Chapter Text
She was back in the alley, again. Her body was being forced up against the brick wall with her skirt lifted to her waist, calloused hands of some stupid client who paid Shizumi extra to take her out back were holding a bruising grip on her wrists and his nose was buried in the crook of her neck.
Kei had been here multiple times before, pushed up against the exact wall with some man she didn’t know holding her down. She used to be able to drift off, thinking of something else that would distract her from whatever disgusting sounds that came out from the man on top of her but she hadn’t done that in a while. Not since the new quirk suppressant upgrade that Shizumi brought in. Now all she could focus on was the vile feeling in her stomach as hands roamed her body.
Still, she was used to the feeling. Kei had long since given up on thinking that someone would help her, that maybe some Pro Hero would come across what they thought was just public indecency and see that Kei was just a kid and that she didn’t want to be there. It took almost a whole year, but Kei finally realized no one would help her. That she wasn’t worth saving. Why would a hero waste time on her when they could be stopping some nice family from getting robbed or murdered?
Kei had thought that she didn’t care what happened to her anymore. Whether Shizumi would ever let her debt go or just keep her until clients got bored or Kei just dropped dead. Maybe Shizumi would be the one to put a knife through her heart, or maybe it’d be some angry unsatisfied client with a dangerous quirk. Either way, Kei didn’t think she would care.
Kei must have been wrong because now all she could think about was the conversation she overheard between Shizumi and her little pet bodyguard.
“It’s a shame really…I’ve only gotten 3 years off of her. She’s fairly popular too, it’ll be a dent in my income for a short while.”
“Nothing 4 million yen won’t fix. It seems drastic but you could get a good amount out of her this week and leave Boulder to take care of the rest. He can pick up the payday and you’ll be able to pay for that shipment of suppressants now instead of next month.”
“I know, I know. But aren’t you curious? I mean what did our little Suzu do to make her death worth 4 million yen?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. It’s not the first girl we’ve had a hit on and I doubt it will be the last.”
Kei didn’t need to know the specifics. She was going to die. Boulder was the bodyguard sent to pick Kei up in an hour and take her back to the rundown hell whole, but apparently, he’d just take her pay and kill her, giving Shizumi 4 million yen.
Kei didn’t think that she would mind dying, but now that she was so close to it, she was beginning to panic. Maybe it was giving Shizumi 4 million yen out of her death that made Kei want to throw up. She must have earned the woman millions in her years with her, hell maybe she already paid off her debt that was due and Shizumi just wanted more out of her. In Kei’s perfect scenario, her death would be to spite Shizumi, to escape her. Now, it seemed that death would only bring a smile to the wrinkly face that haunted her sleep.
“No…no…” Kei started to shake her head as she felt her breathing pick up and her eyes start to water. Not like this, not like this. Not after everything…
“What the hell?” The man holding her down muttered. “Stop fucking moving would you?”
“Get off.” Kei twisted one of her wrists out of the man’s now-slacked grip. “Get off of me.”
“What? The hell are you talking about?” His breath reeked of cigarettes and stale beer as he stared down at the girl. He must have been at least in his thirties judging by the wrinkles around his eyes. “Suzu-”
“I said get off of me!” Kei hated the name Suzu. Her surname was Suzuki before Shizumi had her death grip on her. Suzu was the first thing the old hag could come up with and that’s what the men who paid for her knew her by. Her name was Kei. Not Suzuki or Suzu, just Kei.
“Hey! I paid good money, little shit!” The man started to yell and moved her grip to Kei’s waist. She didn’t see a way out. Boulder would come to collect the other 200,000yen from the man soon and she did not doubt that he could easily chase her down.
The alley was littered with old food containers, broken beer bottles, and even some dirty syringes. If she could get to the closest broken bottle then she could take the opportunity to threaten him and run. It would be her only option since she’d been filled to the brim with quirk suppressants for years. She could hardly remember the feeling of shock going through her fingers as blue sparks flickered from one to the other.
Thankfully, Kei was in the perfect position to knee the man between his legs.
She turned her back on him for only a second to lean down to grab a broken bottle, but when she turned back he was gone. Kei was about to just forget about him and run out of the alley but before she could even step forward, an arm wrapped around her neck and pulled her back.
“What the hell is the big idea?” A teleportation quirk, Kei would assume. God, she is such an idiot. Of course just because her quirk is inactive doesn’t mean his is as well. The man kept talking, but all Kei could focus on was her feet being lifted off the ground as the grip on her neck tightened. Her airway was cut off and it wasn’t long before her vision blurred.
No. No. No. No. Not like this. Please, not like this. This can’t be it.
Kei tried to take in her surroundings, find something to ground herself. The feeling of muscle around her neck wouldn’t do. The air was humid and hot against her skin. The feeling of her stupid latex skirt Shizumi forced her to wear for years was almost unbearable but it was nothing compared to the heat of the glass bottle-
The bottle.
It was already broken, the edges sharp enough to cut. She could bring it up to his arm, forcing him to let her go, and then make a run for it. She’d discard the stupid heels and risk getting cut by rocks and broken glass. She just needed to bring her hand up, right to her neck, and then she could-
—
Izuku wasn’t supposed to be out that night. His last patrol left him with a nasty cut on his hip that made it impossible to move without the scab opening up and bleeding, Tanaka even told him to skip their daily training and leave it to Hitoshi for the next few days. But of course, Izuku couldn’t just do nothing all day and expect to spend the night peacefully without any nightmares waking him.
After one particular cruel awakening, he shrugged on his green hoodie and wrapped his black scarf around the lower part of his face, and took off, leaving a small note for Hitoshi and grabbing a few smoke bombs and flash bangs from his supply. He’d done a lot more with a lot worse injuries, so he assumed he’d be fine.
He was right, for the most part anyway.
He stopped a few drunk teens from vandalizing a mural of All Might, knocked out a man trying to rob some poor old lady, and even stole a few of Ronnie's supplies for Dabi. He felt a little bad about it, but he felt worse about supporting Dabi’s drug problem, sadly he did need a roof over his head and he didn’t have any money to get one the good samaritan way. So, stealing from Ronnie was his monthly pay.
It was around 4 in the morning when Izuku finally decided to call it a night. He wasn’t able to use rooftops as a means of transportation any more thanks to a certain underground hero who had been on his tail, so alleyways had started to become his friend. Though he would much rather prefer the former.
He drifted pretty far from where he usually would patrol but he still expected to be back by sunrise if he hurried. That was until he got sidetracked by what he thought sounded like crying.
Low and behold, the next alley he came to held a silhouette of a girl curled up against the wall and a body lying motionless on the ground.
Izuku didn’t want to startle the girl, but he couldn’t help but raise his voice when he saw the blood covering her hands.
“Hey, are you okay?” Even though he asked, he had a feeling that it wasn’t her blood. He walked farther into the alley and got a better look at the scene.
Only a few feet away from the girl was a man, rather old-looking with his arm held out to his side as blood pooled from it, but the majority of it looked to be coming from his neck where a bottle stuck out. The girl was covered in blood, having it spattered in her dark-colored hair and over the skin of her face, neck, and arms.
It only took Izuku a few seconds to put together a small idea of what happened. The man's belt buckle was undone and his pants were down to his thighs, the girl was dressed in nothing but a small skirt and skimpy tank top with six-inch heels and a full face of makeup, though it was smeared with blood and tears. Prostitutes were a common thing, hell, they were more common than a person with a full-time job and no illegal activity on the side, but they were all older than this one. When Izuku looked closely, he could tell that she couldn’t be far from his own age.
The sight made him feel sick, he wanted nothing more than to keel over and vomit at the sight of blood and torn skin splattered across the bricks and floor but there were more important matters at hand. Such as the hyperventilating girl that was covered in blood.
“Hey…” Izuku had dealt with talking to victims before. After he tied up robbers or ran attackers off he would smile and make sure people were okay before asking them to call the police or go get checked for injuries. Now, however, he was dealing with a girl covered in blood who could have quite possibly murdered a man who was paying her to…How would he even try to start a conversation? He cleared his throat and decided to try again. “Excuse me, miss? Can you hear me?”
She was breathing heavily and rocking back and forth with her fingers tangled through her hair and her eyes shut tightly. She stopped sobbing in favor of gasping for air.
“Hey, look at me okay. I need you to look at me.” Izuku had experienced panic attacks before, but he had never helped anyone through theirs. He was always alone when he would spiral and would take care of himself afterward but he had no clue how to even try to help this girl in the middle of one.
Eventually, he decided that he couldn’t do much of anything other than give her space and use his foot to tap a steady rhythm that bounced off the walls. He remembered that what helped him most when he spiraled was something to grasp onto. The feeling of whatever he was sitting on, someone's voice, even the smallest ticking of a clock, they all helped. He didn’t know what to say so he might as well not say anything at all. He could stay there for however long it would take for the girl to calm down, as long as he didn’t look at the body on the floor or focus on the smell of blood filling the early morning air.