Chapter Text
A small huff of air escaped his lips as Toshinori shifted the brown paper bag in his left hand so he could open the door to his allocated apartment with ease. It wasn't locked like it usually was, but instead with nothing more than an effortless twist today. The retired blonde always locked his apartment before leaving and even if he didn't, Nezu's security system would do it itself. Therefore in any other circumstances, Toshinori would try to be as vigilant as he could be and alert the other heroes that housed UA with a simple click to his phone for the intruder currently dwelling in his lone apartment could be just anyone.
But it isn't just anyone that housed his apartment, he knew exactly who it was.
Toshinori gave the door a little push as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him properly before changing into his slippers as he headed inside. The apartments given to the faculty members by UA weren't that bad, they were spacious enough and fulfilled all their basic requirements and consequently, Toshinori never complained. It was just that he was used to living alone. For majority of his life, the retired hero has lived and found peace in the silence. Yes, it became unbearable at times given his boisterous persona but now that he was retired, Toshinori preferred the silence.
Not today.
Today his apartment was eerily quiet. The drop of water falling down the tap in the bathroom's sink was too loud compared to it. It was suffocating, the heavy aura that had settled in the atmosphere. Every little creak in the floor as he took a step was too loud and he was painfully aware of his own breathing. It was always like that. Whenever he came back from teaching his students or training with Izuku, it was just this quiet. But today the silence was heavy, so heavy Toshinori wanted to run away and never look back upon these haunting walls.
He couldn't though.
Not with Izuku — hurt, quiet, terrified — curled up on his couch.
His heart twisted in a cruel way as soon as he spotted the mop of wild green curls from the back of his couch. Izuku was so silent, Toshinori would have mistaken the boy to be asleep if he didn't know any better. However, Izuku couldn't sleep or rest in general was the reason he was here, in his mentor's apartment. In any other circumstances, Toshinori would be delighted to have Izuku staying over. Not today. Don't get him wrong, he wasn't upset with his successor being there he just… It was all too much.
Izuku was… His boy was chipping away before him — broken and battered in a way so twisted it made Toshinori's nonexistent stomach churn. A lump grew in the retired hero's throat as he made his way to settle the bag on the counter of the small kitchenette that was directly connected to his lounge.
Izuku didn't even turn to look at him.
Toshinori couldn't tell if it was a good sign or a bad one.
His boy has been so alert during this entire ordeal that it felt unnatural for him to not turn at the sound of the paper bag shuffling or his mentor's feet against the hardwood floor. Toshinori didn't know if Izuku was finally finding some comfort in the walls of his apartment or had he just given up on protecting himself — probably the latter but Toshinori hoped otherwise. With a deep breath, the blonde man slowly approached his boy. He didn't reach for him from behind but instead he took his time to walk around the living room to get to his side, making sure he didn't startle him any more than he already was.
When Toshinori eventually did reach him, he found that the boy hadn't moved an inch from where he left him. With his legs drawn up close, Izuku hugged his knees with his bandaged arms to his chest. He rested his head on his knees, bug eyed as he stared into nothing with his face slack and bandaged. If he breathed, Toshinori didn't catch it. The boy tried to appear as small as he could, cover as much of himself as he could. Even if his face was blank, his mentor could see the fear evident in his emerald eyes as clear as a day.
His boy was hurting.
And it was all because of him.
"Hey," He started, allowing a small smile to grace his lips for his boy's sake, "I brought dinner." One of hands wandered to the armrest while the other hung uselessly by his side as he awaited a reply from Izuku. When nothing came, he tried again, "It's Katsudon. From that restaurant you like." Toshinori liked to think it was a good persuasion technique. But all his boy did was curl in on himself tighter and closed his eyes shut. Toshinori frowned. The said restaurant wasn't too far away from UA. It was a twenty minutes walk at most and a five minutes drive at the least. Today he had asked Shouta to get the food. He couldn't risk being away from Izuku for twenty minutes, the boy was too distressed for him to do so. Even now, he only left to get the bag from the boy's homeroom teacher. However, both Toshinori and Izuku have been there many times, almost uncountable times. Often after Izuku's evening training, Toshinori would treat him to dinner there and at times where they couldn't find free time in their schedules to do so on weekdays, Toshinori brought some home on Saturdays.
Izuku loved their Katsudon.
Toshinori couldn't argue, their sauces were a delicacy.
Therefore, he thought if nothing else maybe that would make Izuku eat something because good lord that boy needed to eat. In the past week or so, all Toshinori could remember his boy had eaten were the two tasteless hospital servings that were necessary for him so the doctors could give him proper medication without it backfiring on his already deteriorating health. Toshinori had seen Izuku stare at the food like it was something alien to him, he had watched him struggle to eat, his poor boy couldn't even hold the spoon properly. He had offered to feed him instead, he had witnessed the boy forcing the food down his throat and keeping it in there. Izuku had thrown up the first time immediately but thankfully, the second meal decided to stay in his system. The point was, in short, that his boy was starving.
Izuku was starving and he really needed to eat something.
When his boy still didn't react, he moved his hand from the armrest and placed it gently on top of those soft curls, "Izuku?" He opened his eyes lazily at the given name, he didn't really have much energy in him to react strongly anyway. It took a few minutes for Izuku to unfurl himself and allow his bare feet to touch the floor but Toshinori had learnt to be patient with scared children, especially his boy. He couldn't fathom the thought of scaring the precious young boy before him. Not after all he has been through. Izuku deserved to be treated with extra care and love and Toshinori would do anything in his power to do so.
Izuku reached out a hand and Toshinori took it almost immediately, holding the scarred limb in his large calloused one firmly but gently. Izuku couldn't walk on his own just yet, Recovery Girl had instructed him to stay off of his right leg for a while. The bone wasn't broken thankfully, there were no fractures but the injury that ruined his flesh and skin down there was quite gruesome. He could've just offered him to bring the food to the living room, sparing the boy the painful walk to the table in the kitchenette but the idea didn't strike Toshinori's own clogged mind till they were halfway there. He cursed at himself for the slowness of his exhausted mind. Admittedly, Toshinori wasn't in his best shape either but he was miles better than Izuku. If he hadn't been holding his boy, he would be pulling his hair out in self-hatred.
It just wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that all he got was a few scratches while his boy flatlined—
A small tug at his sleeve brought him back to reality before he could dissolve into another episode of his distraught memories of the nights before. With a startled gasp, Toshinori looked down and found Izuku looking up at him with expectant eyes — half lidded and knowing all too well what was going on in that head of his.
Izuku. Right. That's right. Izuku was here, beside him, in his hold. Alive, breathing, recovering and not unmoving on some cold metal table, not being tortured before him, not cold but warm. In his arms. Alive. Broken and scarred but there. Right.
"I… I'm sorry, kid," He whispered pathetically. Izuku turned his gaze to the floor at that, and Toshinori immediately shut his mouth. Instead of delving into his panicked mind again, the blonde man pulled forth a chair and helped Izuku settle in before he went to get the Katsudon out in separate bowls. It wouldn't have taken him more than two minutes to set the dishes down for Izuku, steam rising from the surface of the warm pork and rice as Toshinori sat across the table. The food was still warm and if it wasn't, Toshinori was actually going to pull every last strand of his wild golden hair out. His boy deserved warm, delicious meals and not those cold, tasteless portions provided by the hospital or the intoxicated dry bread those villains tried to feed him (They hadn't known it was intoxicated but Izuku didn't eat it and words couldn't describe how grateful Toshinori was that even through those hunger pangs, Izuku refused to eat that poisoned bread)
With trembling hands, Izuku picked up his chopsticks. He clasped his hands together and mouthed a quick, "Itadakimasu," but didn't say anything out loud. Just like he hadn't in the past week. Right… It has been a whole week since Toshinori last heard his boy's voice. The realisation was… so melancholic to him. No wonder, it felt so suffocatingly quiet. The world was as loud as it always has been, it was just as noisy and vivid as it has been but his boy? His innocent little hero? His pride and joy? Quiet as if his voice didn't exist. So silent as if he never knew how to speak. The fascinated punctilious muttering he had grown so lovingly accustomed to was replaced by a silence forced by terror and fear. Izuku hadn't spoken in a week, not even even a whisper or a whimper escaped his lips and where it settled so much sadness and worry deep in Toshinori's bones, his blood burned with hatred and rage — anger directed at himself and those vile bastards who dared to lay their filthy hands on his precious boy. Those truculent tyrants who hurt his boy before his very eyes just for the sake of breaking him down.
What Toshinori wouldn't give to strangle those villains to death with his own hands—
Izuku tapped his wrist and pulled him out of his swirling mind in an instant. His mentor too turned to face him with a jolt, urgency evident in his tone as he asked, "What's wrong, my boy? Do you need something?" The green haired boy softly shook his head in return. Toshinori gave him a confused look before the boy pushed the second bowl of Katsudon towards his mentor and tapped it twice with his chopsticks, creating a ticking sound. A simple gesture asking Toshinori to eat his meal before it went cold and if it did bring tears to his sunken eyes, he wiped them away before Izuku could see.
Izuku was hurt. He was hurt so badly. He was so traumatised and scared that Toshinori couldn't leave his side for more than five minutes and as someone who has seen what had been done to him, Toshinori thought of it as the bravest most remarkable feat ever that he could even hold his own ground for five minutes because he knew. He had seen it all, he had heard Izuku's screams and cries when… when they— He just knew, okay. He was there and he saw it all. Nothing good could be possible accomplished by thinking of that night again.
Toshinori picked up his chopsticks and began to eat (Neither of them could finish their meals)
Not another word was exchanged — or gesture in Izuku's case.
Silence fell upon them once again.
And it was too loud.
────────────
It was Izuku who woke up first.
In that dirty old room, chained to the wall. It was cold and dark, he couldn't see a thing. His body felt unusually sore and heavy as he tried to move but all in vain as a low groan drew out of his lips. It hurt, his arms ached to move and his head was pounding against his skull. The metal cuff around his right ankle was chained to the wall, the chain wasn't quite long so it didn't allow Izuku much movement. However, he did wonder why whoever brought him here would only shackle him by his ankle.
Izuku was a strong young boy, a hero in training with marvellous power that could flatten buildings with ease — just one shackle seemed a bit inauspicious. It didn't feel like an ordinary kidnapping attempt. Given how Izuku felt with no detectable injuries and little to no clear memories of what he was doing before he woke up in this cell, he could tell this was a planned kidnapping and if it was planned, there was no way they would leave One For All's strength out of the picture.
Just to test his suspicions, the green haired boy called onto his quirk. The familiar bright green electricity began dancing around his skin in no time but it only lasted for a few seconds as the collar Izuku hadn't previously realized was around his neck began to beep excessively, forcing the quirk to deactivate. "Dammit," He cursed under his breath. Quirk suppressors. He should have guessed.
Izuku slumped his back against the wall, "Alright, alright… Let's think rationally. There's no rush." He was pretty strong without his quirk, yes but not strong enough to break chains and he wasn't going to risk trying to rip off the collar. That could backfire on him in a million different ways. So instead, Izuku tried to be patient with his predicament. In his drowsy state, Izuku slipped a bit by an angle and as he did, his body found the warmth of another.
He wasn't alone here.
That changed a lot of things.
The other body was warm unlike the room they were in. It was greater than Izuku's in size and quite bony. With a jolt of sudden realization, Izuku reached out a hand towards the person beside him. He gad an inkling feeling he knew exactly who was here with him. It only took long enough to reach one of his long bangs for Izuku to confirm that it was his own mentor that accompanied him here in this dark, cold room. The man was still out but fortunately breathing evenly. Izuku didn't poke and prod too much, just enough to know that Toshinori was also shackled in the same way he was. Afterwards, he withdrew himself back to his initial position, not wanting to ruin the little bit of rest his mentor was getting. Who knew what lay ahead, who knew when he would get a chance to sleep again.
Izuku didn't want to be the one to rob him of this moment of peace.
He only waited against that dirty wall.
"Patience, right." He reminded himself, his voice barely an audible whisper, "I just need to be patient." The process of waiting turned to hours that Izuku couldn't count but it was okay. They had been taught these things, how to act when captured, how to deal with kidnappings and negotiations. For now, Izuku would just replay those lessons in his head and wait.
────────────
The green haired boy must've fallen asleep in the while because a sudden loud sound of metal scraping against concrete woke him up from his very uncomfortable sleep with a jolt. From the looks of it, it awoke his mentor too.
"Wh-Where…?" Toshinori slurred, rubbing at his eyes as he sat up straight before taking in his surroundings. It didn't take long for him to find his student chained by his side, "... Young Midoriya?" Izuku didn't get to reply as the man who opened the door — most likely their kidnapper — stepped in and the action was all Toshinori needed to get his bearings in place and realize the weight of the situation through forty years of experience. Immediately, the retired hero placed a protective arm around Izuku and pulled him close as he turned to face the villain.
Said villain couldn't be less than twenty seven or more than thirty in regards to age. With shining purple eyes, unkempt brown hair and a matching coarse stubble, the man held a lean body which meant he must be quite dependent on his quirk. Unfortunately, neither of them had seen the man before. With a smirk, he broke the silence, "Awake at last, huh? You know how easy it was to get a hold of you two? Heh." The villain chuckled, "Honestly all it took to capture the All Might and his little golden boy was a gas bomb? Laughable."
A gloating type, great.
Although Izuku furrowed his brows, it was his mentor who spoke back first, "What do you want?" His tone was demanding, dangerous.
The brunet took two quick strides to close the distance between them — the man was tall, not taller than Toshinori, but he was tall enough for his shadow to swallow up Izuku at once. The villain crouched before them, only two feet away with a twisted smile. The retired hero brought the boy in his arms closer, at this point Izuku was basically buried in his chest.
"What do I want?" Their kidnapper pretended to think for a bit before letting out a muffled chuckle as he extended his hand and brushed Izuku's curls out of his face making the boy cringe in mild disgust, "Maybe just a few pretty screams—"
Toshinori immediately slapped his hand away before it could linger on his boy's skin any longer, glaring the man down with his piercing electric blue eyes with such intensity it could cut metal.
The unnamed villain tilted his head, he retorted, "Protective, much?" No reply came, "Fine then. I guess you want to play like that, hm?"
He stood up, hands in pockets, his smile never left.
He gave them one final look before heading towards the door,
"Guess we will have to play the quiet game."
And they did.
They played the quiet game.
Unfortunately, they never seemed to reach an end.
Soon, the silence became too loud.