Chapter Text
They’re running across the streets, wind whipping through the slits in Izuku’s helmet as he pushes his body to the limit. Usually this would be his favorite part of the day, but today he’s just not strong enough. Not fast enough. Today it’s a struggle to even keep Eraserhead in his field of vision, where usually Izuku would be no less than six feet behind the hero.
But he can’t slow down. If he slows down then he’s weak and that means he’s not good enough to be a vigilante and Eraserhead will treat him like a kid and make him go home—
But then again, his head is starting to feel dizzy and his body aches from the particularly bad beating he received today at school and he can barely keep his eyes open—
Which is why he almost runs straight into Eraserhead, who apparently stopped—
When did he stop? Why did he stop? Is there something I missed? Or did he finally realize how incompetent I am and is about to do something to me?
Except Eraserhead doesn’t say a word, merely guiding Izuku to a nearby bench and gently pushing down on his shoulders.
With a start, Izuku realizes that he’s supposed to sit down, and does so obediently.
“You’re not yourself tonight,” the hero states, shocking Izuku.
I haven’t even said a word… how did he know?
“I’m fine.”
It comes out more forceful than he’d intended, and he immediately chides himself mentally for snapping at the only nice adult in his life, but Eraserhead obviously doesn’t buy it.
“You’re not.”
Izuku crosses his arms, barely wincing at how even the simple motion hurts, ready to insist that he’s okay, because why wouldn’t he be? Isn’t this normal? It’s just a bad day. He’s fine.
“Your breaths are coming out more ragged than usual, your usually clean footwork is messy, and you can barely keep up.”
It’s… true. He has nothing to say to that, because of course Eraserhead is right.
I thought I had been hiding it better than that, Izuku thinks. But then again, he always seems to notice everything about me.
“It’s illogical to stay out when you’re already like this,” Eraserhead says, and yes, Izuku knows that the words are said out of kindness, that they’re completely true, but still, he doesn’t want to accept them. Still, it hurts, not being good enough to be able to patrol with Eraserhead tonight.
Because that’s what they’ve somewhat become: patrol partners. They’ve come a long way since their first meeting, when Eraserhead wouldn’t stop insisting that he go home, that he was too young, that vigilantism wasn’t the right path.
They’ve fallen into a sort of rhythm, walking the streets together wordlessly every night, in a way that’s almost akin to a peaceful stroll with a friend. Either Eraserhead has given up on convincing him to do something else with his nights, or he believes in Izuku enough to know that he’s capable… or both.
Probably both.
But he believes in me. He’s not saying my abilities aren’t good enough, he’s just saying that I’m not enough today.
“Go home. Tonight’s not your night. You can’t afford to hurt yourself.”
And given Izuku’s luck, of course those are the magic words, because behind him he hears a rustle– the only warning he receives before three masked figures explode from a bush (why is it that bushes are the best hiding place?) and make a lunge for him.
Or rather, for Eraserhead.
“Kid-”
And it’s the first time he’s ever heard anything close to panic in the hero’s voice, and that is not good.
“Kid, they want me, not you–”
And Izuku is particularly slow to understand the words and their meaning, but he knows he won’t leave Eraserhead alone.
One of the figures cackles, sending a shiver down Izuku’s spine. “Oh, we’re here for the kid too,” they say, the mockery evident in their voice.
Why me? Have I done something to them that I didn’t know of?
There’s no elaboration, but the fight that ensues is the most horrendously painful thing ever. Of all the times that villains could have chosen to attack, they had to choose the day where he wasn’t up to his normal standards.
Where his mind would usually be in overdrive, analyzing his assailants’ quirks, its processing speed is subpar today.
Of all the times—
One of them lunges forward, and then there’s a flash of silver glinting dangerously in the dim starlight, and then pain, excruciating pain explodes across Izuku’s abdomen as he jerks away milliseconds too late.
No… I have to keep going…
Gritting his teeth, Izuku does his best to focus on the fight, trying to encircle one of the attackers with his chains. Eraserhead’s holding his own, but where he can usually overpower anyone in moments, it seems like he’s struggling this time.
Which is why I have to help.
Izuku’s chains snag onto something, and he pulls it closer, triumphant- only to recoil as another slash across his stomach is created. The second is so much worse than the first, and adding on to his earlier headache-
Eraserhead’s scream is the last thing he hears before he blacks out.