Work Text:
“Someone help!”
Neito rowed his elbows through the crowd, the hubbub around him progressively growing as more and more people noticed the large carmine stain on the floor. Panicked shouts started to fuse, the students and teachers all yelling over one another.
“Where is Recovery Girl?!”
“She’s busy healing a boy who broke all his limbs.”
“ All his limbs?!”
A squad of helpers and nurses flowed into the huge stadium, where thousands of people sat on bleachers high up, only able to watch as a student laid in his own pool of blood. A team of four people pushed the pupils aside, taking place around the body ahead of Neito. The blond boy slowly made his way further, until the drag of the mass and people ignoring him got too much of a pain. He roughly pushed a girl aside, not caring an ounce if she fell.
“I can help! I can heal him!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.
The people around him all turned their gaze on the blond student, the rescue team lifted their heads up without stopping their work as they operated quickly to try and reduce the loss of blood.
“Do you have a Healing Quirk?”
“No… But yes.”
“Wha—?”
“Listen, I can heal him right now, so if you want me to do anything, then PLEASE fucking step aside!” He declared as he finally emerged from the crowd, panting heavily as he tried to contain the rush of power flowing inside his veins.
The helpers got off the poor injured student, leaving room for Monoma to kneel next to the body. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, stretching his fingers quickly as he held in the need to throw up at the sight of scarlet ink gushing out of the boy’s stomach. His fingers hovered above the skin, their tips glowing with a soft green halo.
A man with light brown hair squatted on the other side of the wounded, his eyes squinted at the new arrivant. Neito swallowed back his panic, trying to show as little distress as possible.
“Boy, do you even know what you’re doing?” The man asked.
Monoma gulped as he approached his hands to the boy’s torso, identifying him as the guy who could shoot tape from his elbows. He ignored the numerous gazes on him, answering with as much honesty as he could.
“Nope, not a clue. But I can only make things better.” He confessed as he looked up.
A confused frown appeared on the man’s face, his expression filled with worry as he watched the blond’s hands lower themselves onto the bloodied flesh.
“Here we go…” The student muttered to himself.
As soon as his palms came in contact with the skin, a wave of warm and appeasing energy rushed through his arms, coming to accumulate in his hands, tinting his pale skin with a soft green glow. Neito sucked a sharp breath in, hissing at how powerful the power in his veins was, clenching his teeth to try and control it. He brushed his palms over the wounds, his actions accompanied with triumphant gasps from the numerous spectators around him as the small cuts closed themselves neatly under his hands, disappearing like bad dreams under his touch, as if they had never been there.
The reason for his struggle was quite simple; this power was strong. So strong, that it was in possession of the one and only Recovery Girl, a now old woman who had been blessed with an extremely rare Quirk that enabled her to heal any wound. She was the only one on earth to possess such a power.
…Until the moment Neito had rushed into her office.
“Sorry! I’ll explain later!” He shouted as he ran out of the temporary infirmary under the protests of his eldest.
Neito sprinted towards the entrance of the stadium, already counting seconds in his head as he took a sharp turn. He held the dry grey strand of hair tightly in his fist, muscles trembling as the high level power flooded his body and nerves. His hands tingled, almost itching to be used when he neared the crowd and the yells drowned out any other noise.
Neito’s Quirk was a rare one as well: Copy. With it, he could copy any other Quirk that wasn’t a Mutant one; those didn’t really work with him. All he needed to do to access a Quirk was a physical contact. Even the slightest would work, hence why he was running across a stadium with an old woman’s hair trapped in his fist. If he could channel and control enough energy, he could make a huge difference in the situation.
The matches going on a little earlier had turned more violent than expected, and a student had been greatly injured. Usually, it wouldn’t have been much of a problem given that Recovery Girl would’ve been standing nearby to take care of the wounds immediately. Unfortunately, the latter was very busy saving another boy’s life in the infirmary, which meant unless Monoma took things in his own hands, someone would die.
Now Neito’s palms brushed over the injuries, trembling as he tried to breathe evenly. There were many very important people in the bleachers, looking out for anyone they thought strong enough to join their agencies. If he proved himself good enough, they would definitely spot him. He hadn’t stood out a lot throughout the events of the day, so this would be his time to shine.
The maximum time he could hold onto a Quirk after touch was five minutes, but having stolen a strand of hair, he should be able to use the power as long as he wished if he kept it safely in his pocket.
The more his clumsy hands moved over the injured student’s limbs, the more impressed chatter could be heard as the cuts and burns slowly healed. Neito clenched his jaw, the flow of power coming out of fingertips straining. It was as if his hands had become the weak regulators to an uncontrollable flow, unable to keep everything steady so they shook in a vain attempt to regain control. It was obvious why this Quirk was so special and took years to master; it was extremely powerful. Neito wasn’t sure he could draw out its maximal potential before many training sessions. And that was, if Recovery Girl ever forgave him for being so disrespectful, and accepted that he usurped her power again.
Although his Quirk only gave him access to the basic ability of the owner, he could still feel the strength and determine the level of power when copying someone’s Quirk. This came in very handy whenever he ran through large crowds, running his hands on people’s back to try and get the most powerful and fun Quirks he could. His gift wasn’t really one to play around with, but he’d gotten impressively good at dealing and controlling whichever powers he came across, getting the hang of them in a matter of seconds.
Just as Neito’s eyes focused back onto the filthy mess underneath him, pearls of sweat beaded down his temple, his hands shaking and breath heavy under the force. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, regaining control by focusing on the main wound at the boy’s waist and unleashing the flow of energy there.
The leader of the nurses squad must have noticed, because he put a hand over the blond’s shoulder, his voice gentle as he spoke.
“Can you tell me what your Quirk is?”
“Copy.” Neito answered between his teeth, hissing at the strong vibrations in his hands.
The man’s eyes brightened up as he let out a small ‘oh’ and sat back, working with his team to bandage over the parts Monoma healed one after the other.
After three minutes had gone by, the blond felt a shudder inside his chest, sign that his time was up. Soon, the Quirk would fade out like an ephemeral gift, leaving his body an empty vessel of pure energy until he found another one to copy. The stronger the power, the harder it was to hold onto. The glow slowly faded as he pressed his hands down onto the boy’s torso, snatching Monoma a frustrated grunt. He brought his palms on his thighs, panting heavily before he passed an arm on his forehead to get rid of the sweat accumulated there.
“Are you at your limit?” The helper asked, his tone serious and concerned.
“No.” Neito lied, sliding a hand into his pocket to touch the hair again.
He didn’t care if his muscles were sore and he fainted afterwards; the student’s condition was still critical due to Monoma’s non-existent technique in healing, which meant he was going to have to push through the exhaustion and finish the job.
Just as his fingers were about to brush over the strand of hair again, a messy indigo tuft emerged from the crowd of students gathered around him. Shinso walked into the light, his dead eyes falling upon his boyfriend calmly. He walked over the body with no trouble; the people moved out of his way without question, their faces twisting with tints of fear and curiosity towards the new arrivant. From where Neito was, it almost looked as if the crowd shifted away from Hitoshi, as if he were the worst pest there was, but unwilling to show their disgust to the sunlight in fear of being targeted. The pale student did not seem to mind an ounce, simply taking a step after the other before he kneeled next to the nurse, his dark gaze settling on the scene.
“Don’t push it too much.” He addressed his boyfriend coldly, his tone flat and bored.
Neito nodded, blond eyelashes batting as his look fell on the usual black bags under Shinso’s eyes.
“But it doesn’t matter if I faint, I can always rest.” He retorted, his eager fingertips coming in contact with the grey hair inside his pocket.
He let out an involuntary gasp as his body shook with jolts of energy once more. The after effect tingling he usually felt in his hands once done using a Quirk was washed over by the wave of power, his veins inflating again with energy as he brought his palms over the body. Unlike the first time, he already knew what to expect. The power still seemed strong, but somewhat lesser this time. Neito smiled internally; he was already getting used to such power and his body had memorised the Quirk well enough to make it easier to absorb.
Possessing a Copying Quirk meant he was constantly boiling with energy, like a vessel waiting to be used. He got dopamine from copying Quirks over Quirks, it drugged him with an overall feeling of well-being that convinced him the after effects and soreness were worth it. If he mastered a Quirk, his body would be fully used to it and he wouldn’t feel any strike back. Brainwashing was Shinso’s Quirk, and Monoma had mastered it long ago.
He hated to admit it, but when he first met the boy that would later become his boyfriend, he was only looking to copy and master this rare exciting power. But under the intelligent gaze, Neito could now proudly say that there was much more to Hitoshi than his Mind Control Quirk. The blond took a deep breath, his eyes scanning over the injuries with more self control and calm now.
The student had suffered rather bad head injuries, blood leaked on the grassy ground where his head laid. A few nurses were already disinfecting and bandaging the zone, so Neito noted it as second most important. His eyes dropped to the blood at the student’s side. It seemed to have been pierced by some sort of spears or spikes that had cut through the skin and damaged his waist and limbs. The fabric of his uniform was ripped around his legs too, and the sleeves were almost fully gone, coming off the body as remnants of fabric. It was hard to even tell where anything was when the poor boy’s body was fully covered in blood.
A closer look at the spiky black hair triggered a name in Neito’s head. This must have been the student who fought against that Half-hot Half-cold guy in the matches… He remembered going to the washroom before the next match started and coming back to find this bloody scene.
A quick look around informed him that the boy with bicoloured hair was only a few meters away, his face hanging low, more annoyed than remorseful. He didn’t even have scratch, which meant he probably had destroyed his opponent in a matter of seconds. What was this guy exactly? A robot?
If he remembered correctly, the injured student must have been Hanta Sero from class 1-A. What had this idiot done in his match to get hurt so badly?
Neito lowered his hands over the ribs, sucking in a sharp breath as his palms came in contact with the wet fabric of the ripped uniform. Weirdly, the whole outfit was damp, as if water had been splashed on it. Was this due to that icy hot guy? Had he created ice which had melted? And how much ice?
Another stolen gaze at the boy in question later, another name emerged from the depth of Monoma’s memory: Shoto Todoroki, Endeavor’s son, and a student that had gotten in through recommendations, remarkable Quirk and physical skills. A shiver crept up Neito’s back, and he shook his head, deciding to get to work.
He calmly and precautionously lowered his hands onto the waist injury, not putting up a fight to let the energy flow out of his fingertips. However, his concentration was partially broken when panicked yelps came from the crowd in front of him.
“Ahhhh! Oh my God, oh my Satan, no but Katsuki you don’t understand! Look! Blood!! Oh lord, blood . I’m going to faint, I’m—” A blond with messy hair streaked with a black lightning bolt on the side jumped around his strong classmate with an Explosive Quirk, completely panicked and out of breath before his legs gave up and his eyes rolled white.
A girl with dark purple hair and long ears that ended in plugs caught him, whispering something under her breath that resembled something like ‘idiot…’, before she dragged his body away from the bloody scene.
Denki Kaminari… Neito mentally noted. If he was correct, this was the boy who’d sworn he’d beat Ibara and her Vines Quirk in a matter of seconds, before he had been utterly obliterated by the latter and had lost the match, not getting the date he had asked for, on top of everything else.
How many idiots are there in class 1-A? Neito sighed deeply, his vision starting to dot itself with white spots, indicating he was reaching his limit.
Nevertheless, he persevered, conscious more noise was rising around him but not caring, his eyes and efforts concentrated only on the reducing amount of red flesh that could be seen. He wiped some blood away with his palm, a gesture that would have usually seemed gross to him but which didn’t bother him at all in the moment. He was still on his knees, legs tingling and itching with the prolonged position. Soon, a new kind of sparkling added itself to the lot, making his limbs vibrate and shake, almost like a used motor reaching its power limit. The white progressively obscured his left eye entirely, causing him to cough and swallow harshly.
“You should stop.” Hitoshi’s voice floated to his ears.
“But I just need a li-little more time!”
“Neito, stop now. Do you want to hurt yourself?”
“No but—”
Suddenly, his limbs weren’t his anymore. His mind blanked out, arms fell back to his sides, leaving his body standing like an empty envelope. An overwhelming nothingness came to envelop him, rendering him numb, only able to watch and hear from a far distance as his own body refused to answer his calls.
“Sorry, I knew you wouldn’t stop.” Said a clear voice in his head, the only one that actually felt close to him.
A blurry mess of indigo hair rose from the floor in front of Neito to walk to his side, the footsteps echoing as if they were immensely far away in the blond’s head. He felt a touch on his shoulder and a pair of arms pulling him away from Sero’s injured body. The tingling in his palms intensified, giving its last vibrations out before the power left his body, leaving it empty and aching as a heavy headache brought Neito back on earth.
His back was resting against Hitoshi’s torso and shoulder, preventing him from falling into the dirt. He blinked several times as he felt a hand was being rubbed on his upper arm. An old small lady with grey hair was now where he’d been standing a few seconds ago — or what felt like it — and was busy hovering her own palms over the injuries as she worked with the emergency team.
“Recovery Girl is here now, you can calm down.” Shinso said from behind him in a flat tone.
Neito sighed, bringing his hands up to his face to rub his eyes.
“For how long has she been here?”
“Long enough to see your talent.” Said a raspy voice.
His body shot up as the old lady spoke, her squinted eyes directed at him. Neito felt the earlier embarrassment come crashing back down on him. He stuttered lists of apologise, agitating his hands with exhaustion as he tried to justify snatching strands of hair from the skull of a respected woman with no explanation. She did not reply.
“Done.” Recovery Girl stated, giving Sero a rather repulsing grandma kiss on the cheek just before turning to the guilty blond student as the helpers wrapped the freshly healed boy in a blanket and took him away.
The old lady walked her best closer to Neito, who was now sat up, trying to keep his back straight although his whole body was whining for rest. She extended a hand to put it on his shoulder, making him look her in the eyes as she spoke.
“I am not mad at you, boy. You had your reasons and I am definitely not going to hold it against you. What you did was incredible. You have so much potential, I’m almost angry no one told me about you before! I would be honoured if you accepted to come see me every so often so we could train your copied version of my power together; I could really use a part-time assistant.”
He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t getting told off, he was praised instead? A subtle red crawled up to his cheek under the compliments. He usually showed the part of him with an oversized ego to appear confident, but he secretly wasn’t, which made the remarks even more significant to him. He’d always thought he was just a copy… But people actually wanted his help?
“Now for your first lesson: don’t snatch my hair when working!” Recovery Girl added before laughing at his surprised face. When her voice came down, she said softly: “Go get some rest now, you deserve it.” She nodded at Hitoshi still behind Neito, then walked off on her short tired legs.
The two boys were left in the stadium, suddenly conscious of the thousands of eyes staring down at them. The noises rose again, and Shinso was quick to pass an arm under Monoma’s legs.
“What are you doing?!” The blond protested.
“Getting you to rest, just like I’ve been ordered.” The other replied coldly, a smug smirk making itself at home on his face.
The blond pouted as his boyfriend lifted him up, before slowly melting into the hold as the rhythm of Shinso’s steps swayed him elegantly from left to right. He cradled into his arms, letting his eyes fall shut as a warm sensation took over him.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me; I’m literally about to drop you. Jeez, how are you so heavy?” Shinso hissed between his teeth.
The remark woke him up momentarily, his head snapping up.
“Hey! I’m not that heavy!” He protested rather loudly.
“Shut up, show off.”
Neito hid his face in Hitoshi’s neck, mumbling his response like a kid who didn’t like to get called out.
“I’m not a show off…”
Shinso’s throat quivered with a half laugh, the vibrations from his torso enjoyable to Neito as he snuggled in his arms further. He liked being carried like a princess, so what?
“You’re the least romantic ever.”
“Says the guy with blood all over his hands…”
“ Shut up !” He squirmed childishly, snatching his boyfriend a laugh which turned into a distressed noise.
“Stop moving! I’m going to drop you!”
“You won’t.” Monoma stated, rising high enough to press a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.
He had recently found it was the only effective way to shut him up. And as expected, Shinso didn’t add anything else; his smile did the talking in his place.