Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku remembered the time before. When his mother would cook and flit around the kitchen dancing and singing and pull Izuku into learning a new dance. That was so long ago. When he was four everything changed with one visit to the doctors office.

His mother became cold. Locking him away in his room for days without food or water. Calling the school saying the boy was sick. Everyone believes it. Only the quirkless get sick all the time, they’re weak.

He was seven when he stopped calling for her at all. His door was covered in scratches that turned into gouges. The door handle was missing from the inside once his mother had figured out that he was sneaking into the kitchen at night while she was working.

Izuku was eight when he started sneaking out. Mostly to ravage the dumpsters nearby for some semblance of a meal. Walking miles to the park that had a public drinking fountain so he would be able to have water. He found cracked water bottles and half used rolls of duct tape that he used to keep the cracks from widening and breaking.

— — —

Izuku sighed.

‘Mom will be home soon’

If there was one rule to his escapades it was be back before mom woke up or was due home from work. The sun still hadn’t broken the skyline. It wouldnt for a while yet, but it was safer to be early than risk being late.

Izuku's legs burned as he pushed further. His bag heavy on his back slowed him some, but he needed what was stashed inside.

Scrambling for the rusted metal ladder of the fire escape he fell backwards. Not for the first time cursing his short stature.

Izuku could have sworn he left it down when he left that night. Had someone found out he was sneaking out? Did his mother find out?

Panic welled up in his body. He couldn’t do this now. He had to get back to his room. He wouldn’t be in trouble if he was locked safely behind his doors and supposedly unpickable locked window. His mother wouldn’t suspect a thing, but he needed to get there now.

Eyeing the building next door and the distance between them he decided. That ladder was down. He could make that jump.

He tightened the straps on his backpack and began climbing. The apartment was on the fifth floor, but the noise could wake the people directly outside. It was safer on the third floor. No one lived in that apartment.

Eyeing the space one more time he climbed the railing and jumped.

There was something ironic about the whole situation Izuku thought as air rushed around him. He liked the feeling. The bullies may have been onto something when they threatened to throw him from a window or make him jump himself.

It was exhilarating. Landing was not. Izuku hadn’t thought about the landing, and cried out as he hit the rail. It dug into his ribs painfully. There might have been a crack but he wasn’t sure.

Fuck. Miscalculation. Hitting the rail instead of the platform on the other side. Next time he would do better.

Two more flights of stairs and walking along three window sills. That's it. His ribs were screaming at him to stop.

He pushed his way up cursing that he hadn’t left more time. The sun was getting higher. It must be around seven thirty. His mother got off work at seven and her train ride was twenty-five minutes. A fifteen minute walk from the station. Four minutes to the elevator. Thirty steps to the door. 43 to izuku's room at the back.

He had approximately four minutes and fifty-six seconds.

Three window sills. He could do them in two minutes.

Inching his way along the fire escape underneath his neighbors window he reached out to the ledge grasping on tight to the edge slick with morning dew. Swinging himself onto the ledge was familiar.

Izuku reached for the next one. His mothers bedroom window. Heart jumping into his throat. What if his mother was inside already?

His fears were only slightly abated when he saw a flask of green hair pass by the alley he stood above. He needed to speed this up and get his supplies hidden beneath the floor. The last thing he needed was his mother accusing him of stealing from her.

His window was open. The only thing that seemed to have gone right this morning. Slipping onto his own windowsill and into his room was a relief.

Izuku could hear the elevator ding from his room. Being the first apartment off the elevator is both a blessing and a curse.

The floor, already pried open, made stashing so much easier. The boards sliding back into place over the meager non-perishables and emergency first aid he could find hidden.

“Izuku!” his mother called unlocking and opening his door, “Are you ready for school?”

“Yes mother.”

“Good. I don’t want any calls today saying you caused trouble for your teachers again. I am tired and don’t have time to come down to the school. You wouldn’t want me to have to come down would you?”
“No mother. I will not cause trouble.”

“Let me check your bag. I can not allow you to hide things from me.”

Izuku handed his bag over hoping he hadn’t missed anything. His mother seemed satisfied that it was empty of anything she considered Izuku unworthy to have. She shooed him out the door smiling at their neighbors.

It almost made them seem like a normal family.

— — — —

Kacchan made school hell for Izuku from the second he walked through the front gates.

The boy had once been his best-friend, and now he hurt Izuku. He wasn’t the only one though. Other kids liked to throw things at him off the playground and never let him have a turn on the swings.

Izuku liked the swings. The air, it felt like he was a part of it, of the clouds, of something desired and feared all at once. The sky, the wind, always better than the ground. He’s sure that's why they make sure he never has a turn. Kacchan knew he loved the swings when they were younger, and he took them away.

Play time over, classes began. Teachers ignored him, or worse, called on him specifically to inform him that, “Izuku, you answered incorrectly. Please stay during playtime for remedial lesions”

This made the class of eight year old's laugh and call him stupid.

Izuku only fought back once. He learned his lesson.

If he never complained they would not call his mother. They would call on him less often, but children are ruthless. They fear and hate what is different from them in an overpowered society.

“Kacchan?”

“Don’t talk to me you stupid worthless Deku”

And that’s how it began.

Izuku’s origin story. The reason he became a vigilante.

Chapter Text

— — —

One thing was for certain. The next time he went out he would need an entire list of things. Hopefully, he will be able to find as many of them as possible. People throw away perfectly good things all the time.

His mother would leave in a few hours for work. A twelve hour shift with a back to back twelve on call. She always stayed in the hospital on those days. Izuku would have twenty four hours to get what he needed and get home before anyone noticed he was gone.

“Izuku, You may come out and use the bathroom. There is a meal on the table for you.” his mother unlocked the door to his room coming in and blatantly snooping around.

“Thank you, mother. I appreciate the meals that you work so hard to give me.”

“Yes, We don’t have much. I may have to work more in the coming weeks.”

Izuku stared at her. Was she serious? Could this be a break where he would be able to roam the apartment himself?

The answer was no.

“Mother, Will I still be going to school?”

“Yes dear. I have installed a new lock on your door that will unlock automatically for school. Don’t get any ideas, boy.” Inko growled out smacking him hard upside the head, “there is a monitor on the lock that allows me to see when you leave and enter. As well as cameras in the kitchen. I will unlock your bathroom once a day at 6 pm. You best not miss it. It is your only chance.”

“Yes mother.”

Izuku did not want to anger her anymore lest she take away the meager freedoms she had given him. School was a time that he could at least have free water from the drinking fountains and access to the bathroom. The school also had a lot of leftover fruits like slightly bruised apples that they threw out. He could eat. School was good.

“Go shower. I can't have your school thinking I don't take care of you.”

“Yes, mother.”

Izuku is pretty sure the school wouldn't notice, and if they did it was likely no one would say anything about him. He’s just a quirkless deku after all.

— — —

Izuku raced home after school. Ready to start his hunt.

He escaped school with fewer burns from Kacchan than usual and was feeling confident that today would go well.

Lifting the floorboard he took stock of what he needed, consulting the list before adding burn cream. The list had gotten quite long with the shorter days his mother had been working.

The lock on his window was easy to pry open now. It was only ever shut and locked when his mother was home.

Slipping out along the window sills was easy and the ladders even easier. His body became more used to the escapades. The ground was only a one story drop, no need to worry about it killing him. He had only been injured the first time. Since then the dirty mattress has kept him from hitting the solid ground too hard.

It was a miracle that it had not been taken away to a dump yet, but Izuku was sure he wouldn’t need it soon anyway.

The backpack a settling weight along his shoulders he began the walk to the park.

— — —

Izuku had found almost everything on his list. He had only resorted to using the five-finger discount at a convenience store for some of his medical supplies, mainly burn cream; people weren't in the habit of throwing things like that away.

It was then that he heard a scream. No one seemed to react. Had they not heard that voice?

He ran down the street to the next alley. He was sure the scream came from there. A woman was pinned against the wall struggling to get away from her captor.

“SHUT UP! Just tell us where we can find your husband! He owes us. If he doesn’t pay up you can say goodbye to your precious little baby.”

Izuku ran. Bag heavy, filled with cans likely to cause blunt force trauma, he swung it at the man’s head.

Falling like a sack of potatoes, obviously not having seen or heard the small greenete come up behind him. The woman looked stricken by the display. Taking in the small form of the boy before shifting to the man’s prone form on the ground, “how old are you?”

“I’m Eight Mrs.! I turn nine next… nex..next week!” His voice was small.

“Where’s your mother?” The woman looked concerned, but Izuku couldn’t figure out why. He had never been noticed before. Maybe it wasn’t his best idea to charge a man in broad daylight at eight years old, but he couldn’t let this go on.

“She’s just . Just.. uh.. around the corner!” Izuku lied, stuttering over his words as he often did.

“You best be getting back to her then. She must be terribly worried. Let’s go back to the street. We need to call the police to pick up this man,” The woman seemed kind enough, but Izuku knew he could absolutely not be here when the police arrived, “you shouldn’t interfere like that. You could have been really injured.”

They would notice he had no mother nearby and call her. Then Izuku would be in so much trouble.

Slipping away on the street would be his best option. He would swing back while the woman wasn’t looking and secure the crook before going home. Hopefully he wouldn’t miss his chance to shower. He smelt like a dumpster.

The woman probably hadn’t noticed in the alley surrounded by trash.

‘She was quite unobservant’ Izuku thought as he quietly slipped away.

The man was still lying on the ground when Izuku got back to him. Looking around for something to secure the low-level crook he couldn't find anything. What did catch his eye however was the neon green wallet on the ground.

It called to him. He picked it up shuffling through the contents. There was money.

‘Is it really stealing if it was already stolen?’

— — — —

Chapter Text

Izuku found that beating up villains nearby gave him an easy source of income. If heroes could “take-down” villains, why couldn’t he?

Honestly, Izuku didn’t take their money anymore. He had gotten what he really needed, a laptop. Food wasn’t scarce, and he knew where to get it. No, the laptop was his lifeline. It gave him the ability to research and map out the best places in the city. It was his greatest resource.

Coding came naturally to him, and his analysis notebooks were scanned into his system and encrypted before he burned the books themselves: falling into the wrong hands would mean dire consequences.

Now, under the cover of darkness, when he was sure his mother was gone, though she was almost never home, he went out and fought villains. The adrenaline he felt taking down the thugs sang to him.

He was soaring.

Izuku learned that Dagobah beach was the perfect place to train. He had seen parkour on herotube and fell in love with it. The unsteady and changing terrain was perfect for learning jumps, rolls, and even controlled descents, AKA falling. That was his favorite.

Digging in the sand he found many things that washed ashore. Knives were abundant, he learned after landing too close to them. Collecting the ones that were in good shape led to learning to throw.

It was exhausting, and he would go home with bruises and scrapes, but heroes had to make sacrifices.

Izuku may be a quirkless Deku, but he would not be helpless.

— — —

His training came in handy. Both the computer skills and physical mastery of many parkour stunts. Not to say things couldn’t go wrong, but Izuku had done all he could.

His accuracy with the knives was about 9/10 for hitting bullseye. Needed work, but sufficient.

There was little left to do other than conceal his identity. Vigilantes were not looked upon in good favor. Gloves adorned his hands, black of course. They would keep his fingerprints away from the scene. Dark green hoodie pulled up over his head to cover his hair, which should have at least semi-blended in. Dark pants that are easy to move in with belts, straps and sheaths for his knives.

Thrift stores, the beach, and a five finger discount for the gloves created his first ever costume.

He mapped out a series of buildings that were close together and roughly at the same heights with slight raises or dips. He set out this time as he perched on the last windowsill, swinging himself onto the fire escape, he climbed up instead of down.

Three months after his first encounter with a villain, he set out, ready to become a non-vigilante.

— — —

If one thing was certain out of the five jobs between Aizawa and Hizashi, they had a distinct love for all of them. They had plenty of time, and made their own schedules.

That being said, Aizawa did not get paid enough for this shit.

His patrols extended later into the night without having a class to teach each morning when Hizashi got up to go to U.A.

Expelling a whole class of students may have been excessive, but they hadn’t shown any true heroism. Instead they just wanted popularity, to be flashy. Those things got innocents killed. Aizawa refused to play teacher to those types.

Normally only one or two didn’t show promise in his eyes. He recognized however they still needed to be taught, so he re-enrolled them under different teachers.

Many times he thought of just quitting. They had plenty of money.

Zashi would say he wouldn't because he wanted to change the hero society to be better.

Aizawa was only slightly inclined to agree.

— — —

Aizawa’s patrol had been far too quiet tonight. The city almost looked peaceful on the streets, besides the rush of weekend bars and clubbing.

No villains. Nothing, just a monotonous feel of running and jumping. Feeling his body move and muscles strengthen with each step. That was when he heard the commotion.

Stopping abruptly at the top of the building his capture weapon was already flaring, eyes glowing red. There were four or five villains surrounding a man. They looked to be some sort of group, strength or resilience based quirks. Purely physical.

Not mutant type strength, likely an easy in and out job.

Just as Aizawa was about to drop down a figure caught his eye. On the roof of the next building, four feet higher than his own. Suddenly, it was standing on the edge. A small body.

Clearly Aizawa needed to stop thinking the words quiet and easy.

With horror, Aizawa realized this small, clearly a child, was about to jump off a building. Suddenly they were falling down, down, down.

His capture weapon swung out missing the kid by millimeters.

The kid screeched on his way down yelling, “OOOH strength quirks huh? It's gonna hurt to be beat up by lil ol’ me isn’t it?!”

Cackling, the figure flipped and landed hard, kicking one of the villains in the middle of their back causing them to stumble away from the victim while falling over and taking out another one.

Bouncing off the kid used momentum to flip and land on the ground sliding a bit.

Aizawa made a note to lecture them later. What child should be jumping off high rise buildings with glee? Certainly not this child.

Taking down the rest was easy considering there was an obvious lack of combat training in any of the villains. Clearly they relied on their strength too much, and with Erasure they posed no threat.

Tying up the villains with handcuffs he sent a location pin to Tsukauchi.

Turning back to the small figure trying to scurry away from the scene up the fire escape. He couldn't just let them go. That building was eleven stories tall, and a child who could descend even from seven stories could do something like that… well it made Aizawa shiver.

That was the action of someone who was okay with gambling their life away. There was not any clear quirk usage, so it was not technically vigilantism. It was damn close.

Fucking hell, a child.

A building.

Oh god, he had just obtained a problem child.

One that liked to jump off buildings and fight villains, and run off into the dark. Aizawa was going to have a heart attack.

“Sorry Eraser! I can’t be picked up by the police today!” Scrambling up the side of the building before jumping to drop behind the lip of another rooftop.

For fucks sake, how was he supposed to keep track of one vigilante, most certainly a child, in this city?

— — — —

Chapter Text

The last thing that Izuku was expecting was for a pro-hero to show up. Let alone probably the most notorious of the underground. He was nearly impossible to find any information on. Izuku had to hack the files at U.A. to read about him. There was only one video on hero tube and it was so far buried that he had to decrypt the file to watch it.

Eraserhead, the hero who fought mostly quirkless, saw him. Fought with him.

Izuku thought he might just pass out. What day was it?

Tuesday. It was Tuesday. He had school tomorrow, but he felt like he was missing something more important than that. What couldn’t he remember?

Heading back to the apartment Izuku felt on edge. Something was wrong. Jittery hands made it harder to grasp onto the rungs of the ladder and to steady himself within the windows.

Once he stood in his room putting on his pajamas placing all his things beneath the floor, he remembered what he had so haphazardly forgotten. His mother will be home tomorrow. Wednesday was her day off.

Izuku laid in bed, wide awake, until he heard the front door open. The clock on the wall read two minutes till the alarm went off for school. Ten minutes till his mother came to check on him. Hastily looking around the room he made sure nothing was out of place, and hopped up to get ready.

By the time his door opened he was dressed and combing his hair the best he could.

“Let me help you,” his mother reached her hand out for the comb. Izuku let her take it knowing better than to fight it. She yanked his hair, uncaring of the sensitivity of his scalp. Hair pulled out leaving blood spots covered by the fluffiness of what was left.

“You need to be doing this more often! It wouldn’t hurt so mad or be so matted if you combed it every day!”

“I do comb it everyday mother”

That was the wrong thing to say with his mother so close to him. She buried her hand in his hair, yanking until Izuku was standing. Knees weak and the pulling on his scalp hurt more than Kacchan’s explosions.

Inko met his eyes in the mirror and threw him across the room. Her telekinesis pushed him along until Izuku hit the wall with a hard crack. Vision blurring as his mother descended on him in rage. Hitting him before dragging him up once again by his hair to deliver a final slap.

“Go to school. I will be here till tomorrow evening, approximately 7 pm. I don’t want you in my apartment until I leave.”

“Mother, I have nowhere else to go!”

“You should have thought about that before. GET OUT!”

Izuku was just happy that the neighbors could sleep through anything.

Leaving the apartment school bag in hand, none of his provisions nor his vigilante outfit he felt underprepared. It would be worse if mom checked his bag and found the items, so he would have to go without.

— — —

Izuku sank down into his chair trying to become invisible. There was no one here yet, Izuku was conflicted about whether it was a good thing or not. Kacchan would be mad. He was always first at everything he did. Including being the first into the classroom.

Izuku went to leave. At least then he could avoid the wrath that came with being too early. It was too late. Kacchan came through the door, two ‘extras’ following close behind. Upon spotting Izuku, Bakugou sneered.

Izuku heard the explosion before he saw it or felt the hand on the back of his neck. The explosion was so close to his skin, and at the heat ratio Kacchan had used it was likely he would have a new starburst shaped scar to add to the collection.
The smell of burning skin reached his nostrils. Cleaning out the wound would be the most immediate problem. Izuku breathed deep trying to tell himself that it was better than when Kacchan burnt his whole right upper arm. The scar wrapped around his bicep. It had hurt for months as it kept reopening with his use of it.

He had worse injuries. He could handle this.

His instincts had grown with his “patrols” however if he evaded Kacchan the teachers would blame him for fighting. They would take away his lunch and he would truly be left with nothing but water for the day.

Bakugou, hand still on Izuku's neck, leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Happy birthday you quirkless Deku. Are you sure you want another one? Isn’t ten enough?”

Izuku hadn’t realized it was his birthday.

Sure enough, looking at the board the date read July 15th.

He turned ten today, and all he got were injuries.

— — — —

Izuku decided that he was not about to let his birthday go to waste. The only presents that he had gotten were scars.

His wound was warm to the touch but clean, gently wrapped in bandages. He needed Neosporin, and new clothes.

Nicking the Neosporin from the nurses station during break wasn’t hard. She was never in there anyway.

He made his way back to class hoping for once the rest of the day wouldn't be so bad

— — — — .

School long since over, Izuku made his way into a large thrift shop. Larger ones were easier to steal from, and they had more options. Thrift stores also tended to be lacking cameras.

Standing in the aisle shrouded by clothes he was so short that it was nearly impossible to see him. It was perfect. Reaching out he began shuffling through the clothes. It was warm out, and it would get hot with constant movement.

A dark green hoodie caught his eye, the sleeves had been cut off and it was big enough that it would fall to his thighs. Opening his backpack he folded it small enough that the bag still looked as empty as when he brought it in. Shorts were next. He found a pair of black spandex and threw those in as well.

Walking up to the counter anxiety pooled in his stomach, “do you have any gloves?”

“check that case there.”

Izuku peered into the case. Seeing pretty much what he was looking for, but spotting a second pair of dark green fingerless gloves.

A bang resonated through the store and the man left yelling about a thief.

Izuku snatched the gloves from the case, and some knives as well from another and slipped out the door heading the opposite direction of the chaos.

Looking at his haul he smiled. The business was corrupt anyway.

‘Happy Birthday to me’

Chapter Text

Aizawa hasn’t seen the kid since that first run in. Hizashi had freaked out when he heard about the encounter. “Shouta! That is a baby!”

Aizawa erased his quirk before the neighbors could complain again, “Zashi, I’m aware. I’m trying.”

It weighed on them both. Knowing that somewhere out there was a vigilante. One who had decided that fighting crime was his new favorite hobby. He was reckless, and Aizawa had the instinctive need to make sure the vigilante wasn’t hurt. Not to say that Aizawa did not see the blatant skill, but it needed further honing.

Oh, and the fact that Aizawa was almost positive the new vigilante was a child.

— — — —
Aizawa remembers the exact date of the kids' return. July 15th.

“Eraserhead!” A voice called out behind Aizawa who was peering over the edge of a roof scanning the crowd for any suspicious activity.

“Kid, are you alright?”

He was wearing something different today. More suited to the weather, but less protection in terms of skin coverage. Not that the other outfit had any protective features either. The hoodie didn't restrict movement. Combat boots were new too. No bright red sneakers in sight.

“WHY OF COURSE!” The wind whipped the words away, never reaching below, but the kid was full of dramatics.

Lively, brave, confident. Those are the words he would use to describe the kid in front of him. One who showed more potential than any of his students had. This kid was meant for good things.

— — —

Aizawa had changed his mind. The kid was anarchy. Chaos incarnate.

“Kid, you don’t have to stand on the edges of buildings you know?”

“Why Eraser are you worried about little old me?”

“Kid.” The disappointment laced in his tone was sure to garner a reaction. It was effective with Zashi, Nemuri, and his students. It should work on the kid too.

“Okay! Fine! Such a spoilsport.” Izuku sighed, stepping away from the edge. Aizawa saw the glance back as if the kid was longing to go back up there. For a gust of too strong wind to knock him over the edge.

Silence spread thin over them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but tension was still there. The child looked away before grinning like a madman. Arm raised, pointing out a back alley deal. One that could be the beginnings of a drug bust. Aizawa grinned too.

“Kid, no quirk.”

“No worries! No quirk. I CAN DO that. ” Izuku giggled at what he could only guess was an inside joke.

Aizawa sighed and turned to make sure the problem child was following. If you can’t beat 'em, join 'em, and do your best to keep them safe. Aizawa was determined to gain trust.

Swinging down into the alley there was a lot more commotion than anticipated. More dealers came out of doorways hidden from their perch up above. He could handle it, but it was slightly overwhelming.

Suddenly, the kid’s bag was plowing into one of the villains next to him and the kid scooped it up before throwing it again. What did he have in that thing that collapsed hardened villains twice his size?

Aizawa yelled out as he kicked the last villain into a wall, “You officially have a vigilante name, kid. You yell chaos and anarchy all the time, and bring them with you literally everywhere. I hope you like it, Anarchy.”

Aizawa was double-checking the restraints when he heard a terrified yelp behind him. Turning quickly, that sound had to have come from the kid. Was he hurt?

The hood slipped from the vigilantes head during the fight, proving to Aizawa that they were in fact a child. Bandages around his throat worried the hero.

Scanning the boy for further injury, he saw only a small cut on the kid's arm and bruises. The kid looked at him terrified. As if he was scared of Aizawa himself. He did good, and he helped in a way that worked with Aizawa's own fighting style rather than being in the way. Where did the confidence of his kid go?

Aizawa opened his mouth to tell the kid he did well. This kid, he was a professional at this. How long had he been out here?

Then the kid was gone. He ran, and Aizawa couldn’t go after him. Not with so many villains tied up here and Tsukauchi on his way.

— — — —

Izuku watched as his hero was overwhelmed. Scaling downwards without being noticed was not hard in all the chaos. Gripping the side of a building wasn't easy, and his hands would have been cut and bloody if not for the gloves.

Sitting in an alcove he threw his bag at a villain catching them in the ribs before he pushed off the wall flipping, shoulder rolling as he got to his feet as quickly and smoothly as he could.

Backpack in hand once again he swung it out again. The villain hit the ground with a thud. Izuku did not stop. Previous villain, the one he socked in the ribs with his bag, was charging. Ripping one of his knives from the sheath he tossed his backpack toward the side of the alley.

Knife in hand, he grinned manically.

Finally, just what he needed. A little Anarchy.

Using the handle of his knife he knocked one unconscious. Another tried to grip him, missing as Izuku ducked underneath the arm, throwing the much larger man over his shoulder. Crashing the bigger man into the oncoming punch of another.

Izuku's mind raced following the lines and patterns that the villains followed. His moves are quick, precise. Swinging around to cover

“Learn to aim! Don't you feel ashamed that a child can beat you?”

The villain roared, swinging with brute force. Izuku was sliding underneath the man's legs kicking out and tripping him.

A knife grazed his arm, and a hand reached for his neck ripping the bandages. Izuku felt the bandages tighten causing him to choke.

Capture weapon looped around his middle as Eraser pulled him out of the way, throwing a punch into the villain's face.

Eyes gleaming, light somehow seeming to reflect off of them even in the grungy alley, Izuku looked like he decided the fate of everyone. An angel, one that is chaotic and full of wrath.

“Happy Birthday to me!” he whispered at the man beneath him as he brought down the handle of his knife into the man’s temple, knocking him out.

Suddenly the fanciful confident aura was gone.

Izuku turned toward Eraserhead, his hero, feeling the terror seeping down into his bones. The hero saw the bandages. He would ask too many questions.

He needed to run.

— — —

Chapter Text

It has been weeks since Aizawa had seen the kid. He heard reports from the other underground heroes and even Tsukauchi about the vigilante popping up. It seemed as though the kid was avoiding his patrols specifically.

The small boy, bruised and bloody, came to mind. The bandages wrapped loosely around his throat concealing an unknown wound. Aizawa wondered where the kid got it from. Likely a villain fight gone wrong, but it looked well taken care of. The kid had more scars than some pro-heroes.

Aizawa's phone rang out over the city, and he knew that ringtone by heart, “Zashi.”

“Hello, love. Any sign of the angel baby?”

“No, I heard he was alive and well yesterday. All of Nightveil is keeping an eye out.”

Aizawa scanned the streets again before returning to his phone call. Shuffling the backpack further onto his shoulder he set off to another set of buildings and alleys. Normally he would nonstop roof-run until he was dead tired. Fighting crime and looking for the kid who came battered and bruised.

The bag on his shoulder was heavy from the things that Zashi insisted he carry with him in case he ran into the kid. The weight of it is still throwing him off.

“Zashi. I think he’s scared of me.”

“Shouta. He just needs time.”

His husband was worried about the problem child too. There was nothing they could do except wait for him to come back.

Aizawa couldn't sit still anymore. Somehow he had messed up. He needed to run., “I have to go.”

— — —

Izuku wasn’t avoiding Eraserhead. Honestly!

School was rough on him after all night fighting crime, roof-running, avoiding crossing paths with a certain hero patrolling on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays.

Okay, maybe he was avoiding him. Eraserhead was his hero, and Izuku had seen the upset look on the man's face after the fight. The rules laid out for him so clearly and he snapped them in half. Of course, Eraserhead would be upset.

It had been a while since the man was by his side. Izuku wanted to trust him. He followed the man on a few different nights watching to see if the man was angry or overly violent. Eraserhead wasn't. He separated himself from needless violence and sacrifices. He was efficient. Izuku wanted to be like him.

Spending his nights running on the roofs and dropping in on criminals, his evenings were filled with training, strategizing and analysis files that were more heavily coded than U.A. and the hero commission combined, and school during the days. Izuku was tired.

— — —

Izuku felt the knife slash across his arm leaving a bleeding gash and a hole in his hoodie.

“That was my favorite hoodie you bitch!” Izuku kicked at the thug, taking out the knee and sending the knife skittering across the floor. Whipping around swinging his backpack from his shoulder and into the face of the villain who dropped like a sack of rocks. Ironic because that was what Izuku had taken to carrying around in it. Securing the thug to a pipe in the alley he called in an anonymous tip to the police and began to scale the rough side of the building toward the roof. He didn't want the villain escaping before the police got there.

Maybe he should go back to Dagobah beach and find some metal to plate the inner part. At least that could be sewn in. No more rocks shifting randomly. Honestly, Izuku knew that it was impractical to carry the bag around, but it had become a staple of his outfit, and identified him to the police as a vigilante. It was his best weapon besides his knives, and he needed any advantage avalible. The backpack would stay.

The sirens rang over the scene, breaking his concentration, and flashing lights cued Izuku to duck behind the barrier.

‘I’ve got to get home. Mom will be up soon’

The route was simple. Only a few buildings away he had been on the way home when the villain decided to harass a woman.

He jumped across the rooftops, scampering down the fire escape and into his bedroom window.

Eyes followed him as he disappeared into the darkness.

— — — —

Aizawa saw him. He was sure that was his kid.

The kid slipped into a window on the fifth story of a building. Aizawa noted which window in his mind. The kid lived there, or stayed there at least.

Aizawa’s instincts were sure that this was important information. One got a sense for these things working as a pro in the underground.

He just wasn’t sure why.

— — — —

His mother was home less and less, leaving Izuku locked in his room for weeks on end only unlocking the door, remotely, for school and the bathroom every night at six. That was until the doors stopped opening regularly.

Inko came home one day while he was supposed to be in school, and she screeched in his ear until they bled. She blamed him for missing class. It was his fault, and he was a useless son. She ripped him out of the corner he was cowering in tears threatening to fall. Izuku could not let the tears fall until his mother was gone. If he cried now he would never be able to get out. His body would be in no shape to escape through the window.

His mother saw the tears welling in his eyes. He couldn’t hear much of what she was saying due to hearing loss or panic, Izuku wasn’t sure. All he felt was pain as she twisted his arm until it was crushing pain and clearly broken. His ribs on fire from her kicks. He stayed quiet through as much as he could. When she ripped him off the ground one last time kicking into his thigh where a villain had stabbed him a few nights before, and Bakugou had burned last week he screamed passing out on the floor of his bedroom.

He couldn't hear very well since then. It was like when Kacchan let off explosions too close to his ears. Izuku was sure at the rate and damage to his ears over short spans he would have some sort of hearing loss by the time he was in middle school.
— — — —

Izuku had survived worse conditions than these.

Mom would hit him. Lock him away in his room. Teachers would refuse to teach him and take away his free time and meals if he was ‘disruptive’ with his mumbling. Kacchan never got in trouble. That was okay though because he was good.

Izuku was hurting. He wanted his hero.

— — —

Chapter Text

He couldn’t stand looking at his walls anymore. Throwing himself into his first love, Analysis, and with that, computers.The cast, which his mother roughly put on after he had awoken, was still on preventing him from doing anything with his right hand. His dominant hand.

Routine dragged on.

He went to school. Came home. Ate if there was food. Did homework, slept. His routine on repeat. His mother only gave him one meal a day if she was home, and if she wasn’t he broke into his dwindling stash.

One more week. His cast would be off. He would be able to go out at night again.

Only one more week.

— — —

Aizawa hadn’t heard any news from his contacts about the young vigilante. They still are unaware of his real name, and the only alias being Anarchy. The name Aizawa had given him to tell others.

Two months since Aizawa himself laid eyes on him. Where was he?

“Zashi, something is wrong. He’s not the kind to give up so where is he?”

“You'll find him. Bring him home, yeah?”

“Yeah, then we will have anarchy in our home.”

— — — —
Aizawa makes a point to go back to the building that he always met the kid on and leave a container of food. For months it remains unopened. Today it's empty and the sticky note just says thank you and the chemistry symbol for neon.

Aizawa wasn’t sure what the drawing was about, but the kid was back in his vicinity. Safe, alive, and without a doubt raining ‘absolute chaos and anarchy’ on the city

He sends a text: Zashi he ate.

— — —

It’s dusk, the underground will be alive soon. He’s a part of the underground.

He runs. He screeches in joy. He is free of those stupid walls with the dents and gouges and locked doors.

Hours later he’s exhausted and hungry. He recognizes where he is and knows the apartment complex is only a few blocks northwest of here. A block away from his own apartment complex. It’s here he met Eraserhead.

Izuku twirls reveling in the feeling of the sky, the wind, the beauty of it. Out of the corner of his eye he spots something, a bag sitting in the corner partially hidden but enough that keen eyes would catch. The black military style bag with accents of green had to be for him, right?

Izuku takes it and opens it, staring at the first thing that falls out. It’s a piece of paper that suddenly becomes the most important thing he owns because his hero gave it to him.

- Kid, I have been looking for you. I must have done something to upset you into avoiding me. Whatever it is you are welcome to talk to me, or leave a note. The other heroes have been telling me when they see you, and that you are okay after your “missions” They tell me all about this anarchy character that is out for their jobs. I think you have them fooled on how old you are. How old are you anyway? My husband insists that I bring you some home-cooked food and anything else you need. I’ve been carrying it for months now, leaving it in case you turn up. If you need anything we will get it for you. Safety first problem child, Eraser -

Izuku shovels the food into his mouth, grateful for the hero, his hero. He needed food. He always needs it, and for once he didn't have to spend hours dumpster diving to get it. He leaves a note in return and one of his knives, then Izuku goes home.

— — — —

Izuku dumped the contents of the bag on the bed, and there were a few things that caught his eye. The dark green and grey mixed blanket was soft. Not scratchy like the ones on his bed. The water bottles and jelly pouched were welcome.

The most important thing was a small slightly outdated phone that had a few numbers programmed into it. There was space left in the bag when he repacked it. Izuku wound up putting more of his stash inside. Knives attached to the outside. Costumes and laptop inside. The waterproof canvas would keep everything dry stashed on the roof.

Izuku would make sure to leave the man a new knife next time, or every time. They were practical and easy to find in fights and all.

— — — —

Chapter Text

The kid has been eating the food they give him for a while now. It's way better than his mothers’ but he will never admit that to her. One night Izuku decides it's time to actually see the man, shaking nervously as he stands on the edge of their building.

“Kid, dinner?” The voice came as if it was a casual everyday occurrence, and Izuku hadn’t been avoiding the man for months.

“Awe Eraser! You do care! I got your note. You missed little old me?”

“No actually, I thought maybe you had taken my advice to stop running around like a chaos tornado. Alas, I found you here.”

“Chaos and Anarchy! The faces of villains give me LIFE! They look so confused and enraged after they realize a child beat them up.”

Aizawa chuckled a little at that. Not many would be thrilled to be taken out by a literal child. There was a wide smile on the kid’s face. The older man was pleased to have the kid smiling and eating. He looked far too skinny.

They sat criss-cross a few feet apart, Aizawa respecting the distance that the kid had put between them. He didn’t want to scare him off again.

“How is the food?”

“It’s really good! Katsudon is my favorite!”

Aizawa hid his face in the capture scarf. Taking note of the meal that was scarfed down. Izuku ate as if he hadn’t eaten all day. Adding the meal to the mental list of what the kid liked, he settled in to eat his own food.

— — — —

After that first day, Izuku began to frequent the rooftop for meals. Not everyday, sometimes his mother came home from the hospital preventing him from sneaking out.

He grabbed his hoodie, slipping it over his shoulders. It was colder in the winter and spring months. Hood pulled over his head, Izuku slipped out the window and found himself late to the typical meeting time.

Waiting around was not his style, instead he went to seek out the pro-hero. Following the typical patrol routes with more shortcuts to catch up. Izuku lost his footing on a jump, arms windmilling backwards. He had miscalculated again. He was not ready for the fall, and he braced for the ground knowing from this height he wouldn’t survive.

Instead a loop of familiar cloth wrapped around his arm and waist stopping his descent.

“Thanks EraserDad! I knew you’d catch me,” he smirked at the man as if he planned it this way all along.

“Kid, we need to work on your distance jumping. If I hadn’t made it in time you wouldn’t be here.”

“Just another statistic!”

“What?” the man sighed. Dragging the kid back to the roof beside him, “stay close.”

“Nothing. Aye aye captain.”

The two did not speak as feet pounded and air rushed by.

— — — —

The kid dropped in on patrols more often than not nowadays.

Aizawa got used to his snarky remarks and the sounds of the problem child’s footsteps in time with his own. The warmth pressed against his back, reaching below his shoulders which kept him with full range of motion, reminded him that the small vigilante was safe.

“Wow! You would think that a fire quirk and one who can cause concussive waves would be more creative with their tactics. Right Eraserdad?” the kid mocked.

The face of the fire villain who Aizawa had his eyes trained on, quirk active, twisted in anger.

The kid was sure to get a rise out of the villains.

“I BET YOU THINK YOU”RE HOT IN THE CLUB! Sorry buddy, but youre fucking ugly.”

Aizawa took the chance to get in close. A simple chop to the pressure point on the back of the neck had the fire user on the ground unconscious. Not stopping the man twisted toward where the kid was fighting against the concussive quirk.

“Eraser! JUMP!”

No hesitation, the man jumped. The kid, always observant, was right as the concussive blast rippled along the ground. Eyes locked on the woman who had her hands on the ground, he activated his quirk.

The kid took the chance to move in. Aizawa felt the strain on his eyes. He would need to blink soon.

Holding on as long as possible he moved behind her using the kids distracting bouncing and strikes. The woman had more skill in hand to hand than most of the thugs that they encountered. The kid held his own. It helped that his accuracy with knives lodged one in her leg.

She screeched. “I thought heroes were not supposed to stab people!”

Malice showed in the kids grin.

“I’m not a hero. I like the Anarchy that I cause.”

The strikes never stopped.

Then Aizawa blinked.

That was enough for the woman to set off a blast at the kid. It hit him dead on, the concussive blast not as strong as it could have been sent the kid skidding across the ground. He was unmoving.

Aizawa took her out quickly from behind, binding her, and rushing to his small partner. There were bruises visible and a few minor heat burns on his hoodie. The most concerning was the blood trickling from his ears.

“Kid? KID!” Aizawa tried to wake him. Feeling for a pulse and broken bones before altering his position so the kids head was in his lap. It wasn’t long before the kid was groaning, eyes opening to meet the hero’s own.

“What hurts?”

“Eraserdad? I can’t hear you.” the kid moved to sit up.

Aizawa knew the kid needed medical attention. Right away. Turning the kid’s head toward him he mouthed slowly ‘We need to go to the hospital.’

The kid ripped from his hold backing up against the wall. The reaction was violently clear, “I AM NOT GOING!”

Aizawa was not sure if the kid was yelling because he couldn’t hear for volume control or if the reaction was just to the hospital visit.

“Kid, you could have a concussion along with hearing loss and other injuries. You need medical attention.” He spoke slowly.

“wasn’t that bad. It's been worse. I’m fi-fine. I can hear. I..a..i..jus..just a second. Please, please, don't take m-me there”

There was a clear feeling of disbelief, the kid refused the hospital. All forms of confidence lost at the thought of the place. Anarchy was stuttering now and Aizawa couldn’t be sure it was from the blast and not panic.

“You know how to care for a concussion?”

“Yes, Eraserda -dad, don’t be so worried. I can take care of myself.”

Aizawa sighed. There was not a chance in hell this kid would step in that building. The man could almost guarantee that the kid would escape yelling, chaos and anarchy, before they got close. Then he had little chance of the kid trusting him again.

“Tomorrow. On our building. I want to check you over everyday. No patrols until you are deemed fit.”

The kid just groaned, but no clear protest. That was a win.

Chapter Text

— — — —

School was a nightmare.

New year, new students, same shit. Aizawa expelled half his class this year.

The man was always tired, leaving what was left of them to their own devices for homeroom. They were supposed to be working out the logistics of an undercover rescue mission relating to their groups of four. It pained him to listen. What didn’t they understand about covert?

All they cared about were flashy moves and catching the public eye with large stunts.

Aizawa made a note to have them run the hell course, and set up a training module on pre-planned raids and rescues. If they failed he would expel them too.

At least Anarchy seemed to listen. All his intellect poured into the upcoming raid.
— — — —

School was a nightmare.

Izuku took care to avoid scores that would place him near the top of his class. Instead, making sure he was on the upper side of average in class.

He only attended school in order to spend less time in the apartment and get extra practice. Well, and because education is mandatory. Well ahead in his schoolwork, especially in English and maths, Izuku took up sign language knowing that the sound of Bakugou's explosions was causing his hearing to deteriorate.

It was boring here, and Eraser dropped some information about a raid coming up. Izuku would be there. He needed to be.

— — — —

Aizawa over the next few weeks, brang meals and discussed the logistics of undercover operations. Analysis and critical thinking were a pivotal point of their operations.

“Kid, how would you go about infiltrating the building with a team of four others? The objective is to scout and map while rescuing the hostages in the cells underneath.”

Anarchy, his problem, looked over the floorplan. Eyes flitting and mumbling under his breath. Then he looked up.

“What are the others’ quirks?”

“Problem Child, you are successfully 20x smarter than my idiodic class of students. I should have expelled the lot of them already.”

Anarchy laughed, holding his stomach. Aizawa laughed along too. The two giggled about the fact that people didn’t stop to think about the assignments that Aizawa gave out, but Anarchy could get further in two minutes than they had in an hour.

— — — —

Plans ran through Izuku’s head. There was something going on with this operation that Eraser had him help think through, and if he was a part of planning then he was damn well determined to participate.

Fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop he pulled up schematics of building after building.

“Warehouse district, near the edge. Minimal collateral damage possible if things go sideways and one of the more destructive heroes goes overboard.” Izuku's muttering aloud often got him into trouble, but his brain moved too fast, “This would give the best vantage point for surveillance. Another team in building C in the southern corner of the block. Villain routes in the prefecture come from the south. Surveillance needed.”

3D schematics of buildings mapped out in his head.

“-archy, Kid!”

Snapping back to his body he covered his laptop preparing for a blow, an explosion, someone taking the one thing that had all his data.

Oh, oh, Izuku knew that voice.

“Eraser! Fuck.”

Immediately Izuku noticed that the man had taken a few steps backwards and sat down there. Sliding food toward him with a grunt sounding remarkably like words to eat.

“You figured out the raid schematics and fixed them?”

“Duh! These were abysmal at best. There was no organization and the surveillance teams were in the wrong places. Honestly, remedial courses might do your planners some good.”

“Your concerns have been noted” The man chuckled at the kid.

“I fixed it. I’m coming.”

Aizawa buried his face further into his scarf trying to hide the smirk. Of course the kid would insist on involving himself with a high profile raid. However, the operation was bigger than Aizawa had planned.

“Surveillance only. Can’t have you being picked up by the police.”

“Eraser, I am a goddamn delight. The police would never arrest a kid!”

They both knew that wasn’t true. Either way, Anarchy was a not-vigilante, and that was the only saving grace for if he was ever picked up. The kid never used his quirk.

“Tomorrow, kid.”

“Tomorrow.”

— — — —
The night before the raid everything was suspiciously dead on the streets. Side by side in one of the better spots set up for “optimal surveillance” as Izuku dubbed it. The two of them watched the streets.

“Eraser? It seems really surreal here don’t you think? Almost… boring?”

Aizawa sighed at the kid with a short broken off start of a laugh, “Anarchy, not everyone can be chaotic all the time.”

“Watch me!”

Whipping out their backpack, Aizawa almost thought the kid was just going to throw it out the window in hopes of hitting a villain. Instead, reaching inside, he pulled out a laptop.

“Kid?”

“Ah-Ah! You're messing with my concentration vibes!”

“Undercover surveillance?”

“I am not your student. Chaos can be quiet when I want it to be.” Izuku winked before turning back to the screen. Immersing himself in the data streams and 3d models that popped up. Finally, he found what he was looking for.

“I am in!”

“Should I ask where?”

Izuku smiled up at him with that grin. The one he leveled at villains in the heat of battle when he was being true to his vigilante name. This was going to be a disaster that most likely worked in their favor.

“The villains' speakers and comms. If they are ready to move on us, then let my fun begin. Tell the others plans have been moved eraser. These villains are coming, and now.”

A pre-quirk song began to play through the feeds.
“Running is a victory. Run boy run.”

— — — —

Izuku's blood was singing, step for step matched with Eraserhead. A synchronous idea of where your partner will be at any moment that comes with years of fighting, training, running side by side. Knowing where to step and when to not be in each other's way.

This is what they had been waiting for; this takedown would break up one of the largest hubs of the black market to date. In a single bust they would take out the head of operations in Japan while slicing out all the section leaders. Limelight heroes stood ready to take the glory, but the underground knew that they were the ones who made the mission successful.

Lay low.

Sprint, duck, swing.

Izuku throws the backpack, minus his laptop which he would have to return to grab. It hits a villain in the back of the knees toppling them.

Fluid motion. There are no seconds in a fight for faltering. Faltering injures you.

A jab to the back of the neck has the man out. Next.

Eraser is keeping back a woman who seems to have some sort of poison quirk, and another who has some mutation. He has it handled.

Spin, jab, roll.

Moving is always moving. His knife is sharp enough to cut through muscle like butter. Izuku never claimed to be peaceful. Never kill. That was the rule. Achilles heel cut the woman went down. Who’s next?

Distantly he recognized the sounds of the other heroes filtering in. The music is still pounding through the comms link.

“Run boy Run It's time to run”

Izuku should have heeded that warning more seriously.

Backpack slung over his shoulder once again ready to be used as ammo, the battlefield seemed to freeze.

A bang resonated through the warehouse and then a second quickly after.

Izuku took stock. Heroes were all standing, villains littered on the ground. The swipe of a long range quirk, Shadow, Izuku's mind fills in the blank, takes out the villain with the gun. Who was shot?

Suddenly it hits him, literally, Eraser slumps down boneless against him. The man was unresponsive and Izuku's own motor skills failed. The takedown was over, but he couldn't move. It must have had paralyzing effects. A tranquilizer dart situation.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or sickened. He couldn’t move. His hero couldn’t move. All because of a dart. One that slowed everyone enough for one of the mutant villains to escape running at Anarchy and Eraserhead.

It only landed one blow.

— — — —

The villain charging them was taken down as soon as the short term drug was out of his system.

Fuck. That could have been bad. All in all the raid was the most successful to date. No hero lives lost, no excessive damages, no civilian casualties.

Anarchy had made it through his first raid relatively unscathed, and the man could not have been prouder.

“Good job, Anarchy.” forgoing the moniker of kid or problem child in front of the others. It was not the time to be downplaying what Izuku had done for them by calling them kid. He really was a part of the underground. Where everyone knew everyone, but they each worked alone or in pairs.

“HELL YEA! ERASERDAD! WE DID IT!”

Figures the kid would be out there. Excited.

Aizawa smiled, a true smile, hidden deep beneath that scarf of his.

— — — —

Aizawa watched as a flash of green vanished into the darkness a building away. He would meet him later on their building. A check in before going home to curl up with Zashi and the cats as per usual after a long recon and takedown mission.

“Eraser!” one of the officers who frequented his drop sites for villains called out to him. He hated the quirksist nature of the man and refused to talk to him. Why Tsukauchi continued to send him was a mystery.

A glare seemed to silence the other man, “No.”

“I have to arrest vigilantes. It's my job. They are breaking laws. They should leave it to the true heroes.”

Aizawa sighed, “I didn’t see them.”

All he wanted was for the interaction to be over. This man was annoying him. Not a single soul would sell out Anarchy to this fool. He was wasting his breath. He had no respect for heroics that took place in the shadows, in the underground, and so the underground would give him none in turn.

That was Eraser’s vigilante. Nobody messes with Anarchy lest have both of the duo after them. That, and they liked the kid.

Anarchy was safe with the underground.

“I will give my testimony to Tsukauchi tomorrow. Goodnight.”

With that Aizawa left to check on his kid, and to fall into bed with his husband.

Chapter Text

Hizashi screamed, “A BABY! REFUSED THE HOSPITAL AND THEY ALL LET HIM WALK AWAY?!”

“I wish I hadn’t Zashi, but the kid looked like he was going to break down into a panic attack at the thought of it.” Shouta replied.

“A child shou, just a baby”

“If I forced him, I would never see the kid again, and I so badly wanted to.”

“Aizawa Shouta. I love you, but go sleep on the couch.” Zashi pointed at the couch in the living room that was only comfortable because they ripped all the springs out of it a few months ago.

Shouta knew he was not going to win this. He slunk his way over pulling blankets to him. Once he was comfortable he heard Hizashi go into their room and the door shut.

He hadn’t expected it to open again, his husband bringing the comforter from their bed and settling with his head on Shouta’s chest. Comforter draped over both of them, Hizashi reached out turning on the t.v. to the cat channel. They always did this when one of them was stressed or upset.The volume on low and the brightness dimmed made it possible to relax. He would normally fall asleep like this.

“It's not your fault that he got hurt, Shou.”

“I am an adult in this situation. I should have been aware. Quicker to deactivate that woman's quirk.”

“Would the kid blame you?”

“I don’t think so, Zashi, and that's the damn problem. No fixing this! He’s going to keep doing these things. Getting injured. I can’t do anything.” Aizawas' voice was barely there, and Hizashi, glad he put in his hearing aids in the bedroom, would likely not have heard it without them.

The blond man could feel the hitch in breath as the man underneath him forced words out, “He’s a damaged child. Train him. Work with him. Let him know he can rely on you”

“I love you” Aizawa reached out, running a hand along his hair and gently removing the hearing aids, dropping them on the end table.

“I love you to Shou”

— — — —

Izuku, as promised, met his hero on the roof of their building at two am. The start of patrols for the man.

“Kid, how's your head? Your hearing back to normal?”

Izuku just nodded to the second question sitting quietly. He blamed himself for getting hurt. His head felt like it was splitting open, but he still woke up to make sure he could. Well that and he had school.

“It’s fine. I have a headache.”

Eraser nodded, handing him the container of food.

“Katsudon!” Izuku cried out, “Eraserdad you must love me!”

“Yeah, kid, I really care about you.” The man shot a lopsided, closed mouth, grin.

“You trust me?” Izuku was sure the incredulity bled into his voice.

“Yeah, Kid. When or if you are ever okay with it, you can tell me yours.”

Izuku shifted uncomfortably from where he sat. It didn't seem like Aizawa was fishing for information. He said he was okay with not knowing right now, “It’s Izuku.”

“Thank you for sharing.” Aizawa shifted forward a little.
That made Izuku crack a nervous smile, leaning into the man's chest. arms came up to encircle Izuku. Holding him close but not enough to restrain or hurt. For the first time, Izuku felt something other than pain when touching another person.

“Thanks” izuku's voice was barely more than a whisper. Nearly impossible to hear.

Aizawa wrapped the scarf around him and Izuku, “Of course kid. You’re always welcome.”

— — — —

“I won't be here tomorrow. It's family night. I promise on thursday.”

“It's okay. Does your family know about your injury?”

Izuku shakes his head, causing him to raise a hand up when the action makes him dizzy. Looking at the man, pleading with him to let it go. He did, but he said something so much better.

“We cannot have you going on patrol for a while until you are healed. You can meet me here. I will teach you tactics and underground work beyond patrols. I’ll be here at midnight until patrols at two. Meals will be provided. What do you say problem child?”

Izuku’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “YEAH!”

— — — —

Chapter Text

Izuku felt like he was pulled in many directions, but it was fun. It also meant that sleep was less important.

His mother took longer to leave for her shift tonight. That meant He was running behind meeting Aizawa, and that meant dropping into the middle of patrol.

It was good. Wind whipping catching on his long-sleeved hoodie. Fresh snow sparkled on the ground and the cool air filled his lungs. The adrenaline was pumping through his body as he ran, flipping and adding other moves to release energy.

Swinging onto another building, Izuku ducked down behind the pipes. Lying in wait for his hero to unknowingly join him.

Eyes followed the distinct blur of grey and black passing by. Izuku pounced, latching on. He gripped tight. Not allowing a simple shake off. Instead, the man reached up to grab his arm and flipped him over.

Izuku smiled, body laid out on the ground before he bounced up, slapping his hand on the hero’s arm. Sprinting for the edge and tumbling over the edge dramatically. The freefall stopped by reaching out for a pipe, fingers curled around it as he let go descending further into the alley.

“Tag!”
— — — —

Heavy breaths fell from their mouths as they laid down watching the sun begin to break the horizon. It was peaceful. There was no criminal activity to be warded off. Just the pair playing an intense game of tag.

It was during the game that Aizawa had realized the truth behind the jokes about never being a true vigilante. On instinct his quirk focused on the kid, and without any reaction or stumbling he continued to run. Even the hardest of villains reacted.

Not his kid. There was no stumble, hitch of breath, no reaction at all from Anarchy. All the clues fell into place, and with them came the horror.

His kid had to be quirkless.

Anarchy was quirkless. Aizawa let him jump off buildings with no failsafes other than himself and the capture scarf.

The first thing he had seen his strong kid do was jump off a ten story building. Parkouring down it like a pro and into a villain fight. Quirkless. He was in over his head. The problem child had just gained so much more respect, and about thirty lectures on safety when Aizawa could get him to sit still.

— — — —

Dread filled his body, and he was sure that it was manifesting itself in the clouds. Not rain clouds but perfect fluffy white. It was weird that people only thought of bad days happening during bad weather or rain. As if you could control it with your mood.

Izuku wishes he could for a moment. A quirk like that would be temperamental. It would be better than what he had now for a quirk.

“Oi, Nerd.”

Fuck.

“Kacchan just go away and leave me the fuck alone.”

“What the HELL DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME SHITTY DEKU?”

Uh-oh. Shit. That really just happened.

Is this how I die?

“No-noth-nothing nothing kacchan. I uh nothing, I didn't-I didn't say anything.”

“Oh yes you did, and you are going to pay for that comment.”

“Okay kacchan”

Izuku was able to go to class with only one major burn wound on his side. All the teachers ignored the singed area of his uniform and almost completely disintegrated. If this was all he had to deal with today then he would take it.

Of course then they started talking about higher education, and Izuku’s application to U.A. was brought up. It had been a stupid idea in the first place. He didn’t need the formalities. He was fine where he was working with his hero and the rest of the underground.

Bakugou Katsuki however was livid.

Burning his notebook, throwing it into the pond below, and hanging Izuku near the edge too.

“Do everyone a favor, take a swan dive off the roof and pray for a quirk in your next life”

— — — —

For all his excitement, Izuku seemed to always be injured and hurting. Aizawa noticed the wincing and tenderness on days where he had gone without the kid showing up. The problem was that if Izuku was being injured it wasn’t while on their patrol routes.

The kid avoided most of the other underground pros at this point, sticking to his side instead. In fact he was sure Anarchy worked exclusively with him.

They got a few bumps and bruises, occasionally nasty hits during fights, but injures popped up seemingly out of the blue.

Aizawa’s instincts flared when the kid was absent for a fourth day in a row.

Where on earth had he gone?

Aizawa had chalked it up to his usual erratic schedule at first. Bouncing in and out of his life on patrols and breaking up the silence of his fights with brash words filled with confidence.

The only time the kid had been gone this long is that fight. The one where he ran away. This was different though. There was no trigger, and being out four days in a row, even if the kid should have been resting was unheard of.

For once, maybe he would put that phone to good use.

Kid, are you there?

No response. It seemed excessive, but instinctively he knew. Something was wrong. It was beyond time to find his kid.

— — — —

Calling the police should have been on his priority list, but you can’t exactly put in a missing persons report without knowing more than the first name of someone. Let alone one that is basically being manhunted at the department.

It had been eight hours since the text was sent. The phone had to be off because there was no signal from the GPS, and given ample time to reply the kid still was silent.Aizawa was not sitting around any longer making plans. First things first, their building would be the place to start.

Then Aizawa remembered. The window, that building they used all the time as a launching pad. The one that Izuku sniped about having terrible security with a sly grin that wasn’t reassuring the fact it was supposed to be a joke.

There. On the roof, the child's backpack, the one Aizawa had given him. Not the yellow one that was falling apart at the seams that Izuku for some reason found the best of his weapons.

Knife sticking out above the door. Black metal gleaming in the sunlight. A visual for him. The kid was here.

I’m coming problem child, hang on, I’m coming.

— — — —

Izuku wasn’t sure how long he had been there lying on the floor. His mother had left at some point, but time was a concept that he had no grasp on at the moment.

What happened?

He remembered his mother finding him on the roof. She said that they said he would be there.

Who said that?

The blood underneath his fingertips was dry and crusted.

‘Oh, the bleeding stopped.’

The wounds twinged in pain as Izuku tried to sit up, move, get away while he had the chance. His body and mind in protest. Body honed over years said he needed to get up and go. There was no reason to stay here, and his mind said stay.

His mother would be upset if he left. He was sure. Otherwise she wouldn’t have brought him back to the apartment. There was some feeling of dread at the thought that he would get hurt, she always insisted that she was protecting him.

Izuku wanted to be strong on his own, not a useless, worthless Deku.

He was weak. His mother was right.

— — — —

Chapter Text

There was a shaking sensation. Izuku was sure that it was just him here now. His mother had vanished after her last scathing remark punctuated by the final jerk of the knife across his skin.

Instinctively he knew she wasn’t coming back. No one was coming.

His hero would be too late.

That was okay. He needed to leave something for him. Tell him it was not his fault.

Izuku dragged himself up as a wave of nausea washed over him. The movement of standing intermixed with what was definitely too much blood on the floor and not in his body made him dizzy.

Paper. The desk was only two steps. He could do two steps. His wounds broke open and started trickling blood again, but he needed to tell his hero it was not his fault that he couldn’t save him.

Eraserdad,

Not your fault. You are my hero.

Your problem child

— — — —

Police were here.

Eraser had not called them, yet they were here. At the door to the building that his problem child was in, definitely hurt. They were here.

He had bigger problems than dealing with them. Bigger problems being: Find my kid, Make sure they are safe, and bring them home.

Police were so unobservant, they never looked up. Aizawa even in broad daylight would not be caught. Not that it mattered with his hero status, but he preferred to stay underground, a secret, work alone. Not alone anymore. The problem child was with him now. A true partner in crime, but only one of them was actually committing a crime.

Ironic isn’t it that the pro-hero was the one breaking a law. Not arresting a vigilante.
It didn’t matter now.

The window was on the fifth floor. His child’s window that he escaped into all those years ago.

Aizawa was not ready for the sight that greeted him. The walls are covered in dents and scratches. Gouges taken out of the door with what he could only guess were very old bloodstains sunken into the wood. The puddle of blood on the ground was most concerning, but Izuku was not lying in it.

Where was his kid?

Eyes flashed red scanning the room, quirk activating as though there was an enemy. There was no enemy. Only Izuku crumpled underneath the desk. A piece of paper, bloodied in his hand.

The kid was breathing. Barely there, but he was breathing.

Oh my god, he was alive.

Scooping the kid into his arms he exited the building the same way he came in. Izuku’s backpack from the roof slung over one shoulder, note shoved in his pocket, and the most precious child in his arms, he left the hellhole apartment.

— — — —

Dropping into an ambulance was easy. They were on the street outside the building.

“No questions. Drive, and if anyone asks who he is you never saw him. Do you understand?” Aizawa’s eyes flashed red at the paramedics.

“Yes sir.”

— — —

Izuku hated hospitals. Aizawa knew that much. There was no general triage for him. Pulling some strings by saying that Izuku was in his care he had him transferred to the hero wing of the hospital where everyone was vetted by multiple hero agencies.

He was not taking any chances.

There was a reason beyond medical care that his problem child did not like hospitals, and he was damn sure it had to do with staff.

He needed to make some calls.

— — — —

Yamada Hizashi was livid. There was little in this world that could stop them from being beside their husband at this exact moment where the man would be vlaming himself.

No, all traffic had stopped. The hospital was only a block away now, so the bright intelligent mind that they possessed lost its final braincell. Hopping through the traffic lanes, stealing the first parking spot off the street mostly legally.

One block was nothing compared to patrols around their sector. Nothing was getting between them, their husband and the child that would soon be at home with both of them. Hizashi was not letting the baby go, and was sure, beyond a doubt, that their husband had already signed half of the adoption paperwork.

That child, Izuku, the baby who Hizashi had only seen in flash frozen moments sent over text or from Shouta’s camera roll after late nights, would be coming home. Out of that awful apartment. If they could help it, the baby would never set foot in that place again.

— — — —

The hospital was depressing. Healing that seemed to take too long, suffering, pain, and death.

According to the doctors Izuku suffered severe blood loss, broken ribs, and various bruises. Then there was the issue of the burns. Ones not properly taken care of that had started to become infected.

This worried Aizawa Shouta more than he was willing to admit aloud. They hadn’t fought anyone that had a quirk that could burn him, and from what Tsukachi dug up his mother had a weak telekinetic quirk. So, where did the burns come from?

Staring at the file handed to him had not helped much in terms of his kid being okay, but it helped tremendously on getting a case filed against Midoriya Inko. Less of a case and more blackmail into signing away parental rights. They would get her charged if Izuku wanted. No matter how much the two despised the woman for doing this to a child.

Hizashi and Shouta would be taking the kid in under their emergency foster license. Honestly it was all a pretense. This kid was theirs and not a soul could take him from them. Unless Izuku wanted something else.

Seeing the note the kid left him was heartbreaking. Cut down deep to his core.

This kid needed him, needed Hizashi, and they in turn needed him to complete their little family.

If only he would wake up.

— — — —

Days in the hospital and Izuku had not woken.

Hizashi or Shouta were always there. Normally, it was Shouta who had less responsibilities with no classes to teach and less patrols. Hizashi stayed on nights where their husband had to go. Neither wanted the baby to wake up alone.

Hospitals scared him. Now they know why. His mother was a nurse, an ER Nurse. It made sense now why Shouta could never get him to go and be seen. He went out when his mother was on shift at the hospital.

Izuku wouldn’t wake up.

They waited, and started forming the extra bedroom into one for him. They knew his favorite colors and heroes. They made up a safe space for him. Placing locks on the doors, not to lock him in, but to lock the doors open to the walls.

It had been Zashi's idea, but Aizawa was reluctant to admit it. It was something the kid would likely benefit from. They wanted their apartment to feel like a home.

One where Izuku felt welcome and belonged. Not that it would be easy or erase his trauma. A therapist was on call for when they needed them, hound dog specifically. Unsure if they were truly ready, Izuku was here. He was coming home.

— — — —

"Please kid. Wake up."

"We got you, now. You're safe. Come on little listener, it's time to wake up."

— — — —

Izuku did not want to wake up, but his hero, his heroes, were asking. They wanted him to wake up. He was not sure why they wanted him too.

It was Eraserdad, he wanted him to wake up. He was crying. His hero shouldn't cry over him.

Izuku specifically said it was not his fault.

Maybe he should wake up. Tell him that he was being an idiot and that it was not Aizawa’s fault that he was hurt. His own mistakes were at fault here. Honestly, if Izuku spent more time on sneak tactics instead of flashy parkour stunts then they wouldn't be in this situation.

His mother would never have known. It would have all been normal. Now they wanted him to wake up. Wake up when his mom told him to stay down?

His hero was asking. He cared. Izuku was almost certain of it.

He needed to wake up. If nothing else just to say that he didn't blame anyone for what happened. Reassure them that they were not at fault for his mistakes and misfortune.

'Do you think I could get away with smacking him upside the head a little?’

— — — —

Aizawa could swear he felt Izuku squeeze his hand. The sensation after so long of feeling nothing made him question if he made it up. Staring at their joined hands he squeezed back just a little, and sure enough there it was again.

"Zashi?!" Panicked and nearly impossible to understand, Aizawa called for his husband.

"Shou?"

"He's waking up!"

"OH MY G-od" Hizashi's quirked voice started to cause a commotion, Shouta quickly activating his quirk was the only thing that saved the hospital from his husband's enthusiastic exclamation.

Izuku continued to stir, not yet opening his eyes.

“It’s too bright.”

“I'll get the lights!” Hizashi scrambled for the switch, shutting them off leaving only the light from the window.

Izuku's eyes blinked open, settling themselves on Shouta himself. A hand was reaching out to him now. Pale and small, slowly at first and then darting up to place a slap across Shouta’s cheek.

“What the actual fuck do you not understand about it’s not your fault?”
Hizashi burst out laughing between the seriousness of Izuku and the bewilderment on their husband’s face. Snapping a picture of the perfect moment before it could pass.

That would be printed and on the fridge within three to five business days.

Chapter Text

Izuku wanted to be out of the hospital, like four days ago. He insisted that he was fine. All he needed was rest. The doctor’s seemed to disagree, flitting over him as if he would drop dead any second. He was not that fragile.

Aizawa was gone when he woke up, and Izuku had no patience to wait around. Not in this hospital. Not in any medical facility ever.

“I have had worse. I just want to leave.”

“I am sorry young Midoriya but we do not have authorization to release you from medical care. As you are a minor you need consent from a parent or guardian.” The doctor so unhelpfully pointed out for the fifth time after he said that they would never be able to reach his mother.

“I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!” Izuku watched his pulse spike on the monitor. He felt trapped, and he did not want to be here when his mother found out that she would be wasting money on medical expenses she easily could have treated at home for free.

Escape. Run. Go.

Maybe if he slipped them he could make it back without mother realizing he was gone? If he made it home before her everything should be alright.

Standing on shaky legs, he began to disconnect the monitors trying to avoid setting off any that would sound an alarm. He searched for the plug in to rip the chords from the wall. If the machines weren’t on then they could not alert the staff. The door was right there, and Izuku was going through it.

The tightly wrapped bandages on his arms and torso made it hard to move.
Stealth , Izuku could do this. He was determined to be long gone before the nurses came by again to check his vitals.

‘For a hospital there sure is a lot of glass’ Izuku thought making his way to the exit. These stupid hallways were always a maze to navigate, Izuku was sure of it. Exit signs showed the way, thank fuck those were mandatory, or he never would have found the doors separating him from the rest of the hospital.
— — — —
Finally, after days of coaxing Hizashi convinced him to leave the tiny hospital room to shower and get some food other than jelly packs. The kid still slept most of the day.

If that was not a fucking mistake.

Izuku was standing in the doorway of the hospital, gown and all. Bandages that wrapped down his arms on full display. He looked pale and weak. In a state of panic, Izuku with tears in his eyes lunged into his arms. No tears fell, but Aizawa was almost certain that a normal thirteen year old would be crying.

“Kid? What are you doing?”

“Hospital. Have to leave, go home.”

“You are not going back to that apartment. We are taking you out of your mothers custody.”

“Wha-what?”

“If you are okay with it, little listener, we want to take you home.”

“Really?”

“Yes problem child, but wandering around the hospital is not the best idea. The hero ward is especially wary when a child of a pro-hero goes missing.”

Just like that the warning bells sounded. Rushing nurses and other personnel set out to find Izuku. The bustle around him was too much. There was so much noise, even if it felt muffled.

“Chaos, eh? You really do bring it everywhere.” he held the kid steady in his arms. If Izuku was not ready to let go, who was Aizawa to make him let go. The kid felt safe enough to initiate physical contact with him.

“Holy SHIT! EraserDAD! Your husband is PRESENT MIC! WHY WAS THIS A SECRET FROM ME?”

“There is the realization.” Aizawa chuckled. He hadn’t been keeping it a secret because he didn’t trust his kid. He just was not used to telling others. It was well guarded that they were married.

“Which sound waves can you control? Can you make sounds beyond what the human ears can hear?” Izuku fell into intelligible muttering.

Hizashi was impressed by the kids muttering, but more concerned for his health, “baby, i will answer all your questions once you are safely back in your bed. One final check of your health and we will get you released, okay? Can you do that?”

Izuku skeptically nodded.

The two heroes were sure that he would do anything to get out of here faster.

— — — —

Their baby was coming home, and hopefully he would want to stay permanently. It was likely, but nothing was a guarantee at this point.

“Hey, little listener, I am Yamada Hizashi. Nice to formally meet you, little baby. Eraser is Aizawa Shouta if you haven’t been told already.”

Izuku nodded from what they could see in the rearview mirror. So, quiet compared to the stories of the baby’s brash words and confidence from Shou’s stories of him.

“You like cats?” Hizashi asked.

“I think, I think s-so? I-iv-i've never, I've never been close to, to one for a long time. M-mostly strays.”

“We have three. Mango, Dumpling, and Pepper.”

“W-why are they all n-named after food?”

“Shouta likes to pick up strays. Names them after the places he found them. Mango is a black cat, very sweet but shy. Dumpling is a calico that is not the nicest.”

“What they mean is that dumpling is a total bitch. Sitting on the cat tree lording over the rest of them.” Aizawa butts in not letting Hizashi downplay the bastard deeds that dumpling commits, “most of the time we call her bitch.”

“Pepper is the orange kitten. Still little and growing into personality. Excitable.”

“Reminds me of Mic.”

They continue to ramble on about trivial things. The cats, the neighbors, and general life surrounding their apartment. They wanted him to be comfortable here.

— — — —

Chapter Text

The apartment was homey, and the first thing Izuku noted was that there were only three doors. None of them shut. Everything was open, the curtains, the doors, the windows were even cracked open.

“The cats like to go wherever they please, so we tend to leave doors open. They have locks that keep them open so they can't push them shut.”

The doors were almost always open? He could make it so his door didn’t close?

At the mention of the cats, Izuku saw them weaving through their legs, eyes peering curiously at him. They were pretty, and izuku bent down, arms crossed across his chest so as not to reach out and scare them. The black one, Mango, put paws up on his knees and head butted him.

Izuku never saw the camera.

“Someone made a friend,” Aizawa crouched down by Izuku and the rest of the cats, “do you want to see your room?”

Izuku hesitated looking at Mango who was still propped up on his knees.

“She can come too.”

The man scooped up Mango, nudging the others out of the way with his foot. Izuku stood unsteadily looking from Aizawa to the cat in his arms. Reaching out for the cat, Izuku cradled her as soon as she was in his arms.

The whole place seemed splashed with color. The walls are grey that was washed out by the blankets piled on practically every piece of furniture in the living room. The hall had photos, they were mostly of Mic and Aizawa. A few were taken with other pro-heros. One Izuku recognized from a good portion of the photos was Midnight. They were a family.

“This one here,”

“I hope you like it, baby. If you don't, we can always change it.”

Izuku was sure that Mic was nervous about it.

Nothing to be worried about. The room was painted a deep black with glow in the dark paint creating stars and constellations. The wall behind his bed had prints of the cityscape lit up at night. Dark green blankets on the bed, and the desk against the wall, a bookshelf butting up against it to reach the corner of the room.

“Thi-this, is for, this is for me?”

“OF COURSE! BABY THIS IS ALL FOR YOU!”

Aizawa sighed, eyes flashing red to erase the loud quirk and bring the excited yelling back down to a normal level.

Izuku was not scared of Mic yelling. Surprisingly, Kacchan always yelled at him, but they were always so excited that Izuku was expressing interest in things.

“Yes. It is for you. We can go shopping later for anything else you need later.”

“I need something from my room.”

Izuku shuffled on the rug that took up most of the floor. He needed his stuff from under the floorboards. If he was staying here then his things could not be left behind. They were the only things that he had.

“Kid, I don’t think you should go back there. Me or Hizashi can go get it for you.”

“No! It has to be me!”

Izuku could feel the reluctance. He would go with or without their permission. That bag had things from his hero. His weapons, his second vigilante outfit. He needed to grab that for himself. Izuku would be the only one that was able to retrieve everything.

“We are not letting you go alone.”

“What time is it?” Izuku slipped into Anarchy. This was a mission that needed completing.

“It is 5:45 pm.”

“She will be gone for work now. Plenty of time to get back.” Izuku shrugged on a hoodie over the shirt Mic had provided at the hospital.

“We will take the car.”

“I am driving Shou. Do not even think about it.”

— — — —

The Midoriya apartment would be locked, and Izuku knew that long before they pulled up outside. The rough brick scraped across his fingers as he walked along the side of the building. Ignoring the questioning looks when he passed the main entrance.

“Little listener?”

“The door will be locked. Mother never leaves it open.”

“Don’t you have a key?”

“No.”

Rounding the corner Izuku tracked his path upward to his window. The fire escape ladder is no longer down. Someone must have pulled it back up in the time he had been gone.

‘unideal’ Izuku thought.

He could feel the eyes. All he could do was point to his window gesturing that he was going up. His injuries weren’t bad, and he felt okay. He tracked this path with worse injury.

“I am going up.”

“Kid, your injuries.”

“I have had worse.”

Aizawa nodded. There was a hint of apprehension in his eyes, but making no moves to stop him. Not offering to help. Izuku was grateful for that. He was able to take care of himself. Having back up was nice, but he was a skilled non-vigilante. Izuku was not in his timid self presentation, no, he was Anarchy right now.

His hero would know the difference. At the small nod Izuku jumped up on the dumpster.

“IZUKU” Hizashi screeched, and he saw Aizawa place a hand on Mic’s shoulder. A reassurance to the one that had never seen him in the same way. Acting as a vigilante rather than laid up in a hospital bed.

He turned gesturing to the lowered ladder. Clearly for the benefit of Mic who was not skilled in parkour.

“Are you coming Eraserdad? Mic? You insisted. Keep up!” Izuku snarked looking down at them.

“Kid, I can do this so much faster than you.”

“Race?”

“You're on Problem child.”

Mic still looked like he was half way to screeching at them again, but kept quiet. Technically they weren’t breaking and entering. Heavy emphasis on the word technically.

Izuku was sure there was an inevitable heart attack on the way once the loud hero figured that his window was not off the fire escape directly, but that future Izuku’s problem in about three seconds. Dashing up the metal stairs bouncing off the railings as if he had not been in the hospital earlier for blood loss and other untreated injury.

“Using the capture scarf is cheating dadzawa!”

“Always use what is available to you, problem child.”

Izuku missed this. The easy banter. It almost was as if nothing had changed at all for a few moments.

“Come on kid. Zashi is almost here. He's not used to this.”

Izuku stuck out the tip of his tongue at the man. The childish act made him feel better, and the smile on his Dadzawa’s face was gratifying.

“We are going to the third window. Kid, I know you are capable and you did this all the time, but I will be wrapping your arm in a length of capture weapon as extra security. Zashi will have my head if he sees this right out of the hospital.”

He nodded. It made sense. Soon they would be out of there.

Izuku reached out for the window sill making quick work of the first two. His own was trickier. Sliding the window was rougher when it barely gave way with a shove.

“Come on” he whispered to himself as he shoved it over and over. The window only moved a little each time until he was able to squeeze through. Opening wider from the inside was easier, and as soon as it was open Aizawa was swinging through it.

“Mic is waiting outside. Lets get what you need and get out.”

Izuku was already moving. Purposely avoiding looking at the pools of blood on the floor and staining the wood of his desk.

Ripping up the floor and scooping out his yellow bag mostly filled. Shoving the remnants of a notebook, his note from his hero tucked carefully into the front pocket.

The light fixture was next. One that he hadn’t touched since he was nine. The box came out covered in dust, and full of money he lifted off of villains. After that there was nothing else in the godforsaken apartment.

It was time to leave, and Izuku couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

A change that he could only hope was positive.