Chapter Text
Aizawa sighs, combing a hand through his hair while the students wave goodbye to Bullseye (and his horse Midnight, which none of the staff could get over the existence of, even if the name was just a joke).
Hizouta was free—took long enough—finally outside that damn lab. He’s only just taken his first trembling step outside when the world seems to tilt on its axis, and he’s suddenly somewhere else. Everything is bright, blurry, and colorful. Hizouta ends up falling to his knees with a gasp at the change—where was he?
Aizawa stares at the new counterpart, taking in the choppy black and blond hair as the students’ chatter abruptly cuts off. He automatically crouches upon seeing their frightened expression.
“Hey, uhm...” he trails off, unsure of where to start. All of his counterparts had either not cared or been defensive, but not so scared.
Hizouta startles back—was that his voice?—attempting to take a deep breath in, in case Voice was needed, but just ends up choking as his collar glitches, zapping him. This is bad, he was supposed to be free but now he’s somewhere else. Why does the blurry black-haired man sound like Shouta?
Aizawa turns, motioning for Kayama to take the class out while Yamada stays behind.
He joins Aizawa, giving him a look before resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Hey there, listener, you don’t look so hot...”
Oh, and this one sounded like Hizashi. That’s fucked up, only he’s supposed to sound like him.
“Wh-whyyy...?” he rasps, voices cracking painfully. Hizouta had stopped trying to talk after the first week, so he was pretty rusty, the collar certainly wasn’t helping.
What the hell was going on?
Aizawa and Yamada blink at the sound of both their voices, coming from the counterpart as if they’ve been laid over each other.
Yamada’s gaze focuses on the collar, though. “That doesn’t really look good for you, bud. Can we take the collar off?”
Hizouta nods hesitantly, scratching at the overheated metal without thinking. Maybe he’s already dead?
He wasn’t about to question weird doppelgangers of him offering help, “Y-yes ple-ease...”
Aizawa tries not to flinch at the sound of the voices, shuffling forward with his knife in hand.
As the other Shouta comes closer, Hizouta zeros in on the knife as it comes into focus, letting out a strangled whine. He won’t let anyone hurt Hizashi! He shies away, eyes flickering red and gold.
Aizawa pauses, waiting while Yamada shushes him gently, “It’s okay, buddy, it’s okay. Eraser’s gonna get that off of you. He’ll be careful, I promise.”
“Pro-om’se?” Hizouta asks quietly—he trusts Hizashi—he trusts Shouta, but the thought of having a knife so close to his throat was terrifying.
Aizawa nods. “Promise.” He edges forward again, free hand gently holding the collar to find a weak point while the other holds his knife, the blade facing away from the new counterpart.
Hizouta tries to hold as still as he can, in spite of his trembling. The collar gave off a few sparks, making him twitch, but he can see the other Shouta better now. Has his hair ever been that long before? It looks soft, and Hizouta can’t quite help himself as he gently grabs onto a lock in awe.
Aizawa tries not to flinch in surprise, but he finds a good part in the collar to break. He slides the knife into the gap and twists, the metal snapping under the strain while the counterpart holds his hair. Yamada looks torn between confusion and laughter.
“So-oft,” Hizouta whispers, hissing when the collar breaks and falls away, exposing burned skin to the open air for the first time in—a week? A month? He can’t remember how long.
Yamada laughs lightly, “Mhm, Eraser takes good care of it so it’s pretty soft.”
Aizawa grunts, laying the collar on the ground instead of throwing it like he wants to. “Mind if I treat your neck?”
Hizouta blinks, brushing his fingers against his neck and wincing. “Mh...”
That would be good—logical—he can’t see most of his injuries anyways, but leaving them to fester would be an idiotic move.
Aizawa waits, not sure if the offer was accepted. “I could also bring you to Recovery Girl, she’s a doctor, but then you’d fall asleep for a little while.”
Hizouta shakes his head—no sleep! If he slept then this nice dream might end, and he didn’t want that to happen. He shuffles closer to the nice Shouta doppelganger, eyes wide.
“You want me to treat you, then.” He opens one of the pouches on his belt, pulling out a roll of gauze, some medical tape, disinfectant, and a tube of burn cream.
Yamada sits down, scooting closer. “That disinfectant can kinda sting, but Eraser’ll be quick as a flash, buddy.”
Hizouta turns, tilting his head and leaning forward to see the other Hizashi better—and chokes on a laugh—what was his hair doing? It was so long and pointy…
Yamada pouts at the reaction while Aizawa sprays the disinfectant on the burns and his own hands before applying the cream with surprising gentleness.
Hissing at the touch, Hizouta twitches like he wants to pull away, but he forces himself to stay still. It was just a little pain, he could handle it. Holy shit it burned!
“Sorry, almost done,” Aizawa muttered, unrolling the gauze, and wrapping it firmly but not too tightly. When he finished, he tore a strip of tape, applying it and adjusting the gauze so it would stay in place.
Hizouta reaches up to feel the bandages, almost expecting his fingers to be met with hard metal despite knowing the collar was off.
“Th-than-” he tries to say, but ends up coughing harshly and hunching forward. Maybe he shouldn’t have used Voice so much to escape the lab?
Aizawa rests a hand on his back and Yamada moves forward again with his hands out.
“Don’t strain yourself. We can probably scrounge up a notepad for you to write on,” he says, then looks at Aizawa.
He stuffs his medical supplies back into his belt with his free hand, fumbling for a pad of paper and a pencil that was in a different pouch.
Hizouta is torn between leaning into the touch or flinching away, instead just kind of... vibrating in place with a conflicted expression. He watches the other two, taking in their appearances and similarities.
Aizawa doesn’t notice the movement immediately, focused on pulling out the paper and pencil one-handed. He offers them to his counterpart. “If you could tell us your name first or whatever you’d like to be called, that’d be great,” Aizawa says.
Hizouta takes the paper and pencil in shaking hands, staring down at it in thought. Slowly, he scrawls ‘Hizouta’, the letters wavering between his two distinctive writing styles. When he’s done, he holds the paper up for them to see.
Both Aizawa and Yamada stare, noticing quickly that the name is a blend of their own before sweeping over Hizouta’s features again. There was a good amount of Yamada’s but plenty of Aizawa’s too.
“Hizouta, huh?” Yamada echoed. “Nice to meet you.”
Hizouta flashes a shaky grin, feeling oddly happy hearing his new name out loud instead of just in his head. No one was even calling him Subject, or Experiment, this really was a nice dream.
Aizawa keeps his hand on Hizouta’s back, sitting beside him. “Do you want us to explain what’s going on right now, or do you want to wait a bit?” he offers, noticing how shaky Hizouta is. He worries that it might upset him further but still gives him the choice.
Hizouta tilts his head. Explain? What could they explain—maybe where the lab had gone, or why he apparently fell asleep right after getting out? He makes a confused noise, reaching out to hold lightly onto the Shouta’s sleeve.
“Was I not clear? Or do you want me to explain?” Aizawa asks, tilting his own head, naturally mimicking Hizouta.
“Eh-ex...pla-ain?” Hizouta manages to say, huffing at his inability to talk properly. It hadn’t been a problem before, when he’d had no one to talk to. No one else to listen.
Aizawa still looks confused but nods slowly, carefully taking Hizouta’s hand in his own. He glances at Yamada before saying, “I was hit with a quirk recently that brings other versions of me to this universe. A student of mine wanted to meet one of them again but hasn’t figured out how to summon them specifically.” Then he pauses, not wanting to totally overwhelm Hizouta with information.
Hizouta blinks, humming in thought. This being the result of a quirk made sense. He wasn’t dreaming? This was really real?
“Nh-no dre-eam?”
Aizawa shook his head. “No, it’s not a dream.” His eyes flick to the gauze. “You’re safe here. And, well, I called her my student, but she causes me plenty of problems even if she’s not in my class. Anyway, she’s figured out how to send my counterparts back whenever they want.”
Send him back? Hizouta whines at that, latching onto Aizawa’s middle—so this is another him? Strange—and holding on tight, not wanting to be sent back to the lab. It was much nicer here, Shouta would keep him safe.
Yamada meets Aizawa’s shocked look, motioning with his hands since he didn’t want to make Hizouta feel surrounded.
Aizawa carefully wrapped his arms around Hizouta. “Alright, alright. You don’t have to go back right now.”
He felt odd and wanted to ask questions but knew that Hizouta would clearly have trouble answering them considering his speech and how shaky his handwriting was.
Hizouta nuzzles closer, ignoring the pull of his other injuries and nearly sobbing in relief that they wouldn’t send him back. Shouta’s jumpsuit was soft and warm, and he shivered, trying to chase that warmth. Thin hospital clothes and a metal cell weren’t the warmest things in the world. He’d almost forgotten what not being cold felt like.
Aizawa sighs, holding Hizouta tighter. He’s torn, wanting to let this version of himself stay as long as he wants but also knows that he’ll have to go back. He can’t abandon his own world.
But he clears his throat and continues after Yamada gives him a thumbs-up, “So, you’ll be here for a bit. Could you tell us how old you are? That way we can see where our timelines are at.”
“Twen’y,” Hizouta murmurs into Aizawa’s chest, wondering how old these other versions of him were. They must be older, right? He certainly doesn’t remember his hair being so long, it must have taken years to grow.
Yamada whistled.
“We’re thirty-one,” Aizawa said. “And we’re teachers here at UA. The students that were behind me are my homeroom plus the student who brought you here.”
Hizouta wrinkles his nose in confusion, they were teachers at UA? He’d only just graduated a couple years ago, so the thought is ludicrous. Shouta, a teacher? Those poor students, they must be so bored. And Hizashi’s students must have ‘ear plugs’ on their school supplies list.
Aizawa looks down to see Hizouta’s expression, hesitating for a moment before lightly poking his nose. “Don’t give me that look, kid.” He flashes a grin. “Things are never quiet around here, and that’s without counting Mic.”
Hizouta hides his face with a startled snort, batting lightly at Aizawa’s hand and completely missing, movements jerky and uncoordinated. Speaking of ‘Mic’, he was being oddly quiet, where was the comforting chatter? Hizouta peeks over at the blonde. Still has that mustache.
Yamada gives him a wave and a smile, trying to be as open and inviting as possible. Aizawa never acted like he was good with people, but he was the one Hizouta was clinging to. The thought made him laugh a little before he scooted a bit closer. “Eraser’s being a bit mean, I think. I’m not that loud.”
Hizouta raises an eyebrow, staring at Yamada disbelievingly. Hizashi? Not loud? Impossible.
Aizawa looks down at Hizouta and then to Yamada, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anybody, Mic. The only time you’re quiet is when I’m using Erasure on you.” Yamada puts a hand to his chest, letting out an offended and dramatic gasp.
Yamada’s expression causes Hizouta to laugh, slightly hysterical, before he coughs again, curling further into Aizawa as he tastes blood.
Aizawa stiffens, gently rubbing Hizouta’s back. “Hey, you good?”
Hizouta wheezes, swallowing thickly and grimacing at the metallic taste. Was he okay? No, no he wasn’t. He shakes his head slowly, relaxing minutely at the gentle rubs.
“Okay, Eraser, maybe we should come back to story time later and have Recovery Girl check the listener out,” Yamada says, standing up. Aizawa nods, taking hold of Hizouta’s shoulders to help him to his feet.
Hizouta stands shakily, clinging with both hands to Aizawa’s shirt and hunching in on himself. He’d managed to run through the lab to escape, but he’d been running mostly on adrenaline, and having to use the walls to stay upright.
Aizawa supports him easily, looping his arms under Hizouta’s to help steady him. “Can you walk?”
“Mh,” Hizouta shrugs as best he can, trying to take a few steps towards where he thinks the door is, and being mostly successful—’mostly’, he says, as if he wasn’t stumbling about like a drunk giraffe.
Aizawa huffs. “Yeah, no.” Then, all-too-gently, he scoops Hizouta up into his arms. “At that pace, I think we’d get to the old lady’s office by midnight. And that’s at the earliest.”
Yamada laughs a bit but walks ahead to open the door for them after grabbing the forgotten pad of paper and pencil.
Hizouta yelps at being picked up, more startled than hurt. It’s different from how the guards carried him, more embarrassing. He buries his face in Aizawa’s capture weapon, feeling oddly comforted.
Aizawa snorts but allows Hizouta to hide their face, wondering about the trembling hands still clinging to his jumpsuit. What Hizouta must have gone through and the mystery of their name and appearance…
But he focuses, walking quickly with Yamada at his side, texting Midnight to ask her to keep an eye on the students back at the dorms so they didn’t break anything.
Hizouta glances around as they walk, recognizing the tall ceilings of UA now that he was paying attention. That’s good, UA was safe. Far away from where he thinks the lab was.
Yamada kept his phone in hand, starting to hum nervously as they made their way to Recovery Girl’s office. He shot Hizouta a few worried glances.
The humming makes something in Hizouta’s chest flutter, and he tries to hum along, uncertain of the tune.
Yamada relaxes a bit, making it more defined, the tune to a catchy pop song that he listened to practically on repeat back in high school.
Hizouta perks up, humming a little louder now that he recognizes the tune—one of his favorites! His voices harmonize a bit, still raspy.
Yamada continues, bouncing a bit as he walks, hoping to distract Hizouta from their pain while they approach Recovery Girl’s office. Once they arrive, he slides the door open and Aizawa walks through.
Recovery Girl turns in her chair and looks up, surprised. “Goodness, what happened?”
Hizouta turns towards the new voice, going silent and still—he recognizes Recovery Girl, knows that’s where they had been heading. He hadn’t personally seen her in a couple years now, but she still sounds the same.
“My new counterpart,” Aizawa explains, walking up to one of the cots. “He doesn’t want to be healed but he started coughing. Could you take a look at him?”
Hizouta tenses at the smell of antiseptic and cleaner, clinging tighter to Aizawa and trying to focus more on his more comforting scent of coffee and coconut shampoo.
Aizawa frowns and instead of setting Hizouta down, he sighs and sits with Hizouta still in his arms. They were still tense and seemed to be settled by his presence so he wouldn’t take that away from them.
Recovery Girl taps over with her cane. “I’ll do my best. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Hizouta keeps his eyes closed—he knows what Recover Girl’s cane looked like, he didn’t need to see it. “H’zo-ou... ta,” he wheezes, throat twinging in pain.
“Ah, he can’t really talk right now,” Yamada says, sitting down beside Aizawa and Hizouta. “But he told us that he’s twenty years old and his name is Hizouta.”
Recovery Girl nods, pulling up a stool while Aizawa leans forward a little. She hands Yamada her cane while she carefully inspects Hizouta’s bandaged neck. “You said he was coughing? Could you open your mouth?” she asks, directing the second part at Hizouta.
He reluctantly complies, squinting around the room as he holds his mouth open, reminding himself not to bite down. His throat was a mess—vocal cords damaged from the mix of screaming, the collar, and using Voice before.
Recovery Girl uses a lighter application of her quirk, a faint secondary aspect more than anything, to sense the damage. She taps his chin, and he closes his mouth.
“His vocal cords have been damaged,” she tells them. “Either he can wait to let them heal or let me do it. Thankfully, it’s not too bad, so he’ll only take more of a nap than anything.”
Hizouta shies away—he knew this wasn’t a dream now... probably—but if he fell asleep, he couldn’t protect himself. And what if they send him back while he’s asleep? What if he wakes up in his cell?
His thoughts are a mess, still so hard to focus…
“Hey,” Aizawa said softly, leaning to the side so he could meet Hizouta’s eyes, searching for a moment. “We’ll keep you safe. You can take a nap and we’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”
Hizouta whines, sounding more like a kicked dog than anything. He knew Shouta—Hizashi—would keep him safe, so he curls closer and nods, eyes closing as he waits for the inevitable.
Recovery Girl sighs, feeling sorry for Hizouta as she gives him a gentle peck on the cheek to heal his wounds. Aizawa straightens up, adjusting as he feels Hizouta go limp. Then, he shuffles on the cot, Yamada moving so Aizawa could sit in it properly despite his boots. Aizawa keeps holding Hizouta in his arms, ready to wait for his counterpart to wake up while Yamada swaps between humming different songs and Recovery Girl goes back to her desk.
[In another universe, police were investigating the place Hizouta had disappeared from, the blown out remains of the Clinic. Nemuri watches from nearby, barely holding herself together as they find no sign of her missing friends.]