Chapter Text
“Alright everyone, this is your new classmate,” Aizawa said. “Be nice. Make friends.”
“Or what?” a blond boy in the back snapped.
“Or, logically, I’ll give you detention, Bakugou,” Aizawa replied.
“Tch,” was all Bakugou could reply, it seemed.
The other students however were bouncing to introduce themselves. After a round of introductions, the boy, extremely nervous, yet seemingly inspired by the familial greetings of his new fellow students, stepped forward and introduced himself.
“Izuku Midoriya,” he introduced himself. “Nice to meet you all!”
“Oh! Midoriya!” a girl who’d introduced herself as Mina said, raising her hand as she spoke. “What are your interests? Hobbies? What are your social media sites?”
“Oh-um,” Izuku stammered for a few seconds before finally getting out, “I like crime solving shows, and am really interested in detectives! They’re really cool heroes who solve crimes all the time and-”
“Yeah whatever ya damn nerd! Sit down and let’s get this over with,” Bakugou complained. He didn’t appear to want to listen to what the new kid had to say.
“But Bakugou,” a boy who’d introduced himself as Kirishima said. “You love detective stuff! Weren’t you saying this morning that’s what you wanted to be when you grew up?”
“Shut up, shitty hair!” balked Bakugou. “Nobody asked you!”
“Alright settle down,” Aizawa said before this argument could get out of hand. At least more so than it already was. “Take your seat, Midoriya,” he said gently.
Midoriya nodded and glanced around for an empty seat. Fortunately he chose the one between the boy named Iida, and the girl named Uraraka. Aizawa smiled. The kid had a keen eye for people that would look after him. Those two were a great team.
As class went into session, the boy took notes furiously, Aizawa noted as he went over things in class, and, to make sure he wasn’t doodling or something, Aizawa casually started pacing the aisles, glancing at everyone’s progress, as he read from the book he was holding. When he reached the new kid’s work, there were detailed notes, as well as things they hadn’t yet covered in class. Everything was in neat little chicken scratches, complete with a sketch of the person of interest in their history book in the corner of his notes. It wasn’t a bad sketch either. A little stylized, but not bad at all.
When class came to an end and the kids were let out for recess, Aizawa sat down to grade their latest papers. He was a few pages into the first test when something caught the corner of his eye. Glancing up, he found Midoriya still scribbling away at his desk, taking notes from a science text book this time.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa said, not really looking up from his paper other than to do a double take, and look back down with sigh.
“Y-Yes sir?” Midoriya squeaked, sitting up straight in his desk.
“It’s recess,” he said. “Go play with the other kids.”
“O-oh,” he said, looking abashed. “I just wanted to catch up on some of the chapters I missed before I got here so I don’t fall behind.”
“You’re young,” Aizawa said. “It’s important for your body and mind to take breaks, get fresh air, and exercise.”
“I-I got plenty back at the orphanage,” he said quickly, then looked as if he wanted to swallow his tongue. “I-I MEAN- HOME. BACK AT HOME.”
Aizawa looked up then, setting down his pen slowly. So there was the reason he was being so studious and not talking to the other students even during the lunch hour. The boy seemed terrified by his own statement, shivering with embarrassment in his seat as he tried to find a way to take back the words.
“You’re staying in here because you’re afraid the other kids will find out and ridicule you about being from an orphanage,” he surmised.
Midoriya squeaked. The look on his face said ‘Oh god he saw right through me!’
“N-No not at a-all!” Midoriya tried to lie. Poorly.
“I’m not going to judge you, Midoriya,” Aizawa said softly. He stood and walked over to where the boy was sitting and knelt down by his seat. “I’m speaking from experience when I say, it doesn’t matter who your parents are or were. What matters is who you are on the inside. From what I’ve seen, you’re a brilliant young man with an eye for detail. You may even be able to turn that into a career one day.”
Midoriya’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and shone as if he were barely holding back the tears at Aizawa’s words.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Aizawa promised before Midoriya could say anything. “Because that is not my story to tell. But don’t be afraid to come to me if anyone gives you a hard time. Okay?”
Holding out a fist for him to bump, Aizawa waited a moment for him to return it. This is what kids did nowadays right? he thought to himself when there was an awkward pause. Deciding not to make the pause any longer or more awkward than it already was, he touched Midoriya's heart quickly before pulling away and smiling.
“Th-thank you, Mr. Aizawa,” Midoriya said softly.
“I’ve got your back, kid,” Aizawa said, standing. “Remember that.” He turned and went back to the papers at his desk. “Now go outside and play before recess is up.”
He turned the corner of his desk and kicked the trash can there, knocking it half way across the room and scaring the piss out of both himself and Midoriya.
“Sh-oops,” Aizawa caught himself from cursing in front of the kid. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he added.
Midoriya shot up from his desk. “I-I’ll get the broom!” he called, already halfway to the closet. Grabbing the cleaning utensil and setting to work, Aizawa and Midoriya quickly started cleaning, then, upon suggestion from Midoriya, decided to clean the room before the other kids got back and made it even more of a mess. Sounding like a logical plan since they were already cleaning, Aizawa agreed. Together they swept the floors, Swiffered them, then erased and washed the chalkboard down, and they were cleaning the windows when the bell rang, signaling the recess period coming to an end.
It was then Aizawa realized he’d been duped.
“Wait a second you didn’t go to recess,” Aizawa accused as they put the cleaning supplies back into the closet.
“I ah,” Midoriya said, carefully choosing his words. “I got exercise, and rested my brain.”
You little shit. You’re a smart one, Aizawa thought to himself. “Go get cleaned up before I give you detention,” he said out loud, smirking to show that it was a half assed threat.
Midoriya gave a tentative grin back, scuttling out of the room and into the hallway, out of Aizawa’s sight. Aizawa grinned to himself despite the fact he’d been duped by a teenager. Something about this kid warmed his heart and he wasn’t sure why.
Either way, being an orphan was hard on a kid. Someone had to look out for him. Maybe that someone was him, Aizawa thought to himself. He’d had begun considering adopting at one point since his home life was a little lonely. He didn’t have anyone to really talk to, and he was great with kids. Why not give a kid a shot at another life whilst filling a hole in his own heart.
It wasn’t like he was getting a date any time soon anyhow. Not with his luck. Maybe Midoriya- or rather Izuku- could become an Aizawa too?
The thought tickled his brain. He wasn’t dead set on it yet, but the idea didn’t sound too bad either. He’d give it a trial run and see just how they got along.
*~*~*
Mic examined the crime scene before him with a privy eye. He had a rather strong interest in this case as it had stumped the police for months. They had no leads on the killer and now they had a new victim that they couldn't identify. He wanted a chance to shove it in their arrogant faces that he could solve it before them. The victim was dressed in traditional Japanese clothing, sandals, and around his neck was a strange, poorly crafted charm. It looked as if it had been snatched at, before the face had been… removed. As Mic made note of the necklace around the victim's mutilated face, a cry rang out behind him.
Turning and looking, the cry came from a small boy that had somehow slipped past the police rope and saw the body prostrated before them. His wide doe eyes took in the horrific scene.
"Someone get the little listener!" Mic called exasperatedly. "Jesus Christ what are your parents teaching you nowadays? Don't you know not to enter a crime scene?"
"Mr. Arikawa!" the kid began to cry as the police pulled him away. "What happened to him?"
"Hold it!" Mic called, making the officers pause. "Little listener, you know this guy?"
"I-It's Mr. Arikawa! He always gives me books to read when they don't have any more at the o-orphanage," the green haired boy said, his voice getting smaller and smaller until Mic could barely hear him.
At the word orphanage, Mic's heart went out to him, and he exchanged looks with the police and felt like an immediate ass for saying what he had. Waving the kid over to himself, Mic knelt beside him, looking up into his face over his orange sunglasses.
"How can you tell who it is?" Mic asked, critically. "How'd you identify him from way over there?
"H-His necklace,” the boy stammered. “I gave it to him. I made it in arts and crafts to thank him for the books. He said it was his favorite…”
“I’m sorry you had to see him like this, little listener,” Mic said honestly. He rubbed the child’s back and the boy looked down at his hands. They were shaking.
“I want to get a closer look,” he said bravely. “I need to know what happened.”
Mic looked at him, shocked. “Little listener that’s no sight for the faint of heart. I can’t let you-”
“I have to!” The green haired boy clenched his fists as if steeling himself. “It’s the only way I can get closure. I wasn’t there to save him. I have to know what happened.”
“Even the police don’t know that yet, little listener,” Mic said. “They’re still looking into it. They just found him. Besides,” he said. “This isn’t your fault. He was a grown man, capable of handling himself.” Then he added softly, “Sometimes, that’s just not enough in this world. It’s awful and it sucks, but it’s the fact of life. What you can do from here is honor his memory. I’m sure you can think of a few ways to do that, right?”
The boy sniffled, his eyes already brimming with tears that he was desperately holding back with every fiber of his being. He shook with the effort, Mic noticed. Or from fear. Mic tilted his head and made the kid look him in the eye. He was going to say something profound, but instead of fear in the boy’s eyes, he saw anger, and it stopped him. He wasn’t afraid of this crime scene. He was angry about it. So angry he was crying.
“I’m going to solve it,” he said so softly Mic nearly missed it.
“Pardon?” Mic asked, not sure he’d heard him right.
“I’m going to find out who did this and bring them to justice,” the green haired boy replied.
Mic considered this a moment. The boy’s spirit impressed him. Not many kids his age - what twelve? thirteen? - could take in the sight of a crime scene this gruesome and come away without nightmares. This kid wanted more. He wanted answers. This gave Mic an idea. If he could work with the kid and get some details about the man’s life, he could probably help the kid get closure while he was getting answers he needed to find out this killer’s MO.
“What’s your name, little listener?” Mic asked.
Surprise crossed the boy’s face. “I-Izuku Midoriya, sir,” he responded.
“Do you mind if I call you Izuku?” Mic asked politely.
The boy shook his head saying he didn’t mind, but looked embarrassed at the use of his first name.
“You can call me Mic. I think we can help each other out,” Mic began, watching Izuku’s eyes light up. “What say I take you for a walk and you tell me about Mr. Arikawa? Would you be okay with that?”
A nod. “Yes, sir,” he answered. “If I can help in any way, I will.”
Mic smiled warmly. “Good.”
Together they made their way away from the crime scene, Mic allowing him to step first under the crime scene tape, as he told the detectives he’d return in a little while. They nodded and set in to take their own notes on the crime scene. When they were closer to the street, Mic asked Izuku where he lived and the boy looked down again.
“Yuuei orphanage, sir,” he said softly as if embarrassed by the fact.
“How do you like it there? Do they treat you well?” Mic asked.
“It’s alright,” Izuku replied. “I don’t have any friends there because they think I’m weird.”
“Why’s that?” Mic asked, starting down the road towards the orphanage. The least he could do was make sure this kid got home safely. Or as close to home as he could get him. Mic had a soft spot for kids with troubled situations, and this kid was ticking off all the boxes of a melting heart already.
“They say I’m obsessed with gross stuff like…” he trailed off, not really wanting to answer.
“It’s okay,” Mic said. “I won’t judge you.”
The boy was quiet a moment as he considered this. “I like crime scene investigations and learning how to tell how a body died. Or what happened to it to make it look like it does post mortem. L-Like for instance, from what I could tell of the corpse of Mr. Arikawa, his face wasn’t chewed off despite the bite marks around the edges of his face. There was a clean skeletal area near the nose and mouth, meaning whatever hit him in the face was acid like and melted it away before something bit at him with a force that could kill. The acid probably wasn’t enough to kill him, just put him in a blinding amount of pain so that he screamed out.” Izuku then tilted his head, lost in thought as he added in a mumble, “Unless it went into his mouth and destroyed his vocal chords so he couldn’t scream out. Come to think of it, there were holes in his throat too from what I could see-”
Jesus, Mic thought as he listened to this kid ramble about the crime scene. He saw that much from that far away and was able to deduce the same amount Mic had been able to after examining it up close. This kid wasn’t just obsessed with crime scene investigations, he was putting in the leg work to actually be able to deduce crimes and put things together.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Izuku continued. “Even if the face and hair were melted away, the police could still identify him from the fingerprints and possibly even footprints.”
“The feet and fingers were missing as well,” Mic found himself saying before he realized it. He’d just blurted out a discreet detail only the police knew like he was talking to a colleague and not a kid. “But uh, you keep that detail to yourself, Izuku. If word gets out the police can’t identify the victims because of this, there-”
“Might be copycat killers,” Izuku whispered as if he’d been given a treasured secret. “I promise not to tell anyone.”
“Not even your friends or superiors, understood?” Mic asked.
Izuku nodded dutifully. “Not a soul.”
“Good,” Mic nodded. “And thank you, by the way.”
“For what?” Izuku asked, curiously.
“By identifying the victim, we can probably identify motives surrounding him and see if it matches up with what we’ve come up with from the other cases like this,” Mic said. “We haven’t been able to identify them yet, but we have a new lead thanks to you.” He messed up Izuku’s hair and the boy looked like he was going to jump for joy.
“I helped?” he exclaimed. “YES! I’ve always wanted to be able to help the cops!”
“Whoa, little listener, let me stop you there,” Mic said. “I’m not a cop. All cops are bastards. I’m a consultant. We’re much cooler.”
“R-Really?” Izuku said, turning red faced at the correction. “S-Sorry!”
“No worries, little listener,” he said. “Think of it like this. We help the cops see what’s right in front of their faces, and get paid for it. It’s a lot of fun pointing out things to people who didn’t see them, and who are supposed to be experts in their field. Especially when they don’t like you. It’s satisfying to watch their faces get angry and not know how to react, but understand that you’re right and there’s nothing they can do about it.” Mic grinned at Izuku who looked up at him astonished. “Next time you get someone bullying you, remember that, and deduce something about them. See the look on their face when you put them in their place without so much as a single act of violence. It really humbles them.”
“I’ve never thought of that,” Izuku said, getting a thousand yard stare in his eye as he considered the possibilities.
“Looks like we helped each other out today,” Mic said with a cheesy grin.
“Thank you, Mr. Mic!” Izuku grinned back.
“Just Mic, little listener,” Mic replied. “That’s my consultant name.” He said, handing the kid a business card. “If you think of anything else, you call me, okay?”
“Yes, sir!” Izuku responded as they reached the orphanage. “I mean, Mic! Thank you!” He waved goodbye and Mic returned the gesture and watched him disappear behind the gates.
Damn that was a smart kid, Mic thought as he turned to head back to the crime scene. Wouldn’t mind having a kid like that myself one day. Not that he was in the market for a relationship exactly. His work kept him too busy, and besides, he didn’t want the hassle a relationship brought. Kids, though, were a different story. He could handle having a kid around. They liked learning, growing, and having fun. Adults were stick-in-the-muds that didn’t like to think people could be smarter than them and got offended when you tried to have a little fun with them or teach them something new.
Kids like Izuku, on the other hand, were definitely awesome. Maybe he could think about adopting at some point after this case was over.
Maybe.