Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aizawa Shouta is in a forest.

There’s a forest at UA, so it’s not like he isn’t used to trees. Forests are normal- so is the night breeze hitting his face. So is the sound of the leaves rustling overhead in response to that breeze. So is the crunch of the foliage under his feet. 

This would normally be fine, except that the last thing Aizawa remembers is fighting someone in a corner alley. 

After this quick rundown of his senses, he does a body check. The dots in front of eyes that were present when he opened them were gone. He’d gotten a stab wound in his thigh earlier that evening, but the adrenaline had let him continue his pursuit into the alley. He was still running that high, so he pushes the injury to the back of his mind to be dealt with later. Better to use the adrenaline-cleared mind while he can before the pain sets in. 

He recounts what he knows: 

1. He was just in an alley in pursuit of a person with an unknown quirk. 
2. There was a flash of light after he blinked. 
3. He is now in a forest.

Not a lot, but he's worked with less in the past. Not often, though. 

Somewhere in between one blink and that flash of white, the scenery changed to here. Wherever 'here' is. 

He sighs. He and Hizashi had planned a snuggle date for that evening for when he got back from patrol because he's gotten about 8 hours sleep in the past 4 days, and he admitted to himself long ago that sleep attempts next to his husband was a miracle remedy. And now he’s in a forest. Fantastic. 

One quick check of his pockets confirms that his phone is gone, so no hope of reaching his husband to warn him. Or call for backup. At least he has his capture weapon and the knife he was stabbed with. Along with his own martial art skills, he isn’t defenseless. He made sure of that long ago. 

So with no other choice, he picks a direction and starts walking.

-

He doesn’t know how long he walks. 

You only wear a watch and have it crushed between your wrist and your capture weapon once, so he typically relied on his phone in situations like this. Hizashi had suggested wearing a watch clip around his neck as a joke once. He’d probably laugh at him if his husband could see him now, wandering through the forest with nothing but the moon for company. 

He shakes his head; he doesn’t have time to think about Hizashi. Focusing on Hizashi won’t help him get out of this forest faster. His leg has been slowly starting to grow in pain since the last boulder he passed, so he lets that distract him. 

Finally, over the tops of the trees, he sees the tops of buildings. He picks up his pace. Hopefully they’ll have a phone.

-

By the time he’s made it close enough to realize it’s not just buildings but a gated compound, he’s pretty sure he’s bled through his jumper, judging by the sticky feeling going down his leg. Luckily one of the benefits of wearing black is that blood doesn’t show easily. Unfortunately, he thinks he might be limping, and a jumper can’t help hide that. 

It’s not until he’s closer to the gate that he realizes why it’s familiar. He hadn’t realized it before, but the layout is similar to how Kia Chisaki’s buildings were laid out in his syndicate. He really hopes he isn’t about to encroach on yakuza grounds. He’s had enough of the yakuza for a lifetime.

He tries to straighten his gait when he catches sight of a white haired boy leaning against the outside the gates. He’s been told his smile is creepy and intimidating, so he doesn’t bother trying to look friendly as he approaches. His choices are limited right now, so he keeps walking until he’s within spitting distance of what looks to be a teenager.  

It’s not until the boy looks up from his phone and meets his eyes does he consider that just approaching might not have been the best plan. He’s been in the hero business for a long time, and when you’re a pro-hero you’re put in situations where you have seconds to determine the situation and act. You learn how fighters hold themselves- there’s a fluidness to their motions, a confidence in how they move that’s apparent, if you know what to look for. And you learn what the eyes of someone who has witnessed death look like. 

One glance and Aizawa can tell this boy is both a fighter and has seen death. There’s not much he can do about it now except roll with his original plan, and he’s nothing if not good at rolling with the punches. A lifetime of hero work and being a teacher have taught him well when it comes to adapting to new situations.

But he’s tired. And he’s pretty sure his blood loss is reaching the ‘a bit too much lost’ stage. But Recovery Girl isn't around to yell at him, so before he can change his mind, Aizawa speaks. His tongue feels sluggish.

"Yo. You have a phone I can borrow?"

"Salmon salmon." 

What? 

His blood loss is making itself more known, if the spots in his eyes are anything to go by and the sluggishness in his mind as he tries to understand what this kid means by naming fish. He doesn’t have time for this. 

"I don’t need salmon. I need a phone. Phone," he ends the last word by holding his hand up to his ear in the universal symbol of a cell phone. 

"Salmon!" The boy rigorously nods his head while he hands his phone to Aizawa. 

Relieved that his message got across, Aizawa goes to take the phone. But not before glancing back up at the buildings beside them.

In a blink that’s too fast for Aizawa’s slowing brain to process, the boy’s entire demeanor changes. He tenses and his eyes widen. As Aizawa turns his eyes back, the boy opens his mouth again.

"Sleep."

Chapter Text

"...really just walked up-"

"Bonito fla-"

"He should have woken up by-"

"Blood loss-"

"Goj-"

"Wait for-"

Blackness. Silence.

-

Before he opens his eyes, he registers the smell of antiseptic. A hospital? 

"I know you’re awake."

At that, he opens his eyes before slamming them closed again. His eyes were already sensitive with his dry eye, and he hadn’t been able to apply eye drops before bed like he usually did to help. He’s paying for it now. 

He really needs to call his husband. As an underground hero, his face isn’t very well known, so they might not know he’s a hero. His throat is dry, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He doesn’t try to open his eyes again. 

"I need a phone."

Silence. Then a snort.

Had it all been a dream?

He sighs. Pro-heroes know no rest. Word on the street was that Hawks wanted to change that; the dreams of the youth were something else. But he couldn't think about any of that right now. The sooner he can get out of here, the sooner he can get home to Hizashi.

"How are you feeling? Normally if I get unconscious patients in here, they’re not waking up. We were worried about you for a bit there."

That wasn’t usually what doctors told him when he got around to seeing them for on the job injuries. The off script response seems odd, but he'll file it for later analysis. He tries to remember how he got here, but the last thing he remembers is a gated compound and a kid talking about fish while Aizawa had tried to ask to use his cell phone. But first thing’s first.

"How long have I been out?"

"Two days."

Aizawa's eyes pop open at that. That means...oh Hizashi was going to kill him. Since he tries to avoid hospitals, prefering to fix things on his own, when he does end up in the hospital it usually isn’t for something small like a stab wound. The fact that his husband isn’t here either means he hasn’t been informed yet, or there’s been a national disaster. He’s not sure which one would be easier to deal with at the moment. 

People underestimate the power of soundwaves. And class 1A's magnetism for trouble. He needed to get home.

"I am really going to need that phone."

"And we’re going to need you to answer some questions."

At that, he turns towards the voice. A woman wearing a lab coat was leaning against a desk coat smoking a cigarette. Last he checked smoking was discouraged in hospitals. If he had swung that way, he might even call her attractive. His eyes narrow onto the smoking death stick, despite how his eye’s protest at the movement.

"I thought they didn’t let you smoke in hospitals."

The woman doesn’t even blink, but he thinks he might see the ghost of a smile. Like something that might have been old muscle memory at one time, but didn’t know how to work anymore. 

"Most of the patients I bring in here aren’t alive. They don’t mind."

At that morbid statement, Aizawa finally decides to look around. He’s been in enough morgues following up on leads to recognize one. The question now was why had he woken up in one. He decides not to look too closely at the kind of bed he's been put on. 

"Why am I here?"

The woman takes a long inhale of her cigarette and blows it out towards the ceiling. She meets his eyes after watching the smoke curl towards the lights. He notes that this woman has seen death too, like the kid he met before. At least he thinks the kid had- the memory is hazy. He can feel a headache coming on.

"That’s what we’d like to know, too. Actually, we-"

The door bangs open before she can finish. Aizawa looks over to see a fairly built man walk into the room. He seems agitated, but it’s hard to tell because he’s wearing sunglasses inside. Maybe he has a quirk mutation affecting his eyes. He's seen weirder. 

"Is he awake yet? I don’t know how much longer I can stall them for, Shoko."

He definitely has a headache coming on. He has no idea who ‘they’ might be. He goes to press his fingers to his temples, hoping to relieve the pressure, when he realizes he can’t raise his hand more than a few inches. He looks down and realizes that he’s been handcuffed to the bed. Luckily they weren’t quirk suppression handcuffs, but still not ideal. 

It’s at that moment he notices his scarf is gone. Good to know these people weren’t complete idiots. He looks up at the man who’s now staring him down. 

"I’m not authorized to share any details with you. I need a phone. I can have someone on the other line verify my identity, but for now I can’t tell you anything other than that I’m not a villain."

It’s the most he’s said since he woke up in that forest. The investigation he and Naomasa had been spearheading hadn’t been made public for fear it would impede it. He hadn’t even told Naomasa where he was going that night in the alley- there just hadn’t been time. One of the risks of not having an agency meant that you were your own back up, and sometimes that meant you got in situations like this. 

The man hasn’t stopped staring at him. Or at least he thinks he hasn’t- it’s hard to tell with the glasses. But based on the line of his mouth, Aizawa didn’t think he was happy. Aizawa doesn’t look away; his quirk involved staring down much worse sights than a man suspicious of him.

Finally, when even Aizawa was starting to get uncomfortable with the silence, the man pulls a phone from his pocket and hands it to him. He doesn’t move his head to do so. 

Was that a doll peeking over the man’s shoulder?

He definitely has a headache now- whether from the lights and the ache in his eyes or from the entire situation with the doll man and waking up in a morgue, he doesn’t know. Probably all of the above.

Aizawa doesn’t care if the man with the doll stares him down as he dials Naomasa’s number. Let him stare. This whole misunderstanding will be taken care of shortly, anyway. Then he can go home to Hizashi, Shinsou, and Eri. He owes them all an apology for not checking in sooner.  

They wait in silence while he dials.  

Chapter Text

Gojou is in an alley.

Which is odd, because last he checked he was just in the forest outside Jujutsu Tech finishing exorcising a curse.

He knows there’s no way this is the curse’s domain. The thing was barely a grade 3, and he’d decided to exorcise it on a whim because it was in his way while he was walking back.

Now he’s staring at a barren alley way, trying not to think of all of the smells assaulting his nose, far from the smells of pine and damp undergrowth. 

The most startling was the clear lack of cursed energy in his vicinity. 

Normally he could feel the school and Tokyo in the distance, but now he felt nothing. He assumes he’s in a city based on the sound of cars in the distance, and cities were known for their accumulation of cursed energy. The lack of cursed energy here was almost unsettling.

Gojou grimaces. It almost felt too...clean. Places this clean of cursed energy simply don’t exist in cities or other highly populated areas. 

But then again, people said the same thing about his capabilities before he was born: things like him didn't exist. Not in the modern day.

He almost takes to the air for a clearer look, but decides against it. Gojou had always used cursed energy to get a read on situations- you could usually tell the severity of a situation based on a location's residuals. The problem here was the lack of residuals, or really any cursed energy signature besides his own. 

With a lack of options, he strolls out of the alley and walks into the city block.

His bag of treats sways next to him as he enters a sea of people. It was dark when Gojou was in the forest, and it’s dark now. He had been bringing back his students souvenirs from his latest mission when he encountered the curse in the forest. 

None of these people have any cursed energy.

Now, Gojou Satoru doesn’t get worried- he gets more alert. And right now he is very, very alert, even with his blindfold still on. 

Besides the lack of cursed energy, he notices other things. Like how no one gives him a second glance.

Gojou’s been in places before in his teacher’s uniform. He is very aware of how he looks: he’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s wearing a blindfold, and he’s been mistaken for an albino before. Even when he wears his civilian clothes and a pair of sunglasses, he’s gotten used to standing out.

And yet these people don’t give him a second glance. Huh. 

He walks a few blocks, trying to get his bearings. The only familiar thing is the taste of the night air on his tongue. He’s been all over Japan, and the world too. But he knows Japan. And this isn’t his Japan. Maybe another country then?

Wherever he is, some of the people here dress...peculiarly. 

Not all of them, just a few he passed. One person’s hair was dyed bright pink and was styled to look like it was floating. Another person he passed by was dressed as a fire hydrant. The person walking next to them seemed to be wearing a bamboo themed get up, complete with what he assumed was a bamboo reed sunvisor. He’s starting to wonder if there’s a Con happening nearby, because no one else seems to give them a second glance. 

He decides to make a gamble. 

"Hey, hey! Do you know where the con is?"

The person he asks is dressed like a police barricade, with black and yellow stripes covering his arm cuffs and forehead. He’s seen similar barriers designs put up when they don’t want civilians walking in on a curse crime scene. He only remembers them because he’s always ignored them. 

The guy’s back is to the street as he turns to respond to Gojou, so he doesn't see the road. He doesn’t see the truck breaking the speed limit. And he doesn’t see the kid. 

Gojou doesn’t think, he acts. 

Between one second and the next, he’s transported himself into the road, scooped up the kid, and transported them to the other side of the street.

Later, he’ll remember how the elders in the Gojou clan had tried to train this habit out of him, intervening in ‘places he shouldn’t be’. He never had outgrown it- not when he eavesdropped on their meetings or when he would prank the staff. It’d formed a bit of a habit, actually, interfering where it wasn’t approved of. He changed lives on impulse: lost them, saved them, changed them. There’s a reason why they said that with his birth he changed the balance of the world.

Eventually his instinct to meddle had transformed into his pattern of saving strays, like Yuuta, Yuji and little Megumi all those years ago. He learned the consequences of inaction long ago.

It all happens and is over so fast no one really notices above the noise at first, beside the barricade dude, mouth agape on the other side of the road where Gojou left him. He could sit tight for a minute; he had a kid to check on. 

"Yo!" Gojou picks the kid up by the armpits and turns to have him face him. The kid looks dazed, then confused. "That was a close one, eh?" He smiles.

The child bursts into tears. 

"Hey, hey hey-! No need for the tear fest! Wait- are you hurt somewhere? Do-"

"MY BABY!"

Gojou looks up to see a woman running at them. A woman with big, curling horns. 

He seriously needed to find out where this Con was happening. The attention to detail was impressive.

He looks down at the kid, who has grown a glob of snot on top of his water works. Gojou tries not to wrinkle his nose. He’s normally good with kids. He practically raised Megumi, and anyone who doubts his parenting skills can ask him about what a great parent he is. 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, the kid kind of looks like a baby Megumi with his black hair and dark eyes. He hadn't registered it before. If it wasn’t for the crying, he could be Megumi’s long lost sibling. 

At this point, they had accumulated some attention. This, Gojou was used to; but he ignored them in favor of looking at the crying kid. He hadn’t put him down yet.

The woman, now also crying, collapses onto the ground next to them- she’s saying something, but he can’t make it out through her tears and doesn’t really care to. She takes the kid from his arms, and Gojou lets her. He suddenly wishes that Nanami was here- he’s always been better at dealing with other’s emotions.

Gojou looks at the crying kid and the woman he assumes is the kid’s mom in a puddle of tears, and decides that he has intervened enough for today, and stands to leave. People who see curse techniques for the first time usually have questions. Best to get out of dodge before they think too hard. 

"Welp! Happy to help," he says brushing invisible dust from his pants as he turns to go, "Now, if you’ll excuse me-"

"Sorry, I think you’re going to have to come with me."

Gojou looks back and sees barricade-cosplayer-man staring him down, blocking the way out of the crowd that had accumulated during the whole child saving affair. He slaps a smile on his face. When in doubt, smooth it out.

"Hello! I don’t think I need those Con directions anymore. Toodaloo!" He tries to walk past him, but the guy throws out his arm to block his path.

"Listen, man. I know you did a good deed, but you know the rules."

Gojou blinks at him. He doesn’t really understand what’s going on, just that he needs to go before people start asking questions they’re not ready for the answer to. Good thing he’s a master of improv and misdirection.

"Are you telling me that I should have let the kid get hit by that truck?"

"Well-"

"Is it not our duty to do everything we can to save the children of our community, for the sake of a better tomorrow?" Gojou grabs his chest in mock shock. "Don’t you know that they’re the future? Do we not owe it to them to keep them safe? I certainly didn’t see you doing anything to help."

Gojou had intentionally been slowly raising his voice as he progressed with his speech, pretending to be oblivious to the now focused on-looking crowd of bystanders. He knew how to work an audience when he wanted to, knew that he would need them on his side to minimize the chances of them trying to pursue him when he slipped away.

The guy puts his hand on Gojou’s arm, and to any onlooker it would have looked friendly, if maybe a little familiar. Gojou makes sure to keep Infinity activated while leaving a hair’s length of space between the guy’s hand and his forearm. He’s revealed enough of his cards tonight after saving that kid; no need to give extra information. Hopefully the guy just thought his coat was thick, if he questioned the lack of warmth. 

"It’s against the law for civilians to use their quirk unauthorized by either an authority figure or hero, unless it’s in self defense. I’ll be sure to mention why you used your quirk, but I’m going to need you to come with me now, please. Preferably quietly." The man finished with a quick glance around at their audience. At least he wasn’t completely unaware of the situation.

Gojou squinted, mind soaking in information like a sponge. Quirks? Heroes? Was this guy so delusional that he thought he was an underground hero cop, like some kind of TV show? And what was that about him having a quirk?

Once, Shoko roped Gojou and Geto into playing a game of poker. Shoko had made up some excuse about how the pair of them were terrible at hiding their feelings, and so she was going to help them with that. He’d learned a lot of things about himself in those next few hours, but by the end he had proven that he was perfectly capable of lying. 

Deflection was a wonderful tool to distract with while you collected yourself.

"Aww, you think I’m quirky? That’s real cute, but- hey!"

Gojou had seen the handcuffs on the guy’s waist before, and the guy was quicker than he looked. He barely kept his Infinity in check- he had almost broken the cuffs as soon as they caught the streetlight’s glare. He lets the man cuff him, if only for amusement's sake. 

"Wow there buddy, buy a guy a drink first! We haven’t even exchanged phone numbers, or names for that matter." Gojou pulls his most dramatic pout he can muster without revealing his eyes.

Someone in the crowd snickered. At least someone appreciated his sense of humor. Mr. Barricade Man didn’t react beyond glaring at him before speaking into his ear piece. 

"Hey, can I get a transport for the station on East 7th street? Nah, just an unauthorized quirk usage."

"Aren’t civilian arrests a little outdated?"

Gojou watches a vein pop up on the guy’s forehead. 

"I’m not a civilian ," the guy says ‘civilian’ like one may have shat on his grandma’s porch last week, "I’m a hero. My name is Death Arms."

Gojou blinks. He barks out a laugh, before making an over dramatic gasp. He never knew people could be so dedicated to their cosplays.

"Why, you didn’t tell me you were a hero! And possibly a comedian! The night’s full of surprises, eh? Well, if we’re using code names, I’m-"

"Save it for the station. I still have a patrol to finish, and if I had time to memorize the name of every crazy guy who decided to be a vigilante I wouldn’t have time for anything else."

Gojou feels mildly offended. He wasn’t a vigilante, thank you very much.

"Actually, I prefer the word ‘sorcerer’," he slips out under his breath. So help him, he’s had a long night. The universe could afford to let him throw some sass around. 

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing Death Arms dear!" He slaps on what he’s been told is his most obnoxiously happy attitude. He usually reserves it for his meetings with the higher ups, but this is a special occasion. It’s so uncommon for his reputation not to precede him. Who knows, this might be fun. "So, is this gonna be quick? Because I really do have places to be tonight, you know."

He’s still holding his bag of souvenirs. He’s got students to get back to- he still doesn’t trust the higher ups after their stint with Yuji and that special grade. 

Death Arms doesn’t respond. Instead he’s looking down the street as a police car pulls up. He turns back to look at him as the car rolls to a stop.

"Listen. They’re going to ask you some questions, but I’ll be sure to mention why you used your quirk in the report. That should help your case." Death Arms doesn't look at him. Gojou isn’t so sure how much detail this guy is gonna put into his ‘report’, but maybe that’s for the better.

Until this point Gojou had been half hoping this would blow over enough that he could get out of here. It seems like short of transporting himself away, he’s going to have to stick this out.

He almost does leave. But then he looks back at the kid, still crying with his mother on the sidewalk.

It’s not like he can’t change his mind and leave mid car ride. Maybe he can get some answers wherever this car is taking him. Maybe even call Shoko when he gets there- he hadn’t noticed it before, but he must have left his phone somewhere. He wasn’t worried- it wasn’t like he kept numbers saved on there. That’s what his brain was for. It was safer that way.

"In you go." The Death Arms cosplayer pushes him into the car. He restrains himself from lashing out- he's never liked to be handled, and he usually didn't have to deal with it since he learned how to keep Infinity up around the clock. Weird, the police officer in the front doesn’t do more than glance at the guy and nod. What kind of law enforcement was this? 

The night is bound to be interesting.

Chapter Text

First, Aizawa dials Naomasa. As a hero operating without an agency, having your contacts in the police force number’s memorized is important; you never know when you’ll be without your phone. Like now.

The phone rings for several tense seconds. 

"Hello? I’m not interested in buying anything."

Aizawa stares at the phone and frowns. The high pitched voice on the other line isn’t Naomasa. 

"H-hello? Is this one of those voice aut-"

"I’m sorry to waste your time. Good day."

He focuses on schooling his features; best not to show a reaction, or anything that could be seen as a weakness. Even if he has a bad feeling about all of this. 

"I dialed wrong. I’m going to try again."

He knows he didn’t dial wrong.

Without looking at either of the people in the room, Aizawa dials Hizashi.

It goes straight to dial tone.

He doesn’t bother saying anything this time, and immediately dials Shinsou.

Dial tone.

He’s struggling to keep his breathing under control by the end of it. He hasn’t had a panic attack in years, and he’s not about to break that record. He’s not. 

Finally, he looks up at the man with the doll.

"Is this Japan?"

"...yes." The man has a furrow between his brow now. 

He dials one last number. If this doesn’t work…

He doesn’t wait for a response on the other line when it picks up.

"I need a dozen pink flamingos and two nasal sprays for the road."

"Uhh. We sell pizza here, sir."

Aizawa stares at the phone like it bit him, and restrains himself from throwing it across the room in frustration. He hangs up without responding and closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath in a desperate attempt to calm down. In the field and the midst of battle you don’t have time to panic; but while he wasn’t in the midst of battle, the silence of the room was deafening. 

He doesn’t understand what’s going on. That number was set up by the Hero Commission and every hero was given their own password to say when they were in distress and couldn’t speak freely. He’d been in situations that most heroes would have called, but his other contacts had always answered him first, so he’d never felt desperate enough to dial it before. 

Until today. 

The bad feeling settles in his gut.

"So. I might have a few questions."

The man with- yes, that was definitely a stuffed animal hanging over his shoulder- snorted before crossing his arms. He needed to figure out where he was and if these people were friend or foe. 

"That seems to be the theme of the situation. Our elders would like to speak to you. They’ve been waiting for you to be cleared by Shoko."

"Shoko?"

The woman from before stops leaning on the desk to step forward. If he didn’t know what old exhaustion looked like, he might have mistaken her for being bored. 

Her eyes gave her away. Aizawa makes a side note not to underestimate her.

"My name is Shoko Ieri. I’m the school nurse." She takes another drag of her cigarette. "We didn’t have a chance to be introduced earlier."

"I thought you were a mortician."

The woman quirks her lips up, and he would almost call it a grin if it wasn’t for the hardness ghosting her eyes.

"That too."

"Enough. Shoko," The man from before speaks up. The glasses made it hard to discern his expression. "Can I give the elders the OK to talk to him?"

Aizawa squints at the word ‘talk.’ He doesn’t know what to expect from this situation or these people. He’s always said to hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst. Best to get whatever information he can for now.

"You never introduced yourself."

The man stares at him before answering. Aizawa, again, doesn’t look away. 

"I’m Masamichi Yaga. I’m the principal here."

Aizawa blinks. 

"This is a school?"

What kind of school has a morgue? He’d thought the woman had meant she worked somewhere else as a school nurse. Was he in a medical training building? But then why would they have taken him to the morgue if he was hurt? Was that kid out in front of the building a medical student? Why had he tried to talk to him about fish?

Shoko’s grin is all teeth and sly eyes. "Of sorts."

His headache from earlier was definitely approaching migraine territory. 

"C’mon, then. We’ve got some people who would like to ask you a few questions. Can you stand?"

Aizawa looked back up at the man, Yaga. He hadn’t realized that he hadn’t responded earlier, and had probably been quiet for too long. He swings his legs over the side of the morgue table and braces his uninjured leg to stand and pushes through the dizziness. He’s felt worse. 

He tests his injured leg, and blinks.

"I healed your leg," says Shoko. She must have noticed his surprise. "It should be fine now."

Huh. Must be her quirk. Maybe the headache was a side effect…

He didn’t count on it, though. 

Aizawa straightens, and sure enough his leg feels fine. Actually, his body feels almost energized. Two days to catch up on sleep seemed to pay off. 

He was so busy checking his body over that he doesn't notice Shoko and Yaga exchange a glance. Usually people had questions about miraculous recoveries. 

"If you’re done, I’ve got a group of people who’ve been waiting to speak with you. It’s really best for both of us if we don’t keep them waiting any longer."

-

While they walk down a long hallway, Aizawa goes over the past hour or so since he woke up. He’s almost nervous that they’re comfortable telling him who they are, even if they used code names, but his instincts are telling him that those were their real names, which was even more unsettling. If this was a hostage situation, one would expect the kidnappers to hide their faces and any and all information about themselves. Kidnappers only showed their faces if they weren’t planning to let their victims live.

That bad feeling from earlier increased to a block of cement in his gut. 

-

Yaga stops in front of a traditional looking door, but hesitates with his hand on the slider’s handle.

"Just stick to the truth, ok?" Yaga doesn’t look at him.

Before Aizawa can think of a response, he opens the door.

-

The entire set-up eerily reminds him of sitting before a Hero Commission panel, Aizawa thinks later.

He had been able to hear the quiet buzz of voices before Yaga had opened the door. It was silent now.

He notes that the room is dark, besides the glow coming from behind the paper screens. They were arranged in a semicircle from the door he and Yaga had come through. He assumed that these ‘Elders’ were the people behind these screens. He tries not to feel unnerved by the fact that he can’t see them, but they can see him. Maybe not entirely like the Commission, then. At least the Commission usually showed him their faces, unlike these people. 

Did they know about how his quirk worked? If he was attacked here, he would have to rely on his hand to hand, and he didn’t have his capture weapon anymore. 

Getting home in a timely manner was dwindling to a sadly small percentage of probability. He keeps half an eye on Yaga, who’s stationed himself by the door. He sighs before straightening up. Might as well get this over with.

"So. I heard you wanted to talk to me."

More silence. And then, 

"Who are you?"

Yaga said to keep to the truth. Did that mean they had someone with a lie detector quirk, like Naomasa? He makes a decision before he lets the silence drag on too long.

"My name is Aizawa Shouta. I need to get home, please."

Silence. The voice that had asked the question sounded like it came from the far left panel, but he couldn’t be sure. 

"How did you find this place?" The voice comes from his right, and if he wasn’t used to Shinsou’s new support tech antics at home, he might have jumped from how low it sounded. 

Yaga had said to stick with the truth. He never said how much. 

"I found it while I was in the woods."

"Ok, but how did you see it?"

"With my eyes?"

"Are you here on orders?"

"No."

There’s some muttering from behind the panels after that. One question rises above the noise, from a screen on the left closer to the door. 

"What is your curse technique?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you have heavenly restriction?"

"Heavenly what?"

"Did someone give you directions here?"

"No, I told yo-"

The clamoring climbs in volume. He’s not even sure they heard him. He definitely had a migraine now. He grits his teeth and tries to ignore the way the extra noise adds to the pounding inside his skull.

"Which clan are you from?"

"I’m not-"

"Are you a curse user?"

"Where is Gojou Satoru?"

"Did he put you up to this?"

"What are your plans to-"

Aizawa is a teacher and a hero. He’s dealt with the press. He knows not to lose his cool. But it has been a very, very long few days, these people are almost all out yelling questions at him now, and the pounding of his migraine has made its way to just behind his eyes, none of his family or contacts had answered the phone, all he knows is that he isn’t supposed to be here, and he still doesn’t know where here even is - 

He activates his quirk. 

-

Dead silence. 

Not an unusual response to his quirk. He often uses this to silence his class, but the frozeness of the room feels...different.

He doesn’t have long to think about it, before the clamoring from earlier returns behind the panels, but this time more on level with a roar.

"How is he-!"

"What is th-!"

"No cursed ene-!"

"Yaga!"

Aizawa turns to see why they’re calling out to the man who brought him here- he forgot when he’d stopped tracking him out of the corner of his  eye, he blames the migraine- but before he can fully turn, he feels a pin prick in his neck.

Everything goes black. 

-

Aizawa is tired of waking up and not knowing where he is. Granted, besides the morgue, it’s happened before and will probably happen again; it was a hazard of being a solo hero. Doesn’t mean he likes it; he likes knowing where he is when he wakes up, thank you.

He takes stalk of where he is now without opening his eyes. He seems to be tied to a chair, with a headache that isn’t quite as intense as before. But that could be from the fuzziness he feels in his head. He recognizes the after effects of being chemically knocked out- he had gone to UA with Midnight while the support course was perfecting her costume and its limits. He trained with her in combat situations. He was familiar with the fogginess that comes with waking from that kind of knockout. 

It also means he’s learned to shake it off fast. He’d quickly taught himself to get back on his feet quick after her quirk in school, and it’d helped him more than once out in the field.

Like now. 

He goes over what he knows: he woke up in a forest. None of his contacts or family had picked up the phone, and the Commission’s emergency hero hotline and code phrase hadn’t worked. Those people who interrogated him didn’t seem to know who he was, and while he was used to not being known because of his underground hero status, he wasn’t used to them already being upset with him. As far as he can remember, he’s never met these people and hadn’t given them a reason to be upset with him yet. 

Despite this, they had, apparently, knocked him out and tied him to a chair. 

At least that mostly answers his question on whether he’s dealing with friend or foe. 

Maybe, when he got out of this, he and Hizashi would get a kick out of this story in a few years: Aizawa stumbling across a villain syndicate and escaping. Was healing his leg just an attempt to play mind games? The thought floats with a hysterical edge through his mind.

But for now, he needed to survive. And to do that he needed to open his eyes and face his captures.

He opens his eyes to find himself in a room with talismans covering the walls, and giant ropes tethering him to the chair that attached to the ground. Like a weirdly packaged statue. The ropes also had talismans. He squinted at them.

What the hell. Was this some kind of parameter for a quirk-?

"I wouldn’t try to break out of those, if I were you."

Aizawa must be fogger than he thought for not noticing the man standing a good 15 feet from him. He faintly notes that the man is wearing the weirdest goggles, which is saying something coming from him considering he also has goggles that have been called weird in the past. Maybe they also work with his quirk, like his own? He’s not sure how they’re sitting on his face, they don’t hook around his ears. He’s also wearing a cheetah print tie that not even Hizashi would wear. Probably. 

He feels his adrenaline kick back in when he notices the butcher’s cleaver in the man’s hand. It’s wrapped in the same cheetah print as his tie. Was that some kind of attempt at a minimalist villain costume?

"Are you all villains?"

The man purses his lips. "No. Are you?"

"No, I’m a hero."

"Yaga mentioned that you said that before."

The man in front of him would look relaxed, if Aizawa wasn’t used to seeing villains use fronts like this. The man in front of him was tense and trying to cover it up.

Aizawa squints, just a bit. He usually kept a bottle of eyedrops in his jumper, but he had run out a few nights ago, and hadn’t gotten around to replacing it. He regrets not doing so now; going this many days without eye drops wasn’t pleasant with his dry eye. Not that he could use his hands to apply them in this situation if he had them.

When it was clear that Aizawa wasn’t going to say anything else, the man continued. 

"Why don’t you elaborate on that? Or would you like to explain what it was you did back there?"

Aizawa sighed. Why this man was acting as though he’d never witnessed a quirk before, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he wanted Aizawa to explain his quirk to him. Erasure worked best with the element of surprise, and required him to be able to fight basically quirkless until he was either forced to use his quirk or knew he could get a drop on the villain in front of him.

But he still didn’t know the quirk of the man in front of him. Or what these talismans did. 

"You people sure seem to like your questions without giving any answers." He didn’t quite manage to keep as monotone as he had hoped, a tad of venom slipping into his voice. He was tired of knowing next to nothing about the situation he was in. 

The man sighed.

"How about this. You ask a question and I’ll give you as honest an answer as I’m able, then I ask one and you answer honestly. Do we have a deal?"

He knew that he probably wasn’t walking out of here without a fight, but he needed answers if he wanted to escape. Hesitantly, and intentionally, he nodded his head. He didn’t know if his quirk was voice response activated like Shinsou’s. Best to air on the side of caution. 

"Alright. You can go first."

"Where is here?" Direct, and to the point. He can also see if this man was going to use avoidance tactics in his answers. He’d like the other man set the tempo for this interrogation. 

"We’re at Jujutsu High School, also known to its students and faculty as Jujutsu Tech."

"I’m at a high school ?" If his eyes didn’t hurt so much, he would have squinted harder than he already was at the man. Yaga and the doctor from earlier had said that he was in a school, but a high school? Either this man was lying to him, or the universe had a funny sense of irony.

"You are. My turn: what did you do back there with the Elders."

He wasn’t dying here, and he was keeping all of the advantages he could get to aid his escape. He wasn’t giving him anything on his quirk. It didn’t feel like he had quirk suppression cuffs on, but he wasn’t going to tell the enemy that. If they underestimated him, all the better for him. Best to keep his answer simple.

"I activated my quirk."

The man furrowed his brow at him.

"My turn. Why did you all act so surprised that I found your school."

"It’s hidden by a barrier, and you need to have previous knowledge of its location to find and see it. It’s to keep civilians from stumbling across it."

"Well, I’m not a civilian. I’m a hero." He’d already told them that, so there was no harm in bringing up information they already knew. He wasn’t giving anything away that he hadn’t already. 

"What do you mean by that?"

"Uhh. I have a hero license and I’m registered with the Hero Commission of Japan as a hero."

The bad feeling from earlier made itself known again. He’d almost tuned out the stone feeling in his gut. The confusion on the man’s face, too subtle to be unintentional, didn’t bode well. The man opened his mouth to say something, but Aizawa beat him to it.

"It’s my turn to ask a question." The man closed his mouth. "Why am I tied up if this isn’t a villain organization?"

"We don’t know anything about you and you displayed an unknown technique. We treat the unknowns like that as a threat." The line of the man’s mouth turned down. Huh.

"Unknown technique-? That was just my quirk. And they’re all fine, aren’t they?" His quirk stopped as soon as he looked away. They didn’t know that Aizawa needed a direct line of sight for Erasure to work. They shouldn’t have been affected at all because they’d been hidden behind screens. 

"They’re fine, yes. My turn for a question."

Aizawa almost cursed. He’d been so shocked by the outlandish reasoning he hadn’t thought to formulate his response as a statement, not a question. 

"You keep mentioning a quirk. What do you mean by that?"

"...what." 

"It’s my turn to ask the question. Is ‘quirk’ what you call your curse technique?"

Aizawa remembered the Elders, or whatever they called themselves, asking him about a curse technique, too. He still didn’t know what they meant. He sighed, a frustrated huff of air; he did not have time for whatever mind games these people wanted to play. He grits his teeth.

"You people keep asking me that, and I don’t know what you mean. I am a hero of Japan and my job is to save people. I use my quirk to help keep people safe. I don't know how much clearer I can be." Not without giving them a pre school level lecture on how society functioned. 

A little simplified, but that was the basics. A better question was why this man was asking him what a quirk was. The bad feeling from earlier had almost doubled in its demandingness to be acknowledged, but he refused to let it garner his attention; he was tied to a chair in a room full of talismans and there was a man acting as though he didn’t understand the last 100 years of societal quirk history. 

The man sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "If I hadn’t heard from Yaga about what you did in front of the higher ups I would have thought you were delusional. And I know if you had displayed a technique earlier in childhood, the school would have found you, or someone else would have. So, instead of unpacking all of that, I am going to ask you this: do you know what curses are?"

Aizawa blinked. He wasn’t expecting that.

"I don’t believe in the supernatural."

-

So. Curses. 

The man- he finally introduces himself as one Nanami Kento- tells him that they think his memory has been affected by a curse. He stares at him when he tells them that, again, he doesn’t believe in witches or the supernatural. 

"We actually call ourselves sorcerers. Not witches."

-

"I’m a hero. I don’t know what else to tell you. And I don’t think one of your ‘curses’ is strong enough to give me more than thirty years of memories."

"Your calls didn’t go through, right?"

They had ended their little questioning game sometime around Nanami’s explanation curses. They apparently accumulated where negative emotions were high, though it seemed more complicated than that. And only these...sorcerers? Could see them. 

He pursed his lips instead of responding. They both knew his calls hadn’t gone through.

And that was just a wonderful cherry on top of everything? He was glad that his husband wasn’t here, but a small part of him couldn’t help but want him here. He didn’t know how long it had been between them knocking him out and him coming too in this room. Hizashi would probably crack some horrible joke to help break the tension in his shoulders, and Hizashi would be the only one there who would know that his little cough in response was to cover up his laugh, because this was a serious situation, laughter wasn’t appropriate in a captive situation, regardless of which side they were on, captured or rescuer, and-

And Hizashi wasn’t here. 

He was soon going to learn just how very not here Hizashi was.

Chapter Text

"Gojou Saturo."

"We don’t have record of anyone under that name."

"Of course you don’t. That’s ok, though! I’ll be out of your hair in a bit, don’t worry your pretty little head."

Gojou had been ushered into a back room of a police station. With the one sided glass window, one buzzing overhead light, camera in the top corner, handcuffs chaining him to the table- he almost felt like he was in some kind of old noir movie.

It seemed as if they meant to interrogate him. How cute. 

Gojou glanced at the double sided window. As though something like that could block his Six Eyes. Please, his black out glasses from high school were stronger.

And that’s how he knew that they had let cosplayer man be there for this interrogation. That had been his first clue that there might be something a bit more off than he had previously thought. 

If worst comes to worst, he can always teleport away to where he appeared and then go from there. Or if he got bored enough.

But for now, the rat thing on the other side of the window was looking at him. And it was smiling. And had nodded at something the cosplayer said next to him. 

Gojou could see Panda’s cursed energy, and he was the only doll he knew with that level of sentience. He checked the mouse again for cursed energy. Still nothing. Huh. 

This place was turning out to be interesting, at least. 

"Listen man, it’s been a long night. Off record, just don’t let yourself get caught using your quirk like that. But we have protocols, and we need to document this."

Gojou was mildly surprised that his clan, or the higher ups, hadn’t dispatched someone to come grab him yet. In the back of his mind, he made a mental note to be on the lookout in case this was some assassination ploy. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Though, if it was, the execution of this plan was terrible. Seriously, this was almost insulting. 

He tunes back into the man in front of him.

"-so if you could just tell us your real name so we can find you in the quir-"

Ya. This was starting to get mildly annoying. 

Gojou puts on a sharp grin, something cold and steely and that stops the man that isn’t paid enough right in his tracks. So the man did have some brain cells! Congrats to him. "I agree. It has been a long night. In fact! I would like to go home, I think. In fact-"

The door opens, and his six eyes flash over to see the new person, the new challenger- 

-

"Hey- wait, Nezu, you can’t go in there- Nezu!"

Nezu snorts. Silly human, thinking he could control him. 

He walks (not scampers) around him and the hall, and opens the door. 

-

Gojou looks down and meets the eyes of the rat thing. 

"Hello! I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Nezu, principal of UA Hero’s School. I hear that you’re Gojou Satoru."

And it apparently could talk. Gojou throws on a grin that only has half the bite of before. Finally something interesting. And, maybe more importantly, someone (something?) who will listen to him- even if it was something as basic as his name. 

"That’s me! Are you a robot?"

The rat thing, apparently Nezu, laughs. "No, I am very real flesh and blood, just like you, I assume."

Gojou gives another once over of the rat thing, letting his Six Eyes confirm for him again. It looks too real to be one of Yaga’s cursed dolls, and it doesn’t have any cursed energy. Which is something he’ll unpack later- all things have cursed energy, even if it is a very small amount, and his Six Eyes do not fail him. 

"Are you sure? AI has come pretty far these days, you know."

The man across from him chokes. Gojou doesn’t look at him, keeps his eyes on the furry cursed energyless thing that has walked in.

"Quiet positive," Gojou stares at the scar on its face. He believes him. "You seem to call yourself Gojou Satoru, is that what you go by or your given name?"

"Yup! That’s my name," Gojou stares at the rat thing harder. Almost all living things have a bit of cursed energy, and an animal that can communicate should definitely have some. Something was going on here. He’d unpack the odd questions later.

"I think we can help each other out, Mr. Gojou."

"Oh?"

"You see, we’re looking for Erasurehead. Do you know where he is?"

"That’s quite a name he’s got," Gojou cocked his head to the side, "Why do you think I know about him?"

"He disappeared around the area we picked you up from." The rat’s (mouse?) whiskers twitched. 

"What? Was he at the Con?"

"Con?"

"Well, I assumed there was some kind of Con going on. There were cosplayers. Some seemed very dedicated to their roles."

"I’ll see if that can be looked into."

"Oh, sorry! Almost forgot you were there, Mr. Policeman. Thanks for volunteering," Gojou swings his focus partially back to the man sitting across from him, smirk back on full blast. "But I really don’t think that will be necessary. As fun as this little pit stop and chat have been, I’m a busy man, you know! So if we could wrap this up, that’d be great." He really did need to go. His smile was all teeth this time. He had kids these days to look after, you know. 

But maybe…

He turned back to the mouse rat thing, who was holding its paws behind its back and grinning. 

"Can you answer some questions for me?" He finally asked. 

"I can try! I might not be able to answer, though."

"We’re in Japan, right?"

The rat thing looks delighted at this question. "We are!"

"Hmm. City?"

"We are currently in Musutafu."

Gojou knows all of Japan. You don’t get sent on thousands of missions without learning the layout of the country.

Gojou does not know of any Musutafu, Japan. 

They were either lying to him, or...

He needs more information. 

"Well! This has been a drag," Gojou makes sure to put a whine into his voice. He’s thinking too hard to be able to tell if it sticks with the appropriate stickiness. "But I think it’s time I go now."

The police officer in front of him frowns at him. "I'm afraid that won’t be possible yet."

"Oh, I think it will very much be possible," Gojou says as he flicks Infinity up from the hairwidth of space it has been occupying around his wrists to few centimeters, breaking the handcuffs. "Bye-bye, now!”

And with a salute, Gojou teleports out of the room. 

-

They all stare at the spot where Gojou had just been. 

Nezu starts laughing.

Chapter Text

He’s not running away. He’s not. 

The little voice in the back of his head that whispers yes, you are, can fuck off. He’s had it since Geto left, and it’s never quite managed to grow out of his voice. 

So help him, this was a lot, even for him. 

-

The first thing he had done when he found himself back in that alleyway was track down a corner store. 

Corner stores held all the secrets of an area, he’d learned. They witnessed everything. And this one held the secret of where internet cafes were located around here. Never mind the lobster-headed person behind the counter who gave him a strange look when he had asked. He didn’t usually do his own recon anymore- Ijichi usually did that for him now, as he eventually learned what missions Gojou would or wouldn’t take. 

There wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t take, these days. Usually, if he said no to something, it was because it would have taken him away from the kids for more than an afternoon. 

It was rare missions took him longer than an afternoon, or a day at most, though. Even with the rise of curses, now that Geto wasn’t there to cull them anymore.

(He stuffs that thought securely into the back of his mind, where its lashing could be restrained. He was busy right now.)

He hadn’t heard from any of the jujutsu world, his clan, or any of the higher ups. Normally they would send someone to keep tabs on him, and he hasn’t had to lose a tail since he got here. The whole police station incident just didn’t count. 

So. Internet cafe it was.

-

So.

Quirks. 

Talking not cursed doll mice? Mice who ran schools? Heroes? Villains? 

It felt like something out of a comic book novel. He half wondered if he was stuck in some kind of curse technique illusion, but his eyes would have sliced through that the moment he had opened them. If Gojou was a weaker man, he’d want a drink.

But he wasn’t a weaker man, Gojou Satoru was the strongest. 

At least, he was in his universe. If he existed in this universe at all had yet to be seen, but if he was, his universe twin’s information wasn’t readily available through an internet search. Did he have a parallel universe twin wandering around here? Was he alive? Or was this universe so far from his own that he hadn’t even been born? But if he did exist, if the two of them made contact would they break something in this universe? Where Gojou was from, this city didn’t even exist. It wouldn’t be a jump that he didn’t exist here, either. Did they have something in this universe that could hurt him? These quirks seemed to work differently than cursed energy. He hadn’t actually been able to detect any, which was more unsettling than he was willing to admit. 

He wasn’t counting on this universe being that different from his own in some of the important aspects, at least; they hadn’t been able to contain him, just like they couldn’t back home. Their attempts with the handcuffs was almost nostalgic with childhood memories. 

He tried to keep his mind from racing too hard. On the one hand, this proved so many of his theories about space time and his own technique that he’d barely let himself suspect (and when he was younger, so much younger, had even hoped for). On the other hand, he hadn’t had any of his techniques any more active than usual when he was transported. He knows that he should do more research on this world, but this…

He realized that he had been staring (blindfolded) at his computer monitor pretty hard, and a lady with green hair was giving him concerned looks. Her hair looked like moss, he noted, and when she jerked her head back when she was caught staring it moved like it was suspended in water.

Right. Different universe. 

It was time to go. 

-

He wasn’t in the jujutsu world anymore. The more he wandered around, the more that fact was sinking in. Now that he realized that the people weren’t just in costumes, that the horns and claws and other body modifications were real, he couldn’t look away. 

If he didn’t have Six Eyes to double check, he’d think some of these people were low grade curses. 

He’s glad he hadn’t voiced that thought now that he knew that they were people. 

So. Quirks. 

His adventure to the Internet cafe had yielded some of this universe’s Japan’s history. Apparently, quirks were a slightly new thing to this world and no one understood where they came from. They had shown up round 100 years ago, give or take. 

And there were laws against using them without a license, apparently. 

Which was stupid. If you had a power, why not use it? Why not use what you were born with? 

Gojou furrowed his brow. Sure, some people probably went down the route that would have paralleled a curse user in his world, but to not use a power gifted to you because the government said so?

He wasn’t quite sure he liked that. 

-

Quietly, he wonders if someone like Geto succeeded here in eradicating curses, and that maybe the end result of that was that humans developed quirks. Fuck, what if his potential universe twin and Geto did exist, but only in this universe’s past? He feels sick trying to think about it, but knows he needs to find out. Quickly.

Eventually. 

He hypothesizes that maybe quirks here were their own kind of curse, and that’s why there weren't any curses around; they manifested differently here. 

He takes a bite out of the dango he borrowed from a street vender. 

Hm. 

-

He decides to float in the air above a building nearby where he had appeared. He was about a mile up, probably. 

He had double checked for any curse energy signatures. 

Nothing.

-

It's a clear night.

He turns and looks at the stars. He and Geto had once sat out on the roof and talked about the constellations they could see, at least the ones that Geto could remember. Gojou had made up a few. His versions were more fun. It had been before Riko, while Gojou was still getting used to having someone who could keep up with him. That had been novel. 

He doesn't recognize any of the constellations out here. 

That realization stings more than he was expecting. 

“Heyo!”

-

There is a birdman up here with him. 

No, really. He has wings and visors and a rip off bomber jacket and everything.

Was that supposed to be some kind of pilot pun?

Normally he could detect those around him, even civilians if he focused, because everyone had at least a speck of cursed energy within them.

So he definitely did not jump when a voice greeted him from behind a mile up in the sky. Gojou Satoru doesn't get startled.

Anyway.

Gojou stares at the red wings. Huh. 

“It’s not often people join me when I’m up here, you know.”

“Really?” says the blonde stranger, faking shock almost hard enough to sound mocking, and oh isn’t this new? “I think that’s my line. I’m up here pretty frequently. You, on the other hand, seem to be a new edition.” Gojou can't see the guy's eyes through the visor. 

Gojou is…tired. He has reverse curse technique almost always on, so the sleep he does need is sparse. But while it rejuvenates his energy, he cannot say the same for his patience.

He supposes he does have a new universe on his hands that’s decided to test it. 

The silence stretches before Gojou takes a breath.

Well. They’ve already tried to contain him once and they didn’t succeed. Caution was for those who couldn’t handle the consequences, anyway. 

“Do you know the constellations?”

The other man looks almost startled, but recovers quickly, mask back on. “Pardon?”

“The constellations around here. Do you know them?”

“Sure, I know a few. Why?” the red winged man answers like Gojou had asked him why plants were green in the middle of a delicate surgery. 

“I’ve had them memorized since I was five,” it had been a training exercise for his eyes at the time, “and I know the ones who are seasonal and which are more permanent.”

The flying man is looking at him oddly now, and doesn’t try to hide it this time. 

“Are you telling me you came out here to stare at the stars? I mean, I’m all for stargazing, but–”

“Thing is,” Gojou says, cutting him off and dead serious, “I don’t recognize any of these.”

Chapter Text

Aizawa had received a lot of training for a lot of different circumstances. No one quirk was the same, and that created a lot of variation when you matched them with personality (his file on the League of Villains associate Dabi and his quirk was expansive for a reason). Lots of quirks. Lots of training. Lots of learning to adapt on the fly, in the heat of the moment. 

None of that quiet prepared him for this. For this possibility. Except maybe some of his more intangible nightmares. That bad feeling from earlier was practically screaming at him from where he stuffed it into a box labeled ‘immediately unhelpful.’ 

Hizashi had always told him to brighten up when he mentioned his shit luck. Said he was ‘gloomy’ when he got like that. He would love to see his husband’s face if he saw the situation he was in right now.

(He would like to see his husband again, period, thank you universe.) 

However, his time as an underground hero had taught him not to jump to conclusions. 

He had one more chance. The phone hadn’t worked, and that wasn’t a good sign. 

It was a last resort, but he could try doing this the old fashion way. 

“You’re right,” he states in his best monotone he’s managed since waking up in a chair, “they didn’t."

The man, Nanami, does not react. Aizawa refuses to look away from his eyes as he continues. In his field, he’s learned that the eyes were the windows of not just the soul, but that soul’s intent. 

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean my colleagues aren’t there.”

There it is. Pity. It’s a slight shift of the eye, but it’s there. 

Shit, that wasn’t a good sign. At all.

Nanami purses his lips, before letting out a long, tired sigh. Aizawa recognizes it as a teacher. 

“There is one way to check.” 

Aizawa doesn’t move his eyes from the man, old habits from dealing with monologuing villains kicking into high gear. 

“...And how would you manage that?”

“We could check.”

Aizawa squints. “Oh?” He needs more than that.

Nanami sighs again. “Don’t give me that look. We’re not going to hurt anyone.” Sure. He tells a man who he has tied to a chair during an interrogation, that we’re not going to hurt anyone. “We have cars.” What? “And we’re not that far out of Tokyo.”

Aizawa had ruled out a hallucination quirk; it had been too long, and the longest immersive hallucination quirk on record had the victim captured in it for no more than 6 hours. 

It had been far, far more than 6 hours. Hizashi really was going to kill him when he saw him next. 

(Keyword when . Hopefully he will be satisfied with Aizawa not being dead when he sees him.)

“We’re near Tokyo?”

“Yes.” 

“Why are you telling me this?”

Dealing with a threat to the entire city of Tokyo while tied to a chair, unable to reach his contacts would be…difficult. If it came to that. 

Hopefully, it would not come to that. This entire experience has been a firm, firm reminder not to test his absolute shit luck, though. 

“Well. Ethnically, you look Japanese, and you asked Yaga if this is Japan. Is it safe to assume you’re familiar enough with Japan to recognize Tokyo?”

Aizawa Shouta was an underground hero who worked from the shadows, usually at night. He had the layout of every major Japanese city memorized. Of course he could recognize Tokyo.

But like hell was he giving all that information up to the people who, again, tied him to a chair. 

So, instead of answering, he continues to stare at Nanami. Nanami, after a few minutes of their staredown, twitches. 

“If you could take us to someone who can collaborate your story, it would make all of this a whole lot less paperwork.”

Aizawa…sits back. He doesn’t know when he had started to lean forward. 

“How do I know you won’t just get me in a car, drive me to somewhere remote, and kill me?”

“You don’t.”

Well that was surprisingly honest. Aizawa doesn’t blink, as that would be a rookie mistake and his guard is too high to dare to. 

“But, you have my word that no one will harm you on the drive, so long as you don’t attempt to attack again.”

“For the last time, I was not attacking with my quirk. Trust me, if I attack, you’ll know.”

Nanami grunts at him, unconvinced, as he pulls out his phone to text someone.

“Please give me a moment,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door, phone half pressed to his ear. 

Figures, they’d leave him tied to a chair. 

(Their first mistake. Now he has time to plan.)

-

“C-can I take you somewhere, sir?”

The man, who introduced himself as Kiyotaka Ijichi, doesn’t look at him from where he’s staring down the road in the front seat. He hasn’t met Aizawa’s eyes once since meeting him. 

Did he think that it would stop his quirk from working on him? A smart hypothesis given the situation, but ultimately a false one. 

He gives Ijichi the address of the apartment complex next to theirs. Ijichi glances at Nanami– if he had any doubts about the hierarchy here, that glance quickly dispels any doubts– before the blonde nods. 

The ride is silent. 

-

He wasn’t an amateur; no way was he giving them their actual home address. 

Instead he gave them the address for the apartment complex next door. 

It was convenient. Though he usually noticed immediately nowadays if he was being followed, on the off chance it took half the trip to notice, he could easily detour to a new location without suspicion. While it had never been that close, he really had until a little less than a block to notice before they would be found and would have had to move.

After all, he wasn’t the only pro hero living there. They both had separate (fake) homes they used as decoys (Hizashi was not using his fake address for fan mail. Never again.), but their little apartment was theirs. Safe. 

Aizawa would never threaten that. 

-

“Uh, I took us to the e-exact location you said, sir.”

Aizawa ignores him. He’s too busy staring outside the other window. 

Where his apartment complex should be. 

Instead, there is an empty, overgrown lot. It doesn’t look like anyone has mowed in years. Next to it, the address he had provided, is an abandoned shopping mall. 

Like a dam, the bad feeling from earlier breaks. This has to be a quirk. His home cannot be gone. It cannot be. He refuses to entertain it until he’s sure. What kind of quirk—

He ignores the exclamations as he activates his quirk, staring down where his complex should be. Stares hard, until–

Movement, from the corner of his eye. 

He jerks back. Reaches for his scarf that isn’t there. Fuck. What–

“What the hell is that, Nanami.” There’s a growl in his voice usually saved for back alley criminals, but he doesn’t care right now.

“So you can see it, then. Hm.” 

“Answer me. Now.”

Nanami sighs. “That is a curse. It’s a grade 4, so you don’t have to worry. It has been with us the whole time. Ijichi did the sealing work himself. You can trust him with it. Did you just now notice it?”

Did he– “Yes, I just noticed you have me sitting next to a stick figure cyclops!” 

“So, your curse technique–”

Aizawa slams the car door open before he can finish. 

-

He’s not sure how far he runs.

He takes the rooftops, even though it’s sunny out. He does his best to stick to the few shadows there are, but he’s not sure how successful he is.

He hasn’t had a blind panic run since– since–

Best not to think about that now. 

Deep breath. It sounds like he’s leaning against a roof water purifying unit. 

Oh, there’s also a raven staring at him. 

He rolls his head to stare at it dead on. Activates his quirk quickly, just to be safe. 

Nothing happens. 

“Can I help you?”

It blinks at him. 

Ok.