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Hitoshi’s hand is on the cold doorknob, he contemplates whether or not to just abandon the visit entirely
Midoriya had told him that he could come to his room anytime he wanted if he needed anything, one late night when Hitoshi had been particularly restless. He didn’t know if that was genuine or if he was just saying that to be polite. (Midoriya is the epitome of sunshine, and he actually does not know if he has the ability to lie for any reason other than a surprise birthday party or to shake off the concerns of others, so Hitoshi’s leaning towards the former.)
His hand is still, and Hitoshi feels as frozen and limbless as the people he puts under Brainwashing.
Fuck it, he thinks. We ball.
He turns it and opens the door. He gets immediate whiplash from the view he gets.
Safe to say, the first impression isn’t pretty.
Midoriya’s room is both crowded with objects and litter, and empty of life at the same time.
It doesn’t look lazy, or unkept—It looks panicked, disrupted. Hitoshi’s been in Midoriya’s room before, and it was always tidy, always clean. Everything’s out of place, and Hitoshi is not pleased with that. The window is open, too.
Hitoshi doesn’t know what this entails, and he’s really not pleased with that, because he really doesn’t want Midoriya to have been kidnapped.
Oh god.
He hopes Midoriya hasn’t been kidnapped.
He blinks, and then takes in the room for another second.
Shit.
Fuck.
Did Midoriya really get kidnapped?
He tries to scour the room for any hint, any clue, and it’s very hard to with all the—with everything thrown about.
This really isn’t going in his favor.
Hitoshi’s heart is racing, and he tries to find anything missing or anything new as he sends out a call to Aizawa.
Fuck.
Shit.
“Oh god,” Hitoshi says when he sees a drag of blood on Midoriya’s pillow. And then he winces at Midoriya’s missing notebooks. “Balls.”
Aizawa picks up.
—
“You’re bad at this,” Izuku calls out at the very frustrated kidnapper. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you drew blood in my room.”
Izuku isn’t pretty sure, actually—he is absolutely confident. He remembers biting the person, remembered seeing a hint of blood on his bedframe, only amplified when Izuku accidentally smudged it onto the sheets after tripping over his own feet.
“First time?” Izuku asks, a pitying expression at the kidnapper’s irritating noises.
He would untie himself, and he can, but he doesn’t want to shame them too bad.
Izuku clicks his tongue. “So. How’s the wife? Or husband—I don’t discriminate.”
“Shut up,” The kidnapper snaps. “You’re just here because I was paid to grab you, I don’t fucking care about small talk.”
“Wow,” Izuku replies, ignoring them. “You don’t deserve that paycheck. At all. You’re doing a really bad job.”
There’s a silence for a while, the only thing occupying the room is rustling of paper and an air conditioner.
Really nice of them to keep it cool in here, he thinks inwardly.
They’ve put a blindfold on him for whatever reason, as if Izuku needs to see them.
“It smells like wet dog in here—Oh, do you have a dog? Can I pet her? Or him?”
The kidnapper makes another sound of frustration and there’s a sound of footsteps for a while.
Then they try to shove a gag into his mouth. Keyword: Try. Izuku simply bites them again.
“Jesus christ,” they hiss. “What’s wrong with you?! Menace to society—“
“You literally kidnapped me,” he deadpans.
“Fine, sure, but at least I didn’t fucking bite you!”
Once again, Izuku ignores them.
Actually,
Izuku’s nose is itchy.
…So Izuku scratches his nose.
“What the fuck, I tied your wrists—“
Izuku hums. Itch relieved, mission successful. He puts his hands behind him again.
Crap, now his eyebrow is itchy.
“Wait, give me a second, I just need to…“ Izuku unties his blindfold with his very not bound wrists. “That’s better,” he says, blinking at his surroundings. “Your place is ugly.”
Izuku is sitting on the kidnapper’s back, his name is Keiji, as he’s learned recently.
He’s scrolling on his phone, looking at news articles of All Might’s newest arrest. He’s been postponing that in favor of his english essay, and he kinda needs to be in the know or he’ll spontaneously combust.
And just as he blinks at the Wikipedia article of the creation of spaghetti that he has no recollection of opening, he realizes he’s been kidnapped, and he really doesn’t know where he is.
So he calls Shinsou, the only member of his class who he thinks would be awake right now.
He responds immediately, in the voice of Aizawa, surprisingly enough.
“Is this Midoriya—“
“Dude, can I have a ri—“ The kidnapper groans into consciousness, and Izuku’s eyes widen. “Stay down, bad— Sorry, I need to deal with this. Give me a second.”
Izuku gives the guy another hard elbow to the head, watching as it slams back onto the concrete with thinly veiled indifference.
“Yeah, sorry, uh, can I have a ride back to the dorms? I dunno where I am, just woke up in this dumb kidnapper’s… warehouse...? I don’t want to deal with the people who’re paying him. It’s…” Izuku pulls the phone away from his ear to check the time. “It’s 2AM and I’m sleepy.”
There’s a sigh on the other end. “Yeah, we’ll— I’ll be there. Do you know who hired your kidnapper?”
“Oh, yeah, I checked their contacts. Some random gang, I think. They just wanted to get rid of a UA hero student for street-cred. They also had my kidnapper nab whatever he deemed valuable enough, so I have my notebooks here. But I don’t think they’re anybody important.”
He hears Aizawa hiss something, but he really doesn’t give a shit. It’s 2AM and Izuku is sleepy.
“Are you injured?” Asks Aizawa coldly.
Izuku shakes his head, and then remembers he’s on call. “Oh, uhm, yup, I am injury-free, surprisingly enough! Just a scratch or two.”
“Okay.”
Izuku nods—Crap. “Okay,” he repeats.
“Alright, we’re on our way. Talk to me. Do you have any additional information we might need to know?”
“Oh, yeah! So his name is Keiji, and his quirk is really cool! His— It’s a touch based paralysis, and I’m pretty sure it’s just single point activation, single point deactivation. Caught me off guard, if I’m gonna be honest. He’s down right now, though, so no worries about him!” Izuku chirps.
“Fucking—“
“Don’t swear around me, sir, I’m but a child.”
“I’ve heard you say worse.”
—
Izuku cheers his teacher on the sidelines, sipping an apple juicebox with a grin on his face. Aizawa’s 1v9’ing the group without a sweat, and it’s only been, like ten minutes!
There’s only one guy left standing, and Izuku really wants to write the techniques down on his new notebook, but he doesn’t have a pen right now.
When he comes back to UA after a statement and a half, he is immediately greeted with a flick to his forehead by Shinsou. A reprimand for being stupid. Izuku laughs, then promptly falls asleep on the couch.
It’s fine.