Chapter Text
A lot happened on rooftops. A lot more than Aizawa had thought when he first started working on his parkour, and even more now that he patrolled from their heights.
There were drug deals, lovers spats, the not-as-infrequent-as-it-ought-to-be suicide attempt. And of course, the occasional rando who thought a cement square in the sky decorated with bird droppings and air vents was a great place to hang out.
He almost missed the kid, but an odd stillness next to a brick roof ledge caught his eye and he jerked to a stop, capture weapon slowly settling around him.
“Kid, what’re you doing up here this late?”
The hooded head raised slightly, not enough for Aizawa to clearly see his face, but enough to confirm that he guessed right. He was probably a teenager, younger end, pretty slight from the way his dark pants and gray sweatshirt pooled.
“Just watching the stars.”
Aizawa glanced up. There was too much air pollution for a clear view of the night sky here in the city, but he could see a few of the brightest stars just making themselves known in the otherwise muddled blue-black sky.
Aizawa gave the boy a hard stare, trying to decide what kind of intervention to go with when the kid spoke again.
“I’m sure you have better things to do than stand on a roof and stargaze.”
Aizawa’s glare narrowed. Well that settled it.
He strode over to the boy, and sat against the ledge next to him, situating himself and pushing up his goggles.
“What’re you doing?”
Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “What’s it look like?” He said, pulling out one of his juice pouches “Having lunch.”
“At three in the morning?”
“Hey, so you do know what time it is. Why aren’t you home?”
Kid shrugged.
“I’ll rephrase, are you safe at home?”
Kid snorted, then tilted his head back, actually looking towards the stars for the first time since Aizawa spotted him. His hood slid back enough to reveal round freckled cheeks, a mass of green curls and dark eyes whose blatant cynicism could rival Aizawa’s own.
“Safe enough, Eraserhead.” The kid said, his eyes sliding toward the hero. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
Aizawa humphed, fighting back a retort. If it wasn’t nearly the end of the school year he’d have plenty of snide comebacks to teenage sass. As is, he’d run out weeks ago. Then he frowned. “You know who I am?”
The kid looked away, his hood sliding back down. “I know a lot about heroes.” He said, as if it were a given, rather than anything of note.
“Even undergrounds?”
“Mmhmm, especially undergrounds. But you teach at UA so are you really that underground?”
Aizawa pursed his lips, having sucked his juice pouch dry. “That’s pretty impressive.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” Aizawa tucked the empty pouch into his pocket and laced his hands together. “You trying for heroics?”
The kid’s body shook slightly, and it took a few moments for Aizawa to figure out he was laughing.
“No.” He said when the laughter stilled. “I gave up on that a long time ago.”
“Kid, you can’t be more than thirteen, you weren’t born that long ago.”
“Fourteen.” The kid corrected. “And proportionally a long time ago.”
Aizawa grimaced but let that drop in favor of standing up. “Well, come on.”
The kid just looked up at him.
“I’m taking you home. No arguments.”
“That, Eraserhead, is a very bad idea.”
Aizawa evaluated everything he’d gotten out of the kid. Questionable home life, but not confirmed abusive, clear signs of some sort of childhood trauma resulting in detachment from old hopes and dreams as well as that cynicism, clearly involved in the world of heroes either as a hobbyist or hope for a future career… the only reason he could think of for the kid to say something like that was, well, not good.
“What kind of villainy you mixed up in?”
The kid blinked, his head jerking up to meet Aizawa’s eyes, furrowing as they studied him. The kid eased himself to standing, barely coming up to the hero’s chest but holding himself with more presence than Aizawa would have expected from the teen.
“I’ll be just fine getting home. But thanks for the offer.”
Aizawa opened his mouth to respond, but the kid was already over the side of the building. He sent out his capture scarf as he clung to the ledge and leaned over. The kid had slid down the fire escape, already out of scarf range. From the ground the teen looked up, gave a slight wave and then ran down the alley.
Aizawa sighed, debating giving chase. Based on that interaction, he suspected the kid would try to lose him, and based on his speed, had a fair chance of succeeding.
He didn’t seem like he was in imminent danger so Aizawa decided to just keep an eye out for him, give the other undergrounds who covered this area his description and hope whatever the kid was mixed up in didn’t go sour before someone saw him again.
Maybe he’d take a look through a few police databases. After all, how many fourteen year olds with green hair lived in the city?
The answer was too many. That’s just the way these sorts of things worked. Aizawa made a note of the kid’s description and sent it around, hoping someone would see something in the next couple of nights.
No such luck. It was nearly two weeks before Aizawa spotted a slight figure on a rooftop and swung over, discerning a standard gray hoodie and making the leap from there.
“Kid it’s nearly four, you’re never going to grow if you don’t sleep.”
The kid started and turned around, his expression seemed to soften slightly when he saw Aizawa but the hero wasn’t sure.
“Eh, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
Aizawa raised an eyebrow and the kid let out the slightest of chuckles.
“Eat your lunch yet?”
“Hmm, forgot, thanks for the reminder,” the hero said, pulling out yet another pouch. He leaned back against an air vent and stared at the kid as casually as he could. Again, the oddly imposing presence for his size. The green curls and freckles and dark eyes all looked the same. His hands were in his pocket, along with something else, roughly the size of a cell phone, though Aizawa couldn’t be sure that’s what it was.
“You know, if you want to keep yourself alive you’re going to need more sustenance than that.” The kid pointed out.
Aizawa snorted. “Pot calling the kettle black huh?”
“I eat.” The kid said. “Couldn’t skip meals if I wanted to. That however, is not food.”
“You sound like my husband.”
The kid blinked and glanced down, muttering under his breath for nearly two minutes before asking. “Is your husband Present Mic?”
Aizawa nearly choked on his last bit of juice. “You want to tell me how you figured that out?”
Kid shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I said I know a lot about heroes, it wasn’t hard to piece together.”
“Considering I can count the number of people who know on my fingers, it very well should be.” Aizawa said, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. He’d have to comb through his and Hizashi’s life, try to figure out where they slipped. There certainly were a few here and there but… nothing a fourteen year old should be able to discern.
“S-sorry.”
Aizawa blinked, the kid’s presence had shrunk tenfold, his shoulders hunched inward and it seemed like he was shaking.
“Hey, it’s fine.” Aizawa said, taking a few steps toward the kid. “Honestly I’m impressed.”
The kid slowly but quickly shifted back to his normal stance, though Aizawa didn’t know him well enough to say what was normal and what wasn’t. The teen’s breathing evened out and his eyes slowly rose to meet his Aizawa’s once more.
“Why?”
“Why? Kid… I can’t even think of how you’d come to that conclusion at all, let alone in a couple minutes. You’ve got one hell of a head on your shoulders.”
The kid seemed confused. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Oh.” The kid said, staring past Aizawa and out into something the hero couldn’t see. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Aizawa adjusted his capture scarf. “You gonna let me walk you home now?”
The kid smiled. “Nope!” And disappeared onto the next rooftop completely vanishing from Aizawa’s sight within twenty paces, even when he tried to follow.
“Damn.” He said, glancing up at the dark clouds in the sky. What the hell was up with this kid?
Aizawa slammed the apartment door shut behind him.
“You’re home early.”
The tired man blinked at his husband who was sitting on their living room sofa, awake at… half past three in the morning.
“Hell are you doing up?” Aizawa asked, hanging up his scarf and goggles.
“Cat’s sick.”
Aizawa was on top of him immediately, kneeling before the blond, or more specifically, the gray ball of fluff on his lap. “What’s wrong?”
“Something with her stomach, I’m hoping it’s just something she ate but if Nedzu lets you out at a reasonable hour tomorrow and she’s still like this, would you take her in?”
“Like you have to ask.” Aizawa stripped out of his costume right there, down to the tank top and leggings he wore underneath during colder nights and sat next to his husband, curling around both the blond and the cat.
“How was your shift?” Hizashi asked.
Aizawa pinched his lips. “Nothing good.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“You know that kid I mentioned?”
“At least twice a day every day? Yes, I know the kid.”
Aizawa rolled his eyes.
“Relax Shou, I get it. Kids are tough, especially when you’re not sure what kind of situation they’re in.”
“Oh I know what kind of situation he's in. At least vaguely.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s living with villains, or at least criminals, and it’s not by choice.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Aizawa took a minute to pet the cat, really not wanting to get all worked up again. “Kid’s clearly miserable but doesn’t think there’s any way out.”
“But you’re offering hel–”
“Yes I’m offering him help but it just goes right through him as if the kid can’t even imagine someone would even suggest something like that.”
The cat stirred and Aizawa froze. If he woke his sick cat, this day was going to shift from bad to terrible.
“Not much you can do then but keep trying.”
“That’s what I’m doing. I've been running into him two or three times a week now for the past couple of weeks. Like he wants to be found.”
“...that’s its own sort of progress right?”
“I guess.” Aizawa trailed off. “He made a joke about suicide tonight. The kind you only make when you’re really considering it.” Aizawa said softly.
His husband pulled him closer. Both of them knew that feeling, you don’t lose coworkers and friends and loved ones and the rate they did and not become very familiar with that feeling.
“I don’t want to rush him, but... I’ve seen jumpers, in the act and the aftermath. More often than a lot of heroes with my routes, but I don't think I can handle seeing a kid. Not when I could have done something.”
“You are doing something, Shou.” Hizashi insisted. “And one of these days the kid is going to get it. I promise.”
Aizawa leaned his head on his husband’s shoulder. “You sure?”
“Yeah honey, I know you’ll take good care of him.”
It was just part of his patrol now, running into the kid. Trying to make progress without scaring him off, failing, and moving on with his hero work.
He wouldn’t say it was something he looked forward to, when the kid left he always felt guilty, knowing he could do so much more for the boy if he’d let him. But honestly, Nedzu was almost making him regret recently expelling an entire class so having some teenage angst to deal with at least filled that particular void.
It was raining tonight, and Aizawa was cold and wet in addition to his usual tired and annoyed. Fortunately or not, the weather affected criminals as well, so his night was long and damp and boring. At least until he stumbled onto his green haired problem child.
The teen was slumped against the wall, wearing a black t-shirt that had the word White written on it in red letters.
Aizawa immediately took off his scarf and dumped it over the teen, who wasn’t surprised by Aizawa’s presence, but looked at the scarf in awe, raindrops dripping off his nose.
“What’s this thing even made of?” The kid asked, snuggling into the material, his shivers subsiding just slightly.
Aizawa did his best to explain in layman’s terms. To be fair, he wasn’t completely sure of the science behind it. The kid might understand it better than he did. He was brilliant, of that Aizawa was sure. Brilliant and scared with no self-esteem to speak of. For a mind like that… It wasn't a great combination.
“You really need to stop doing this, problem child.”
The boy visibly flinched. “You’re the one who comes after me.”
“Not what I meant, and you know full well I wouldn’t be able to find you unless you wanted to be found.”
“What do you mean then?” The boy grimaced, digging his hands into the scarf.
Aizawa sighed. “I mean, you need to take better care of yourself, stop coming up on rooftops in the middle of the night–”
The kid tried to protest but Aizawa cut him off.
“I’m not finished yet. You need to take better care of yourself, or you need to let someone take care of you.”
The boy was quiet for a moment. “I am taken care of.”
“Then what the hell are you doing up here almost every damn night?”
The boy buried his head in the scarf.
“I have a roof over my head.” He said slowly, almost like a mantra. “I have my own room. I have good food to eat every day. I have people who think I’m worth something. I have people who push me to be better. Is that not being taken care of? I can’t be anything but grateful for what I have. Even if…” He trailed off, tears bleeding into the rain.
“If what, kid?”
“Even if it’s conditional.” The boy said, his voice even but laced with pain. “It’s the best I can get, it’s the best I can hope for.”
Aizawa slid to the ground beside the kid and placed an arm on the his shoulder, slowly, so the kid could pull away if he wanted to.
“Care should not be conditional. You’re a child. You deserve care and comfort and everything a person needs to be happy without any ifs, ands, or buts.”
The kid made a choking sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Not me.”
“Yes, you.”
The boy’s hand came out of nowhere, shoving Aizawa away from him.
“You don’t know anything! You don’t know enough about me to say anything like that.”
Aizawa slowly righted himself, processing the fact that the kid had lashed out for the first time and how he was surprisingly strong for his size.
The pair sat there for several minutes. Might’ve been a half hour of just waiting. Aizawa wanted to make sure the boy wouldn’t run, the kid… just seemed to need to breathe.
“Look, problem child.” Aizawa said, running a hand through his wet hair. “If you need me to stop pushing… I will. If this is something you need to get through on your own, I’ll stop butting my nose in.” He watched the kid shrink further and further in on himself as Aizawa spoke. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
Those dark eyes looked up at him. Aizawa didn’t know what about this lighting was different from the dozens of times he’d seen the kid before but now he could tell. His eyes were green.
“Every time I find you on a roof I’m going to be there with you. And if I have to make small talk about the weather, I will. Hell, Mic will thank you for giving me the practice.”
“You don’t mean that.” The boy said, his tone suggesting that for once… he wasn’t really sure.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
The kid’s face slipped into something painfully resigned. “Because I’m quirkless.” His voice was so, so soft.
“What’s that have to do with anything?”
The kid’s head shot up, his mouth open but struggling to form words.
“Honestly kid, that’s even more fucking impressive.”
“What?” The word was more breath than sound.
“You’ve been outrunning me for months. You figured out who my husband was two minutes after finding out I have one, you don’t see how amazing that is?”
“It’s not… It’s the least I can do. To be as skilled as a normal person can be. Even then, I’m still worthless.”
Aizawa couldn’t stop his expression from slipping into mild incredulity. “Kid, you know what my quirk is. I’m a normal person whose power is making other people normal, hell, if I had the skills you do when I was your age maybe I would have passed the UA hero exam the first time instead of having to get in through the sports festival.”
“That’s… That’s not true.” The kid insisted without much force.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“You have to be. I’m nothing. I’ve always been nothing. I have to do everything in my power to be remotely useful, to convince people to keep me around, I don’t have any real value.”
“Shit kid.” Aizawa’s hands clenched. “What kind of bastards have you had in your life that made you feel that way?”
“No, It’s my fault. It’s…” The boy scrambled to his feet, shrugging off the capture scarf. “I don’t deserve anyone’s help, or kindness. I’m not worth your time.”
Aizawa picked up his scarf and wrapped it around his neck, staying seated and looking up through the rain at the quaking teen.
“I disagree.”
The boy’s expression hardened, the mask that had slowly slipped off was back and with one last blank blink, the boy took off.
Aizawa sighed heavily into his scarf. He better not have scared that boy off for good. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself for letting this one slip through his fingers.
Five is an odd hour of the morning. Early birds are up and going, commuters are stirring in their beds, and Aizawa is about to end his patrol for the night.
He swung down from a rooftop into an alleyway, ignoring a rat he startled squeaking in indignation. He walked past a dumpster and stopped, hearing a shuffling of feet that made him pause.
He turned on his heels and tried not to let the relief show on his face. “Problem child, it’s been a while.”
“Yeah.” The kid’s hands were shoved into his pants pockets. “I needed some time to think.”
“Sure.” Aizawa said. It’d been over a month since he last saw the kid. The boy had a lot to process.
The silence grew between them, Aizawa unsure how to break it and the kid clearly scared of something.
“You said…” The teen started. “You said… if I couldn’t take care of myself, I needed to let someone take care of me.”
“I did.”
The kid bit on his lip, hard enough that it must have hurt. “How… how do I do that?”
Aizawa resisted a smile. “All you have to do is ask.”
The boy’s head lowered, his whole body shaking. Then he finally said it.
“I need help. But it’s dangerous to help me.”
“I’m a hero kid, it’s in the job description.”
The boy gave him a pointed glare, the effect of which was somewhat diminished by tears. “Anyone who comes into contact with me will be in danger.”
Aizawa nodded. “We can work with that.”
“And… I’ve done some bad things. I’ve hurt people.”
“You’re a child from a bad situation, I’m not concerned about legalities.”
The kid just looked at him. “You really don’t care?”
Aizawa shrugged. “Nope.”
The kid let out a quivering laugh. “Well, okay then.” He said, reaching behind the dumpster and pulling out a drawstring bag which he swung over his shoulder. “What now?”
“Now? Now we go back to my apartment, get a few hours of rest and go see my police friend when it’s a somewhat more reasonable hour. Okay?”
The boy slowly nodded. “Okay.”
Aizawa held out his hand. “Let’s go then.”
The kid looked at the hand, seemed to think about taking it, and then grabbed his sleeve instead.
Aizawa decided that was close enough and led the kid out of the alleyway towards a wider road, where you could see the gray beams of dawn begin to peak over the rooftops.