It had taken a minute, but finally, their dynamic settled into an affable chumminess; Mic’s bombastic personality and playful teasing setting Toshinori’s perplexed hesitancy at ease. 

The old pro seemed to enjoy his new found friendship as well- and (while he was surprisingly mellow as a person; a far cry from the high-energy caricature that was mostly seen on TV) he possessed an easy sense of humor and a sharp wit; this allowed him to go toe-to-toe with the voice hero in verbal combat, making him a great conversationalist. Even more than that, Toshinori spoke flawless English, and before long, the pair would joke and weave between the two languages in fluid perfection (him being one of the few people who could keep up with Hizashi’s million-words-per-minute exchanges). 

All-in-all, the pair's friendship was authentic, rich, and dynamic- and a genuine delight for both.

“Ya know, if you wanted to, I really think you guys could be good friends” the voice hero had said one day as he and Aizawa prepared to head home. “You’re surprisingly alike in a lot of ways...”

Shouta had merely raised an eyebrow and offered a deadpan “That's funny.” in response. Yamda had smiled, but didn’t push the notion beyond that.

Now that there had been some time and distance, Shouta finally wondered what it was that the blonde had meant- how were he and All Might anything alike? The comparison made little sense to him, and (somewhat perplexed) he resigned himself to asking Yamada when they found him . 

Focusing back to the matter at hand, the brunette turned to his assembled team and together, he, Nemuri, Nedzu, and Toshinori put together a brief outline on where and how to begin their search.

Before long, a plan was constructed. 

It was decided that the Principal and All Might would stay at the school, and together, would go over the various intel and footage sent by Matsuda. Midnight and Eraserhead would lead the physical search and head out on foot. They agreed to start at different ends of the financial district and planned to meet in the middle- that way they could cover as much ground as possible and ensure that the HeadLine heroes had not missed anything… 

And it wasn't that Shouta thought the other heroes incompetent… (except, well, maybe he did to a small degree) it was just: the eyes he trusted the most were his own- followed by Hizashi’s, then Nedzu’s (though Nemuri, Tensei and (if he was honest) All Might’s insight held value to him as well).  

The remainder of the discussion had been brief, but still- Shouta was anxious to begin; wanting and hoping to set out while there was still marginal daylight.

Now, finally - he stood in front of the UA gates: capture-weapon at the ready and phone in hand, ready to begin. 

Around him, the afternoon was settling into twilight, and the ambiance of the school was quieting with the setting sun, though some students should get the memo and start to head inside, thought Aizawa as he caught a distant teenage argument being carried on the wind.

Whoever those kids were, they better get their shit together cause Aizawa had much more important things to deal with than breaking up a petty fight.

Shaking off the irritation, he tuned out the voices. It was nearly six. He had at least an hour of waning light. He needed to start now . 

Tucking his phone away into his jumpsuit, Aizawa rolled his shoulders before eyeing a good anchor point. He could travel fast on foot- being familiar with all of the shortcuts, alleys and secret passages of the city- but with his scarf, he could cut even that time in half. 

Finding the spot he so desired, Eraserhead unwound one end of his weapon and set off at a deft run; then, with an expert whip of his wrist, he flung one end of the material out onto a nearby pole and launched himself into the air.

It didn’t matter how often he did this. Flying through the sky by his own strength and skill was always exhilarating, and it was incredible to see the network of busy streets- so encumbered by traffic and congestion- blur as he passed them by far overhead.

His feet made contact with the roof of a building, and he rolled into the landing before smoothly picking up and continuing his trajectory, relishing the adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

Unslinging more length of his weapon, he once again leapt skyward- wind whipping his dark hair as he found a rhythm of cutting through the air and leaping across rooftops.

He had been moving for at least fifteen minutes now: fast, focused, and intent on reaching his destination as speedily as possible, when distantaly, an unmistakable sound boomed behind him; far enough away in distance to be small, but loud enough to be telling.

Immediately, Shouta cursed- certain of what the noise meant. 

He was being followed.

Frustrated, he knew he had to modify his plans, and quickly- he began to scan for an appropriate spot to land. His search was soon rewarded, for up ahead was a partially constructed building; scaffolding covered a portion of its unfinished face, and the rest was draped in dark sheets of tarp- likely to protect construction from the rain. 

It was a perfect place to hide, if only for a moment.

Changing direction, Aizawa swung into the labyrinth of steel beams and concrete, and it only took a moment before he found an ideal spot to wait and watch. 

It was here he would confront his stalker.

He didn't have to wait long… barely a minute had passed when his unwanted accompaniment came into view: landing in the very spot he himself had moments ago.

Gritting his teeth in disbelief, Shouta had to resist groaning in frustration as Katsuki Bakugo and Izuku Midoriya came into view. Because of course it would be the two of them.

For some unknown reason, both of his problem children had seen fit to leave campus (dressed fully in their hero gear) and pursue their homeroom teacher into the heart of the city.

Unbelievable . 

These kids were going to be the death of him.

From his spot hidden in the shadows, the Erasure hero could easily observe his infuriatingly willful students and was even able to smell the burnt sugar- scent of nitroglycerin coming off of an irate Bakugou.

“Where the hell did he go?” the blonde questioned as he walked to the edge of the scaffolding, raising a hand to block the light and peering into the busy street below.

“He’s gotta be around here somewhere,” murmured a perplexed Midoriya- sparks of green lightning still dancing off of him as he stood from his landing crouch. “Kacchan, are you sure he went this way?”

“Of course I’m sure you damn Deku!” came the gruff retort, “He’s just fast - probably a couple rooftops over already… you've seen how he moves.”

Izuku nodded in understanding, unfazed by his peers' attitude, “Yeah, you're right... Mr. Aizawa is amazing.” There was a beat of silence as the freckled boy seemed to ponder the might of his teacher, then- furrowing his brow, he slapped his hands together: “Ok, well, we can still catch up; maybe if we head to the top of this building we might be able to see where he went and hNNNG--”

Bakugo whipped around, startled by the weird noise and was stunned when he saw that his companion had completely disappeared. Immediately, he moved into a fighting stance, palms raised and ready to ignite when suddenly: a white loop of fabric shot out of space above him and cinched his arms close to his chest- the bonds tight and immovable. 

Katsuki was not pleased. Jerking away, he ground out a confused and enraged “Hey what the FUU-?” before taking a step back and missing the ledge.

A gargled yelp of panic escaped the boy as he felt himself begin to fall backward- right into the empty space over the side of the platform. In a snap- the bands around him tightened, and an urgent heave pulled him back into the safety of the scaffold. The teen flailed at the quick redirection, and (losing his balance) would have landed hard on his face if another loop of fabric had not shot out from above him and held him securely in place. 

Reflexively, Bakugo struggled- wildly looking around for his captor, spitting venom as he fought to free himself from his mummified state. A slow rotation in his bonds allowed him to finally spot Deku, and he could see that the green bean was equally indisposed. Even so, the other teen did not look angry; rather, he was staring just past Katsuki- eyes wide and bearing an expression of tense admonishment. 

Following his line of sight, the blonde twisted around- wanting to see what he was looking at. 

It only took a moment to spot him: for there- glaring in the dark, was a wrathful Eraserhead.

The teacher looked deadly as he stood before them: wreathed in shadow, hair flying wildly above his head and eyes aglow with his activated quirk. His hands were gripping fistfulls of his capture weapon- the ends of which wound tight around each of the incapacitated boys.

For a second, the world quieted to just the three of them and a heavy silence choked the air with tense anticipation. It didn’t take long, but soon- the renegade teens began to squirm: uncomfortable under the harsh gaze of their instructor.

Aizawa didn't have it in him to feel any kind of remorse.  

Good. He thought to himself: Let them be uncomfortable. They earned that.

Finally, the need to continue his search urged him to break the tension, and with a low growl, the Erasure hero ground out his most pressing question: 

“So… Bakugo. Midoirya. Do you mind telling me exactly what it is that you two are doing ?” 

His gaze swept languidly over the students, ominous in its unhurried rake. “And I suggest you make it good , seeing as I am ready to expel you immediately for the unfathomable amount of rules you are currently breaking.”

The threat was imminent and absolute, and hearing it, Izuku could not contain his choked off gasp of desperation. With a heave, he surged forward, even despite being completely immobilized; “Wait! Please Mr. Aizawa! I can explain!!! We know what we are doing is against UA rules, but we couldn't just stand by, especially when you looked so worried- It’s just, we know Mr. Yamada is missing !”

Shouta blinked and released his quirk, but did not move to loosen his weapon. Instead, he indicated for Midoriya to continue, still with an air of frustrated sternness.  

The green bean took the opportunity to explain himself with no ounce of hesitation, and in a hurried rush, gave the details for their current whereabouts and intel:

“Right- so, after this afternoon, when you told us that Present Mic not showing up was out of character, we went back to the dorms- but we both could tell that something was wrong. Then we heard that you left campus in a big hurry, and that Principal Nedzu had called for a meeting with All-Might and Midnight… It was then that we realized that something bad really did happen. Afterwards, when we saw that you had come back to UA, Kaachan and I wanted to ask you if everything was alright, or if you had found Mr. Yamada- but you rushed into the Principal's office so fast that we decided to just wait outside the door and talk to you when you were done… But we weren't trying to listen in! I swear!!! We didn't hear anything aside from you wanting to go out and look for Present Mic, and we both decided that we had to help. After all, he’s our teacher, and is important to us- and now that we know that he really is missing, we can’t just sit around and do nothing!”

Bakugo jerked his head in agreement, “Yeah, what Deku said. Besides, he has an obligation to finish teaching me sign. That's just shitty to leave me hanging, and he is the only pro hero I know who has hearing issues, so like, we gotta stick together and shit…”

Midoriya nodded enthusiastically before continuing his tirade, “Mr. Aizawa, I know you are gonna tell us to go back- but we can't do that. Especially now that we know something is really wrong. To turn away now would go against everything that you are teaching us at UA- to protect, to fight for those who can't fight for themselves, to not hesitate… That's to say, If you don't want us here to help, well, you'll have to drag us back to campus yourself. After all “ Meddling when you don't need to is the essence of being a hero” - and I would take expulsion for doing the right thing over weak conviction or cowardice any day.”

The green haired boy finished his speech with a steely edge of determination glinting in his eyes, certitude radiating off of him in waves. 

Aizawa stared, slightly stunned but ultimately unsurprised.  

Of course this kid would have an All-Might-esque speech ready to go at a moment's notice. What a pain.

Bringing a hand (still swathed in scarf) up to massage the bridge of his nose, Shouta released a long-suffering sigh. 

He had half a mind to leave the two boys here, trussed up and incapable of doing anything stupid- but that would be irresponsible and dangerous, especially if whoever had taken Mic was on the hunt for more heroes… or hero wannabe’s. 

He could always call someone to collect them- but he would still have to wait until the person who was awarded that job had arrived, and he was losing daylight fast.

He needed to move. Now.

He thought through several options, but ultimately came back to the fastest and most frustrating one, and in an abrupt motion, he released his weapon. Instantly, both Bakugo and Midoriya came crashing down to the ground.

Calling the material back to him, Shouta began to loop it around himself while turning to address the downed teens- aggravated yet resigned. “Consider this moment an act of unmitigated grace. I am allowing you to come with me for two reasons and two reasons alone : first, I need as much remaining daylight as possible to search for whatever clues I can, and wasting time returning you to campus would be inconvenient; second, because it would be impractical of me not to utilize the additional help. Even then, I am making this allowance only due to the fact that you are aware of the situation and because you both have your provisional Hero Licenses. Make no mistake- this is not to be treated like a fun little excursion for you, and you both will be facing extreme repercussions for your blatant rule breaking and dismissal of authority. But right now I can't worry about that,”

Both teens by this point had got to their feet and had looks of acceptance clear on their faces. 

They had probably already thought through the consequences of their actions, but were willing to take the risk anyway. Shouta didn't know whether to be proud or angry; either way, he knew he was getting soft. Too soft, if he was honest with himself.

Walking to the edge of the building, Aizawa looked out over the city, then spoke with pointed force- “Anyone who is a threat to someone like Mic is bound to be dangerous. So follow close, remember your training, work as a team, and do exactly as I say.” Turning, he shot a glare of emphasis at the boys, both of whom nodded sharply in understanding.

“Yes sir” they chorused.

Shouta hid his smile, then turned to seek a new launch point; finding one, he cast a “Alright then, lets go-” over his shoulder and sped to the ledge of the building, taking off with a powerful leap. 

Immediately, he was airborne, expertly maneuvering his body through space with the aid of his scarf. Behind him, he could hear the boom of Bakugos explosions and the sharp crackle of Midoriya’s power.

Yes, these kids would definitely be the death of him - but he could not deny the fierce bloom of pride and affection that had made its home in his chest. 

They were so good. 

Stupid, reckless, infuriating, overly confident, but good… And as irritated as he was, he knew he had better odds of finding Yamada quickly with more feet on the ground. If his students could in fact help him find Mic, well, Aizawa might be willing to forgive them their penchant for rule breaking- but only this once… 

He wasn't that soft. 

Yet.

__

-Unknown time-

Hizashi wasn’t sure how long he had been left alone. 

It had to have been at least a few hours, if not more… It was hard to tell when there was nothing around to indicate the passage of time. He had no idea of the hour, how long he had been unconscious, or even if it was the same day. The bleak flickering of the naked bulb above his head only added to the grim atmosphere- ominous in its weak uncertainty.

Yamada sighed; for a while, he had been content to simply rest. 

He needed to slough off the residual grogginess the drug had left in his system, and he wanted to feel as aware as possible prior to any kind of breakout. He had already workshoped a loose escape plan- far from perfect (since he was working with so many unknowns), but still solid and viable. Even so- from what he could tell, there was a lot in his favor.

Whoever had been in charge of removing his effects and chaining him up had done a terrible job of it. While it was true that all of his obvious assets had been stripped, he would be a poor excuse of a hero if those were all he relied on. 

He still had his boots and hearing aids which would make his escape that much more manageable; his hands were bound in front of him (a rookie mistake on his captors part), and he was still in possession of some small yet useful tools that had remained hidden on his person.

As he took stock of his remaining gear, Mic considered the strange situation he found himself in- particularly: the playing characters and their roles in the whole convoluted production.

The entire situation was so strange and (admittedly) very alarming… and after his (mostly one sided) discussion with Takada (or “Pulse” he supposed), Yamada was left with the distinct feeling that the wannabe villain was completely green. 

He had a certain level of ambition- that was true enough, but the man had obviously never done anything like this before. He was too overexcited and painfully naive. 

He also talked too much, and not in the buoyant overdramatic monologuing tones of a mastermind; rather, it came off as desperate… a childish need for validation and acceptance. In fact, he seemed genuinely hurt and confused when Present Mic had refused his request to “Help him test the limits of his power and fight his oppressors”...

Like, what did the Takada expect? For the captured hero to simply fold just like that??? How out of touch was this guy????

Gritting his teeth, Hizashi let out a slow, quiet sigh. 

The presumption was frankly insulting… and frustrating. And heartbreaking really.  

There were (unfortunately) many people who fell into a category similar to that of Takada: individuals who had been shunned and forgotten in a world that focused so obsessively on quirks as a means to status and success… It was upsetting, fickle and demeaning. 

With a shake of his head, Yamada let his mind drift to his own childhood experiences, and that of Shouta’s. He and his husband had been on opposite sides of the power spectrum when growing up, and both had been subjected to the cruel whims of society for it. 

While Shouta was constantly underestimated as a boy, pushed aside for the (false) notion that his power was unremarkable in its simplicity, Hizashi had been seen as dangerous; uncontrollable and overpowered. 

Shouta had received dismissal; Hizashi, violent suppression. 

Mic shivered, unhappy with where his head was going; distant memories of forced silence and cruel muzzles etched into his recollection of early youth- hateful and fearful in equal measure. 

But he was past that. He was an adult now. A hero . One who could take care of himself and certainly figure his way out of this “little mess” he was currently in…   

Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, Yamada shook his head and willed himself away from painful memories. He had done enough therapy and growth as a person to recognize a spiral when he saw one, and now was far from the time.

I’ll have plenty to work through when I'm out of here; he thought to himself. We can add it to the growing list. I’d be a liar if I said I was over half the shit that happened in the past year alone- what’s one more log on the fire?  

The dry sarcasm in his head sounded eerily similar to Shouta, and Hizashi took vague comfort in that. Reorienting, he strove to get his brain back on track and focus on the situation at hand.

Ok ok, alright alright... I need to think about the other players.

Out of the whole group, the woman, “Glitch”, seemed the most sure of herself and what she was doing. Despite having a cool aloofness (that was obviously detached from the dramatics of the situation), she moved and looked like a professional- and unlike Takada and Fusion, she carried herself with a level of earned pride and certainty. She was also clearly well-adept with her quirk usage; therefore, she must be a hired hand. 

Mic suspected the same for Maw, especially after seeing how the mutant and teleporter had worked together to take him down. It was smooth interaction- familiar in ways that spoke of joint training or (at the very least) consistent practice.

“Fusion” however, seemed to be a total novice in everything he did. He was unprofessional, a sloppy fighter, and prone to gloating. He felt violent with a very real undercurrent of sadism: desperate to gain what could only amount to an ego boost or street cred.

If Glitch and Maw were hired hands (likely through an underworld broker), Fusion must be a newbie, trying to break into the scene- likely working to prove himself on his first villainous gig. 

He must have convinced Takada to bring him on board, because Glitch was obviously unimpressed and Pulse didn't have a clue of what constituted a good sidekick.  

For Fusion, this had to have been a lucky break; after all, what better way to make a name for yourself than getting to claim the fall of a notorious hero?

Hizashi fought the urge to roll his eyes; 

Hm, Lucky me …

His thoughts returned to the notion of a potential broker being involved. 

It would make sense; especially considering the shock collar he wore. Fusion had mentioned that it was “”made special” for him… and fabrication like that required resources that no newbie villain would have. But a broker could do it… in fact, there were all sorts of underground villain-tech hubs that worked anonymously with brokers, each specializing in gear that would combat specific heroes' quirks… 

If Takada had pitched to the right group (asking for henchmen and gear that could suppress Present Mic), then any villain worth their salt would seize the opportunity to plant some seeds of havoc.

It read like the plot to a bad spy film-

• Find dumb scapegoat on a righteous mission

• Give them resources to achieve their goal

• Watch from the sidelines as they upset the status quo

• When they inevitably fail, swoop in and climb the chaos ladder

• Profit in anonymity

It was an uninspired and played out trope, but one that was common in organized crime. Still, its unoriginality did not imply a lack of success, and that was what had Hizashi concerned.

Regardless, he couldn’t worry about that right now; Sure, after he made his escape, he would follow the thread till he found the spool, but that was “future Mics” problem. 

Resigning himself to wait and only marginally satisfied with his own detective work ( it’s not like he could do more ) the blonde laid down and closed his eyes- focusing on breathing as he felt the drug that tainted his system gradually dissipate. 

Time passed, and still, Hizashi waited. 

Initially, he had strained to hear anything from outside his dank little prison (thankful that his hearing aids had a good charge), but that had proven to be a fruitless endeavor. Beyond the quiet tap of an occasional footfall down the hall, there was little pattern or auditory clue he could gather. The room he was in was also soundproofed, so anything he did pick up was muffled at best. 

No matter, he could get by just fine- hearing or no . 

Finally, he felt the queasiness within him subside- enough so that he could sit up unaffected. Satisfied with the internal progress, he made himself busy by doing some limited stretches- hoping to stay limber for when the time was right to move. 

Being tall and long limbed was all well and good (especially for the additional height he could lord over Shouta), but it also meant that he tended to have an unfairly sensitive back and joints. Thankfully, It didn't bother him terribly much as he had taken to incorporating yoga into his daily workout routine; also (he was unashamed to admit), he had bullied his husband into purchasing an extremely nice mattress. 

What could he say? Good sleep mattered, and he would be so thankful for it after this whole charade was done. Waking up on hard cement was (to put it mildly) a real pain in the ass.

Minutes ticked by into what he assumed was hours, and finally, the occasional sound of footsteps gradually passed less and less. For a while, Mic was deathly silent, straining to hear anything beyond the combined hum of electricity from the collar he wore and the light above. 

There was nothing.

Finally, he nodded in satisfaction; Well, now is as good a time as any to make my grand exit . 

Once again, he found himself thankful for the fact that his hands were in front of him, and slowly he began to comb his fingers through long gold tresses.

There was a tactic that every UA teacher (both from when he was a student and even now as an instructor himself) emphasized- that was: always have an ace up your sleeve. Whether it be a secret move, emergency tool, surprise ability, or whatever else- it was imperative to remain wholly unknown by your enemy.

Being unpredictable raised your odds of survival in a career where your opponents had the benefit of studying you. 

In this instance, Hizashi had very few resources available to him, but he was not outmaneuvered yet. He still had a proverbial ace up his sleeve, or rather: in his hair.  

While it was probably true that he used far too much gel to attain his iconic Present Mic hairstyle, he would be lying if he said that was all he employed. Pinned throughout the length, (primarily at the base of his skull and at his temples) were a handful of bobby pins that  ensured his frustrating flyaway strands remained well in order. Yes - they were a pain in the ass to take out, but right now he was glad for his commitment to the look.

As his fingers searched his scalp, Yamada cringed. His hair had long fallen from its signature swoop (no thanks to the rain the other night) and it was now lying in gummy tangles: sweaty and damp. He was not afraid to admit vanity when it came to his hair, it was just a part of himself that he liked- but this was far from pleasant. Clumps of dulled blonde were sticky as the product melted out, and there were several knotted chunks that had been trapped under the collar prongs, which now pulled at his scalp if he moved his head wrong.

If he had less spirit, Mic knew he might focus on the frustratingly blasé degradation, but again, these guys were novices , and Hizashi had been through worse.

If anything, this was a minor annoyance- distasteful and tedious, but not a dire situation yet . 

With a determined sniff, the voice hero focused on his task, bolstering himself as he went- internally hyping himself to action.  

Allright Yamada, Just a little bit longer- then you can wash out all this gunk- and man… think of how good a shower will be after all this!

That last thought spurred him on, and it was only after another moment of searching that Hizashi was rewarded. He found the pin he wanted: a long sharp-nosed clip, colored gold to blend in with his hair. Grinning in triumph, he turned his attention to the simple padlock that tethered him to the floor and immediately got to work.

It was a practical skill to know how to pick a lock- one that he had learned in highschool from none other than Shouta himself. 

Aizawa had always been an incredible force of ingenuity- making a point to master tricks and abilities that others deemed unimportant or boring. Hizashi knew that it was a trait formed by his own experience of constantly being underestimated; he also knew that anytime the brunette would best someone (using whatever obscure or dismissed skill he had incorporated)- well then, it was truly karmic poetry in motion. 

He hadn't been the only one to convert to Shouta’s “practical skill” teachings either; Oboro, Tensei and Nemuri had each demanded the secret knowledge in a manner that was as playful as it was earnest. 

Smiling at the memories, Mic shook his head to focus on the task at hand. 

While he couldn't do much about the seamless cuffs and collar, he would make quick work of the stupid lock- and didn't that line of thought open the doors to a million and one questions???

If you had a fusion quirk, why bother to fuse the collar and wrist restraints but just trust the chain to the padlock? Laziness perhaps? Or hubris? Or both... Yes, why not both.

Whatever the case, Hizashi did not want to stick around once they discovered him gone. Not that they should be too surprised… After all, it was a pretty lame attempt at keeping him prisoner (though he had to give them grudging credit for the shock collar). 

And that was another thing, wasn't it? These people must either seriously underestimate him or just be incredibly stupid. Or both ! Again, Why not both? 

It only took him a few seconds to pop the lock open- a feat made even easier by the cheap quality of the device. And really... This was almost an insult.

Quickly and quietly, Mic unwound the length of chain that had been fastened to the floor before wrapping it securely around his arm, hoping to stifle any clinking sounds it might produce. It had been fused to the back of the shock collar like a leash, and there was nothing for it but to take it with him. 

As long as he held onto it, he should be fine- he just needed to make sure he kept it close, not wanting to give anyone an opportunity to literally jerk him around.

The mere thought made him wince, and gingerly, he reached up to test the space between his throat and the collar. To his grim realization, he found that he could barely press two fingers under the band, and doing so forced the internal prongs to press deeper into his throat. 

There was no question about it- he was definitely gonna be bruised… Still- better that than getting zapped! 

Shaking off the mere notion, Hizashi took a moment to fiddle with his lock-pick as he breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally free from the small perimeter of space he had been forced to inhabit, and could now move as he pleased. 

Wasting no time, Yamada quietly got to his feet and stood at his full height, wincing as he felt his spine crick in protest.

Oof. yeah. Cement naps were definitely no good for his back. Still- he could treat himself to a massage later- now: it was go time.

Casting a cursory glance around for a suitable weapon and finding none, he made his way to the shadowed corners of the room to examine what mysterious items had been stored there. To his ire and frustration, the dark shapes had simply been emptied cardboard boxes, stacked haphazardly and providing little help.

Disappointed yet intrigued, he spared a second to shuffle through the vast pile of cardboard- stopping only when he recognized a specific logo. Even without his glasses, he could see that it was a familiar speaker brand, one that he himself repped; the sister series to HAGE Headphones (“known for their incredible sound canceling abilities”), here was the HAGE Home-speaker system (“the loudest, cleanest and most dynamic surround-sound one could get on the market!”). 

It was a top-of-the-line product, and peering at the blurry lettering, Mic suddenly realized that all of the stacked boxes were for different types of speakers, amps or subwoofers.

Holy shit, the blonde thought- Takada really meant it when he said he was trying to soup himself up… these all pack some serious punch; if he’s not satisfied with the results he’s getting from these guys, then I'd hate to stick around and see what he thinks he can get from me.

Feeling resolve to move, Hizashi toyed with the pin still in his hand. He silently stepped towards the door, and gently pressed his ear against it, testing once more to see if anyone would be waiting outside.

Nothing.

Good .

It was time to break out. 

With nimble fingers, he pushed the pin in the lock and in moments, heard the satisfying click of the tumblers falling into place; then (easing the door with a steady hand as to not allow for any creaking), he swung it gently open.

The hall outside his closet prison was violently bright. Harsh fluorescents flooded the space with a clinical glow- even despite the fact that only every other light seemed to work. 

Peeking out, Mic’s eyes adjusted as he swept the space, looking for a sign of a returning guard or a possible exit. 

Again, there was nothing.

How odd…

It was easy enough to scope out the situation, and with quiet interest, he could see that his door was at the end of a narrow passage that had a single turn at the end. There were several possible exits that lined the way, but Hizashi could recognize that they were simply additional office spaces or storage rooms (thanks mostly to the adjacent informative plaques that hung neatly on the walls).

Satisfied that no one was in the immediate vicinity and not wanting to waste any more time, the Voice Hero began to move. 

He was stealthy as he crept down the length of the hall: steps measured and quiet in a way that would make Eraserhead proud. Carefully, he continued, pausing every once in a while to ensure no one was coming round the bend. Finally- he got to the turn and cautiously peered around the corner- unsure if his luck would run out.. 

He was met with an elevator and a doorway that led to a stairwell. 

The choice was a simple one and, tightening his grip on the chain in his hand, Mic nodded- readying himself for his flight up the stairs. 

As glad as he was for having avoided any person thus far, he recognized that the longer he stood here, the greater his chance of discovery, and he had no intention of prolonging this venture any more than necessary.

He began to move once again, climbing the stairs at a rapid pace- adrenaline pumping after having been stationary for what felt like hours. In no time, he made it to the top of the stairwell: a door with a neatly printed plaque stating “First Floor” was all that he needed to know he was in the right place.

Before gripping the handle, Hizashi once again listened for a moment, straining to hear any activity on the other side of the barrier. He was met with quiet… 

This was suspiciously easy…

Cracking the door just enough to see outside, he was rewarded with a view of an empty foyer- obviously shabby and long unused. Broken glass littered the floor, and graffiti left by hooligans and urban explorers alike colored the walls in a neon tapestry. More significant than that was the exit: clearly visible from his vantage point- equally inviting and ominous in its silent beckoning. 

Now that he could look around, Yamada gathered that the building was an old office attached to what must have once been a shipping center. 

And huh- that likely placed it in the warehouse district. If so, then yeesh… How annoying . The warehouse block was on the outskirts of the city; far removed from any kind of highly populated area. 

Of course a typical villain would choose this as their hideout. They might as well be down by the docks in an abandoned cargo center with how “run-of-the-mill” it all was!!!

What ever happened to creativity? What ever happened to style?!? Secret lairs and showmanship should be the hallmark of villainy, not whatever low-effort tomfoolery this was. 

Sniffing in mild disdain, Hizashi quickly exited the stairwell and headed towards the double wide doors, mentally conducting an argument for the sake of good presentation in all things. 

Even if it’s villainy, have some pride in what you do; is that so hard?

Having finally reached the exit, he quickly and quietly slipped outside, simultaneously releasing a deep breath of relief. 

While he wasn't out of the woods yet, just being outside in the cool night air gave him a boost of confidence. And wasn't that another thing to think about? It was quite plainly night- the sky dark as ink and the telltale scent of morning moisture sat sweetly on the air. If he had to guess, he would put the time somewhere right before dawn, which meant he had been a prisoner for a significant chunk of time- over 24 hours by this point at least. 

Wrinkling his nose and doing his best not to roll his eyes, Yamada tightened his grip on the length of chain in hand- momentarily glad for the tactile distraction.

Ugghhh… This would be such a pain to deal with at the agency… Not to mention Shouta’s response. His husband would be insufferable - overbearing in concern that he could always give, but never willingly receive for himself.

Sealing himself to the side of the building to avoid being conspicuous, Hizashi looked around to get his bearings. 

He knew roughly where he was, but without a major landmark, it was easy to get turned around in this area- still he had a fair notion, and was sure he could get by just fine. After a second of consideration, he decided on a direction, and feeling confident, prepared to dodge in between the shadows made by streetlights to secure his escape.

Just as he readied himself to move, he heard a small noise that caused him to freeze. 

A dry clearing of the throat that was obviously meant to draw attention sounded from directly above him.  

Whipping his head up, Hizashi’s eyes widened at the sight of Glitch: standing on the ledge of the building he had just exited. Thanks to his lack of glasses, her visage was blurry, but she was recognizable primarily thanks to her purple hair and distinctive raspy voice.

For a beat, the two locked gaze, and as the woman stared down at him, he could hear her murmur in scoffing disbelief: “Of course that fucking asswipe couldnt even lock him up properly… why am not surprised.”

In a split second she had teleported: vacating her perch on the roof to directly in front of Mic- effectively cutting off his exit with a now-familiar pop of warped air. As soon as she appeared, she turned to face him; expression determined yet impersonal as she moved into a fighting stance, ready to engage.

Yamada wasted no time and mirrored her posture; preparing himself despite the vague knot of stress that had appeared in his gut. 

Without his voice, he’d have to rely on hand to hand and speed.

Which was fine… absolutely fine.

Still, some part of his brain couldn’t help but feel vindicated in the worst kind of way:

Cause I knew this was too easy- and of course the universe wouldn't let me have this one thing...  

Silencing the internal groaning, his attention focused on his opponent: and looking over her (hoping to spot any obvious weaknesses or opportunities), he noticed something new from the last time they had engaged. 

There, hung around Glitch’s neck, were a pair of high-end sound-canceling HAGE headphones in cobalt blue. Immediately, his eyes widened in indignation as he recognized them as his own.

Really!?! Stealing my shit?! Now that’s just rude - though I gotta admit: she’s smart to have kept them… If I'm able to use my voice at any point, those are her best bet for not getting knocked out of the game.

As though hearing his internal thoughts, the teleporter smirked as she tapped the side of the stolen devices, showing off yet another purloined item: for there was his own wedding ring- hanging off her wrist on a familiar chain- the bright gold glinting in the dim streetlight. 

Seeing it only doubled Hizashis upset, and gritting his teeth, he shot the woman a poisonous glare- fed up and pissed off. 

That was his fucking ring and he wanted it back .

Glitch only raised an eyebrow- sensing his irritation grow. Still, her attitude was frustratingly blasé, and with a huff, she stoked the tension, stating: “Listen hero, you’re only making this harder on yourself… Without your quirk, you’re outgunned here, and that's a fact .” 

Hizashi didn't bother with acknowledging the spur; rather, he raised his fists and set his balance.

If they were gonna fight, they might as well get to it- so why waste time… 

The woman sighed, a note of longsuffering clear in her tone as she watched him adjust his stance. “Please… I could take you, but I’m not terribly invested in all this. No matter, I’ve already called the big guy.”

At that exact moment, the enormous mutant figure of Maw rounded the side of the building: his perpetually grinning face eerily illuminated by moonlight. His beady eyes spotted the runaway and in moments, made a full tilt run toward Hizashi, thundering at a speed that was shocking for someone of his size. 

The voice hero's eyes widened as he took in the juggernaut headed straight for him; preparing himself to move. Typically, he would be less perturbed by such a swerve, but in this instance, he knew full well that he was outmatched without his voice.

As the hulking figure closed in, Mic twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding being trampled (largely thanks to his own light agility). Still, Maw was surprisingly deft, and had managed to reorient with little loss of momentum. 

The two then took up a peculiar dance: the massive henchman lurching forward, working to strike, while Mic evaded and sought an opportunity to get away. 

This continued in a back-and-forth rhythm, until finally, after a minute of this active stalemate, Maw began to lose patience. His attacks became heavier, more forceful and uncontrolled… He was about to make a mistake.

Sure enough, his enormous fist swung round- arc swinging wide: both to counterbalance and to hit the lithe hero. Hizashi spotted his opening and immediately dropped to the floor, just clearing the wild swing of a meaty punch and promptly rolling to the side- out of the way of the mutant's immense feet.

His redirection was successful- proving his ability to hold his own ground, even sans quirk. His speed, agility and quick thinking were all parts of his capability as a hero, and all for good reason.

Still- his luck couldn't hold forever. 

Pushing himself up to his hands and knees, Yamada suddenly realized he had also made a mistake: in his effort to get away, he had let go of the chain that was attached to his collar. 

His eyes swept the floor for the length, meaning to pull the end towards himself as quickly as possible, but instead was met with a wholly unwelcome sight. 

There: standing in front of him with one booted foot stamped heavily on the leash, was Fusion. 

The man had appeared sometime during Maws attack, and his face was equal parts giddy and mad- looking vindictive as (with darting speed) he reached out to grip the end of the chain and jerk it towards himself; cruel and inhumane as he simultaneously reared a leg back to kick Hizashi in the face. 

The voice hero’s eyes widened as he pitched forward- caught off guard by the choking yank of the collar and momentarily shocked as he watched Fusions foot swing through the air toward his jaw, almost in slow motion. 

Fine… his brain supplied in cool determination: This called for drastic measures.  

Taking a quick breath and bracing himself for pain- even as he fell forward into his attacker, he reached for his quirk and shouted the one word that came to mind: pouring all he could into the single, desperate call-- 

“ ERASER !”

Immediately , agony blinded him. 

Electric torture. 

Pain that was sharp and fiery encompassed his neck in a vicious choke. 

His scream, which had barely been powerful to start with, cut off in a strangled gasp as Hizashi collapsed in on himself- eyes wide and panicked, frantic hands raised and clawing at his throat.

Ok, this? This was not good , his brain distantly supplied- muted and fuzzy as his body focused on the pain.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over- but he was still left reeling in the aftermath of the ragged heat that had blitzed his system.

Peeling his eyes open, he sluggishly blinked- briefly focusing on the boots now in front of him. Following the form upwards, he finally landed on Fusions face, twisted in unchecked aggression. Detached, Yamada vaguely realized that the man was shouting, and quietly noted the blood that appeared to be streaming down the sides of the villain's head. 

Huh… he thought, he must have been in the range of my shout before I was cut off by the collar. 

Then, the world slammed back into sharp clarity.

“You FUCKER! ” came the wrathful scream from above him.

Fusion was white with rage, eyes nearly bulging with untethered emotion. He was shouting, and Mic had no idea if it was out of anger or if the blue haired man's hearing had been damaged from his own cry for help. 

Either way, he couldn't bring himself to care.

“You think you can get away so easily? Not while I’m around you screaming BITCH !” At that, Blue twisted the chain in hand- readjusting his grip before violently yanking the leash toward him; simultaneously swinging a heavy boot once more- this time directly into Present Mic’s unprotected stomach.

Hizashi, who had already been on his knees, gasped at the jerk of the lead- his already wounded throat flaring as the unyielding prongs of the collar dug into his abused flesh. 

Still, seeing the oncoming attack, he fell forward into the motion- hoping to curl in on himself and protect his abdomen in time. 

Unfortunately, he was not fast enough. 

The cruel blow landed, followed by another and another until he lost count and the blonde was left wheezing from the shower of abuse.

Fusion was frothing , ready to continue lashing out: he was kicking violently- stamping with all his might into the side of the voice hero- throwing his entire body weight into it as he focused single-mindedly on breaking his prisoners ribs: sputtering incoherent babbling when suddenly, Glitch ported between him and his target. 

With impressive force, she shoved the blue haired man back. Her heave was so great that he nearly fell to the concrete, spared only by the solid form of Maw who had strode up behind him.

Glitch had seen what Mic was about to do and had been prepared, pulling the soundproof headphones over her ears right on time to avoid any level of damage. Comparably, the voice hero’s scream had been weak and choked off, but it was still incredible in its own right: a breathtaking display of raw power. Shattered glass now littered the street, lights had completely blown out, and all around dogs were barking and car alarms wailed. 

It was chaos .

Outraged and seething, the teleporter removed her stolen heaphones and let out a heated snarl: “Fusion you fucking moron! This is your fault- why did you leave one side of the chain loose? You said you could handle it, and not only did he nearly escape, but he just blew our cover! That fucking scream was loud enough to alert any hero in the area of our location!”

She spun on her heel, and walked a few paces towards Hizashi who was still gasping for breath. 

The blonde was a mess: bruised and abused- clearly doing his best to work through the fog of pain that radiated from his side and neck. It probably didn't help that he had been brutally winded from Fusion repeatedly kicking him in the stomach with his steel-toed boots... 

Regardless, when Glitch approached, he raised his head to glare defiantly at her- challenging even despite his humbled situation. For a second, she stared, and Yamada was confused to see that her harsh gaze held annoyance, but no malice- at least none that was directed at him . Instead, her eyes shot to Blue who was gripping the chain attached to Mic’s collar so tight, his knuckles were turning white. Venom laced the teleporters voice as she continued her tirade:

“You useless bastard- don't you know anything ? Always overestimate heroes, no matter what! They are pros for a fucking reason ! Now because of your screw-up, we’re gonna have to relocate and this whole thing is gonna get dragged out. Don’t you know I have better shit to do with my time than babysit an unprofessional like you ?”

Hizashi listened to the conversation while still struggling to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Maw had moved to grab at him, simultaneously pushing Fusion further away. It was a small comfort.

His heart was now steadily sinking. 

Change location? Well that was just great . Of course being moved was always in the realm of possibility (especially when it came to being kidnapped): but he wanted this to be done with- especially after experiencing the (not even full) brunt of the shock collar. 

He would be ok if he never felt pain like that again.

Still, he had been able to call for Shouta, and that alone had been worth everything. 

Even if Eraserhead did not show up tonight, or even if the villains succeeded in dragging him to some new hideout, he had been able to cry for help- loud and clear. 

His husband would know one thing: he was alive and waiting. 

Glitch was still fuming, but had finally calmed enough to enact a plan. Turning, she drew herself up and commanded the attention of the other henchmen, all while toying with the ring that still dangled off her wrist. 

“Maw, you’re gonna take him back inside and prepare to clean out as soon as possible; gather anything we might need, including the hero’s stuff… No point in making this easy for anyone. I’m gonna call the boss and let him know that we are shaking this location. Fusion, YOU get to tell Takada of your fuck up; make sure you let him knew that this whole shit-fest was your fault. I refuse to take any level of blame for such a stupid mistake.”

Here she paused in thought, hard eyes sweeping over Mic’s crumpled form. Finally, she seemed to arrive at a decision, “Okay, yeah- once I get off the phone, I am gonna take the hero to the interrogation house. You guys meet us there once you’re sure this place has been wiped, got it? We don't have time for more stupid mistakes… Other heroes are gonna be out looking for him soon, if they aren't already.” 

Above him, Maw grunted in assent while Fusion grumbled under his breath, but ultimately nodded in understanding.

The stress in Hizashi’s stomach grew to anxiety; fear for what was next rearing in his mind.

Jumping locations was bad- very very bad… and almost always spelled disaster for victims of kidnapping; he needed to figure out another way out of this! And soon! Before they could make it far from this spot! 

At that moment, Glitch approached- hand outstretched to grasp at his bicep; he tried to back away but was held firmly in place by an unyielding Maw. She touched him and almost immediately his world began to dim as he felt the energy being sapped from his body. 

Stress coiled like a snake in his gut, even as blackness filled the edges of his vision. 

His last thought was an attempt to self-soothe- desperate yet earnest in equal measure. 

This situation was bad, yes: but it would be ok- it had to be ok… because Shouta would find him. Of that he was sure, and for now- that comfort had to be enough. 

His head tilted forward as he lost the strength to keep himself upright.

Yes, Shouta would find him… he just had to keep the faith…

But if he could just wait, It would all be fine…

Certainty filled him; then, his world went dark.

Chapter Text

-Late Sunday Night-

Katsuki Bakugo was not someone who could be described as empathetic.

Assertive (aggressive), Passionate (hot-tempered), bold (brash) and headstrong (stubborn) were more often the words associated with him: for better or worse.

To some degree, the blonde was indifferent towards the general presumption of his personality; after all, why should he care if people found him intimidating (frightening)? That was their problem and he didn't give a single shit about what anyone thought.

Occasionally however, a vague notion of indignation would rise in protest to the public concensus: private and deep in his own mind. 

How dare anyone think they had him figured out? He was a complex person who was unknowable in his depth; a literal enigma beyond comprehension. 

Regardless, he’d be a liar if he said he was wholly in tune with some of the more “delicate” (non-combative) emotions that others seemed to “fully get”. Sure… empathy was maybe not something he was completely fluent in, but he could do well enough.

At the very least, he was a fucking amazing listener when he wanted to be- and a damn good friend to any extra he deemed worthy of his time. Those were the facts.

Still… sometimes, when Katuski thought about the way his friends and classmates seemed to connect and understand each other, he felt just a twinge of… something. 

Was it confusion? Loneliness? Fear? 

Tch. No . 

That was stupid, and none of those things had any home in Bakugo’s mind.

To “understand and share” the feelings of another person sounded exhausting, tedious, pointless and uncomfortable. Why should he bother in most cases? If someone couldn't handle their shit, that was their business and he wanted no part of it (unless it had a face he could literally blast away). Besides, he was training to be a hero- one who could fight and win against actual villains- not metaphorical or emotional ones.

All that to say, he was a self-contained well-oiled machine- one who didn’t need other people to understand or be understood by. 

In fact, (beyond a casual or convenient level) Katsuki firmly believed that he had evolved above the trivial minutiae of “developing meaningful relationships” and he wouldn’t have it any other way, thank you very much. 

Just because the extras in 1A were more at home with each other then he was, that did not mean he was missing out on anything. Afterall, he did have his own core group of tagalongs who sated whatever “social need” he might encounter; they were annoying enough as it was- Why would he want to open the door for more stupid chatter and useless feelings?

Even so: within the self-proclaimed “Baku-squad” there were occasionally moments of him feeling like an outsider in a way that was- uncomfortable? Frustrating? More nuanced than he cared to admit???

He recalled specific times when the group had been hanging out; conversations would take place that would go from jokey and sarcastic to serious in a way that gave him whiplash, and even stupid dunce--face seemed to track those discussions better than Katsuki could (and wasn't that an intolerable notion?). 

He hated to admit it, but there were undercurrents of dialogue exchanged that he seemed to miss- dialogue rooted in… emotion? Unspoken nuance? Whatever the case- he sometimes felt left out, and he didn't like it.

In a moment of weakness (curiosity?), he had asked Kirishima about his observations (or lack thereof), and had received a somewhat helpful answer:

It was a few weeks after the disastrous forest-training camp, and all of class 1A had finally been moved into the dorms. Katsuki and Ejiro had been hanging out in the red head’s room: both relaxing and playing video games after finishing homework for Ectoplasm’s math class.

Feeling slightly mellow and contemplative (especially after having destroyed Kirishima in their most recent bout of Mortal Kombat), Bakugo had posed his question (purely for the purpose of gaining intel of course ).

“Hey, what’s the deal with the group lately?”

His query seemingly came out of nowhere, and Kirishima had looked up- surprised and confused at the vague ask.

“Huh? What do you mean? You gotta be more specific man,”

The blonde huffed and shifted position so he could look the other boy in the eye, unsure how to clarify without making it seem like he was upset.

“I mean: anytime you, me, Pinky, Dunce Face and Tape-for-brains all hang out, things will be normal for a while- but lately, you guys have started taking the conversation to a weird level of “feeling”, and I don’t get why.”

Ejiro blinked as he absorbed the information; then slowly, a small smile grew on his face- measured as to not incite Bakugo’s ire. The expression was not mocking or unkind, rather- it was almost relieved. 

Dropping his controller, Kirishima leaned back- opening his posture as he began to explain:

“Bro, it’s kind of a natural progression of friendship… In the beginning, we started out just getting to know each other- but only on a surface level- you know: with a lot of fun and shitting around. But the more time we spend together, the more our relationships grow. If we want to invest, we have to put in the work: We learn about each other- not just the light stuff, but heavy things too.”

Bakugo snorted, “Sure, I'm not an idiot- I know how friendships work, dumbass . That doesn't answer my question though.”

Kirishima nodded, “I guess I meant: part of us growing closer as a friend group requires us to get deep… to intentionally open up more. It means we need to be good listeners to each other, so we can recognize where each other is at and give support where needed...”

The red-head put a finger to his chin in thought, “Take for instance: yesterday… Remember how we were hanging out on the lawn after class? We’d been teasing Denki about short-circuiting during training again, and everyone was joking about it.”

Katsuki nodded, recalling the moment in time. “Yeah, things were fine till they got weird… but I missed what happened cause I was actually studying- (unlike you losers)… So what changed?” 

Ejiro nodded and loosely crossed his arms. “Yeah, it was fine- we were just messing around and having fun. But then, Denks mentioned that he was actually pretty anxious… both about “shorting out” during training and because of the pop-quiz Aizawa gave us… Like, immediately after- we stopped making fun and started encouraging him. He’s said before that he’s insecure about his grades- and even though we all know Kaminari can take a joke, we never wanna take it too far or add to that insecurity…”

Furrowing his brow, Bakugo thought back to the moment Kirishima was referring to: clearly remembering the shift in atmosphere. Pinky and Soy Sauce had been doing a stupid reenactment of Pikachu “fritzing out”- and he had been quietly laughing along as he did his homework. The whole thing seemed harmless enough until Kaminari’s expression changed. The blonde was clearly uncomfortable, and he had shyly asked if the others had any trouble on the earlier quiz... 

His discomfort was recognized, and what had been a light-hearted roast transformed into a motivational circle in seconds flat. 

The switch had been jarring to say the least. 

Still, Bakugo prodded for more.

“What's your point?”

“My point is, Kaminari has been vulnerable with us. Our job as his friends is to be understanding and empathetic to him… to take his honesty with respect and kindness and to be vulnerable right back… I think: the thing you’ve been noticing in the group is the rest of us making that effort to be sensitive- which is honestly pretty manly.”

The blonde rolled his eyes at that conclusion, “Tch, thats’s dumb. I don't see how vulnerability can be manly.”

Kirishima’s smile was binding as he threw back his head and laughed at Bakugo’s petulance. 

“Aw man Bakugo, I’m sorry that you've been feeling out of the loop… I guess it's easier for the rest of us to track those kinds of conversations cause we’re maybe a little more in tune with our feelings.”

“HEY,” Katsuki groused, “I’m perfectly in tune with feelings or whatever- I know all I need to be the best at what I do, and don't you forget it, shitty hair...”

The red head raised his hand placatingly, “Sure man, but even if you weren't, emotions can be a hard thing to reckon with. They can be complex and uncomfortable, cuz working to understand them means that we have to be honest with ourselves and each other. It’s pretty intense and takes a lot of courage. But at the end of the day, trying to be real- working on honesty, communication, empathy and vulnerability- is important to us becoming better: not only as people, but as heroes too. That kinda work has some serious merit, and it’s cool to see our friend group doing it together.”

Katsuki shifted, feeling slightly uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't place. 

Kirishima’s speech had been good natured and patient: non-specific in its target, but Bakugo could sense the other boy was happy he had been given the opportunity to say something.

They had resumed playing video games shortly after that, and after (when Katsuki finally made to leave for his own room), a quiet call had sounded behind him- causing him to pause in his exit:

“Hey Bakubro, I want you to know: we all really care about each other, and you’re definitely included in that. Also, wherever you’re at- we want you to be able to share it; not just the good things, but the hard stuff too… There’s no obligation or anything, but just know: we’re here for you if you ever need or want to talk... It’s not wrong to need other people, and I think being able to admit that is actually, really brave.”

The blonde had paused at the door as Kirishima delivered his closing thoughts, staring at the handle as he took in the others' statement. Finally, after a beat, he left without saying a word. 

He needed to think.

He had to process…

All his life, Katsuki believed vulnerability was for the weak; that it was a thing meant to be crushed up and locked away. Buried deep and forgotten till it was actually gone… 

Still, he couldn’t dismiss Kirishima's words… words that challenged that belief.

Ejiro was a good friend (maybe even his best friend)… And was a person that Bakugo was actually really glad to have in his life. To that end, the red-heads' thoughts and opinions did matter to him- but that didn't mean he took all Eji said at face-value… 

Shitty hair was still an idiot after all.

Regardless, the other’s words had carried some weight in a way that required thought and  demanded attention.

Yeah… He needed to think.

That initial conversation opened the door for a new branch of thought, and over the next couple of weeks, Katsuki mulled it- working to better understand the red heads point. 

One thing in particular had stuck out to him- specifically when Kirishima said: honesty, communication, empathy and vulnerability is important to us becoming better: not only as people, but as heroes too.”

That was interesting . And irritating… 

Try as he might, Bakugo couldn't fully discredit this statement; it made sense to a frustrating degree … 

Just thinking about the best heroes (or at least the crowd favorites), he recognized that there always was always something about them that took them to the next level in the public eye… Sometimes it had to do with technique, skill, power or wins- but even if all that was above and beyond, the heroes that were really embraced, like- actually praised as the best of the best… Well, those were the ones who were… nice? Charismatic? Genuine?

A perfect example of that was the distinction between All Might and Endeavor... Even if the flame hero was the new number one, he would never be embraced like All Might was (for the plain and simple fact that the guy was a grade-A asshole). 

It was here that Katsuki struggled.

He didn't give a singular shit if a hero was likable or not- the only thing he cared about was how successful they were in the field; he always assumed that others thought the same... or at least, they should .

Still, after his conversation with Kirishima, he found himself paying closer attention, and it wasn’t long before he began to notice specific patterns in the hero ranking system. Sure enough a common theme among the best (or most popular heroes) was this weird vein of altruism.

It was all bullshit .

Since when was “being nice” a mandatory part of the job description??? Was it not enough to kick ass and save lives????

Whatever the case, he would be a fool to dismiss such an important finding-  and (even if he had no intention of making any drastic changes in himself because obviously he was gonna be Number One regardless), he needed to see who in the immediate vicinity had that “edge of empathy”- whether it be authentic or not.

This quickly turned into him (not so) secretly watching his classmates- wanting to see if he could suss out the competition, purely by observation.

At the end of another week, he had formulated a tentative list of peers who displayed consistent levels of “niceness”.

He guessed Sugar guy (Sato?) was decent enough- he was generous at least: always making snacks and treats for other people- never expecting anything in return. Tail (was it Ojiro?) seemed to be regularly helpful and generally chill… he also made sure that no one ever sat alone during lunch.

Both of teachers pets, (Ponytail and Foureyes) were high on the list, as were a handful of others: the Frog was fine (though probably too blunt for the public's taste), Invisible chick was enthusiastic enough, and bird brain (while way too emo for his own good) always made sure to help with the dishes. 

The top of the list was still being curated, but he had names at least: some of which he was weirdly proud to include. 

Sparky and Racoon-eyes had made it; they were both playful and genuine in a way the public was sure to eat up. Also there was Soy Sauce (who was just friendly and could hang with anyone). He included Pink Cheeks cuz of course she would wind up at the top: as annoying as her cheery demeanor was, Bakugo had to admit it was honest and (probably to others) endearing in her fierce friendliness.

That left two people who could go for the top spot. 

First was Kirishima: Ejiro was a notoriously good person- everyone liked him and he was honest, patent, kind and enthusiastic… a literal “friend to all” and one of the few people in 1A who both knew everyone and actually seemed to deeply care. The sharp-toothed boy could almost be described as glue- sticking unlikely groups together and filling in spaces with warmth and gusto, all paraded as overenthusiastic manliness. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes, though it was an admittedly fond action. 

Yeah, even if this new “system of judgment” he was discovering was bullshit, Shitty hair deserved to be liked- at least to some degree…

The second person who seemed to nail this whole “feeling” thing was of course, stupid Deku.

As much as he hated to admit it- the nerd was an unstoppable force of empathy- to an infuriating degree. For years, Bakugo refused to accept that the green bean was genuine; always feeling in the back of his mind that the others' actions were calculated and mocking, or even worse, pitying… But ever since summer camp (and subsequently his own kidnapping and rescue), he had been forced to acknowledge that (as much as he hated to admit it) Deku was painfully authentic… 

His unwavering (and unrealistic) desire to “save everyone” was consistent, and he was undeniably audacious when it came to self-sacrifice. Also, despite being (disgustingly) timid, Deku matched Kirishima as a central friend figure in their class- He was caring, (overly) emotional, and never seemed to hesitate when someone needed him.

It was revolting.

Even beyond that, the damn nerd had a sensitivity to others that was puzzlingly astute. He could read people and actions- spot undercurrents and unspoken thoughts- clearly and easily. 

It was unnerving. 

A prime example (victim) of this display of “Deku-meddling-magic” was Icy-Hot. The guy had been closed off and dead eyed for so long, making no effort to connect with anyone in class or engage beyond a paltry level. 

Initially, Katsuki figured it was just because of the massive stick lodged up his ass… that and ego: after all, being a student who got into UA on recommendation and the son of the (now) number one hero was enough to give anyone a complex. 

Bakugo just assumed that the asshole didn’t want to fraternize with those he deemed unworthy (a notion he could get behind, but was still allowed to be annoyed by), and went on his merry way.

Then, the sports festival happened. 

The damn nerd and half-n-half had faced off in the one-on-one battle tournament. During the fight, stupid Deku had challenged not only his opponents physical abilities, but his “emotional barriers” as well. It had been bizarre to watch, and seeing Deku essentially mutilate himself (as he strove to either win the match or break through the others rigid walls) had been (in a word)- insane . 

The whole time, Midoriya had been relentless; encouraging Todoroki to “own his power”- to “claim it for himself”, unattached and outside of his fathers expectations. Sure enough- the coaching made an impact, and the result of the fight was admittedly impressive. 

No matter- Katsuki refused to dwell too much on the aftermath (he hated thinking about his false win against the dual wielder).

After that though, Icy-Hot began a weird sort of internal transformation. Once the sports festival had ended and as the school year continued, he was noticeably more involved and invested in things going on around him. While before he seemed almost hollow and shell-like, he now had a flame of personality: still sputtering and small- but gradually developing into something unique and human. The guy was still awkward and distant, but an obvious change had begun to take place, a change that was fostered by his time spent with Deku. 

The green bean was inclusive and encouraging; always inviting and listening to Todoroki’s stilted conversation and musings (even his crazy conspiracy shit). Apparently, that time and courtesy had done wonders to Candy Canes confidence, and even Bakugo had to admit he was glad to see it. 

A confident Todoroki meant a competent challenger. That was all… nothing more than that.

Icy-hot wasn't the only person who was being impacted by Midoriya's aggressive friend-making-confidence-building schemes. Other students (both in their own class and in 1-B) seemed to have fond feelings for the nerd as well.

Even the brainwashing kid from general studies ( Shinso? ) wasn’t immune to Deku and his stupid preaching. He had seen them hanging out, walking around campus together- talking and occasionally laughing like they were best buddies.  

It was irritating.  

At least, more irritating than it should be and Katsuki didn't know why . Of course Midoriya would flaunt the fact that he could get even the most closed off and emotionally stunted kids on campus to open up like real people. 

The blonde swallowed as he fought down resentment. Or was it resentment? Probably not… He wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure how he felt about most things nowadays- least of all his childhood friend-turned victim-turned rival.

It was all so weird and complex…

Ever since he found out about the secret of One for All, Bakugo had done nothing but think for a good long time- about himself, Deku, All Might, and what it meant to be a hero.

There was so much he had to process… Of course, being kidnapped had not done him any favors, and the exposure and loss of All Might (which he still felt responsible for) had been a pretty devastating blow. The news of his declining hearing had been yet another nasty thing to reckon with, and (despite not wanting to care) he also felt the weight of how the world viewed him after both the sports festival and the events in Kamino. Even the clusterfuck that was the provisional licensing exam had given him some level of scarring… 

Still, none of that mess preoccupied him as much as the puzzle of Deku.

He just didn't get it.

If the nerd truly was genuine in his actions- legitimately not mocking Katsuki or silently judging him behind his back- if he really was a good enough person for All Might, “the greatest Hero of all time”, to deem worthy of his power- then maybe… maybe Bakugo was wrong about some things. 

That was a sickening thought. 

Katsuki Bakugo prided himself on his ability to know. He trusted his own mind and his own deductions. He knew he was smart and worked hard to stay at the top of the class, in all regards.

While technically he knew that intelligence, knowledge and discovery were naturally growing and evolving things (depending on the information and evidence one had access to) he still liked being right. All the time . More than that: he was so familiar with the Deku who was in his memories, that this new Deku (who he was just beginning to see for the first time), was throwing him for a loop.

He had to reevaluate.

After all, if Katsuki was wrong about Izuku, what else could he be wrong about?

That was an unnerving train of thought- one he did not want to explore any more than absolutely necessary.

Still, explore it he must- especially since he liked being right… If corrections and amendments to his worldview were necessary- he needed to start sooner than later; either to vindicate himself or to ensure he would again be right in the future.

Thus began Bakugos ( not-so-secret) operation of “observe-the-nerd”. 

It was a foolproof plan: If Deku was the largest error in his understanding, then hopefully righting that and finding clarity would be foundational in correcting any other inconsistencies that might arise. 

From that point on (to the unabashed shock of literally everyone at UA), Katsuki put his plan in motion and began making strategic efforts to spend more time with Midoriya ( purely for research purposes of course).

Surprisingly enough- the only person who seemed less disturbed and more enthusiastic by this development was Izuku himself. While the nerd still flustered every time Katsuki announced he would join him (for whatever menial task the other boy had planned), Deku’s confusion soon turned to tentative eagerness- then to wholehearted exuberance.

The blonde decided not to dwell on that too much and instead chose to focus on the task at hand- that was: gather intelligence regarding Deku’s character and identify to what degree Bakugo had misjudged him.

It was a gradual change at first. 

Every once in a while, Katsuki would demand Izuku spar with him and Kirishima; not long after that, he started sitting closer to the freckled boy at lunch- with his own gaggle of friends cheerily (and cheekily) in tow. 

Eventually, where once was infrequent orbiting and hesitant interaction, an odd sort of routine began to form.

The two started running together in the mornings, and after, could regularly be seen finishing homework in the common (always with a slight air of competition). 

There was still a weird level of tension that ran like an electric current between the boys, but it was slowly turning into something that was less hostile and closer to a proper rivalry (weirdly with a side of dry humor and nostalgia thrown in). 

Soon (between time spent with their respective friend groups), it became a somewhat normal sight to see the two walking around as a unit- even joining class hangouts and group trips to the mall or beach. Bakugo (of course), would always scoff at how these things were “a waste of time”, but if stupid Deku went, then of course he would go. 

Because of his “Research”, and all that…

Still, even despite his complaining, Katsuki had to admit that spending more and more time with Izuku wasn’t completely intolerable. The other boy was a total nerd; he talked too much, was obnoxiously eager, irritatingly optimistic, and utterly bad at hiding the secret of One for All. He was also observant, cunning, adaptive. Intelligent. Decisive.. Helpful… Forgiving… Sweet… 

The blonde stopped abruptly.

Now that was a disquieting series of thoughts . 

Shuddering, Bakugo decided to switch tracks, not wanting to complicate his thought projects any more than absolutely necessary. 

Just shake it off .

One thing that did come as more of a surprise then he was prepared for, was the fact that stupid Deku (while still a weak pushover) was getting marginally better at holding his ground. Specifically (and almost exclusively) with him. 

Katsuki wasn't sure if he appreciated that or not. 

On the one hand, it was strange and outrageous to be told to calm down or back off by the person he once relentlessly tormented ( cause who the hell did the nerd think he was??? ); on the other hand, If the idiot was actually going to be a worthy successor to fucking All-Might, it was about time he grew a spine.

So sure : It was a strange development, but not necessarily an unwelcome one…

Thus, he allowed it… for now… 

But the more time passed- the better Deku got at asserting himself.

And unwittingly, Katsuki became more and more receptive towards it…

In fact, any time the green bean would push back on the blond's snark, demands, or attitude, Bakugo found himself actually listening and responding- though he wasn't wholly sure why.  

All he knew was that the more time he spent with Izuku, the more things seemed to make less and less sense. 

And It seemed as though a lot of things were making less and less sense… Nowadays especially.

All that to say, the explosive boy had a sinking feeling that (by giving Deku’s decency credence), he had unwittingly opened the floodgates for a lot of internal conflict.

He hated feeling conflicted.

Internal conflict implied a lack of certainty; that doubt translated to insecurity; insecurity meant fear or hesitation; combating hesitation required action, which meant he needed to be decisive, which meant he needed to have good judgment and risk being wrong . 

Bakugo hated being wrong.

But he was wrong. 

In fact, he was finding out that he was wrong about a good many things; and that brought a whole new wave of revelation with it. 

If he could be wrong so often, then he had to take a step back and do some serious self-evaluation… to intentionally ask the difficult questions: Who was he? What was he missing? Was he blind to himself? What was he trying to prove? Was he actually worthy of being a hero?

Right now, he knew the answer to that last question (at least in theory…). Specifically, “in theory ” if one was looking at his grades, quirk, skills and ability, then yes - absolutely , he was hero material. 

But If someone was just looking at his character, then… no . he was not worthy of being a hero…

Not at all . 

He was pompous, aggressive, mean and self obsessed. Humility was a foreign concept and teamwork a laughable joke unless to his own benefit. He was also guilty of some pretty awful things; things he had said or done (almost all of them targeted at one Izuku Midoriya).

Izuku who was now his equal in almost everything; who was persistent in his goal even despite the odds against him; Izuku who had been gifted a power beyond imagination by their mutual idol; who never let Bakugo’s own cruelty stop him from being kind and good, and who’s picture of victory was rooted in the salvation of others.

Izuku who was once his friend. 

Katsuki shook his head, trying to quell the uncharacteristic wave of guilt that was churning in his gut. Gah. Fuck. Why was he so attuned to this right now??? 

It was the exhaustion . It had to be. There was no other reason of course. 

Maybe he should take a step back from his little “Observe-the-nerd” project. He might be getting too close to the subject… After all, within the past couple of months, they had become “something” as a unit. Almost-friends, he supposed. Which was… good, he guessed. Hero partners? Maybe. That could certainly be a thing once they graduated. 

Or was it something else? Something that he was too afraid to acknowledge? Something that could be more? beyond friendship or rivalry?

The thought provoked a bloom of warmth in his chest, tentative and hopeful, and immediately Katsuki shuddered. 

Weird. No. yikes . Now he KNEW it was the exhaustion that was leading him down this bizarre train of thought… but still- he would stick a pin in it; for future consideration at least...

Blinking sluggishly, Bakugo stood and stretched, trying to revitalize himself enough to focus back on the present: because shit- he had been lost in his head for a while now… 

What had started his weird vein of recollection? Oh yeah. Empathy . He was thinking about who was and wasn't good at it. 

The only reason why it seemed relevant was because Katsuki admittedly felt very inadequate at this particular moment. 

Very inadequate indeed…

It was currently late Sunday night (or morning at this point): just shy of two AM, and he was exhausted and pissed. Beyond the fact that his usual bedtime was ten o’ clock exactly , the day had been an active and surprisingly stress filled one.

Both he and Deku were still shadowing Eraserhead, helping him look for clues regarding their missing English teacher. Saturday had been a total bust. They had spent all night (and even into the wee hours of the morning) looking for Mic or any leads on his disappearance. 

Despite the hunt, they had no answers to speak of. 

After staying out until nearly Two AM, Aizawa had finally led them back to the UA dorms. He had been silent and pensive nearly the entire time, and it was only when they arrived at Heights Alliance that he finally addressed them directly.

“You two did well, and while your actions were still reckless and stupid, I’m... glad for the help. I'm sure Mic would be too.”

Deku, who had been trying to stifle a quiet yawn, jerked at the compliment, “Wow Mr. Aizawa, th-thank you. And, I know that this is a pretty delicate situation, but- please, if you would like us to help again, Kaachan and I are ready and able. We really want to make sure Mr. Yamada is safe! And, well- since we have already been out looking with you tonight, please allow us to continue helping- in whatever way you think is ok!”

Katsuki jerked his head in agreement, “Yeah, especially since we know something is up- you said so yourself: it’d be “impractical not to utilize the additional help”, so don't keep it to yourself if you need more feet on the ground.”

Their teacher had stared them down with dark eyes before silently nodding once; he then turned to the main UA building and walked away without another word.

Bakugo and Midoriya had watched him for a beat before heading to their respective dorm rooms- both quiet and contemplative as they pondered the strange day.

Upon getting in bed, Katsuki had wanted to fall asleep immediately, but was frustrated to find that his brain was going a million miles a minute. 

This was such a bizarre thing; it was concerning enough knowing that a UA teacher (a well known pro) had gone missing, but the icing on the cake was that the one person who seemed the most concerned was their weird-as-hell, might-as-well-be-narcoleptic, underground-hero, expulsion-happy-homeroom-teacher. He guessed that other people must know about the situation- but it seemed odd that Aizawa was the one out there looking for the guy on foot. 

“I guess they are friends,” Bakugo mumbled to himself as he lay in bed, “but isnt Mic a part of a huge agency or some shit? Shouldn’t they be doing the groundwork? Not his teacher co-worker?” The blonde could only shrug as he tossed and turned, and finally- his thoughts moved to the missing hero himself. 

Up until recently, Bakugo had never given the voice hero much consideration- his only personal interactions had been in English class, seeing him commentate for UA, and having him chaperone during the provisional licensing remedial course. 

Of course, he knew plenty of people who idolized the guy- even within their own class there was a Mini Mic Fan club: a group of dedicated listenters (including Deku) who would make sure the radio was always tuned to the pros station. 

Whenever Mic’s show came on, it was a sure thing that there would be a significant portion of students hanging out and listening in the common- playing games, doing homework or just kicking back as it filled the room.

It became such a regular occurrence that most people expected it: the “Put your hands up” radio show now doubled as unofficial class bonding time. Occasionally, it was even Aizawa who made sure to turn it on (at least when he was the one chaperoning the dorm)- which, ok... Weird ; but again, Bakugo guessed they were old friends or whatever.

As for him: he had always seen the Voice Hero as annoying- loud, overdramatic and kinda dumb. It wasn't until he started taking JSL with the pro that his perspective started to shift.

The first thing that he realized about the voice hero, was that the guy was quick to laugh (mostly at his own dumb jokes). The second thing was that he was (shockingly) actually pretty smart. 

Admittedly, Katsuki would have never guessed the announcer had any real level of intelligence (especially based on the way he ditzed around most of the time); but after their first session together, the teen could see that there was a sharp and fast mind at work behind the theatrical display.

All that to say, to Katsuki’s genuine surprise, meeting with Present Mic wasn’t so bad, (or at least, it wasn't as bad as he imagined it might be). While the teacher was definitely too enthusiastic and needed to calm the fuck down , he was also thorough and articulate- patient without any level of pandering or pity. 

Even more so than that, Mr. Yamada was shrewd, observant, clever and perceptive. Their first lesson together had mostly been some form of intake, where Mic asked Katsuki the ways he liked to learn- what he wanted to gain from the lessons, and whether or not he had any questions or misgivings about taking an additional class, specifically JSL. 

He listened well, and was highly articulate when he explained what to expect. He was also transparent, detailing the ways hearing loss might affect him on the field and at home, while simultaneously emphasizing how he could live happily, normally, and how this new language could benefit him- both in his career and in general.

After that first session, Present Mic had made an incredible effort to construct a lesson plan that seemed to suit Bakugo’s needs and wants almost perfectly. 

It was honestly… pretty neat .

Yamada approached teaching with good humor and gravitas in equal measure- taking care to make Bakugo work at a pace that was measured: slow enough to be thorough, but fast enough for the demanding learner.

The Voice Hero wasn't afraid to challenge him either- constantly pushing him to strengthen his skills, at the same time making sure not to overburden him amidst his other studies. 

It was nice in a weird way: being seen as someone who could do more- be better- learn faster, outside of hero related things... These lessons were specifically for him after all; personally tailored to match what he wanted and needed, and he had to admit he was grateful for Mic’s tutelage. 

It was pretty ok; better than expected at least… And if hearing loss was a thing he had to deal with, there were worse people to have in his corner than an internationally recognized pro hero who was giving him one-on-one lessons and coaching.

Suffice it to say, Bakugo had to acknowledge that he was getting attached to the loudmouth- so yeah, maybe he felt a little more concerned then he wanted to admit .

After finally drifting off at some point in the night, he had been jerked out of sleep by an overly enthusiastic Kaminari the next morning.

Sparky truly had no sense of self preservation as he flung open Katsukis door with a flourish and a bright call of “Sup Blasty! You slept way past your typical wake up time and Mr. Aizawa wants to see you!”

Bakugo had sat up with a growl, small threatening explosions of fire popped off his hands as he snarled at the other boy to get out ; Kaminari raised his hands placatingly, “Chill my man! I'm just telling you- Teach wants to see you and Midoriya asap, so don't kill the messenger- geeze!” he had then ducked his way out, but not before sticking his head back in the room and asking with barely hidden amusement, “But are you in trouble? Were you and Midoriya fighting again? Is that where you guys were yesterday??? I thought you and Izuku were, ya know, “friendly” now...” he then began to waggle his eyebrows in an unmistakably suggestive way.

Katsuki had lobbed a book at Denki’s head shouting “GET OUT YOU IDIOT” as he fought to ignore the blush that was heating up his ears. 

Kaminari dodged the missile before sticking out his tongue and dashing out of the room- completely juvenile in his behavior.

Tch. He was doomed to constantly find himself surrounded by morons who couldn’t mind their own business.

Then it registered. 

Aizawa wanted to see him and Deku.  

Looking at the clock next to his bed, he could see that it was nine in the morning- several hours past his usual wake up time of six o clock. Ah fuck. Launching himself out of bed, the blonde scrambled to find some clothes that weren’t PJ’s and rushed out the door with deliberate intention.

Had Aizawa found Mic? Had he kept looking last night, even after they came back to campus? If Mic was back, was the guy ok? Was stupid Deku on his way?

He sprinted down the stairs and got to the ground level just as the elevator doors swung open to reveal a bright eyed Midoriya who looked as curious as Bakugo felt. Together, they made a beeline for their homeroom teacher who was standing right outside of the dorm.

Aizawa looked almost exactly like he did the previous night- that was: tired, in his hero gear, and with an undercurrent of irritated yet steely energy. The only truly noticeable difference from the previous day was that the shadows under his eyes had significantly deepend.

Deku (of course) was the first to speak up. In a hushed whisper and with a nervous look over his shoulder to make sure no one in the common could hear him, he unleashed his torrent of questions: “Mr. Aizawa, what's going on? Have you found Mr. Yamada? If you did, is he ok? Did you get any sleep last night? You dont look like you did… and if you didn't find Present Mic, are you here to talk about our punishment for breaking the rules yesterday? I mean, that would make sense, but I stand by our actions and accept whatever you decide- even though i honestly think that-” Aizawa raised a hand to silence the nervous teen before reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Midoriya, that's enough .” 

For a beat, there was silence as the hero continued to massage his forehead. Finally, he put his hand down and gave both boys a once over, then asked in a quiet (and somewhat strained) voice, “do you still want to help?”

Immediately, both Bakugo and Midoriya straightened up, decisively nodding in affirmation, “Yes Sir- absolutely.” 

And that had been it.

The start of a very long, very disappointing day. 

Following his invitation, Eraserhead instructed them to grab their hero costumes and meet him in the Principal's Office. Upon arriving, they found Midnight, Principal Nedzu and a casually dressed All Might also in attendance.

The other adults must have been informed that the two boys would be joining, because no one looked surprised at their arrival; In fact, once All Might spotted them, he greeted them both warmly and gestured for them to come in.

Deku had bounded over with a happy “Hey All Might!!” and Katsuki followed, rolling his eyes in mild embarrassment. 

While the old pro was greatly diminished, It went without saying that he was still an idol. And while Izuku had no problem reveling in the presence of the legendary hero, Bakugo still made the effort to maintain his dignity and act fucking normal (it had nothing to with guilt. Absolutely not.)

Unaware of the teens' internal posturing, the skeletal figure merely smiled, and once they were near- rested a hand on each boy's shoulder. “You two certainly know how to involve yourselves,” he admitted in a warm tone, “but Aizawa says that you were both very helpful to him last night. While part of me feels like I should admonish you two for your reckless choices, I’m actually glad that you’re joining this little search and rescue mission.”

As he spoke, Nedzu strode over and inserted himself into the triad, “Hmm, yes, I must agree with All Might: you two manage to surprise even me with your nonsense. Regardless, I am allowing your continued involvement solely for the fact the Eraserhead has requested it for now. This does not relieve you of future punishment for your initial rule breaking, but you are not at risk of being expelled. From this point, consider your position that of a classified work study. You will speak of this to no one, not even your fellow classmates.”

Izuku and Bakugo had nodded in understanding- It was then that Aizawa himself had spoken up. Since their arrival to the office, he had been off in the far corner of the room, in quiet conversation on the phone.

“That was Matsuda” he said as he approached, jamming his phone in his jumpsuit pocket. “Headline has no new tangible leads but is still insisting on keeping Mic’s disappearance quiet. She’s trying to get them to budge and at least put a notice out to other agencies, but the Hero commission wants to wait another day. For now, Headline is gonna send out more of their own to run the same circuit we did last night.” 

There was icy frustration clear in the erasure hero’s voice.

From her place by the window, Midnight snorted in disbelief; crossing her arms in frustration. 

“This is outrageous. I understand wanting to avoid a panic in light of what’s been happening lately, but if this gets out it’s gonna be even worse. The hero commission will be seen as inactive and incompetent- the longer they go without doing anything, the more it will look like they don’t care about the Hero’s they employ… Also, who’s to say that (when we do find Mic), he won't speak out either?”

Her argument was firm and impassioned- speaking into existence the majority's quiet thoughts.

At this point (curious and seeking clarity), Deku raised a timid hand in question- face turning pink as the occupants of the room swiveled to focus on him, “Right, uh- I don’t want to interrupt, but um, I guess up until this point Kaachan and I have just been kind of guessing about what’s been going on… and we’ve somehow managed to be right- at least enough to get involved! But- do you think you could tell us more about the situation? Just so we have a better picture!”

The four adults exchanged a quiet look before Aizawa sighed and took the lead; “Yes, you’re right. I’ll give you an outline-”

He then proceeded to give the briefest, most bare bones explanation that Katsuki ever had the displeasure of sitting through. In fact, their teacher delivered the information with the same enthusiasm one might have while reading a grocery list:

“Mic’s been missing since his last patrol which was on friday night. His agency wants to keep it quiet to avoid starting any kind of panic. They are giving us resources to some degree but are hoping to keep the search internal so the media won't catch on and further critique the commission. Whatever the case, I refuse to sit by and wait for them to find him, so- here you all are. Any questions?”

Bakugo had a lot of questions. But at that point, he also had the wherewithal to read the room; the teachers were tense. There was more information that wasn’t being divulged, but fuck it. If it wasn’t worth telling him now, he would wrangle it out of them later . After all, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t deal in halves. 

That was how he found himself in his current predicament; once more- at two in the morning, galavanting around some godforsaken alleyway with his homeroom teacher and the nerd, looking for who-the-hell-knew-what. 

The whole time, he and Deku had done a decent job of working together and keeping their shit in line. It was easier now- and while there still was ample amounts of irritation and snark (primarily from Katsuki), they were learning to work as a team.

Regardless of the overall geniality, Mr. Aizawa was NOT in the mood to deal with bullshit. In fact, he was way more aggravated then Bakugo had ever seen him.

For a long time, most students of class 1A had assumed their home room teacher was an unemotional, disinterested hardass. He presented himself as someone largely detached from the world: quiet, stern, unbothered by the minutiae of workplace gossip and concerned solely with where and when his next nap would be. 

He never volunteered information about his personal life, and was so constantly exhausted, that even when he did show some brief picture of personality, it was collectively recognized as a sleep deprived outburst. 

Of course, while this was the picture painted, it did not take long for the students to see through their teacher’s facade. It was true that Aizawa was one of (if not the most) demanding instructors at UA,  that he was serious to an alarming degree and that his rigorous training was something to be genuinely fearful of… but the guy was also quietly kind in his own secret way.

He was sharply attuned to each of his students' needs- to their growth and struggles. His gentle reassurances were honest, as were his corrections. No action seemed out of spite or cruelty- everything the man did was structured to see his students either wholly improve or to remove them from a career track that they would ultimately be unsuited for. 

In a word, Aizawa was protective (Pink Cheeks, Racoon eyes and Invisible chick called him “soft”, but Bakugo didn’t know what the fuck that meant, so “protective” it was).

All that to say, considering the man's typical caution as an instructor, his current actions seemed nearly out of character in their single mindedness. The Erasure Hero was wholly focused on the hunt- scouring for clues or signs of their missing English teacher and moving at speeds that were impressive in their own right. 

While neither Katsuki or Deku had any trouble keeping up physically, it was still late, and they had been at it all damn day. Looking up, the blonde caught the nerd trying (and failing) to stifle a yawn and felt the urge to do the same. 

Both boys were tired, but if this was a matter of outlasting one other, then Bakugo could go all night long.

The trio had expanded the perimeter of their search and were now in some seedy corner of the city that looked about as reputable as a back-alley gambling house. According to Aizawa, the area was a well known haunt of low level criminals and wannabe villains, so here they were… looking for anything that might hold some clue as to where Mic had been taken.

So far: nothing. 

Rubbing his eyes, Kasuki frowned as he felt his shoulders pop in complaint; he should probably look into better support items at some point… his arms were hella strong, but that didn't mean he wasn’t gonna look out for his joints and shit. ..

He was musing on different types of gear he could incorporate into his costume, when all of the sudden, several things happened at once: 

Where just moments ago, the night had been quiet and still- an abrupt, jarring scream tore through the air- booming and completely unexpected. The sound was nearly inhuman, high and desperate and unspeakably loud- even at such great distance from its point of origin. Beyond that, It was eerily familiar and urgent in a way that was disconcerting- pitching up in its last moments, turning the scream into a pain filled shriek. 

As quickly as it sounded, the noise ceased, leaving panic in its wake- for though the cry had cut off, the echo of it reverberated in the air like the crack of a gunshot. 

Katsuki was tense- jarred in equal parts confusion and preparedness; all remnants of exhaustion disappeared as adrenaline coursed through his system in response to the pained sound.

He looked around wildly, wanting to see where Deku was- had he heard it too ? and quickly spotted the nerd (whose face was a picture of disbelief and awe) when without warning, he felt himself be pushed forward from behind. Pinwheeling his arms to regain his balance, he turned around snarling to see who had shoved him- and realized it was Aizawa. The space Bakugo had been standing moments before was being showered in broken glass from the windows of the apartment building above, evidently fractured by the shock of extreme noise.

The shattered glass rained down into the alley, adding its own piercing cacophony to the deluge of auditory chaos. Dogs were howling in response to the sound and even far off car alarms could be heard blaring in the distance. 

All in all, the blast had lasted moments- and barely even that; even so, its wake was impressive in its destruction.

For a beat, the three hunters in the alley were silent- both students jaws agape as they struggled to take in what had just happened.

One thing was certain; the cry had been a single word- unmistakable and clear in its desperation; a plea for “ ERASER !”

It was Bakugo who spoke first, tentative as he broke the quiet between them. 

“Holy shit... that was... insane,” his voice held a note of what could almost be described as reverence.

Mutely, Midoriya nodded in agreement- concern, fascination and eagerness all shining bright in his eyes; “D-did you hear that Mr. Aizawa?!? That had to have been Mr. Yamada!” 

“ Obviously it was him you damn Deku!” Katsuki snorted, finally feeling as though he had regained enough of his composure to snip, “Who else could let out a scream like that!?!”

The green bean bristled slightly, “Well that's a good thing then! We know he is alive and still in the city! In fact, he has to be close by judging by the volume and power of that shout!” Abruptly the boy turned to face his teacher, “It means he knows you are looking for him Mr. Aizawa! He called for you specifically!” 

Bakugo turned to stare down their teacher, expecting to see him look victorious or driven- instead, he was surprised to see the man's face was pale, devoid of excitement or triumph. He had an expression that was strained with worry and tinged with what could only be described as fear. His hands were balled into fists, knuckles turning white at the intense strain; eyes wide and staring toward the direction of the screams' origin.

It felt as though he was holding his breath, waiting or hoping to hear more… 

But nothing came.

Nothing worthwhile at least ; dogs were still barking and alarms were still going off- even the apartment above was starting to come to life as people called out in rage and confusion over their disturbed sleep and broken windows. 

Still, Aizawa waited.

Katsuki twitched as he watched the pensive man, completely unsure of what to do. All of his previous  wrestling with uncertainty and decisiveness was slowly moving to the forefront of his mind: 

Did he miss something? What was Aizawa waiting for? Was he injured by the falling glass? Did he get hit in the head? He looked fine- so they should be moving!!! Running toward the source of the noise at breakneck speed! Still… he didn't want to screw up and risk having to go back to campus… even if he was tired, he was not gonna leave Deku and Aizawa to look for the stupid Voice Hero alone, especially not when they had just heard such clear evidence of him in the near vicinity… So what the hell were they waiting for???  

Just as he felt the mixture of frustration and concern begin to churn into something more potent within him, Deku calmly walked up to their teacher and slowly reached out, resting a gloved hand on Aizawa's still shoulder.

The man seemed to snap out of his trance and focused on the teen. For a moment, they silently stared at each other, green eyes to black. There was a strange tension, and (not for the first time) Katsuki remembered how out of character this all was for the teacher- more than that, he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something huge... It was completely disconcerting.

Another few beats passed, then finally (finally) the Erasure hero spoke, his voice gravely and conveying some tense, quiet emotion: 

“He sounded hurt.”

Hearing that, Deku tilted his chin up (the gesture looking oddly sage), and in a gentle tone, responded with thoughtful encouragement: 

“He might be, and it’s probably really hard to think about that right now… but we are gonna find him, and we will save him. Right now, we know he’s alive, and- even better, we know he’s nearby. We know he is waiting for you Mr. Aizawa... he believes in you and trusts you- and wherever he is, he was able to call out for help- for you specifically! He’s probably doing everything he possibly can to set a trail… and for now, we have to trust that it's enough. We can set our own course and meet him… So, knowing that- right now: what do you think we should do?”

The question was gentle, but pointed and quietly challenging. The Erasure hero looked slightly surprised at the boy's speech, eyes wide with mild surprise as he absorbed his students' words. Then, nodding briefly- he moved to action and pulled out his phone. 

Immediately, he punched in a number and raised the device to his ear. The device barely had time to ring before the other line was answered, and without waiting, Aizawa spoke in a low hurried tone: 

“Midnight, we heard him. Did you? Ok. No. The range was small then. Yes. Broken glass and car alarms. Warehouse district is the best bet then. Meet us there; be fast.”

As quickly and abruptly as he started the conversation, he ended it. Looking at both boys, he turned and indicated that they follow him, a new energy in his step and a steely look of determination clearly visible in his eyes. Moving in a new direction up the alley, he broke into a jog, then to a run before finally using his capture weapon to once again propel himself upwards into the night air.

Deku followed closely in a streak of green lightning, while Bakugo matched pace, launching himself into the air with measured blasts of his quirk.

The blonde was still processing what he had just witnessed.

What the fuck was that whole exchange??? It was weird and emotional and felt like it was loaded with more than he could register… It was like a whole other conversation had happened underneath the first one. Deku had gone all sensitive for a second there, and rather than be annoyed by it, Aizawa had responded in a way that seemed almost relieved- like he was grateful: both for the acknowledgement of his worry, and for the silent encouragement to get back to the task at hand...  

It was then that something clicked in Katsukis mind.  

Oh yeah. Empathy . “Understanding and sharing feelings” or whatever the hell it was... That thing that Deku was annoyingly good at. Of course even their damn homeroom teacher would fall prey… Still, if it got them back on track, then that was a good thing, he guessed…

Still feeling vaguely annoyed and like he was missing more than he cared to admit, Bakugo grit his teeth as he put more power into his blasts, pushing himself slightly ahead of the nerd.

He had been through enough in the past year to recognize how much he needed to work on himself (both Internally and externally). His time at UA was instrumental in that, and while he hated it to some degree (being challenged was its own challenge), he was still nothing if not a perfectionist. 

He wanted to be the best, he wanted to succeed, he wanted to win. 

Having found Deku to be his primary rival had been another thing he was unprepared for, but (admittedly) he was surprised at how quickly he settled into it. Acknowledging that the nerd was genuinely better than him at something had also been a hard pill to swallow; still, it wasn't a change he was totally averse to…. He already had an overwhelming amount on his plate and felt like he was processing so much that this discrepancy was less a source of rage and more one of private intrigue. 

Anyway, at this specific moment in time, all he could do was watch… and -maybe- learn?

Whatever the case, while Katsuki wasn't particularly happy about it, he was bothered less than he might admit. 

He could handle not being the best at something. For now at least. 

No matter what, he was still gonna kick ass and save the day. Why waste time on all of these feelings when real lives were at stake?

Mic was still missing. Eraserhead was back in gear. 

Katsuki felt himself grin as adrenaline surged through his system.

The hunt was on. It was time to go.

___

Hizashis eyelids were made of lead; or rather, that's what it felt like … Truthfully, he had yet to actually open his eyes- heavy as they were with deep exhaustion.

It had only been a few hours since his little escape attempt, and while Glitch had drained his energy, he found himself inhabiting a weird twilight doze: never fully unconscious but not awake enough to keep track of what was going on around him.

Vague spots of memory ghosted through his mind as he tried to piece together his new situation; while little was helpful, he was able to arrive at several firm conclusions. 

The first thing he was certain of, was that he had been moved. 

His new location (wherever it was) smelled different from the dim must he had grown accustomed to. This space was cooler and there was a decisive tang of something metallic in the air- the scent ominous in its own right.

Another thing he knew was that Fusion and Glitch were at each other's throats . 

Even without being fully conscious, he had heard their screaming match: Glitch verbally eviscerating the man as Blue tried (and failed) to defend himself (and his abysmal henchmen skills). The wannabe villain had been soundly lambasted, and even without being completely awake, Hizashi could sense trouble in the aftermath of their exchange.

He had a deep suspicion that Fusion's loss could only spell trouble further down the line…

The third and most significant thing the voice hero was able to ascertain, was the fact that he was unbelievably, indescribably hungry and thirsty. 

Mic always had a fast metabolism, and would typically snack throughout the day- keeping himself fueled by regular draughts of caffeine and a plethora of various munchies. He would always try to have lunch with his husband when at school and (if they were lucky), the two would grab (or make) dinner together between busy and late nights. 

Above all (and despite the rigorous schedules both men maintained), one thing was certain in the Aizawa-Yamada household: breakfast must never be missed.

Hizashi claimed it was because breakfast was the “most important meal of the day”, but truthfully- he just liked having guaranteed time with his husband in the morning. If Shouta was privy to that fact, he never said anything; no matter, the erasure hero was always sure to climb out of bed to at least enjoy a cup of coffee with his spouse before they left for work.

And hmmm…. Breakfast…. 

He could really go for some tamagoyaki right now, or melon pan, or kabocha over warm rice… and damn that sounded so so so good…. 

Vaguely, he registered a low growl coming from his aching stomach.

But shit. Right now, thinking of food was not such a good idea... His last meal had been Friday afternoon, and (while he had no way of knowing how much time had passed), he was certain it had been over twenty four hours since he had been captured- quite possibly more . 

Either way,  the complaints in his gut were getting hard to wholly ignore. 

Past hunger, he was sure his system was working extra hard to counteract the energy drains he kept experiencing (courtesy of Glitch)… The effect of her touch was invasive and alarming, and both times she had siphoned his strength, he woke feeling more and more wrecked. Even in his exhausted and semi-coherent state, the voice hero knew he should be concerned about whatever was going on there. 

Her quirk had to be messing with his metabolism- or at least- it certainly wasn't helping it… 

Whatever the case, If he wanted another solid chance at escape, he needed to rest and avoid her touch at all costs.

Even so, his biggest and most pressing worry was his state of thirst. 

Hizashi’s mouth and tongue were dry, and he could feel a steady headache beginning to thrum in the back of his head signifying dehydration. His quirk revolved around his lungs and vocal chords staying healthy and lubricated- it was an admittedly weird thing, but his body usually demanded he stay slightly more watered than the average person at all times. It had been a long time since he actually felt legitimately thirsty and the notion was upsetting as it was foreign. 

Whatever happened next, he needed to make sure he got water- even if he had to play along and listen to another fucking monologue.

For a while, Mic quietly pondered what his next moves could be, the whole while keeping his eyes closed as he struggled to gain more coherence. 

He genuinely did not feel like sleeping, it was just- very hard to lift his head… especially with his growing headache… 

Unknowable time slipped by as slowly, he could sense his facilities gradually return to him. The pounding in his head grew to a steady rhythm, and he wished he had his glasses- knowing that when he did finally open his eyes, the ache would be made worse by his strained vision…

Still, there was nothing for it. At some point he needed to know where they had placed him and what his options for escape were. 

It took a monstrous effort, but finally, he felt strong enough to claw his way out of the foggy daze he had been floating in. The headache was still there, and likely wouldn't go away until he had some water, but at least he felt capable enough to look around.

Prying his eyes open was a task, but eventually he was able to take in his new prison. With a weary and unimpressed sigh, he observed that he was once again, in a shabby, poorly-lit villains den.

How shocking….

This new location was admittedly much more intimidating than the previous closet they had stuck him in. Vaguely, he recalled Glitch calling this spot “the interrogation room”, and he could see why. Windowless cement walls sported dark stains of questionable origin, made only more grotesque and villainous by the sterile buzzing of a lone LED high above his head. There was a single door, evidently made of a heavy metal with a visible peephole in the center of it; directly next to the exit was a hose attached to the wall, a quiet drip of liquid pinging against the cement floor as small rivulets of water trickled down towards a drain installed in the middle of the room.  

Overall, it was a very shit-space…

For a moment, Hizashi stared at the wet trickle, licking his dry lips and willing himself to tear his eyes away and focus on gathering more information. 

That alone was an admittedly difficult task…

Deciding to take visual stock of himself, he was met with the grim realization that his captors had taken much greater precaution in keeping him prisoner (likely at Glitches instruction). 

The first thing he realized was his change in orientation.

Rather than being laid out on the floor, he was seated in a sturdy metal chair that had been bolted to the ground. Both of his wrists were bound to the armrests via the seamless cuffs, and he realized with frustration that his ankles had been dealt the same treatment. The shock collar was still tight around his neck and he could clearly hear the ominous hum of static energy crackling off the hateful thing. 

Leaning forward to adjust his position, Mic was stopped short by a jerking pull from the back of his neck, and he realized with growing irritation that the short chain leash was still there- it had just been attached to the back of the chair.  

Oh come on… he thought to himself as he rolled his eyes; now that was overkill. It’s not like he was All-Might! 

Even so, a tiny part of him couldn't help but laugh: Well, at least now they were taking him seriously….

Just as he let out a quiet huff of laughter, he felt his side rush to life with a deep- throbbing ache, and immediately, he was forced to remember that, not so long ago- Fusion had kicked the living shit out of him. Pain radiated in his abdomen and side, promising a litany of mottled bruising and ensuring that he would not forget it anytime soon. 

And jeez- ugh, wow. Fuck. That did not feel good yo. 

Past the stark, physical reminder- him getting beat in hand to hand would not go over well with Shouta; not that his husband would be mad at him - it was just: he just got protective whenever Hizashi came home with anything larger than a small bruise... 

Still, at least nothing seemed broken...

Closing his eyes wearily, Hizashi forced himself to push past the pain and take a measured, calming breath. His situation was looking less and less good as time went on… And while typically he tended to lean more towards optimism, part of employing realistic and sensible strategy was to be… well, realistic. 

His current reality indicated that he was going nowhere fast. 

He had no idea where he was, and even if he was able to get loose from these new bonds, the shock collar had proven its threat and was effectively inhibiting him from calling for help or defending himself quirk-wise. It was a bit of a grim situation, and he wasn't even taking into account any retaliatory actions his captors might take against him for his escape attempt.

At this point in time however, there was little he could do about any of that… His only real option was to sit and wait- to see what this “Pulse” guy had in store for him and hope that Shouta (or any other hero) would show up soon.

So, that’s what he did. 

He sat and waited.

For a long, long time.

Occasionally, the blonde would doze off here and there, but anytime he woke up, he was discouraged to find that nothing had changed. His headache continued to grow, and there was a distinct kink in his spine and neck that was becoming impossible to ignore ( yet ignore it he must ). 

The methodic drip of the hose was his only tell for time, and the sound itself had gone from a quiet, barely there ping to a now grating and incessant tap.

What must have been hours slipped by- slow and unchanging, and Hizashi wasn't sure if he was thankful for the solitude and opportunity to recuperate, or nervous for what it meant. 

Finally, after an indeterminable stretch of time- he was pulled out of a light sleep by the screeching wail of the metal door being forced open. Immediately, his eyes snapped wide and he looked ahead, green eyes challenging whoever had come to disturb him.

To his utter lack of surprise, the blurry feminine figure of Glitch entered the room: unmistakable by her purple hair. Behind her was a lumbering Maw- looking comically large in the tight door frame even as he hunched to get through. 

Glitch paid him no mind, and instead strode purposefully towards the prisoner, stopping only a few feet away from his metal chair.

For a beat, the woman studied him, arms crossed and appearing thoroughly unimpressed. Hizashi continued to glare despite the pounding in his head; he was at a severe disadvantage here, but passivity was not in his repertoire, even when he was down for the count.

Taking in his vitriolic stare, the woman snorted in quiet amusement before stepping forward and producing a large sealed water bottle, waving it coyly in front of his face. Mic's eyes widened slightly as he saw at the item- throat clicking as he swallowed dry: thirst rearing its ugly head once again.

“Relax hero,” the henchmen huffed “I’m just here to make sure you stay alive and functioning… no funny business- promise .”

With that, she popped the cap off and took a small sip of the drink herself, as if to prove its innocence before presenting it to the restrained blonde. That display was good enough for him, and immediately, Hizashi bent his head forward to accept the offering, trying not to guzzle the liquid too fast as he finally quenched his thirst.

Too soon, the water bottle was empty; while he could easily drink much more, Mic found that he already felt better. Breathing deep in relief, the hero raised his head to take a better look at Glitch, wanting to ascertain her next move. She was watching him with the same level of interest, and for a beat was silent before breaking eye contact and walking about the room.

“For what it's worth, hero, none of this is personal… at least on my end. I dont think Fusion would say the same since he’s a fucking egotistical moron , but unfortunately we cant all be professionals here.”

Yamada tracked her movements as best he could from his stationary position- listening as she walked languidly about the room, seeming to inspect some of the stains on the cement wall.

“Anyway, I’m not here to play “good cop”; I wouldn't waste my time and frankly, I dont give a shit about this whole mess to even make the effort. But, I do want to warn you. And it’s not because I care about you; no… my motivation is purely to fuck over Fusion... That fucking asswipe is getting on my last nerve and his ego is gonna be the thing that ruins us all. Anyway, I'm willing to drop you some intel if it means ruining his day…” 

“To that end: Takada is completely green, but is backed by several interested parties who are funding his little endeavor of “upsetting the balance”... the collar is proof of that, as I'm sure you’ve probably figured out. He was given it by my employer when he pitched his scheme. The same with the use of this place and the aid of myself and Maw...”

Hizashi brinked: shocked at what he was hearing. He wasn’t so much surprised at the information (since he had arrived at that exact conclusion on his own); rather, he was astounded that Glitch would give him anything in the first place. He inclined his head to show understanding, hoping she would continue to speak.

The teleporter was quick to accommodate.

“I want to let you know: if you want to get out of this alive and relatively unscathed, just do what the nerdly little man wants. He doesn't have the balls to kill you- and again, is a fucking newbie to this whole “wrong side of the law” thing. Do what he says, and I can guarantee you'll bypass some of the more creative pursuits they have lined up for you. If you don’t, I know for a fact that Fusion has convinced Takada that he can get you to comply… I don't need to tell you that would be a very bad thing for you.”

Turning, she walked back up to the voice hero and met his eyes with quiet certainty. “Again: the only reason I am telling you this is because I fucking hate Fusion and I dont want him to get his way. I dont give a shit about you, but that guy is enough of a bastard that I'm willing to give you the heads up.”

Looking at her cold expression, Yamada found that he did not doubt her. Not only did she genuinely hate blue, but she was absolutely willing to break whatever code henchmen operated by to ensure the man did not get his way.

Still, that put Hizashi in between a rock and a hard place. 

By no means would he agree to essentially super-boost a wannabe villain, especially if there was someone with more clout backing him. He couldn't willingly break his code of ethics so easily; knowing that his compliance in the pursuit of self-preservation had the potential of causing direct harm to others was not a palatable option. While the thought of being victim to someone like Fusion was repulsive, he would rather have that than risk assisting in malicious deeds and willingly jeopardize his integrity as a hero. While he was grateful to some degree for Glitch’s warning, it did little to sway his decision. 

Let Fusion do his worst. Present Mic could take it.

Glitch seemed to read his thoughts and let out a disappointed sigh. “Fine hero… just know-  whatever happens, it’s on your head. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

Mumbling something about “self righteous assholes” under her breath, the woman set her expression before turning to face Maw: “Go tell Takada he’s alert enough for another conversation.” 

The mutant nodded and plodded heavily out of the room; as he left, Glitch moved toward the hose and used it to partially refill the empty water bottle.

“Better take another drink before he comes; you're not gonna like what they have in store for you.” She once again offered Hizashi the drink which he gladly accepted. 

The woman continued speaking as he drank, and while he was somewhat perplexed by her abrupt chattiness, he was again marginally thankful for any light shed on his current situation. 

“Takada was pissed about that stunt you pulled last night, and called in another favor with the boss; of course, the asswipe Fusion had to put his own spin on it, so for what it’s worth… I’m sorry about that.”

Mic raised an eyebrow in question, confused at whatever Glitch was implying. She simply met his eyes with a sense of stern resignation as she pulled away the emptied water bottle. In the distance, steps could be heard walking up the hall.

The teleporter looked over her shoulder at the open door, before quickly leaning over and in a hushed voice whispered “The boss just wants you alive after all this, but he doesn't care about the state you’re in. You’re just a pawn here: one who's at a severe disadvantage. If you comply, Fusion doesn't get you and you have a greater chance of moving through this intact. It’s your choice.”

She then lightly stepped away just as Takada, Maw and Blue entered the room.

A million thoughts and questions raced through Hizashi’s head, spurred by Glitch’s cryptic words- The “boss”? If not Takada, then who was that?? And “after” all this??? He knew his situation was bad- but Glitch implied that he would be handed off to another player in the aftermath of Takada- which sure, he suspected might happen- but the confirmation was still chilling. Beyond all that, the porter seemed insistent that something bad was coming for him- bad enough to warrant an actual warning. That did nothing to make him feel better…   

More questions and thoughts flew through his mind, piling up even as he worked to process them- Then his eyes focused on Fusion, and instantly, he felt himself freeze; apprehension and muted dread tightening in his chest as he took in the grinning henchman. 

The man looked eager: vicious delight clear on his face- It was evident he had won something he desperately wanted. However, It wasn’t his expression that caused Mic’s heart to start beating faster in unease; rather, it was what he held in his hands.

For a second, it was all he could focus on.

The Voice Hero knew what the horrific contraption was the moment he laid eyes on it- even despite his blurred vision. He was all too familiar with the item after all, and for the first time since his capture, legitimate fear landed like a steel punch to his stomach.

It was a muzzle. 

A painful, cruel, silencing muzzle. 

All unyielding metal and foul tasting rubber- a promise of suffocation and suppression. 

Oh god, not that…

Hizashi instantly felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead and neck- a twist of panic spiking in his gut as he openly stared at the ominous device. 

No no no- this was bad, this was… He didnt want this.

Immediately, Takada picked up on Mic's reaction to seeing the muzzle and put out a calming hand- his expression one of strange delight and muted incredulity.

“Ah, I see you've noticed our little apparatus,” he half laughed, “Well, despite what you seem to believe, I'm not an unreasonable man. This is merely an option: one that is quite immediate if you continue to behave in such a difficult manner. I heard all about your adventure last night, and while I am extremely disappointed in your lack of cooperation with me and my friends, I must also admit I'm somewhat thankful for the new situation that’s been presented.” 

Shingin then strode further into the room as he continued his address, a quiet smugness emanating off of him in waves.

“Once again, I am going to give you a choice. Needless to say, there is clearly a right one; once you make it, that scary little tool goes far away from you, and then- we’ll then work together to build me up! You will be my guest for however long is necessary, and then Glitch will port you to wherever you want. Doesn't that sound easy and agreeable? No problem! No harm! However, If you don't make the right choice, well… we’ll get there when we get there, won't we?”

The homely man had a bright sheen of hope lighting his face, fully expecting Present Mic to see reason and acquiesce to his proposition. 

“So, mr. voice-hero-of-great-renown, what do you say? Will you help me test the limitations of my quirk? There are others who are now invested and wanting to see me succeed as well; people who are powerful in their own right! It would be unfair for you to force me to let them down! That's not what a hero would do, right? Again , I want to fight a corrupt system- an oppressive system! There are bad people out there who have done horrible things to me and others like me! It would be an injustice not to help me succeed- in fact, you would be party to that if you refuse my request… in a way, that would make you villainous!”

At this, Hizashi nearly rolled his eyes at the ludicrous statement, amazed at the lengths Takada was going to sound pitiable.

What a stretch… This guy was really trying to play the old heartstrings, and it was in no way working . Even despite his genuine fear of the muzzle, Mic knew without a shadow of a doubt that him “Helping Takada” would in no way free him from the shock collar, the manacles on his wrists, or even this cement prison. The most leniency he would likely receive would be probably a mattress and three squares a day until Shingin was satisfied with whatever power gleaned. 

And who's to say when that would be? Beyond that, Takada had already stated that his entire endeavor was rooted in vengeance! He wanted retribution… Mic was a hero- he refused to participate on principal! On top of all that, If Glitch’s sinister implication was true (and other- more powerful people were truly watching from the shadows), then: there was not a chance they would let a well known hero like Present Mic walk away unscathed. Especially if some “boss” wanted him alive… 

All in all, the entire “promise of release” was a laughably transparent lie.

Takada was seemingly oblivious to the blondes’ thought process and had a posture of expectant eagerness, leaning forward and looking hopeful: “Once more I ask, will you scream for me?”

With a flourish, the man pulled out his other hand- in it was the remote to the shock collar. Making a great show of it, he turned down the voltage on the device to where it had been during their previous conversation- indicating the Hero could respond in a slight whisper.

Yamada glared, irritation and exhaustion spiking within him as he watched the display. Willing himself to stay in control, he locked eyes with the plain little man before carefully clearing his throat.

“Takada, you have to know that my answer has not changed. I can’t and won’t help you- but it's not too late for you… Let me go and we can stop this from getting too out of hand. By now, other heroes are certainly looking for me and if you comply- if you let me go, I can see to it that you are helped by people who are especially trained for someone like you. Please, just think this through… it’s not too late to fix this.”

Upon hearing Mic's response, the hopeful look on Shingin’s face once again melted into despondent disbelief- transparent and petulant. He locked eyes with his prisoner, searching for any trace of potential give… 

There was none.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, Takada crossed his arms in front of him; a gesture that came off as childish rather than powerful, and for a beat- tapped his toe in impatience. 

Finally, he seemed to arrive at some private decision, and gave a firm nod as though to solidify his choice. 

Standing up straight, the man raised his chin high so that he was looking down at Mic, then, in a voice filled with condemnation, he spoke- voice firm and taunting. 

“Fine. It's gonna be difficult all the way with you then... I don't understand your stubbornness- your stupidity! I said before: your stay could be unpleasant by your own hand- so remember: it's your own choices that got us here.” 

Turning, Takada once again made a show of handling his remote- turning up the voltage on the shock collar to its highest setting before nodding at a giddy Fusion- speaking two words that filled Hizashi with cold dread:

“Muzzle him. ”

The blue haired henchman grinned as he practically leapt forward to complete his task.

The command spiked nothing but horror, and stomach churning, the voice hero felt himself give way to panic. 

He couldn't do a muzzle; not again, not again, not again. Where was Shouta? Where was anyone? Midnight? Hawks? Hound Dog? Kamui Woods? Hell, he would take Endeavor right now and live through the endless lording if it meant him being spared that horrible horrible muzzle.

Eyes wide, Hizashi bared his teeth and (disregarding the collar entirely) grit out a venomous snarl: “Stay the FUCK AWAY from me with that thing!”

Immediately the device around his neck went off with a vicious crackle, and Yamada could not stop the pained yelp that escaped him. Twisting his neck, he strained to find freedom from the blistering shock.

The electric assault only lasted a moment, but it took much longer to recover from it. Panting, Hizashi fought to catch his breath and clear his mind from the jarring pain; just as he felt some control over his senses returning, a rough hand tangled in his long hair and yanked his head up. 

Hard. 

Unable to stop the whine that pushed its way out of his throat, he desperately tried to quiet himself before another brief bolt of electricity ripped through him. His bound hands clawed at the armrests of his chair as for a split second, everything went white and hazy.

As quickly as it happened, the flash of pain ceased, though its effect took longer to fade- and when it did- Hizashi realized with terror that the bit of the muzzle was being shoved between his teeth. 

The hand in his hair was twisting and forceful- ensuring he could not move away or turn his head. 

And oh god.

Oh fuck.

This was happening. 

It was real .

With far more force than was warranted, Fusion pushed the remainder of the device onto the stunned hero’s face: unrefined metal edges cutting into the sensitive flesh at the corners of his mouth as a cold paddle-shaped protrusion depressed his tongue, disallowing any formation of words. Attached to the depressor on either side, sitting weighted and dense were pucks of rubber- they rested uncomfortably between his back teeth, obstructing any ability to clench his jaw without biting further into thick, foul-tasting material. 

His ability to completely close his mouth had been stripped- worse yet was the heavy mask of metal and rubber that now externally encased the lower half of his face. It was tight and poorly fitted, sitting uncomfortably on the bridge of Hizashi’s nose, pressing into his cheekbones and wrapping firmly beneath his chin- ensuring that for all his strength, he would not be able to open his mouth around the bit at all.

The whole monstrosity was designed to discourage, silence, and absorb all sound its wearer might make. It also weighed an incredible amount, and Yamada could feel its gravity pulling even at the soft skin beneath his eyes, tilting his head forward to rest on his chest. 

No matter, Fusion continued his task with a sick level of delight, yanking the blonds hair out of the way as he pulled the straps of the muzzle, buckling them into place behind his head- tightening them further to ensure the prisoner could not shake the contraption off with any level of vigor. 

Then, something truly terrible happened. 

With a wild grin, Blue produced a small block of metal from his pocket. His expression was leering and voice husky as he pressed in close- leaning forward to whisper directly into Hizashi’s ear, “Guess what pretty boy- this time, I’m doing everything right… I’m gonna fuse this thing solid- the only person who’ll be able to take it off is gonna be me...”

Already feeling manic, Mic’s eyes shot wide in horror, utterly stunned at the horrific notion. 

No, no, no , NO .  

Please- fuck! Anything but that!!!

He wanted to lurch forward- to do anything in his power to get away: to headbut and claw and scream... But the tight choking collar and leash kept him solidly in place, wholly trapped and at the nonexistent mercy of the man in front of him.

Blue’s smile only broadened; clearly enjoying himself.

With a tap of his finger, Fusion activated his quirk and the block of metal in his hand seemed to melt into a near liquidy state. For a moment, he let it pool in his palm before the silvery substance began to cover the surface of his hand like a strange glove. Raising it, the henchman reached out to touch the side of the muzzle and immediately, the fluid metal began to move. 

It attached to one side of the device, solidifying before following its conductor's hand- hardening  as he traced a line along the rear leather strap. It snaked and slithered, encompassing the straps and the now redundant buckle before finally forming a smooth and seamless band that now wrapped tightly around the back of Yamadas head.

It was stuck.

It was hell.

Hizashi tried to control himself and his senses- he felt like he was suffocating, a prisoner in his own body- claustrophobic and terrified and panicked even as he fought to remain calm. 

This was like no muzzle he had ever been forced into before- it was so heavy and sharp, cutting into the delicate interior of his mouth and choking his ability to breathe comfortably. He could feel saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth and could do nothing to stop the wet drip that tried to escape his bruised lips, spit oozing before getting caught between his chin and the unyielding restraint. 

Distantly, he heard amused chuckles from both Fusion and Takada, and something inside him curled in on itself- a tender mix of shame and hurt. 

Pushing the feeling away, he made an effort to regain composure, and blinking rapidly, he found that his vision was cloudy; it was then (with some level of embarrassment), that he realized he was on the verge of tears. 

No matter, the voice hero struggled to take a breath as deep as he could, and gradually felt his heart rate begin to even out. 

He could do this. He had no other option.

After a beat, he vaguely heard a droning voice and only then noticed that Takada was once again talking to him. Shaking himself out of his moment of recovery, he honed in on the words coming out of his captors mouth, desperate to grab hold of something outside of himself: 

 “Unfortunately you have proven yourself untrustworthy. Even with the shock collar, you managed to cause quite a stir and very nearly got us caught. In fact, Glitch informed me that mere moments after you were moved, other heroes arrived at our previous location- so look at you mr. popular! People are already on the hunt for you… Though they must not be calling in the big guns quite yet; apparently the only folks who managed to show up were Midnight and some no-name with a couple of sidekicks… not exactly the calvary you might have hoped for. Whatever the case, things could have got messy, but- lucky for us, we had this secondary location on standby! Still, we can't be lucky every single time, and you can no longer be a liability, therefore… muzzle.” 

At this, he gestured absently to the contraption on Mics face before continuing his monologue.

“That being said, this is the new deal: you want the muzzle off? No problem. But you cooperate - when I say scream, you do it. When I say stop, you do it. No dancing around; no games; no willful disobedience. You will help me whether you want to or not; I believe I was perfectly courteous and lenient before, but I’m afraid that I have reached the end of my patience. While the discomfort you feel is regrettable, I must remind you that you brought this upon yourself, so… deal with the consequences.”

At that, the man turned and made to leave the prison but not before looking over his shoulder and saying “Fusion will be your keeper from now on- He has impressed upon me his… enthusiasm for the task. As punishment for your stunt, I intend to let you sit in your misery for a while, but after, he’s told me of all sorts of creative ways he’s thought of to get you to comply. We’ll see how it goes, won't we?”

He then left, closely followed by a lumbering, ever-silent Maw. 

Glitch turned to leave as well, but not before shooting an unreadable look of something towards the bound hero. As quickly as it came, the expression passed, and without another word, she followed the others out.

That left Fusion; the blue haired henchman still in close proximity to Mic. 

A hunger was evident in his bearing, and leaning down, he moved to grab at the top of his prisoner's head, mixing his hand in the fallen locks as a wicked grin split his face: “I’ve got so much in store for you hero, that's a promise,” he laughed in a sing-song tone. Then, pressing closer- breath hot and damp- he pushed his face into the crook of Hizashis neck; it was with disgust that Yamada realized the man was… smelling his hair.

And fuck. 

Oh fuck . 

Fusion was going to be a much greater danger than Mic had given him credit for.

Rising, Blue flicked the side of the muzzle before winking and following his companions out, once more leaving Hizashi in cold, yet preferable solitude. Multiple feelings were coursing through him- anger, sorrow, hurt, exhaustion. Still, one emotion flickered stronger and brighter than the rest, slowly pushing everything else away into the back recesses of his mind. 

Midnight was looking for him; and past that- some “No-name”... It was Eraserhead. It had to be! He wasn’t sure what sidekicks had been recruited, that was a bit of a mystery… Maybe some other underground heroes? But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the mystery hero was Shouta. Of course his wonderful incredible amazing fast and intelligent husband would be one of the first to arrive on scene.! 

A slight giddiness bubbled in Hizashi’s chest as, despite all his circumstances, genuine and abundant hope bloomed within him. 

He just needed to wait; just a little bit longer.

But Shouta would come. Of that he was certain.

Chapter Text

-Late Sunday Night/Monday Morning-

They were so close. 

So damn close .

They had just barely missed them…

Fuck .

Aizawa clenched his jaw so hard it ached but barely paid it any mind. All he could do was focus on the scene in front of him and fume.

Cause shit. .

How long could it have been? Seconds? Minutes? Certainly less than an hour... it was infuriating to think of how close they had come to finding him- to finding Hizashi… 

But they had missed him.

Fuck.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Shouta fought to clear his mind- wanting to maintain his calm professionalism.

He needed to stay focused; he needed to stay alert. 

He couldn’t let his worry and fear get the better of him.

Centering himself, the erasure hero ground out an internal pep-talk; trying his best to get his head in the game: 

We’re fine… This is ok - we were able to locate this place quickly enough. We can do it again. After all, judging by the state they left their hideout in- they were barely one step ahead of us… this is nothing more than a hiccup: a slight delay.

So, finding his spouse would just take a little more time . Not ideal, but it would be fine. 

He’d be fast.

Still working to school himself (especially since his mental speech had done little to smooth him), Shouta once again closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. 

Pause… 

Repeat.

Finally feeling in command of his facilities, the Erasure hero snapped his eyes open and set to work: intending to catalog the surrounding area and make note of anything useful.

The hideout had been easy enough to find, largely thanks to the aftermath of Mic’s desperate shout. A trail of broken glass, wailing dogs and car alarms provided a clear path back to the epicenter of the boom, and upon arriving, it was obvious that this spot had been a hub for unscrupulous deeds.

It was an old packing and shipping center, in a state of forgotten decay- not quite old enough or dangerous enough to be condemned, but certainly unused and in a state of disrepair that no functioning business would even think to use the place. There was a loose chain link fence surrounding the perimeter with faded signs zip tied to its surface, stating such obvious commands as “Keep out, private property”; threatening towing and other various actions against intruders. 

To the passing eye, the place was utterly forgettable and no more a threat than any kind of stale office building might be. But within this particular place, there were secrets- that much was certain.

Azawa’s eyes raked over the shattered windows, blown inward from such proximity to the force of Present Mic’s scream. 

Yes. There was no doubt. The voice hero had definitely been here; the tell-tale pattern of fallen debris told him as much, and Shouta had just barely missed rescuing him.

Swallowing down guilt, the Erasure Hero called to Nemuri who was standing nearby.

The somnambulist had made excellent time in meeting them, but since their arrival, she had been engaging with Eraserhead in a somewhat stilted manner- obviously wanting to show her concern for her friend and his spouse, but also acutely aware of the two teenage boys that were their audience.

Bakugo and Midoriya did not know the truth of Aizawa and Yamada’s relationship, and Shouta wanted it to stay that way; Kayama fully respected his decision, but it was evident that she was now highly conscious of letting anything slip. 

The result was her behavior being a mix of staunch professionalism and sisterly concern. 

Shouta didn't mind; he was just thankful for her presence and contribution to the search. It was… soothing to have someone who knew the weight of his fear nearby. Also, despite his irritation and exasperation regarding the somnabulist’s flirtations and excessively theatrical hero persona, he fully trusted Nemuri as both a hero and friend. 

Hearing Eraser's call, Midnight responded immediately: quickly approaching the man to confer on their next move.

“Do you think they abandoned the place completely?” she asked in a low voice as she sidled up next to him. Shouta nodded an affirmative, “I do. Obviously we should go in and check, but based on the fact Mic was able to escape, we can surmise that it’s likely a small and pretty uncoordinated group. If they were a large organization, there would have been a tighter watch on him. If they were competent, he wouldn't have been able to shout in the first place.” 

Looking around the trashed lot, he continued his assessment in a grave tone “I have a feeling that when he broke free, they probably panicked and bolted right away… if it’s as small a group as I think, it’d be stupid to leave someone behind- especially if they knew more heroes would make their way here in response to the call.”

Nemuri nodded in agreement, “Well, let's hope they had the courtesy to leave us some clues, right?'' At that, she waved over Bakugo and Midoriya who had been examining some other corner of the lot. 

Turning to face them with her hands on her hips, she waited until they both stood at attention in front of her before asking “Alright boys, did either of you see anything worth noting?”

Izuku was practically glowing with the opportunity to share his observations and immediately shot into a rapid fire assessment of the situation.

“Well, since we last heard Present Mic, it’s been maybe half an hour… in that amount of time, it's unlikely that whoever we’re looking could have gone far unless they have a quirk that emphasizes speed or transportation: maybe like flight, teleportation, or even a warp gate- you know, like that guy with the league of villains… Anyway, if they were on foot, they might still be in the area- though that seems pretty unlikely. The reason I think that, is because this place is such a weird choice for a hideout; it's too exposed… Like, beyond it being halfway remote from the busy parts of the city, there aren’t that many places to hide around here… so again, I feel pretty certain they have some kinda movement quirk at their disposal: something that could drop them in and out without being seen… Also, I don't think whoever took Present Mic is super well trained, mostly cuz: if this is the spot he was able to get to to call for help, that indicates he traveled pretty far from the building before being seen. They must have had a really weak guard, assuming they had one at all! That implies that mr. Yamada was either unconscious or immobilized until recently, and had a window of time to escape- Still, even if these villains aren't that organized, they are smart enough to have prepped for any kind of sonic attack Mic might have dealt them- I mean, we heard him loud and clear, and just look at all this glass in the blast zone! That must mean: whoever was subduing him had to have either really good sound canceling headphones or they aren’t affected by auditory assaults! Otherwise Mic would have been able to get away, or we would have found one of the attackers by now…”

It was at this point that Bakugo interrupted the freckled teens analysis, an unimpressed sniff cutting off the others rambling: “but someone was affected though… or at least hurt.”

At this statement, Midoriya, Midnight and Eraserhead all honed in on Katsuki- “What? How do you know Kaachan?” asked a thrilled Izuku.

The blonde fixed the other boy with a flat stare, stating “cause I use my eyes, dumbass,” before pointing to the ground directly beneath their feet. All eyes followed the gesture, and sure enough just steps from what they had divined as the epicenter of Mic’s blast, were generous spots and flecks of blood- it was tacky and dried, the lost amount hardly enough to be dire, but still significant and evidently fresh. 

“Wow Kaachan!” chirped Midoriya, “You’re amazing!”

At that, Bakugo rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably away, though the tips of his ears turned a bright red. “Tch, it was obvious Deku. Be more observant next time,”

Nemuri watched this brief exchange, willing herself to put away her predatory smile. 

Ah youth, so delectable in its obliviousness… These boys were always fun to watch, but it was rare she got a front row seat to their complex dance. While she would have preferred this situation with Mic be resolved by now, she could (at the very least) be entertained by these two...

Oblivious to Nemuri’s amusement and sparing no thought for his students' quips, Shouta had instead focused on the spot Bakugo indicated. 

The teen was absolutely right: someone had taken some level of damage, and while it was impossible to know who or how, he found himself hoping it was evidence of a villain's destroyed eardrums. 

Aizawa was not above feeling vindictive, after all. 

With a quick shake of his head, the erasure hero poised himself to action:

“Alright, I'm going in to see if they left anything. Midnight, can you stay out here in case someone comes back to clean?”

The woman scoffed in playful offense, before pouting “Hmm- You just want all the fun to yourself. But fine , yes- I can do that; but don’t hesitate to call if you need me!”

“Same to you” Aizawa responded as he turned toward the entrance of the old building. “Bakugo, Midoriya, you’re with me.” 

Without question or complaint, the boys followed their teacher into the dark space; both emanating an energy of fervent intrigue as they stepped into the abandoned den.

If they were hoping to see anything dramatic, they were woefully disappointed.

The main lobby of the structure was musty and gray, and aside from a graffiti covered wall, there was little to break up the monotony. Katsuki gave one quick look around before letting out an unimpressed snort, snidely stating: “Wow, these guys have shit taste.”

Aizawa had to bite back an actual smile at that. He had heard Hizashi say the exact same thing when it came to what he deemed “boring lairs”... his husband always ready to bitch about poor aesthetics.

It was somehow amusing and completely unsurprising that his most hot headed student would share the same sentiment on presentation.

Holding his tongue, the erasure hero pushed further into the building; leading his students with watchful caution.

As a unit, the three hunters began to methodically search every room, looking for any kind of clue regarding their quarry. They went methodically- starting at the ground floor before moving upstairs. 

Unfortunately, there was little that was worthwhile. 

As the trio began to move down to the basement, Shouta found his frustration growing. A faint worry sparked- the possibility of having the wrong location zipping through his mind. 

That thought was put to bed when the group finally found a clear lead. 

It was in the first room they entered down in the basement; the second door off the main hall opened to (what could only be) some sort of recently-used break room. Or a guard house , Aizawas mind helpfully supplied- but someone was definitely just here.

And he wasn’t wrong… 

The small tv in the corner was on and tuned to some local channel- a game show playing quietly and filling the space with white noise. A fridge stood against the back wall next to a barely-stocked kitchenette; there were a table and chairs, and in the corner- a lumpy old couch with a few blankets strewn over it. Half-eaten snacks were littered around, and it was clear that whoever had been here, had made a point to leave in a hurry.

For whatever reason, the sight of this gave Shouta some vague hope. If this was the guard post, they had to have kept Hizashi somewhere nearby . 

The boys arrived at a similar conclusion, and after casting a quick look around, both began walking down the hall- testing doors with renewed interest. 

Finally, they approached the last room at the end of the corridor. Midoriya was the one who pressed the door open, and when he did, immediately called for his companions to hurry over.

“Mr. Aizawa, I think I found something!”

Shouta wasted no time in rushing over: equally apprehensive and curious at what he might see. Izuku quickly sidestepped to let him through, watching his teacher as the man took in the sight before him.

The room itself was small and dingy, maintaining a tight, claustrophobic feel. It was lit only by a single naked bulb- flickering weakly in the dim, pushing against the darkness. 

In the center of the floor was an ominous looking D-Ring, seamlessly embedded into the cement while not far from it, was a deep, unnatural looking crack that broke the smoothness of the cement floor. The walls had clearly been soundproofed to a significant degree, and in the back corner- wreathed in shadow, were stacks upon stacks of broken-down boxes.

Approaching them, Aizawa reached out to read one of the labels and felt himself stiffen in surprise. Quickly, he grabbed another box and another, checking each description as a realization hit him.

They were all for amplifiers.

There were boxes for speakers, stereos, tv’s, subwoofers, and more. Familiar brands and product descriptions struck him as he realized something perturbing and now wholly unsurprising: The music and appliance store robberies…  The case he had been working on with Tsukauchi… Everything here fit the description for what had been stolen. 

Shouta could only stare at the empty stacks of cardboard, unsure whether to feel relieved or gravely concerned.

On the one hand, if Mic’s disappearance and the robbery cases were truly connected, that meant he had a wealth of more information and leads regarding his missing spouse; he could utilize his already existent research! He had (after all) been working diligently with the detective, and up until this weekend- had made good progress on the case.

On the other hand, because he had been working so hard- he knew (without a doubt) that the chain of robberies were in fact connected to a greater crime ring. More than that: he knew the stolen goods were being moved by several low level criminals, all who were in direct connection with an underground broker: one Kagero Okuta, better known as Giran.

That same Giran had been the focus of their operation for a while now- not just because he was a broker, but also for the very significant fact that the man was in direct contact with the League of Villains. 

Okuta was allegedly in recruitment- a driving force connecting sympathizers to the league's cause, and one of the primary suppliers of human-nomu fodder…

Still, despite his reputation as being “ The ” broker, Giran was hard to pin down. The man knew how to stay in the shadows, how to always keep his nose clean- and knew when to disappear. He was talented and slippery- yet simultaneously bold and brash.

Allegedly (and not making the case any easier) he possessed some kind of memory alteration quirk; a tool used frequently and without hesitation. This meant that many of the suspects they interviewed were “unreliable at best” in their testimonies (even if they were given enthusiastically or with the aid of Naomasa’s “truth detection” quirk). 

Those affected by the broker's ability just seemed to… genuinely forget certain details… Locations, names, numbers, or anything else that might be useful information for the case. 

As irritating as the omitted information was, they still had ample reason to focus on Okuta as a person of interest, and that was significant enough on its own. Now with the discovery of these goods, Shouta couldn't remove the suspected villain from his mind. 

Giran wouldn't be the one to kidnap Mic… no, that wasn't his style- he was the guy that made connections and introductions, all while claiming finders fees and commission from the side. Still, while he was certain Giran wasn’t the one who stole his husband, the man definitely could tell him who did . 

Aiziwa ground his jaw as he took one last look at the stacks of broken down boxes and cardboard. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain the two cases were connected. 

He needed to call Tsukauchi. 

No doubt: the detective would want to see this. To that end, if Naomasa had made more progress on his own, then Eraserhead needed to know. Coordinating forces and intel would also be a definite relief.

Heartened at the swerve, the erasure hero quickly pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures, sending them directly to Tsukuchi’s cell phone before texting “Think i found our missing goods- there’s been a development. We need to meet.”

He then turned to take one last sweep of the room, preparing to head out when something caught his eye- a barely-there glint shining off the cold cement floor… Stooping to get a better view, he reached out and picked up the distraction: brows furrowing as he took in what was unmistakably a single strand of long, blonde hair.

It was such a small thing, but Shouta found his throat growing tight; heart pounding as he stared at the golden hair now curled in his palm. It was Zashi’s; it had to be. The color and length were right… and he had just barely missed him.

Working to swallow down the emotion threatening his focus, he stood and faced his two students- clearing his throat with a cough before speaking in a low tone.

“The situation is evolving: I suspect Mic’s disappearance is linked to another case I've been on. I need to call my detective-partner and get his insight, but if I’m right, we may have a good idea of where to go next.”

Both Bakugo and Midoriya looked relieved at that; the blonde grinned out a “Nice,” while Izuki proclaimed “Wow, that’s great!” as they followed their teacher back upstairs.

Admittedly heartened by his students' enthusiasm, Shouta allowed their confidence to buoy him, slowly and carefully stoking the fire of hope that lit up in his chest. He still wasn't entirely sure why he invited these two troublesome boys to follow him around, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn't at least a little bit grateful for their youthful optimism and endurance. Granted, they were both incredibly stubborn and sometimes painfully foolish, but they were learning, and learning fast . More than that, they were beginning to work as a team; a notion he would have laughed at in its absurdity less than a year ago. Still, here they were- and how the tables had turned. 

If they kept this up, they would make great heroes one day, maybe even incredible heroes; possibly the best, especially as a team.

Despite the situation, he allowed himself a moment of pride as he listened to them speaking in hushed tones behind him: half arguing-half strategizing as they went over what they had seen and its implications. 

Aizawa surreptitiously watched from the corner of his eye as they snipped back and forth when suddenly, Izuku let out an enormous yawn. The boy deftly tried to hide the motion behind a gloved hand when not a moment later, Katsuki mirrored him, unable to stop the contagious response.

It would have been endearing if Shouta wasn’t immediately hit with a wave of guilt. 

Of course the two tagalongs were tired, he should have been paying better attention... It was nearly three in the morning and they had been running around non stop for the second day in a row; naturally the boys would be too stubborn to say anything about their exhaustion and he had no doubt they had made up their minds to tough it out… but he wouldn't allow that. He had already kept them going for too long and had taken them too far; he needed to let them rest. 

These kids were gonna be the death of him.

Despite feeling invigorated at having found a possible lead, he knew (in that moment) he had to prioritize taking care of his students. 

They needed to get back to campus and sleep. 

Once they were safe, Shouta would continue his hunt. Tsukauchi was no doubt resting right now, but he would be up in a few hours- in the meantime, he could pour over his case files… see if he had missed anything from the last time he looked at the reports. While that was unlikely, he wanted to be sure so that when he met with the detective, they could immediately get to work.

By this point, the group had once again made their way outside. Midnight was standing some way ahead, arms crossed loosely in front as she watched their approach. She must have understood they found something, because immediately- she straightened and strode toward Shouta; a look of purposeful intent clear on her face.

“Eraserhead,” she greeted, “what did you see?” 

Her gaze was sharp and searching, clearly invested and curious. 

The Erasure hero quickly relayed their find, smoothly articulating the likely connections he had made. The Somnambulist listened attentively, waiting till the end of his explanation to ask any questions she might have. Overall, the information was straightforward in its meaning and it was clear Aizawa wanted to waste no time in following the new direction presented. It was obvious the lead was a good one, and Shouta’s deductions sounded entirely plausible; still, while Kayama was heartened by his discovery, a creeping concern for his immediate well being began to tighten in her chest.

Nemuri knew from experience how driven Shouta could be… for better or worse. She had seen it up close more times then she could count, and while most heroes had a penchant for overexertion, Aizawa was almost laughably prone to it. 

And Hizashi was just as bad, if not worse.

Even now as he spoke, the Erasure hero looked gaunt with worry; tell-tale signs of fatigue were clearly visible for one who knew where to look . 

It wasn't exactly a reassuring look…

Tilting her head back and raising her chin, Kayama studied her friend's face and posture with keen eyes- noting the familiar lines of rigid tension combatting the sagging exhaustion.

Oh Shouta… When was the last time he slept? Probably not since Friday (if she was being realistic). Of course he wouldn't take time for himself if Yamadas life was in jeopardy… and Zashi was just the same... that had been proven far too many times to be comfortable. How were these idiots still alive if all they did was focus not on their own health, but on the care of each other??? Stupid, wonderful, reckless men that they were... There was little physical longevity to that in their profession. It was like these two dum-dums were scrambling over each other for burnout…

She would also bet her right arm that Aizawa hadn’t eaten anything aside from those gross jelly packs either… what a soft hearted fool (with absolutely rancid taste). Didn't he know that disregarding himself was not doing anyone any favors? Of course he did. On more than one occasion, she had heard him complaining about the very same thing in regards to Yamada; it was always a frustratingly circular conversation… 

Oblivious to the woman's scrutiny, Shouta continued explaining his intentions in a calculatingly pensive tone- wholly focused on strategizing the next move. 

“We need to get Midoriya and Bakugo back to UA; they need to sleep and I need to grab the information on the robbery cases- gotta comb over it before meeting with Tsukauchi. He’s probably asleep right now, but I’m insisting on a meeting first thing: we can cross examine the information we have and plot out a confrontation with Giran; if he’s smart, he’ll corporate without too much of a fuss- no shadow broker is gonna want to take the fall for the abduction of a hero...” 

Nemuri nodded in agreement while continuing her own internal observations of Aizawa. 

While he was right to want to pursue the lead, there were at least a few hours he could spare for himself. Shouta needed to sleep just as much as his students did, if not more! And true: while it was beyond her to parent the man, she would be a poor friend if she didn't at least try to get him to see reason- that certainly involved him taking a nap, and having a real meal. Something that would actually sustain him for the next leg of the hunt.

Anyway, Hizashi would actively murder her if she did nothing while Aizawa worked himself to death. The blonde would be insufferable and Nemuri wanted to live a good long life with her hearing intact, thank you very much.

Deciding on her own course of action, Midnight fell into the role of support easily as she affirmed the man's intentions. Pulling on a coy expression, she leaned into the man's space and let out a sultry “You know I love it when you take control like that.” 

Her voice was teasing, and immediately, Shouta raised an eyebrow- sensing ulterior motives. 

The heroine was fully aware of his hesitation, but continued nonetheless: “While I generally agree on the plan as a whole, I’m afraid I have to insist on some changes.”

At that proclamation, eraserhead frowned: dubious confusion evident as he waited to hear her alterations. Bakugo and Midoriya (who had been relatively quiet since their immersion from the old building) watched with intrigue- unused to seeing someone so casually challenge their notoriously absolute teacher.

The somnambulist wasted no time clarifying her amendment, “I say: Yes to meeting with the detective, yes to getting the boys back to UA, and yes to examining Giran as a suspect and possible lead.” 

Aizawa waited, unsure where she was going in her critique.

“All that is fine… But, rather than you staying up all night going over the information- I need to insist on you taking a break and getting some sleep.”

Her tone was stern and there was no trace of the playful flirting that had been audible a moment before.

Shouta bristled, already annoyed at being told what to do. 

“Kayama, now is not the time for whatever it is you’re doing.” His voice was quiet but there was an unmistakable threat in his tone. “I asked you to help- not waste my time. If you have something constructive to add, please- do so… But I don't need you stepping in to mother me. This is a good lead and I’ll do what I need to, regardless of the time or whatever petty issues you have.” 

He stilled before adding “We need to act fast and I can't waste time when my… when Mic could be in danger.”

Midnight merely stared back at Eraserhead, cooly unimpressed with his response and clearly not backing down in her demand. She was too accustomed to Shoutas bitchiness to be fazed by it, and for a brief moment, the two were locked in silent combat: willing each other to yield. 

Finally, Nemuri’s eyes flicked to their teenage audience; the boys were feigning aloofness- but it was clear that they were uncomfortable witnessing their teachers' conflict. It was then that a wicked smile ghosted across the heroine's face.

Bingo.

“Why Aizawa,” she purred, relaxing her stance, “-If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were being a bad influence to our impressionable young students.” 

At this, she whipped around and grabbed a flummoxed Midoriya, pushing him toward Shouta as she continued her charade. “These sweet boys are here, learning to be the best heroes they can be, and what are you showing them??? How to disregard the wisdom of fellow heroes ? To ignore their own needs ? To forgo sleep and risk being a danger to themselves and others when entering already dangerous situations ? No doubt I am mistaken , because I know that the great Eraserhead: champion of logic and ingenuity, would never stand for such irresponsible and plebeian behavior… especially when he is supposed to be the picture of moral, ethical and personal responsibility to the adulated class of 1A!” 

It was a low blow and she knew it, but Midnight was smart enough to recognize that (in a battle of wills between herself and Shouta) there would inevitably be a stalemate. She was not above utilizing proper leverage, and Eraser’s kids were the perfect tool. He was so soft for them, and the prospect of being a bad influence to their impressionable little minds would no doubt be unpalatable.

Sure enough, the man's dark eyes flashed with dismay and he glared at her with an expression of irritated betrayal. Nemuri allowed herself another evil smile. 

Got him .

“Um, excuse me but, when was the last time you slept Mr. Aizawa?” The question came from a meek Izuku, who was still being awkwardly thrust forward by a now grinning Midnight. “I mean, if it really has been a while, then I think Miss Midnight might be right...”

Aizawa’s glare moved from Kayama to Midoriya, though it was softer now- more a picture of exasperation than genuine displeasure.

“I’ll have you know that it’s none of your business, problem child . But fine , since my esteemed colleague is so insistent, we will all head back to U.A. and get some rest… for at least a few hours... Happy?”

Nemuri nodded in satisfaction, thankful at the brunette's acquiescence. While her ploy had (unsurprisingly) worked, she was certain that man was just now coming to grips with how tired he actually was- otherwise, this whole exchange would have (likely) taken much longer. 

“Yes. I am happy. I’ll go get my car,” she then dropped her grip on Midoriya and walked to the edge of the lot where a dark sedan was parked, glinting in the streetlights.

Bakugo snorted as he watched her go, wryly commenting “Wow, she really mommed you.” 

Aizawa shot the blonde a withering look before taking a measured breath and correcting him, “That's rude. And anyway, she’s not wrong. I won't be any good if I don't take care of myself. Midnight was certainly… inappropriate in using you as leverage, but she made her point clear. As annoyed as I am, I have to agree that she knows what she’s talking about.” 

At that moment, the car pulled around and Nemuri gestured for the three to get in. 

Grinning, the woman patted the steering wheel fondly, “Unlike Eraser here, I can't swing around the city like a maniac, and (considering the time) I knew the trains would be a bust. Whatever the case, driving makes it easier to get people home faster...”

Once the three passengers were situated (Shouta in the front and the two teens in the rear) Aizawa craned his head to look back at them. The boys were obviously tired, each staring out their respective windows, blinking sluggishly as they watched the world pass by- zen in the quiet of the car.

Again, Shouta felt his heart swell with private endearment.

They were good kids. They deserved a break.

Clearing his throat, the Erasure hero caught their attention, wanting to speak before the silence grew. “You two did well, and as thankful as I am for all your efforts, I can handle the situation from here.”

He said it so bluntly and without preamble that both Midoriya and Bakugo were caught off guard, It taking a full beat for them to fully comprehend what their teacher was saying.

As soon as they did, their mellow sleepiness transformed into riotous outrage:

“BULLSHIT ” exclaimed Bakugo, his eyes alight with dangerous incredulity as he kicked himself forward- straining against the seatbelt; “there’s no way you can bench us now! We just found a solid fucking lead and you want to kick us off?!?”

“Mr. Aizawa, NO-” cut in an insistent Midoriya, “You can't do that ! We know we can do more; you even told All Might that you were glad for our involvement!! You can't just say you don't want us to help anymore… we’ve barely scratched the surface of what's going on!”

The two teens were loudly talking over one another, gesturing wildly as they made separate overlapping cases as to why this was a bad decision. In exasperation, Aizawa looked at Nemuri hoping for some kind of backup, but the woman simply gave him a wry smile before focusing back on the road.

Feeling only slightly abandoned by his coworker, the erasure hero activated his quirk: the ominous effect of glowing eyes and gravity defying hair immediately silencing the two aggravated teens. 

“That's enough .” Shouta grit out, huffing in annoyance; he then deactivated his quirk before raising a hand to squeeze at the bridge of his nose.

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing: “Allow me to clarify: If this lead proves true, then I’ll have the aid of the entire police force behind me in this search- your involvement would be unnecessary. At the end of the day, you two are still students; tomorrow is Monday and I will not have you sacrifice your education needlessly . You’ve already helped. You did good ; better than good even. But as your teacher, I’m responsible for your health and wellbeing- as much as I am grateful to you, my role dictates that I need to decide what is best for you. This is best. That’s final .”

A frustrated silence filled the car; it was clear that Katsuki was seething, and Izuku had a look of daring resistance that appeared foreign on his typically genial face. Still, he received no more pushback from the two rear passengers.

By that point, they had arrived back on campus, and had just pulled into one of the U.A. lots (the one closest to Heights Alliance); Kayama parked and turned off the ignition. 

Still, the back half of the car was silent. 

Some part of Shouta’s brain insisted he should feel grateful; that maybe- the quiet meant he had gotten his point across- that, maybe they saw reason, and couldn’t argue... 

The greater (and more rational) part scoffed at the mere notion; no, he needed to be wary- now more than ever. The conversation was far from done, and he knew the boys were going to go down swinging (assuming they went down at all)... 

Still, it was too late to worry about now; afterall, what could they do in the next couple of hours? (aside from sleeping and pitching their case again, of course…) 

Forcing himself to ignore the obviously-building resentment, Aizawa got out of the car and moved to open one of the rear sedan doors, gesturing for the boys to get out. 

“I’m excusing you from several of your classes tomorrow. Don't bother with attendance till after third period. You’ll more than likely have a sub- I’ll let them know of your absences.”

He received little acknowledgement aside from a curt nod from Midoriya. 

With pointed silence, the teen duo began to sullenly march toward their dorm, and Shouta found he could not help the tiny curl of guilt as watched them go.

Thank god I'm not a parent, he thought to himself. Children are ridiculous; it’s absurd to feel guilty when doing what's best for them … 

Even if their disappointment was “in some way” warranted, they should know he was just acting according to the most logical and responsible thing (as a hero and as their guardian). They were still kids, even if they were super powered kids training to be more powerful heroes. 

Soon enough, they would be dealing with all the world's ilk- for now, was it not enough to just be safe and succeed in school??? To enjoy being young and all the discovery that came with it? Why were they so desperate to rush into violence? It was so hard to protect these kids already- why did they strive to make it even more difficult???

The door to Heights Alliance swung shut and started Shouta out of his reverie. Turning, he saw that Nemuri was standing near the driver's side of the car, watching him with knowing warmth.

“It’s crazy how fast they grow up, isn't it?” she asked in a dulcet tone. 

Rolling his eyes and hoping the somnambulist missed his faint blush, the erasure hero turned to walk the path to the teachers dorms, sighing before responding in gruff finality: “Not particularly. Time is a constant thing after all.” 

Kayama’s heels clicked on the concrete as she caught up with him, apparently entertained by his blase assessment.

“Astute observation Shouta,” she hummed (intentionally looking anywhere but his pink face), “But at this school- specifically with your class- time just seems to move a little bit faster.”

Aizawa had nothing to say to that, and opted to remain silent. He and Nemuri had (by this point) arrived at the teachers apartments and (as much as it frustrated him), Shouta intended to rest- if only for an hour or two. 

Midnight was right to have demanded it of him; he had not slept since before Hizashi went missing and as loath he was to admit, he was indeed exhausted. 

Honestly, “exhausted” was even too nice a word for what he was currently feeling… it was more: a bone deep weariness, escalated by the curdling sense of helplessness, worry and loss that profoundly ached within him.

Shouta let out a long low exhale, hoping to rebuff some of the overwhelming feelings as he fumbled for his keys. Wrestling the door open, he shuffled inside, unsurprised to have Nemuri follow him in and shut the door behind her.

Of course she would take it upon herself to babysit him…

It was a wry thought, one with no real irritation behind it. While (from most people) any attempt to parent him would be met with adamant revulsion, Kayama had been in his life long enough to have earned the right to dote. 

Since highschool, she had taken the role of “older sister” quite seriously, and that position was only solidified after the death of Oboro. Now, any time there was reason to fret, (regardless whether it be for himself or Hizashi), Nem was sure to show up and help in whatever way she deemed necessary. Sometimes, that meant her wrangling them into “self-care nights”, other times- it meant her bringing hot meals for the overexerted duo.

Regardless of the situation, Nemuri made time- it was one of her most generous traits.

In fact, when one of them got injured, she would sometimes even crash at their place for a night or two (though this typically only happened when things were decidedly less than good). In fact, after the USJ clusterfuck, she had taken it upon herself to essentially move in for the better part of a month. 

While Hizashi had been utterly consumed with caring for him and his broken body, Kayama filled in everywhere else: thoughtfully and without hesitation. 

She had cooked, cleaned, helped with grading, and most importantly- brought a sense of levity and healing. While Shouta had been grateful for her actions, Hizashi had desperately needed her kind encouragement and reassurances. It was a thing neither one of them would ever forget.

Silently, he pulled out a futon for her while she went to the linen cabinet, collecting her preferred bedding before making herself at home in the guest room. 

Together, the two made up the space- the action familiar and soothing. Once the blankets were laid out, Aizawa moved to go- intending to leave Kayama  her own devices. Just before he turned for the door, a slender hand darted out to grab his sleeve, pausing him in his escape.

“Sho…” 

Nemuri’s voice was hesitant- full of questions and concerns. For a moment, the weight of her unspoken thoughts lay on the air; charging the continued silence. 

Nothing broke it- no reassurances or hollow promises of certainty. 

Finally, the somnambulist let out a quiet sigh, following up with a simple “We’ll find him. I know we will.”

Aizawa didn't bother turning. Instead, he merely jerked his head in acknowledgement before pulling himself out of her grip; staggering to his own bedroom- feeling more and more drained by the second. 

Kayama could only watch him go; well aware that -in that moment, it was the best thing for him. 

The erasure hero (for his part) was completely past the point of caring about anything. He was tired . He was afraid for his husband- and he was completely overwhelmed.

He needed to sleep; to at least shut his eyes for a few minutes before picking it all back up again. Rest had rarely sounded so appealing.

Kicking off his boots and debating whether or not to even change, he finally peeled himself out of his jumpsuit (only bothering because he knew Hizashi would be terribly disappointed in him if he didnt) and flung it out of sight. 

Once he was down to his undershirt and briefs, Shouta slid into bed- setting an early alarm on his phone and willing himself to calm while thinking about what the next day would hold. 

He wasn't going to teach tomorrow, that much was certain. As much as he cared for students, his missing husband took priority.  

Before dozing off, he reached out and grabbed his phone from the bedside table, typing out a straightforward message to All Might: Can you sub tomorrow? 

He was about to hit send before he thought better of it and added some context;  “ Can't come in to UA, we have a lead on Mic. Going to follow up with help. Bakugo and Midoriya will miss most of the day. Can you sub my class?”

He read over it, decided he was satisfied with the new message, then hit send. If he was too vague, Toshinori would no doubt assume the worst- Despite being the world's most accomplished and victorious hero, the man was surprisingly capable of being as frantic as a mother hen… it would be amusing if he didnt think he might be a victim to it.

Only a moment passed before his phone buzzed with a new message; a simple thumbs up from All Might. 

Snorting in mild surprise at the prompt response, Aizawa placed his device back on the table, grateful but also unimpressed with the other man's sleep schedule. If people thought he was bad, very few were familiar with Yagi Toshinori’s capacity to run himself ragged… still, it was nice to know that his class would be in decent hands.

While All Might was far from a perfect teacher, he had proven himself competent enough to hold his own in the classroom as a sub- at least for a few days….

Finally feeling the weight of sleep close in, Shouta curled into the sheets- sinking into the quiet dark of unconsciousness. Just before losing himself completely, the brunette reached out and grabbed at the pillows from Hizashi’s side of the bed. Pulling them close, he buried his face in them, breathing in the familiar smell.

It was little comfort in light of the situation, but the action soothed his nerves well enough. The knot of anxiety and urgency in his gut had in no way dissipated, but his physical needs were steadily winning the battle of wants. 

Soon, aching eyes slid shut, and despite his churning mind, Shouta found himself drifting into a restless sleep.

____

Nemuri tossed and turned on her futon, annoyed at how alert her brain was.

She should be out cold- the day had been long and she had been on her feet all day. Even so, rest was currently beyond her reach. 

Snorting in irritation, she sat upright, resigning herself to wakefulness for the time being. Despite the comfort and familiarity of being at Sho and Zashi’s place, waves of unease were pulsing through her. 

It wasn't that she was uncomfortable- no… she was always at home when staying with her boys (especially since Hizashi kept a set of pajamas for her in the linen closet, right next to her oft used bedding). No. Physical discomfort wasn’t the issue; rather, her mind was going crazy with all that was happening regarding Aizawa and Yamada.

Obviously she was worried for the loud blonde, and knew that was why she was so awake- but if she was honest, the thing that was truly keeping her up was her very immediate concern for Shouta.

Sighing, the somnambulist stood up from her nest; she had decided to make herself some tea or find a snack, hoping that would help release some of her pent up energy. 

Quietly, she padded to the kitchen and began rustling through the cabinets, vaguely shocked that there were significantly more options than just jelly packs for her to choose from.

The boys must have gone shopping somewhat recently then… It was rare for there to be so many snack options out the gate.

Finally, she located something satisfactory: a bottle of wine and a box of Calbee fries.

Well, that would work just fine.  

As she fished out a glass, her thoughts floated back to the current situation. 

Being a hero meant there would always be risk. That was part of the job description, and it was expected that you would make enemies… Still, disappearances, kidnappings and abductions were never considered par for the course. Nor should they be.

No matter what, she would be disturbed to hear of any colleague gone missing- but this time, it happened to be one of her best and oldest friends. Naturally that escalated her concern to a whole new level. Even so, without dismissing her own feelings, she knew her worries were nowhere near as potent as Aizawas.

Kayama’s heart clenched as she thought of Shoutas face: for the most part, his exterior had remained stoic and determined, but he could not hide the palpable waves of fear and despair emanating off his very being.

Eraserhead was many things, but detached callousness was not one of them.

She knew she wasn't the only one who was privy to his actual state either- Nedzu was too perceptive to be fooled, and All Might had empathy in aces.

Even the two students who had taken it upon themselves to assist were not unattuned to the state of their teacher's heart. Aizawa had always tried to fool the world into buying his whole apathetic disengagement schtick, but that was only a defense mechanism to protect the kind and sensitive heart within.

A kind and sensitive heart that was tied to one Hizashi Yamada .

Nem shook her head, not wanting to over romanticize her friend's relationship; still, it was hard not to- especially when the two men were so stupidly in love. 

There was a kind of yin and yang to them; people always said opposites attract, and while that could be true to some degree regarding Aizawa and Yamada, their differences were only superficial. Sure, their interests and general demeanors might seem wildly out of sync, but ultimately they were more in tune then almost any other couple she had met. 

That’s because the things they do share are of substance , she thought as she sipped her drink. Yes, Sho was quiet, Zash was loud; one was mellow and reserved, the other possessing (seemingly) boundless energy and enthusiasm. One spoke in snark and straightforward bluntness, the other bombastic wit and endless charm . 

One look at those distinctions, and most people would assume the two men would be enemies (or at least irritants to each other) rather than happily married. But again, all of that was insignificant in light of what they did share… and that was character.

Profound kindness, integrity, boundless love and patience were only a fraction of the traits they had in common. They were intelligent- meeting and understanding each other with equity and grace; good humored, sharing a sense of wry comedy that was born out of history and nuance; and they were honest- keeping each other grounded with firm truth and care. To each other they were confidants, best friends, voices of reason and sanctuary from the pain and exhaustion of the world. Simply put, their relationship was beautiful and meaningful: built on mutual respect and genuine delight in one another.

It was a sight to behold.

Smiling as she considered her friend's marriage, Kayama’s thoughts once again slipped back to her concern for Shouta. 

Because Hizashi’s state and status were currently unknown, she knew she couldn’t be consumed by wild possibilities and imagined tragedies. Rather, she needed to stay focused: both on the hunt and on Aizawa. She wanted to be sure he would continue to take care of himself- to not spiral in spite of his fear… it didn’t feel like much, but it was all she could think to do.

Maybe it was out of line for her to take on that responsibility: to assume she had any power over the man… but no matter, she refused to stand by and watch her friend erode away from uncertainty and self neglect, even if she had to take drastic measures.

After all, She wasn't above using her quirk on him, and the dominating part of her hero persona wasn’t completely for show.

Smirking in amusement at her own theatrics, Nemuri finally felt weary enough to go back to bed- though she took the box of Picola with her.

Settling down amidst the blankets, Kayama felt herself begin to drift, thankful for the wine that had taken the edge off her active mind. As she fell further and further into rest, a warm conviction settled on her heart. 

Aizawa and Yamada were like her brothers; Shirakumo had been also- but ever since his death, her love for the remaining two had only grown. Eventually, it molded into something that could only be described as fierce protectiveness- raging and hot as an inferno. 

No one hurt her boys. No one .

Whatever might happen, she could find solace in two things. The first was that they would find Hizashi. Sure, she wouldn't presume to know how or when- but they would find him. And they would bring him home or grant him peace. 

Second was this: Whoever was responsible would pay, and pay dearly. 

While she couldn't dismiss her creed as a hero, she was not beyond utilizing her skill or resources in the ways that met her ends- all within the framework of heroics and justice. 

Even if it frustrated her to not act of her own accord, this kidnapping was personal... and whatever villain was responsible would face her wrath. That was a promise .

Feeling only slightly better as she tucked herself in, Nemuri closed her eyes and lifted a silent prayer to whatever power may be listening.

Please may Hizashi be ok. She wasn't sure Shouta could handle it if he wasn't… may he be safe and alive and laughably well. Just, let him be ok...

Please .

__

-Monday morning-

Izuku thrummed his fingers against the hardwood of his desk, feeling restless in a way that was both familiar and nerve wracking- mind going a million miles a minute as he cataloged the events from the past weekend.

He should let it go. Aizawa said he wanted him and Kaachan to stay out of it…

But could he? Could Kaachan ??

Heaving a sigh, Izuku closed his eyes as he considered his teacher's words, fingers still tapping neurotically on the table. 

It was just before nine in the morning, and he had been conscious for the better part of an hour, having woken from a broken sleep that was rife with unrest. Last night he had gone to bed with no small amount of indignation and sullenness; upon waking, those emotions had transformed into a cloud of confused anxiety. 

Obviously he wanted to do the right thing- but he was having a hard time deciding what that was… Should he listen to his teacher? comply with the direct order to stay out of a situation that was bigger than him, that he shouldn't even know about??? 

Probably…

But here was the thing: he did know about the situation- he knew that Present Mic was missing, that the hero commission was doing little (if nothing) to help, that the disappearance could be linked to something more sinister than a vanished hero. 

Because he knew, he now had a responsibility that came with that knowledge: the responsibility to act- to be a hero, to fight for the lost, to strategize and save. Responsibility to meddle.

It was either that or do nothing.

Could he really do nothing???

Groaning, the boy dropped his head so it thunked down on the desk and simply lay there for a moment, collecting himself as he considered the question.

“ Can I do nothing?” he whispered, mulling over the words and their meaning.

If he was honest, he already knew the answer…

Sighing, Izuku sat up, deciding to confer with Kaachan and see where he was regarding the situation. If the blonde was satisfied to listen to Aizawa, he wouldn't push it- but if there was any chance for alternative actions- well, as a general rule Midoriya preferred to have Bakugo by his side.

“Why is this so complicated?” he bemoaned to one of his All Might figurines that stood grinning inches from his face.

Naturally, the plastic figure had nothing helpful to offer, and Midoriya was left to wallow in confusion and ponder the question for himself.

After several more minutes dawdling in his room, the freckled boy decided to head downstairs- find some breakfast and possibly craft a plan of action.  

Assuming Mr. Aizawa is following up on those leads today, he won’t be around to make sure we don't get up to anything. Since I don't have to be in class till after lunch, I might as well make use of the time; there's got to be a way I can still help- maybe not so practically as searching with Eraserhead, but maybe I could help with research? But that would require me to get my hands on whatever information currently exists… He said he was meeting with detective Tsukauchi- if so, I know the station where the detective works, assuming it’s the one I was at after my encounter with Shigaraki earlier this year.

Lost in thought, Izuku wandered down the stairwell and into the common room. For a while he simply mumbled to himself, completely absorbed in his own head until a waft of delicious aroma broke him from his concentration. Looking to the kitchen, he abruptly realized he was not alone.

Standing over the stove was Katsuki Bakugo, a sour look painted on his face as he aggressively mixed a luxurious smelling stir fry. Coffee had evidently been brewed, and Izuku realized with a quiet giddiness that sitting on the kitchen island were two steaming mugs of the drink, along with a set of bowls waiting to be filled. 

For a brief minute, Izuku allowed himself to revel in private gratitude, knowing beyond any doubt that the blonde had prepared the meal with him in mind. 

From his spot over the stove, Katsuki tossed him a cursory look before grumbling out “bout time you got up, lazy ass… thought I’d have to drag you down. Food’s nearly done if you want some or whatever...”

It was no secret that his and Kaachans relationship was complex- everyone at U.A was witness to that. Their explosive and chaotic dynamic had initially been all anyone could ever talk about- and for good reason. 

Bakugos untethered aggression toward Izuku had been potent and divisive: a thing of violence that made their fellow students either uneasy or blatantly concerned. 

What had started as unchecked rage from the blonde gradually began to simmer and eventually settle into a resigned irritation… and for the first half of the year, a tumultuous but tentative quiet filled the space between the two. 

Aside from several instances, the boys maintained a significant distance from one another, crafting their own friend groups and keeping apart when they could help it. 

At the time, Izuku had felt some strange mixture of relief and disappointment. He hadn’t wanted to be a victim to Kaachan anymore, so being ignored felt like the best option; still, even then he had hope for some kind of reconciliation with the blonde… it was impossible to imagine friendship, but maybe they could work their way to a vague level of civility.

Then, summer camp happened, and Izuku experienced a profound revelation: It didn’t matter how Bakugo felt about him. Izuku would not- could not- abandon him.

Saving was innate to Midoriya’s nature- that much was true, but even beyond that fact, it was Kaachan who needed saving.

Kaachan who was an inspiration, a picture of victory: of bold and daring passion. Kaachan who was strong, brave, self assured and focused in ways that were (to him) absolutely amazing. Kaachan who was Izuku’s oldest friend; one who he still wanted in his life- no matter the capacity.

The freckled boy had at that point, made a decision to act- and act he did.

The chaos and fallout of Kamino Ward was something that would haunt him forever- the silent passing of the baton from All Might a memory permanently seared in his mind. 

Still, despite the horrors of the day, Kaachan had been saved; and from the ash of the event, a delicate seedling of something began to grow between the two boys. It was strange and unknown territory- weighted with questions, frustrations, misunderstandings, assumptions and past hurt; all in all, Izuku had been unsure what to do regarding his classmate, wanting simultaneously to clear the air and run away.

It wasn’t until their fight at ground beta that their relationship underwent a fundamental shift. The encounter was choked with tension, and Bakugo’s expression of loss and guilt akin to the breaking of a dam; Midoriya had been overwhelmed by the outpouring of honesty and raw emotion, sharp as it was with vitriolic challenge. 

As wild as the fight had been, Aizawa’s rage afterwards was also memorable in its own right.

Still, Izuku decided he had no regrets for the impromptu showdown. 

Getting in trouble had been well worth it. 

The following three days of “house arrest” felt bizarrely like a reset button between the teens. Stilted conversation, quiet comments on each other’s fighting techniques, vague jokes, and familiar nagging over their chores came easier each day. 

Midoriya was almost sorry when his sentence was over.

For a while, he mournfully resigned himself to the fact that his relationship with Bakugo was probably the best it would ever be- and it was good! Better than good even- especially when comparing how awful it had been before... 

It was better to find satisfaction in the meager (somewhat benign) association then dwell on impossible futures.

But then, a strange thing happened…

Katsuki started seeking him out- at first sparingly and in easily explainable ways (mostly through grudging invitations to sparring and study sessions); eventually however, it happened more and more often- to the point Izuku could not write it off as a passing convenience or necessity.

The time spent together gradually became routine, and the structured “scholastic” intentionality quietly began to erode away, until finally, the two would simply be together for no other reason then… friendship? Or the start of it at least.

Izuku hoped that was the case, but was smart enough to still feel some level of caution regarding the blonde.

Giddy as he was toward the prospect of having a healthy relationship with Kaachan, there were still so many unknowns going forward. Did the other boy want the same? What was his motivation for the sudden benevolence? How genuine was he?

It was difficult to even ask those questions… 

Midoriya’s true nature was to think and hope for the best in everyone- and as much as he ached to do that with Bakugo, he still had to be wary. While his past wounds were slowly healing, he still needed to be shrewd. 

After all, regardless of his capacity to forgive, Izuku was not a fool and caution was allowed. 

No matter, the time spent together was still… sweet, in its own way- and he found himself growing comfortable voicing not only his own musings, but his own challenges and corrections as well.

Surprisingly (beyond a shocked incredulity), Kaachan seemed content (and somewhat even pleased) with the growing edge Izuku now showed, and to some degree, encouraged it. 

Maybe it was guilt that spurred that on… or possibly a desire to grow the perceived equity between them. Whatever the case, Midoriya found himself enjoying the newfound banter that was as playful as it was honest. Even aside from that, there was a strange sense of camaraderie that was beginning to grow that was wonderful and mysterious in its own right. It was beginning to consume his thoughts, and despite himself, the green bean couldn't help but share his newfound confusion and excitement with his other friends.

They all had various responses, some more… revelatory than others.

Iida had listened to Midoriya's external processing with a sense of cautious optimism- his reflections summed up with the statement of: “well, it certainly sounds like you two are building the foundation to a proper hero partnership!” 

Uraraka had laughed in delight: “That's great Deku! I hoped you two would eventually get along- to be honest, I didn't think it would happen for a while; but now look at you guys! Forget rivalry, you could actually be friends!”

Todoroki (straightforward as ever) simply said, “sounds romantic.”

Izuku had balked at that, blushing and reeling back in denial at the dual wielder's observation. Shouto had merely shrugged and proceeded to ignore the other boys' panicked clarification, clearly unwilling to get pulled into his spiral.

Even as he thought of the memory, Midorya felt a blush heat his face. Romance? With Kaachan? The notion was so unlikely it was laughable ; still… he’d be a liar if he said the thought didn't fill his stomach with faint butterflies. 

Katsuki Bakugo was a lot of things. He could be mean- a real bully and an angry hothead. But he was also steadfast, honest, courageous and driven. His passion was overwhelming, his sense of justice true. The more he grew, the more he changed- and not in a way that was contrary to his nature: no, he was becoming refined. Polished and softened in profound ways. Where before were jagged edges of caustic pride, a pondering self awareness now shone: one that offered more gentleness and sensitivity then Izuku had ever thought possible.

It was… beautiful to see… made even more lovely by the fact that it was, well, Kaachan.

At that moment, Izuku was ripped from his thoughts by a soft flick to his forehead, and blinking, took a moment to tune back into the present.

The blonde in question stood in front of him, vaguely impatient but with no real ire.

“Oi! Deku- stop zoning out and sit down… I didn't slave over this stir fry for you to disrespect it by letting it go cold.”

Midoriya quickly shook his head, acutely aware of the blush still coloring his cheeks.

“Wh-what? Oh wow! Kaachan, this looks amazing!” 

And it did. Genuinely.

Kaachan never did anything in halves- that was a fact; a complete and bountiful breakfast was spread out on the kitchen island, tendrils of heavenly steam floating off the perfectly cooked food in undulating grace.

“C’mon nerd. Hurry up and eat before it gets cold.”

Izuku nodded, quickly seating himself as he fought to crush down the quiet embarrassment that had arisen with his recollection of Todoroki’s words. For a beat, Bakugo watched him, sharp eyes picking up the others' flustered state.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

Izuku, who had just taken an appreciative bite out of the food before him, let out a noise like a choked cat, coughing and spluttering on the rice now lodged in his throat. The blonde watched him, unimpressed and waiting for an answer.

Finally, Izuku was in control of his facilities and panting, responding with a harried “N-nothing! It's nothing! just something Todoroki said to me a while ago… it's not important!”

The blonde glared at him, clearly not buying it but also not invested enough to pry further, “Tch. Whatever; Icy-hot’s a total weirdo anyway. Don’t let whatever shit he said bother you too much- your brain is decent, don't occupy it with garbage.”

Midoriya nodded, and went back to his food- as he took another bite, he abruptly realized that Kaachan had just tried to… comfort him? And weirdly compliment him too?

Once again, he entered a spluttering fit. Bakugo rolled his eyes and gave him a few solid thumps on his back all the while growling about “incompetent dumbassery, cant even eat without nearly dying...”

Finally, the two were settled and ate without further interruption, mild conversation on what they may be missing in class filling the air between. It was as they sipped their morning coffee that Izuku raised his question from earlier.

“Hey Kaachan, about what mr. Aizawa said, do you think it's the right thing to do?”

The blonde gave him a knowing stare but didn’t yield,

“Be more specific Deku… do I think what is the right thing to do?”

Midoriya bristled, “To stay here! Return to class- pretend like nothing is wrong! I just feel so conflicted over it… I understand that we’re students and we should listen to our instructors, but after all the time spent with Eraserhead this past weekend, I feel like, I don't know- like I just can't abide by that order! There are so many questions I have, and I know we are still training to be heroes, but to just accept doing nothing is the antithesis of what we have been sworn to do! Even all that aside, I am genuinely worried for mr. Aizawa- he has been so frantic… which is completely out of character for him! It wouldn't be right to let him push forward alone… even if Midnight and Tsukauchi are there, I can’t be ok with not helping!”

Izuku took a deep breath as he fought to stay composed. He was glad to have finally said what was on his mind, and immediately felt better for it- but now he needed to know where Kaachan was. As if reading his mind, Bakugo’s face split into a dangerous smile, evidently pleased with what he heard.

“Tch. As if I’d be able to justify staying out of it… Especially after Nedzu and All Might gave us the go-ahead to treat it like an internship. As far as I'm concerned, until the loudmouth is found, we’re involved. End of story. I dont give a shit if teach gets pissed, and anyway, I'm pretty sure that Aizawa is hiding something from us. I don't know what it is- but i'm gonna find out. Mark my words.”

For a beat there was silence as Izuku took in the other boys' declaration, unsure whether to feel relieved or exasperated. Instead he decided to settle on charmed , and was unable to contain himself as he broke out into delighted giggles.

Katsuki evidently did not know what to do with that response, choosing to cross his arms defensively and glare daggers at the freckled boy.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” he growled in irritation as Izuku reigned himself in.

“I’m just, so thankful I didn't have to convince you!’ the green bean chirped, “That makes everything so much easier!” 

Bakugo blinked, wrapping his mind around the implication; then, his smile returned- sharp and excited. “Alright Deku. You have a plan. Spill.”

Midoriya’s heart swelled with a weird level of pride. That Kaachan was eager to hear what he had come up with was flattering, and secretly, he felt that now familiar flutter of butterfly wings in his stomach . Creasing his brow, he urged himself to focus on the weak strategy he had constructed. 

“Well, it's less a plan and more a foundation for building a plan… mostly cuz it hinges on one very important thing: how much Aizawa has told the other teachers. IF we are lucky, the only person who knows about our dismissal is Midnight. If we’re even luckier, she’ll be with Aizawa as they’re meeting with the detective today. That means, depending on who is subbing our class, we could essentially be excused by either All Might or Principal Nedzu to meet with Aizawa after the school day… It would all be above board! After, we could head to the police station and essentially tail Eraserhead for the new location of where Mic or his kidnapper might be. Either that or ask him to keep us on… It's not much, but it's the best I could come up with for now.”

Kaachan snorted in disbelief, “yeah, that's pretty weak. Though I guess it would be better to at least try and play by the book rather than just ditch.”

The blonde pondered the situation for a moment, then sniffed his approval. “Fine, we’ll sus it out… try to play under the radar. But if it turns out that Aizawa blabbed about us staying on campus, I’m still taking off; I don’t give a shit. The principal himself said we were in on this and that's what I’m sticking to.”

Midoriya privately agreed, invigorated by his classmates' certainty.

The rest of their free time was spent in quiet productivity. Together, they cleaned the remnants of their breakfast, went on a quick jog, then wrapped up various bits of homework before leaving to meet the rest of 1A for lunch. The whole time, their biggest argument circled around Aizawa: competitively theorizing on their teacher’s reason for stress. 

“I mean, obviously it has to do with Present Mic,” mumbled Izuku as the two walked into the cafeteria. “He only started acting weird after he found out about his disappearance, and I  suspect there’s a lot more to their relationship than meets the eye...”

“Bet it has to do with that whole, “hero spouse partnership thing” he was telling us about.” agreed Bakugo, “Though why they’re paired together is beyond me…”

“Hm, could it be… well- maybe… I mean, there’s a lot of rumors, and the rest of the class has the whole bet going and it’s-” “-Tch, like I care about the others’ stupid bets! Get to the point!”

“Ah! Right- my guess is: I think Aizawa and Mic might be closer than just co-workers; that maybe Yamadas “actual spouse” is having a harder time coping than they’re letting on? If you get my drift…”

“Hah?” Barked Katsuki, uncomprehending and irreverent. “Mic’s married??”

“Uh, yeah?,” the green bean confirmed, “at least, he’s alluded to it a handful of times on his show (though he’s super cagey about the details). The hero message boards go crazy with speculation anytime he mentions it, and almost nothing is actually known, which is crazy cuz Mic is one of the biggest spotlight heroes of this decade! Most people think they’re a civilian…but it's never actually been made clear.”

“Huh, that’s bizarre to think about...” muttered the blonde, “I didn't think the guy could pull anyone, what with the hair and all. But that's shitty: If Mic is with someone, they’re probably going crazy worrying about him. If it’s Aizawa who has to update them, then I’d be fucking stressed out too.”

Midoriya was about to speak up once more- to elaborate on his theory and bring Katsuki up to speed when a happy cry sounded from across the hall. Looking up, he spotted a handful of their classmates cheerily approaching, spearheaded by Ochako Uraraka.

“Hey Deku!” she cried as she trotted up, “There you are! It feels like I haven't seen you in forever!” 

The brunette’s voice was bright with a mixture of happiness and curiosity and Izuku smiled, always happy to see his friends. Next to her was a concerned looking Tenya Iida, an unmistakable expression of pensiveness clear across his face. 

“Yes Midoriya, it’s very good to see you- but I must ask: where you’ve been for the past several days? It’s unlike you to just disappear, and several of us were quite concerned.” 

Izuku flushed in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his head in chagrin, “Oh man, I’m sorry guys; I didn’t mean to make you worry, I just got… caught up in something...”

“Caught up in something?” Uraraka puzzled, “what do you mean?”

It was then that Shouto Todoroki joined the little group; he peered curiously at Midoriya before his mismatched eyes swept over to Bakugo. The blonde was standing back slightly, looking vaguely bored as Izuku’s friends questioned him. 

Quickly deducing the topic at hand, Todoroki asked: “Did you and Bakugo get in trouble again?” 

The question was blunt but genuine, and Izuku hesitated- unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to lie, but Nedzu had insisted he and Kaachan keep the situation with Mic to themselves. Shouto’ s presumption would be the easiest and most believable cover, but he was hesitant to risk accidentally goading Katsuki into a real fight.

Before he made up his mind on how to respond, a solid hand landed on his shoulder and pushed him out of the way.

Bakugo’s look of bored irritation had turned into a daring brace, “Back off half-n-half. So what if stupid Deku and I got into it. It’s none of your damn business...” 

Immediately, there was a collective heave of understanding as the blonde confirmed what they all thought to be true. 

“You two should know better by now,” scolded Iida, “we all hoped you two were beyond these childish brawls.”

“Hm, that’s a bummer to hear,” agreed Ochako, “I hope you didn’t get too harsh a punishment though.”

Izuku played along, pulling on a look of guilty bashfulness; “Ehh, It’s not too bad… just extra community service with Kaachan… though mr. Aizawa wasn’t very pleased with us.”

Everyone winced in sympathy, apparently accepting the excuse.

“Speaking of mr. Aizawa, he hasn’t been in class at all today;” Ejiro Kirishima had (by this point), walked up and caught the last bit of the students' conversation. Slinging an arm around Bakugo, he continued in a conspiratorial tone, “-Figured you two would want to know so there's no surprises when we get back to class… All Might’s been filling in for home room all day! It's been pretty cool, though he won't say where Aizawa is… apparently Present Mic wont be in today either. At least that’s what Jiro heard...”

At that, Midoriya and Bakugo exchanged a brief knowing look. Thankfully, it went unnoticed by the rest of their class, and Izuku turned a bright smile towards Kirishima,

“Wow, thanks for letting us know! We’ll do our best to catch up.”

His enthusiastic determination was par for the course, and soon the teens found themselves moving onto other topics while enjoying lunch together. Eventually, it was time to return to class, and as a unit, the group moved towards the 1A homeroom, urged by a punctual Tenya.

The periods left were english, hero ethics, then practical hero training for the rest of the day. While there was no doubt that All Might would be taking over the latter two classes, Izuku was curious to see who would sub for english. To everyone's interest, it was a rather stoic Cementoss- the hero in question seeming particularly subdued, especially when compared to the usual hyperactive teaching methods of Mic.

Ethics class was fine, and (while All Might was still learning to manage a classroom) most of the students were still awestruck enough to not give any trouble. 

Practical training was much the same, especially since All Might often came to either watch or assist with that particular class. Still, the atmosphere was notably different without Aizawa. All of the students felt it, and as much as everyone loved All Might, the lack of Eraserheads straightforward correction and grouching critique was clearly missed. 

“Ugh, I never realized how motivating it is to get Aizawas approval!” groaned Mina as the students made their way to the locker rooms.

“I know! All Might is great, but getting Eraserhead to smile that little satisfied smirk definitely hits different…” Agreed an exhausted Denki.

“That's probably cuz he’s so hard to please,” mused Kyoka as she toyed with one of her earlobes.

“Well, All Might insists we would have made Aizawa proud with our efforts today” broke in Tenya, “good job everyone- lets keep it up until our teacher returns to us!”

Midoriya smiled at his friend's encouragement, and made to follow them inside when a familiar call for him and Kaachan sounded from behind. Turning, he spotted All Might himself waving them over; Izuku wasted no time and immediately sprinted over, clearly hearing Bakugo on his tail.

The thin man smiled congenially as the two arrived, both panting slightly from the abrupt hard run. “Ah Boys, I was just hoping to catch you for a minute; I wanted to check on you both regarding the situation with Mic and Eraser… how are you feeling?”

Izuku wasted no time- his mind changing to insight mode as he tested the waters: trying to piece together how much All Might was attuned to without letting their dismissal slip.

“Right! Well, there’s a lot to process- I mean, knowing that a U.A teacher is in jeopardy is honestly pretty alarming- especially one who we both really like. I think it's also hard to fathom the Hero Commissions inactivity… like, what’s going on with that?? It really makes me want to understand how the whole system actually works, both for the sake of critique and enlightenment. Aside from that though, seeing Mr. Aizawa and Midnight work together has been incredible, and super educational; I sometimes can't wrap my mind around the fact that we have these amazing heroes teaching and guiding us… it makes me want to do everything I can to be better! To get to that level! Anyway, I don't want to make light of the situation, but I know Kaachan and I are just, really grateful to be included… to help where we can and learn as we go. I know we’ll find Present Mic soon! Especially since Mr. Aizawa thinks he has a lead now- it's just a matter of time!”

He was hamming it up a bit , but emotional and practical appeal could be strategic. After all, what teacher would want to strip their student of a legitimate learning experience?

All Might nodded in understanding, his warm smile never wavering. 

“I’m glad to hear that young Midoriya… Hope and belief are tantamount to effort in the pursuit of success. I have no doubt your faith is fueling Aizawa as well. Speaking of which, are you two supposed to be meeting with him? When he asked me to take over his classes, he mentioned you would be absent for most of the day… I assumed you were resting, but was unsure if you were slated to rejoin him at a certain point.”

Once again, Izuku found himself in a position to lie- only this time, directly to the face of his favorite hero and mentor. Freezing up, he was spared responding when once again, Bakugo stepped in with an airy confirmation.

“Yeah, the old man told us to grab our gear and head to the station after class- we were getting ready to do that now. Isn’t that right Deku ?”

Izuku felt his jaw creak as he forced a grin, hoping to confirm Katsukis statement without actually saying anything too incriminating.

“Ye-yeah! Well we better get going, thanks for checking in All Might! But we should head out!”

Without waiting another moment, he turned on his heel and prepared to march away, hoping that Kaachan would follow. He had barely made it three steps when his mentor's booming voice told him to cease.

“I suggest you two stop.”

The freckled boy froze, guilt eking into his posture. Slowly, he turned to face the hero, fighting to keep his face clear of emotion.

All Might had his arms crossed in front of his chest. His friendly expression had  taken on a more reproachful look- still kind, just tired.

“Ah Bakugo, Midoriya… What will we do with you? I ask once again, and please respond honestly this time: were you two supposed to meet with Aizawa today?”

Izuku immediately felt his resolve weaken. As much as he wanted to go, to stick to the plan and take matters into their own hands- he could not tell a bold faced lie to All Might. Kaachan was tense- irritation and impatience coming off him in waves, and for a beat there was silence until both boys broke under the strain of the great hero’s stare.

“It’s just, we can't do nothing !”

“What kind of a jackass would keep us around only to ground us when something worthwhile is about to happen?!”

“We were helping! Actually contributing, and Aizawa even said he was impressed and thankful for what we were doing!”

“If you have a lead, you take advantage of the situation and utilize ALL the resources you have- it’s a stupid decision!”

“I know he is wanting to look out for us, but what about him? He’s so willing to run himself ragged- I’m honestly really worried!!!”

“And what happens if this lead turns out to be a dead end? Then what’s he gonna do- start back at square one? With only Midnight to help? It's bullshit!”

“Not to mention that we have no idea what state Present Mic will be in when he is found- I have no doubt that if it's bad, it's gonna really affect Mr. Aizawa; he shouldn’t face that alone!”

“Plus the loudmouth is important to me too! I can do good here- I just need the opportunity; why can’t he trust us to help!”

“Principal Nedzu said we should think of this as a work study; that means engaging in this scenario like real heroes- we are being trained to act and do what’s right… Based on all we have learned, how can you expect us to be ok with passivity?!”

“I don’t give a shit about whatever phoney parental guilt he has- Eraserhead made a bad call to bench us, and I am ready to fucking storm the gate to prove how useful we can be...”

At that, All Might raised a warning brow: unimpressed with blondes coarse language. He then took a deep breath before indicating he had heard enough, “Alright boys, I think I got the picture” he said as he moved to rub at his temple.

Both Bauko and Midoriya apparently had a lot more to say and were struggling to contain themselves, just managing to do so despite their outrage.

 Finally, the skeletal man heaved a sigh and looked up-  thoughtful exasperation clear in his eyes. As both boys collected themselves, he raised a thin hand and waved someone over, apparently wanting to include them in the conversation.

Izuku and Katsuki followed the gesture and were somewhat surprised to see a predatory looking Midnight approach from a short way behind them; her expression of entertained delight indicating that she had heard everything.

 “Well well well, if it isn't two of my favorite troublemakers- what was I hearing? Something about you storming the castle? How deliciously naughty .”

Even All Might had trouble hiding his blushing discomfort at that, but pressed on anyway, “I took the liberty of calling Miss Midnight this morning to get the full picture of what's going on. She explained to me the situation; because you two were so calm during classes, I had the feeling you might have planned something… irrational.. . Suffice it to say I was right;”

Placing hands on narrow hips, the old pro fixed them with a look of weary regret. “Honestly, I am very disappointed that you both would be so willing to lie to me .”

At that, Izuku could not help the strangled sound of despair that whipped out of him. There was a lot he was willing to do- boundaries he was willing to press, all for the greater good… but having knowingly disappointed his favorite hero seemed to be a devastating blow to his psyche.

All Might gave him a look that was something close to concern mixed with exasperation.

Immediately, Izuku pulled himself together; eyes super glued to his shoes- unable to meet his mentors' piercing eyes.

“She informed me of the change in situation- that Aizawa preferred you stay off the search. While I understand your eagerness to help and applaud your devotion to heroism, it’s important that you recognize limitations. Restraint, respect, honor and courtesy are all as important to heroics as courageous action. Even If your intentions to “do” are good, you must never lose the capacity to listen to instruction- to trust others' judgment- to know that there are other, capable and wise heroes who may have a better grasp on the situation than you do. To assume otherwise is simply arrogance.”

Midoriya's shoulders dropped in shame, and even Katsuki had the good grace to look somewhat abashed. 

Still, All Might went on. 

“Take this reprimand to heart; dishonesty can not be rewarded, neither can blatant rule breaking. Your thoughtless actions will be added to the list of things you’ll be facing repercussions for… after Mic has been found.”

Bakugo and Midoriya both started at that, simultaneously looking up in confusion. 

Midnight had an entertained smirk on her face, and even All Might was apparently trying to hide some level of amusement.

Still, the man continued, “That being said, Midnight and I have deemed your involvement in this case still necessary; not only for the skills and assistance you are contributing to the search, but also for the aforementioned hope and determination that you both so fervently have injected into this situation.”

Izuku was bewildered- what were they saying??? He and Kaachan were still being allowed to help? He was almost afraid to ask for clarification- certain that he was mistaken in his understanding.

 Next to him, Katsuki also wore a look of stunned bafflement, “Wait... really? You’re gonna let us help cause we’re... determined? That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard… what do you mean by it??" 

His tone was dubious, but a fire was burning underneath.

“Determined and hopeful,” All Might corrected, “Make no mistake young Bakugo, those traits are valuable beyond your own understanding. That aside, Midnight, Nedzu and I are aware of your proclivity for taking matters into your own hands: we would rather have you work within the bounds your instructors set for you then see you- for lack of a better term, go “rogue”. Consider this an olive branch of compromise. You two will be allowed to continue in this endeavor within a capacity that we, your instructors deem appropriate. You still must attend classes and ensure your grades do not falter, remain silent on the situation to your fellow classmates, and agree to follow your superiors instructions to the letter; if you can manage that, then in the evenings, you may- with supervision, assist Midnight and Eraserhead in the field until Mic is found.”

Katsuki wrinkled his nose in scrutiny, still wanting to test the boundaries of this new proposition, “And if we say no to those terms? If we go out anyway?”

“Then my boy, for all the effulgence of your aspiration and abilities, your time at U.A may need to come to an end. We are not your parents and no one here can control or force you to yield to the set rules, but at this school- there is still a demand for respect when it comes to authority and obedience. If you can not abide by that, U.A will not tolerate it. ”

Hearing that, Izuku immediately jumped in, actively placing himself between All Might and Bakugo, “Of course that makes sense! Kaachan is just being difficult- and yes, yes we accept those terms; they’re more than fair!”

The boy then dropped into a slight bow, but not before reaching out and pulling the sputtering blonde with him “Thank you so much, for allowing us to help, for trusting us with this; we’ll do our best and that’s a promise!”

All Might smiled in satisfaction, more entertained then he probably should be. Trust young Mirdoiya to take control of the situation in the most peacemaker-y way possible , wonderful boy that he was; Bakugo too of course, was brilliant in his own right- the fire within him burning brighter than his own explosions .

Standing straight, the old pro fought to keep the fondness out of his voice and raised his hand to direct their attention, “In that case, I leave you to the capable hands of Midnight. I suggest you listen well and do not forget the gravity of this allowance.”

The somnambulist took her que and strode forward, resting a hand on each boy's shoulder and pulling them up from their awkward bow. 

“You hear that problem children? You’re all mine for now- so, remember to keep in line and try not to test me… After all, delighting in punishment is not a trait exclusive to my hero persona…”

At that both Bakugo and Midoriya exchanged wide eyed looks of alarm.

Holding back a laugh at their teenage panic, Kayama pushed them in the direction of their dorm, “So boys, whaddya say? Want to grab your gear and suit up?”

The alarm in both their eyes immediately evaporated, instantaneously replaced by twin glints of fiery resolve and electric zeal.

Katsuki grinned, sharp and ready, while Izuku met her eyes with a determined smile, small yet full of steely conviction.

“We thought you’d never ask”

Chapter Text

Welcome to the Machine

-Unknown Time-

Hizashi didn’t know how long he had been left alone in the dark. 

It could have been hours, but it felt like days.

Likely, it was somewhere in between… 

Admittedly, he wasn't sure how to feel about that.

As much as he resented his captors and wanted absolutely nothing to do with them, the notion of being forgotten in his cement prison was almost as terrible as whatever they could have planned.

The blonde squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to focus on that possibility. The thought of being chained, muzzled, and left to rot filled him with a sharp sense of panic; a panic that could be all encompassing if he did not have the presence of mind to willfully shove it down.

So there he sat, fighting to remain calm.

It was difficult... Far more difficult than it should have been. After all, he was a pro. He’d been in bad situations before- had seen terrible things, fought monstrous villains- had witnessed atrocities that no one should ever be victim to… he knew how to stay calm. 

But why was it so hard to stay calm right now ?

The question was rhetorical of course. He knew why.

He was worried. 

More so than that, he was afraid.

NO- he was shaken to his core…

That was the simple truth.

Hizashi had enough grace toward himself to recognize and admit his own fear. Beyond that, he knew fear was not a weakness- rather it was a natural human response. There should be no shame in it; after all, fear as a sense could provide insight, warning, and spur decisive action. Even at UA, wannabe heroes were trained to grow through their fears, but to never dismiss them entirely. Healthy fear was merely a helpful alert- a sharply tuned sense that could save more lives and encourage more caution if properly managed…

This fear however, did not feel helpful.

It felt suffocating. 

Just like the muzzle strapped to his face.

Shaking his head, Yamada pushed the thought away. He couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t let his spirit be weighed down by this literal fucking torture device welded to his jaw. 

Closing his eyes, he stilled and did his best to center himself. 

Breathe. 

He could do that at least.

Breathe.

Gradually, he could feel his heart rate begin to slow from the frantic pace it had been keeping. 

Good. 

Breathe.

The more he calmed, the more he became aware of his body:

Aches and pains (which he had momentarily forgotten) began to return- the injuries and cravings alike acting as sharp reminders of what he had already endured in his captivity.

Hunger was still there; gnawing and vicious in its desperation. When had he eaten last? That’s right… Friday afternoon. There was still no indicator for how much time had passed, but his internal clock knew it had been days at the least…

Thirst continued to ravage his system. 

While Glitch’s meager offering had temporarily taken the edge off, the want for water was now back with a vengeance- reinvigorated by the dry mouth granted from the rubber and metal bit fixed between his teeth.

His ribs and stomach throbbed in unison: hot and pulsing with his own heartbeat- the aching a constant reminder of Fusions kicking spree, and (while he was still somewhat certain that nothing had been broken) the bruising was no doubt ugly and deep. 

Even without touching it, his side felt uncomfortably taut and swollen- distracting as he worked to breathe.

Past that, his joints and spine were stiff and painful: his limbs being locked into their rigid positions had done his body little good. Even the ability to lean forward and comfortably rest his chin was stripped, wrenched away by the dreadful chain that connected his collar to the back of the chair. 

Most consuming however, was the unceasing weight and discomfort of the horrendous, invasive and silencing muzzle.

How he hated it.

It had been years since Hizashi had last found himself in a situation with a muzzle- though the memory itself remained potent...

Unwillingly, his mind was pulled to the past, cataloging every incident that fed into his revulsion of the contraption. He had once heard someone say “we spend the rest of our adult lives recovering from the trauma of our childhood”... and that certainly felt true enough, At least when it came to these memories... 

Because of course it started when he was young… an uninspired start to an admittedly bleak story)… 

His beginning had always been rooted in difficulty, for (while most children’s abilities appeared at four and developed in strength as they grew) Hizashi had been born with his quirk. His immediate power had been as impressive as it was overwhelming: a seemingly unmanageable thing that was destructive and intense. 

More to the point: baby Hizashi had been deafeningly loud.

Literally.

The small squalling child (innocent and unaware of his own ability) had unintentionally unleashed chaos mere moments after being born. Yamada had never been told all the details, just that no one in the room had escaped with their hearing fully intact. Windows had shattered, machines had fried, and everyone within the radius of his cries had suffered either complete or drastic hearing loss.

His birth parents had been his first victims- and as a result, the (understandably shocked) young couple had come to a quick decision regarding their newborn son. 

They were ill-equipped.

The baby was beyond their ability to care for.

In short: Hizashi never made it home.

His parents had surrendered him to be a ward of the state- hopefully to be cared for by those more competent than they. There were of course programs that existed for just such a cause; ever since the manifestation of quirks, centers for children with “extreme” abilities had popped up all over the place- some government funded, some privately managed, others with less transparent backings.

The quality of these organizations were tragically hit or miss. While some places were staffed by caretakers and therapists who were enthusiastic about seeing their wards grow and become functioning members of society, others were less preoccupied with such charitable notions. Regardless of placement however, the entire complex was consistently underfunded, understaffed and overwhelmed.

It was a hard system to grow up in.

Regardless, it was through some impersonal bureaucracy that an infant Hizashi became folded into one of these institutions. The place he ended up was mechanical, rigid and sparing. Its employees aloof and unattached- focused more on getting through each day without incident as opposed to nurturing the children in their care.

If an incident did occur, it was typical for those responsible to be dealt with harshly, even if their outburst was unintentional or beyond their ability to control. 

Hizashi often fell into this category. 

Even despite him being a bubbly and well behaved child, the boy had no comprehension of how to manage his quirk. When he failed to adhere to the stringent expectations, a punishment was quick to follow- unusually involving an adamant rebuke, immediate silencing, and long bouts of total neglect.

That cycle had been his norm; reinforced since infancy. 

When he was small, he was kept in a soundproofed room: one that had been designed to contain his childish babbles and unruly outbursts. His caretakers remained distant and were sure to discourage whatever sound he produced, no matter the reason- be it good or bad. As such, there were long periods of quiet isolated loneliness… It was so long ago, but even as an adult the faint memory filled him with a choked desperation for acknowledgment.

Still, despite the objective awfulness that was his early upbringing, there were small moments of relative goodness; infrequent, but profound enough to leave lasting impressions. 

One such virtue came in the form of a specific guardian: a woman who worked at the facility where Hizashi was kept. She was slightly warmer than the other employees- friendlier and softer in comparison. She often spent time with the more uncontrollable children, her quirk useful for just such a task. It was somewhat akin to Shoutas, but rather than erasure, she had a dampening ability. Whoever she touched had their power significantly lessened for up to an hour. It only worked on youths under the age of twelve, but was a handy thing when dealing with confused and overpowered children. 

For whatever reason, this woman had taken it upon herself to care for and entertain the small loud boy; giving him time and attention that no one else had ever bothered to spare. 

It was bliss, and to Hizashi, this person was an angel : someone who would hold him and tend to him- a grown up who seemed unafraid and unbothered by his happy shrieks and efforts to talk- especially when nearly everyone else made a point to avoid him. 

It was thanks to her that Hizashi was socialized as an infant and toddler- and for the first five years of his life, that guardian was the closest thing he had to a parental figure. Years later, It was with a sad remorse that he realized he couldn’t remember her name; only that she had been consistently kind when so many others seemed to resent just being around him.

Of course, even that small sweetness couldn't last.

It was just before his sixth birthday that this guardian left. He didn't know where or why, and of course no one would give him any answers; he was just a child after all… Nonetheless, the change in his life was drastic. His one comfort had disappeared, and all the kindness he knew went with her.

At that point, he had gained some notion of how to use his quirk- Hizashi had always been bright and driven, and long swaths of time spent alone in a soundproofed room had given him ample time to practice a base level of control. He knew being loud was why he was “bad”. If he could just fix it, the caretakers might let him out of his room- might let him play with the other children- might bring his guardian lady back… 

Looking back, It was a silly notion- but the possibilities he had conjured in his young mind fueled his practice; and it worked- at least to some degree. However rudimentary his efforts were, he managed to consistently keep himself at a volume that was quiet enough to not be destructive, (A major feat for a boy who had been effectively left to figure it out on his own). 

Small victories and all that.

Still, no amount of control he showed could have spared him from the next chapter of his life.

Several weeks after his guardian left, the institution hired a new director- one who was meant to oversee a new government approved program take root. 

The regiment was intended to escalate quirk-control training for the children: the motivation being to “more effectively hone their powers and get them to an appropriate level that would then: allow them to enter either a foster or adoption center”. 

While that had always been a goal prior to this initiative, it had become commonplace for many youths to simply stay at the institute until they aged out- not for lack of wanting, but due to lack of training.

In theory, the reissue of the adoption enterprise was good- but the new director was not a patient man, and had prematurely lauded his efforts as a success; recklessly claiming that “under his guidance, the center would be able to handle any case- no matter how difficult”. 

The result of his boasting was a surging influx of new children, all with wild and uncontrolled quirks. The various kids had been sent from a slew of neighboring programs- rectors of ill-equipped centers hearing about the directors “alleged success”, hoping that under his tutelage, their own “extreme cases” might be helped.

Seemingly overnight, the institute became glutted and chaotic.

Space was more valuable than ever, and only those with truely dangerous quirks were allowed to have their own room. 

It was thanks to his own efforts in learning control, that Hizashi (who up until that point had lived mostly in soundproofed isolation), was suddenly deemed competent enough to be moved out from his quiet world. 

With little fanfare or preparation, he was thrust into the community bunks. 

For a young boy who had spent so long in lonely solitude, the new situation was immediately thrilling and overwhelming. There were so many other children of different ages, sizes and abilities- all who were curious about him and wanted to play; it was wonderful!

Because he had been in separate isolation for so long, Hizashi was something of a mystery to the other kids; no matter, his bright and sunny personality quickly won over many of the curious and tentative onlookers, and It did not take long for him to acquire a small gaggle of friends.

For a brief time, things were fine. Better than fine! A new routine was established, and the small blond learned to adapt as best he could to the crowded chaos. I t was better than the constant loneliness at any rate.

Still, the adjustment was abrupt, no matter how welcome it was. 

To expect a young child (regardless of how well behaved) to fully transition to such a new mode of living without issue was asking a lot, and (as the days turned to weeks) a small Hizashi found himself becoming increasingly stressed and worn out. 

There was so much going on; too much stimulation- too many people.

What started as new and exciting soon became an unrelenting torrent of input: constant, unyielding, and drastically different from the small, quiet and singular space that had been solely his.

It didn't take long for it all to come to head.

After nearly a month of having been moved, the “incident” occurred: the one that shaped the next five years of his life.

Yamada clearly remembered it- and even as an adult, the childhood injustice remained seared in his mind: gnawing and humiliating in its playback. 

It happened on a saturday: the center’s most chaotic day (when there were no classes or quirk training lessons to help structure the time). The boy had just finished playing with some of the other kids and, (feeling tired and overstimulated) decided he needed to be alone for a while- the constant excitement of being surrounded by other rowdy children gradually wearing off. 

The only space now truly his was his bed, and sitting atop it, he decided to pull out his crayons and draw. 

Hizashi had always enjoyed the quiet forms of entertainment he was allowed to pursue; drawing, reading and writing came naturally to him- the endeavors made easy when he was so driven for diversion.

Because of this clear interest, his previous guardian brought him one of the few gifts he ever received: a small spiral-bound sketchbook. It was nothing special, but to Hizashi, it was an absolute treasure. He took it with him everywhere- its face covered in stickers- always close with a nearby pencil.

Just as he settled down to enjoy himself (book in hand), Kenta (one of the older and bigger kids) approached- roughly demanding that Hizashi come back to make even teams for the next game. 

It was at this point that Yamada often reflected: how different would things have turned out had he listened to the other boy? Would his situation be better? Or would he just delay the inevitable? He supposed It really didn't matter in the long run; afterall, one couldn’t go back and change the past…

What did matter was: at that point- the blonde refused. He didn't want to play more games, he wanted to sit by himself and draw . After telling Kenta just as much, Hizashi thought nothing of it: fully expecting the other boy to leave him alone and find some other candidate.

Instead, (to Hizashi’s shock and confusion) Kenta became angry, and without warning, reached over to snatch the sketchbook out of the blonde's hands; face turning ugly as he taunted and teased- waving his stolen book further out of reach. 

Hizashi could only gawk.

It was the first time in his young life that he ever experienced another child being outright mean- for until that point, bullies were a completely foreign concept. Hurt welled up within him; feelings raw and immense as he tried to reckon with the older kid's vindictive behavior. 

His response only seemed to delight Kenta further.

Instead of returning the book- the older kid increased his teasing before finally running off- prize still in hand. Distressed and unsure of what else to do, Hizashi followed- hoping that the older boy would stop; fretting what might happen if he didn’t. 

Upon reaching the outside play yard, he was met with a horrible sight. 

Kenta held the book aloft- jeering before pulling it open; flipping through its contents and showing the other kids what he had stolen. Simple drawings of heroes and animals alike were pulled out and scattered among the curious children- many of them excited and sensing a new form of entertainment that was far more interesting than whatever they had been doing before. 

The bully was now enjoying himself, and relishing the attention, he began to goad. 

“Wow blondie, you really suck… It's no wonder they kept you locked up for so long… It probably didn't even have anything to do with your dumb quirk. You just sucked too much to let out; I bet they thought you’d contaminate us with how lame you are!”

The words were childish and petty, but to Hizashi (who had never before been victim to such mockery) they were devastating .

Fighting to control his voice, the blonde stood his ground and protested the accusation, “That's not true! I'm not lame; my voice is just big, a-and i won't contaminate anyone?! Why would you say that?! Why are you ruining my book??”

His objection was loud and filled with emotion; how could anyone be so mean? He just had a strong quirk: that was the only reason he had been kept away- and why were they tearing out his drawings? He didn't understand why this was happening?

The other kids (who had gathered to watch the show) winced as Hizashi’s volume pitched up; his voice going from a controlled shout to a near boom - as abrupt and startling as an overhead thunderclap.

Kenta only stared in surprise- shocked at the sound that had just erupted from the smaller kid; then grinning, continued his goading. 

“Oh, you mean this thing?” he asked as he pulled at another page, ruthlessly splitting it in half.

“I don't know why you would want it back- everything in here looks like trash . I'm doing you a favor by getting rid of it for you! You should be thanking me!”

His last word was punctuated by another tearing page, and looking up, the boy grinned as he saw he had achieved his goal. He was getting a reaction: the small blonde was beginning to break.

Hizashi, who was already stressed, tired and confused, watched with despair as his treasured book was destroyed. Tears were welling up in his green eyes, and there was a visible hitch in his breath.

Fanning the flames of the upset, Kenta threw the book down and walked up to the blonde, forcefully shoving him down to the floor, laughing as the kid went down hard. “You’re pathetic and stupid… you can't draw, you have no friends, you cant even speak right! they should lock you back up so you stop contaminating the rest of us- no one really wants you here anyway.”

At that point, Hizashi’s gentle child heart was dealt a blow too new and too brutal to be ignored. The emotions he had been carrying finally overwhelmed him, and without meaning to, he began to cry.

It was like the breaking of a dam. 

Quiet sniffles grew to shuddering breaths- sounds mounting in both volume and intensity. There was a reverb in the air- space visibly distorted via the swelling cries of a child. 

It was at this point that the kid-audience began to look alarmed. They were unaware of exactly how powerful Hizashis quirk was, and it was clear that they would soon find out. Some began backing away, unsure of what to do and becoming frightened in their own right; a few slapped their hands over their ears- desperate to block out the deafening noise. 

Few had the sense to run and find an adult.

Finally, the small boy let out a broken sob, all of the hurt and confusion he felt fueling the cry into an outright bawl. Without reservation, Hizashi broke down- his distress escalating as the tentative control over his quirk slipped, allowing it to tear out of his chest with a crack.

The shockwave of sound charged through the area like a thunderclap- physically blasting outward like a bomb.

Even as an adult, Yamada couldn’t remember much of what happened next; he’d lost consciousness soon after that.

Evidently, one of the kids had been successful in finding an adult, and -taking initiative, had immediately alerted them to the situation.

The attendant quickly ran out to regain order, and had apparently seen fit to deal with the offending disturbance first hand. Using their own quirk (a short-lived “sleeping” bomb) they rendered Hizashi and his audience unconscious…  But the damage had already been done.

Most of the surrounding kids were in shock by their peers' display of power; several had sustained some level of injury from it, ranging from upset stomachs, severe headaches, tinnitus, a handful of burst eardrums and (for a few) physical scrapes and bruises. 

Kenta himself had been the recipient of acute hearing loss- though (for better or worse), he was the only one who sustained such direct harm. Beyond that, there had been enough property damage that the new director was forced to address the issue himself.

Serious question had to be asked: Could the center justify keeping Hizashi with the other children? He had already proven himself a danger. Regardless, his previous room was already assigned to a new child (one with an uncontrolled acid quirk) so re-isolating him was out of the question. 

They simply did not have the space. 

The establishment was still stretched so thin, and If the boy had another “episode” it would financially devastate the institute's limited resources, not to mention the potential loss of reputation... 

It was that thought that drove the rector to his final decision, and when Hizashi woke from his quirk induced sleep, it was to a grim new reality that would define the remainder of his stay at the institute.

They had decided to muzzle him. 

Aside from meals (which he took in isolation), it was effectively a permanent situation. No more speaking, no more laughing, no more noise. 

Just… forced quiet. 

Five years of forced quiet.

It was a hard road to say the least. 

At first, upon waking- Hizashi had been utterly distraught. He was panicky and apologetic- pulling at the binding over his face- confused and desperate to show that he was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again: that he would be good, be better if they would just take the device off! 

His genuine remorse did little for his situation. 

The director was insistent on the boy being muzzled, regardless of the effects on the child’s physical and mental wellbeing. Therefore, from that point on, the purveying themes of Hizashi’s existence became choked panic and constant claustrophobia.

A deep dread filled the blondes' days- the feeling amplified around meals: whenever the muzzle was pressed back over his jaw.

Because of the association, he began taking much longer to eat- wanting to defer his imprisonment for as long as possible. This form of protest only lasted so long; eventually, the staff would grow tired of waiting for him to finish his meals- and soon the muzzle would go back on- regardless of whether he had eaten or not. 

After a few short months, there was a clear difference in Hizashis physical state; his already thin body taking on a gaunt, malnourished look that spoke volumes toward his treatment. His hunger was constant- and not just for food, but for attention, help, and simple kindness.

While those feelings never truly dissipated, other opportunities did present themselves in unexpected ways. 

He was now “officially” deemed a “non-hazard”; and since his quirk had essentially been locked away, the blonde was seen with less derision and annoyance than ever before. Maybe that had to do with guilt on behalf of his caretakers, or maybe it was because (despite everything) he was still such a bright and well behaved boy… whatever the case, as time went by, he was given a few more allowances then he was accustomed to (specifically when it came to entertainment).

The center had a small library and of those who worked there, several were responsible for managing and placing book orders. Despite his inability to talk, it became commonplace for Hizashi to vye for their attention, always with a neat little handwritten list of book requests. 

Initially, they were childish in nature, usually revolving around topics such as heroes and fairytales. Eventually however, and as the years went by, his inquiries became notably advanced. Languages, history, art and quirk research were his most pursued topics, and as he finished each text, he would soon come back with requests for more at higher levels.

It came as little surprise to anyone that Hizashi was a bit of a savant. Whether it be due to his perpetual boredom and desire to self entertain, or if it was from a genuine hunger for learning, few but the boy could say. Regardless, he had become a voracious reader and artist. 

Even though he was never allowed to speak, he had a specific preoccupation with learning new languages, and spent much of his time studying and interpreting books in English, Korean, JSL, and french. That focus yielded great results: as he began to incorporate what he was researching into everyday life, it became clear that he was not only retaining what he was learning, but flourishing with it. The boy was teaching himself to the point of fluency. 

Still, as time went by, even those pursuits lost their luster. 

It escaped no one that a gradual change came over the once sunny blonde; where before was a pleasant and intelligent child, a clawing depression took root. There was no doubt it was due to the forced silence. The muzzle was inhibiting and dehumanizing- even the most cold and distant attendants could see that. Still, under the instruction of the director, Hizashi was to remain silenced: the fear of what might happen if he wasn’t far outweighing any sense of moral decency.

Finally, just after his tenth birthday, his world (which had been small and entirely too cruel) began to turn for the better.

Every quarter, the institute would receive an inspector: someone who was sent by the government to ensure the center was running smoothly and without error. Traditionally, it had been the same person: an old man who seemed to have as much disregard for his job as he did the state of the institute itself. 

Regardless of the obvious violations, he never seemed keen to press or cause too much of a fuss. His lack of action could have been due to apathy, or perhaps it was simply to spare himself the paperwork. Either way, it was only thanks to his clear indifference that the program had been allowed to function as it did without raising any kind of alarm. 

The day the inspector was slated to come was the day everything changed, for Instead of the bent old man, someone new had been sent in his place.

 Her name was Aiko Yamada.

The woman was well dressed and the picture of pristine professionalism: her attitude was bold and nearly cut-throat, especially as she began her assessment of the institute. Sure enough, once she started surveying the center, she was utterly ruthless in her judgment. 

Rather than giving a few cursory looks around, Yamada began a thorough and severe evaluation of the entire space, including (but limited to): the state and well being of the children, the programs meant to help them with their quirks, their caretakers and educators, their meals and schedules, and the actual advancement of quirk control being lauded. 

No stone was left unturned.  

It was during her examination that everything changed- her entire investigation stalled as soon as she saw him: the sad little blonde boy who sat by-himself in the corner.

Aiko’s eyes were instantly drawn to the muzzle- shocked and horrified at what she was seeing- fully convinced that no part of that could be ethical or necessary. Ceasing her intake, she began to approach; careful to keep her pace slow and open- certain of one thing as she moved forward: she would help this little boy . 

Just as she drew near, the boy looked up, his green eyes hollow, and betraying no emotion- only a dull, aching hopelessness. It was a look no child should ever have: a look born of neglect and abuse.

At that moment, Aiko knew three things: first- the director could not be allowed. He must be removed from his position.  

Second: she would do everything in her power to see the institution dismantled or properly renovated and vetted to the most extreme degree. 

Third: She could not leave this boy to suffer more abuse.

Within a month, Hizashi found himself in a new home entirely.

Aiko had wasted no time in calling her wife and quickly explained the situation; the following discussion had been short and absolute. 

The Yamadas were going to get him out.

And they did: quickly and effectively.

The two women were prepared (for it was not the first time they housed a displaced child), still, Hizashi had been a unique case- he was clearly neglected, abused, and depressed. Moreso, his quirk was genuinely strong, making his already difficult situation swathed in more unknowns. 

It did not matter. Aiko and her wife Rosa were committed to helping. 

What started as a cautious (and bumpy) transition gradually began to grow and flourish into something wonderful; both women stepped into their new roles as caretakers with no ounce of hesitation, regardless of the indefinite future.

Immediately, Hizashi’s life began to improve, for the very first thing that happened upon moving in was a glorious and active elimination of his muzzle. The Yamadas made it clear that as long as he was with them, he would not be a victim to it again. 

After he was settled in, the women did their best to find help: hiring both a therapist and quirk counselor to work with him (someone who could help train and develop his ability). 

To everyone's surprise, Hizashi turned out to be incredibly adept at it. He was focused, driven, and articulate, even after having been silenced for so many years. He was also as smart as a whip and a hungry learner- pushing through levels of training at breakneck speed. 

Still, as good as it was to see him succeed, it was clear that he was afraid of failure: that and its possible repercussions.   

There was of course, nothing to fear.

Early into his stay, both Aiko and Rosa had decided to protect, love and nurture Hizashi with all they had; never again would he be subject to harm- not while he was their boy. No matter, as much as they tried to reassure him of that, there were mountains of trauma to overcome. 

Simply put: the difficulties and hardships of his previous life had left wounds that could not be undone so easily. 

Nevertheless, they continued to support him- doing everything in their power to help him heal and eventually thrive. They were kind, patient, generous, and (above all) loving: offering him sanctuary and comfort in a world he’d been conditioned to fear. 

As time passed Hizashi’s spirit gradually found restoration. 

Where before he was shy and tentative in his interactions, Hizashi slowly began to grow- to break free of his depressive shell. The happy, intelligent and charismatic personality (that had once faced consistent rebuke) began to reemerge- brighter, bolder and more dynamic than ever. It was a delight for all to witness, and on the one year anniversary of him being rescued- his new mothers presented him with one of the greatest gifts he’d ever received: formal adoption papers. 

It was one of the best days of his life.

Still, nothing could be perfect, and while his home life continued to grow in bliss and love, there were still several instances that managed to scar him in congruence with his past. 

First was at his junior highschool: one of his teachers (fed up and irritated with his imperfect volume control) had one day sent him to detention for “being a disturbance”. It was only after he arrived to serve his time that the woman insisted he wear a muzzle for the duration of his sentence. It (unfortunately) wasn't an unheard of response within the school, and the teacher insisted upon its use, stating that the next time he lost control, she would not hesitate to have him forcibly silenced once more. Hizashi had gone home to his mothers rigid and mute with fear, not wanting to risk any kind of trouble lest he be forced back into the hated device. 

Rosa immediately sensed something was wrong and (after gentle persuasion) was able to get him to open up and explain what happened. Through choked tears and cautious whispering, Hizashi told them what happened and immediately, Aiko responded like a wrathful bear. She descended upon the school in a righteous anger: demanding justice and threatening legal action. Suffice it to say, Hizashi moved classes and never received such threats again.

Another occurrence had (strangely enough) been during his time at UA, and remained an instance that was crystal clear in his memory- not for the event itself, but rather: for its aftermath.

It had been during his second year of high school: on a clear and breezy day. Bright white clouds sailed high- pushed by a gentle wind that held a sweet promise of summer.

Hizashi, Shouta and Oboro were conducting business as usual (that was, sitting around on the steps outside the cafeteria and teasing each other as they ate lunch; haphazardly studying as they enjoyed the day).

It had all been so right and so wonderful- their biggest concerns revolving around potential future work-studies and more immediately, the language test they had next period.

“English is dumb and this is pointless ,” grumbled a vexed Aizawa, “the grammar doesn’t make sense and these pronunciations seem fake...”

“It's true and you should say it!” quipped an equally indignant Shirakumo; then, putting on a cheesy announcer voice and thrumming his hands in mimicry of a drumroll, he continued “it's a good thing we got our Ace-in-the-hole, our special-little-something, that super-secret-solution to all our problems: english speaker extraordinaire… (we all know and love him)… Hizashi Yamada !!!” 

Hizashi stood and gave an overdramatic bow, sweeping low as Oboro encouraged him with theatrical applause.

“Yes, thank you thank you dear listeners!!!” laughed Yamada, “I humbly accept all your praise and adulation… Please, go on !!!”

Shouta rolled his eyes at his friend's antics, still smiling despite himself.

“You’re both ridiculous,”

“Ridiculously intelligent I think you mean?” snarked the blonde, “Afterall, who’s been the one essentially carrying you through this class? I should start charging you both a tutoring fee for all the hours I put in!”

“Pshh,” waved Shirakumo, “we all know you like having an excuse to flaunt that stupid-smart brain of yours: don't pretend like our suffering isn't fun for you.”

“Yeah, well- at least I'm not as bad as Shouta- he uses every opportunity to kick-our-asses when training… So! I ask you: would you rather a physical beat down, or a mental one?”

The brunette quirked an eyebrow at the observation but didn't bother denying anything.

“Man, I need better friends” Sighed Oboro, sitting back on the steps as he heaved a sigh. “Stuck between a rock and a hard place… you both are just out for my blood.”

Aizawa gave one of his signature creepy grins, while Hizashi simply cackled in delight, raising his hands in mimicry of a vampire.

It was at that moment the trio was interrupted.

Three students from class 2B had strode up from behind, looks of pensive irritation on their faces. The boys immediately recognized them as goons of Sensoji, though said asshat wasn't anywhere in sight. The newcomers obviously had no patience or interest in the shenanigans taking place and instead, broke in with abrupt brashness.

“You, blondie. You're the one that's good at english, right?” Kureno Aoki -the tallest of the three, demanded. 

Hizashi, (who was still standing) spun around to face them. “Sure, but what's it to you Aoki?” His tone was playful but guarded. These guys were notorious for being rude and disruptive- prone to bouts of bragging (regardless of their actual performance)- especially in comparison to other students of the hero course.

Ignoring any discomfort, Kureno continued: “Me and my buddies need help with the english test; if we fail it, we go on academic probation and risk losing our spots in the hero course. You need to give us the answers.”

Yamada laughed in surprise while behind him, Aizawa and Shirkumo shared a terse look of unease.

“Yo my man, it’s pretty late in the game for tutoring. That test is next period for us, and your class has english right after- you should have thought of this a long time ago.”

Kureno scowled, “I never said anything about tutoring, dumbass... you take the test and give me the answers. I know you’ll get it right. Just pass them to me after you finish.”

This time, Shouta was the one who responded,brow furrowed and voice hard. “He’s not gonna help you cheat Aoki. Don't even bother. You guys should get lost...”

“Yeah!” Oboro’s voice was clipped, “This is your problem… leave Yamada out of it.”

“Sorry bud, but I’m gonna have to agree with my friends on this one… this is not my problem and I don’t help cheaters. Be glad I'm not a narc.” crossing his arms in front of his chest, Hizashi leveled the other three boys with a cool stare. “I suggest you use this time to study, that’s the smart thing to do.”

Kureno snarled, his two friends backing him up with lethal glares.

“If we fail this test, it’s on you loudmouth… remember that.”

The blonde shrugged, “Actually, it would be on you . Now if you don't mind, we have a test to ace.” Without waiting for a response, he turned his back on them to face his friends (mouthing a silent “wow” as Aoki and his troop stormed off).

“Geeze, those guys are something else...” mumbled Oboro, unimpressed and irritated. “What, did they really think you would agree to helping them cheat? I mean, this is literally U.A... ya know, the hero school?”

“Something tells me that's less important to them than it is to us...” commented Shouta, “still, way to tell em Hizashi.”

Yamada blushed and waved his hand, dismissing the compliment while Oboro watched the exchange with a predatory grin. “Um! It’s nothing! I mean- you guys totally told them off too! Like, go team! a-anyway- we should get to class. I have a feeling you guys will have nothing to worry about as far as this test goes… at least in comparison to some people.”

That seemed to end it, and together, the three packed up their mess and made their way back inside.

Hizashi had been right; Aizawa and Shirakumo were well prepared, and both felt confident that they had done well on the exam. Yamada had (of course) achieved a perfect score, and as a group, the three enjoyed their small victory, largely forgetting the strange exchange from lunch.

It wasn't until several days later- on Friday, that the interaction seemed relevant.

Class 2-A had enjoyed a relatively straightforward school day. All classes had gone smoothly, and they received their grades back for their english test. Hero and quirk training had been fun and messy (focusing on search and rescue in mudslide environments), and once they were done, the students sped to the locker rooms, ready to clean up and head home.

Hizashi and Oboro were excitedly making plans for the weekend, eager to see some new movie that had just come out and trying to convince Shouta to join them. 

“C-mon Sho! It's gonna be great. We can get Kayama and Iida to join us... ” pled Shirakumo.

“Yeah! And afterwards, we can grab dinner at the new udon place that opened across the street from the theater; I heard it’s pretty good!” added Yamada.

Aizawa was less interested in the movie (seeing as he would rather be napping or doing something/anything more productive), but enjoyed the idea of good food and spending time with his friends. Also, it would be nice to catch up with Iida and Kayama… the upperclassmen seemed to actually enjoy spending time with the trio of second years, and while both students had their oddities, Shouta found that he liked their company well enough.

Finally, he shrugged in ascent. “Sure, but you both have to promise that if I fall asleep during the movie, neither of you will wake me up.”

Oboro stepped back in mock affront, hand splayed on his chest “You think we would dare raise sleeping beauty from his nap?!? You doubt our common sense?!?” 

“We know the drill Shouta! We just want you to be there!” laughed Hizashi, “it's always better when you’re around!”

The brunette rolled his eyes but buried himself further into the muddied capture weapon that was slung around his neck, trying and failing to hide a vague blush.

By that point, all three had made it to the locker rooms and began the process of packing up their support items and costumes. Typically, it was an easy enough task, seeing as none of their weapons or gear were particularly complex. They had mostly finished and both Aizawa and Shirakumo had already made their way to the showers to rinse off when Yamada let out a mild groan of irritation. 

His wrist mounted directional speakers were not working properly. It was clear that the mud from training had shorted something out in their wiring, and now the support items were fritzing as he tried to clean them. 

Sticking his head down the hall towards the showers, he called out “Hey guys, I need to run by the development studio real fast and get some help with my gear! When you get out, call Nemuri and Tensei and tell them to join us!”

Oboro’s voice called back in affirmation, “Sure but don't take too long!”

“I won’t!” Hizashi assured, “I’ll meet you in the front courtyard in like, twenty minutes!” Then (grabbing his unruly gear) he ran out the door toward the support course studio.

The venture should have been short- just a quick drop off and then he could race back to the locker room, change and meet up with his friends; but of course, life could never be that simple.

The corridors of UA were deserted, all students had been eager to head off campus and enjoy the weekend- as such, the blond's footsteps echoed as he jogged down the empty hall.

He was nearly to the design studio when all of the sudden, a sharp voice barked out behind him, its aggressive and demanding tone catching him off guard. Whirling around, Yamada blinked in surprise, searching for his mystery caller. Soon enough, he spotted him. 

There, standing in the doorway to an abandoned classroom, was Kureno Aoki and his two friends from earlier. 

The other boys looked wrathful, and Hizashi found himself feeling somewhat defensive, but that was stupid, these guys are fellow hero course students… they wouldn’t try anything…

Still, a surge of adrenaline hit his system, the familiar pull for fight or flight.

Pushing the urge for action out of his mind, the blond pulled on a friendly grin; deciding to see what they had to say rather than assuming the worst.

“Oh hey guys! What’s going on?”

Aoki’s eyes widened, and his angry look darkened further, ”Are you fucking serious ?  You’re asking how's it going??? After you totally screwed us over?”

“Oh,” so that's what these guys were upset about ... 

“Still mad that I didn’t help you cheat, huh?” Yamada hummed thoughtfully, kicking out a long leg and crossing his arms in front of himself. “Can’t say I feel bad about that one… I take it you didn’t do so hot?”

“You self-righteous little prick!” Kureno growled, “Because of you, we’re now on academic probation. We might lose our spots in the hero course; Goto might get kicked out completely!” He gestured to the boy on his left before pointing an accusing finger towards the blonde “and it’s all your fucking fault...”

Hizashi raised his hands placatingly, “Yo yo yo guys; hold up. It sounds like there were a whole slew of problems you had… this test is just the straw that broke the camel's back, and that's not on me. I’m not responsible for your issues, and I’m not gonna take whatever blame you’re slinging. Sucks that your hero spots are at risk, honestly it does, but it sounds like something you should take up with a school counselor or your home room teacher- not me. Now, if you’ll excuse me- I gotta go.”