Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hero analysis for the future volume thirteen had been gone since this morning. Izuku didn't want to worry too much, it might have just been misplaced before he left and stayed on his desk all day. It had enough water damage from just yesterday that it was nearly unreadable.

None of that stopped him from feeling the brunt of panic when he tapped his pocket inside of his school jacket and felt nothing. Izuku wrote everything there. Every little theory about even the smallest of heroes. Sometimes even villain organizations, because villains organize better than heroes often do.

The notebook had his life’s work in it. Every dissection of a quirk and ways to use them better, as well as ways to completely break them. This kind of information in the hands of someone wanting to cause harm would essentially be giving a chainsaw to someone who was already committing mass murders.

Not to mention it had his name in it. Izuku Midoriya, right on the cover. If a villain found the notebook and thought it to be useful information, they knew exactly who to go to for more.

So Izuku was somewhat terrified all day. He couldn't stop himself from essentially running out of the room as soon as the bell rang out. That only got him more time in an undisclosed corner of the school, more burns and bruises than he could bring himself to count. But that would happen tomorrow, today he needed some closure on where his notebook was.

He retraced his steps on his way home, stopping in a café that he frequents to ask the nice man behind the counter if they'd seen his notebook anytime recently. They hadn't. He kept going, looking in trash cans along the way just in case someone thought it was litter.

There was nothing.

He resigned to ransack his room as soon as he got home. Because he had to find it, and today. He was starting to consider burning every notebook in the series if they were going to cause him this much stress each time they got lost. The amount of blood rushing to his head couldn't be healthy, and he could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips and tongue. Every sensation beyond touch was diminishing in his panic, and he rushed back home after giving up trying to find it on the route he took.

He didn't have to worry about the location of his notebook for much longer, though. It sat right on top of the solid gray doormat his mom had made him pick out and pick up from the store. It wasn't arranged in a random way, it was parallel to the sides of the doormat, and centered almost as perfectly as it could be.

Izuku stopped mid step upon seeing this. He had half a mind to turn around and just leave, and he would've if he had anywhere else to go. The only hope Izuku had was that they couldn't make out the writing within the pages. That the koi had eaten just enough paper that important bits about his favorite heroes were fish poop right now.

Approaching the notebook, he crouched down. He didn't want to touch it yet, just wanted to look. It was in the same condition. All of this made the panic within his blood and the twitchiness in his calves double. His body was getting ready to run, though he didn't know what he would be running from.

He lifts his hand cautiously. He touches the notebook, and when no explosions ring out he turns the cover. He sees the familiar email information he leaves on all his stuff, in hopes someone would give it back if they found it. He flips a few more pages to see no notes hidden or a different color among the ink he uses.

Everything was the same. Someone must have found it and dropped it off at his home. Maybe he had dropped it in the lobby and one of the people in this building took the time to find the apartment and leave it on the doormat for him.

Everything was fine. His blood slowed, and he didn't feel the need to run anymore. The switch from alert to relaxed made him feel a bit sleepy, but he was safe now. He could take a nap and wake up later to do his work. He didn't have to be on edge anymore. He flipped back to the first page.

Upon realizing he never put his address inside his notebooks at all, his blood rushed through his body so fast he couldn't hear anything.

If he had been able to hear, he would've run from the footsteps coming up the stairs behind him. He would've turned and seen the villain Eraserhead out during the day, in full costume, with a hand tangled through his scarf. Would've seen the intent to capture in his eyes.

If he had looked back, he would have seen the scarf being lowered and a knife being pulled out instead. But he didn't look back, and the hilt of the knife hit his temple before he even had a chance.

**

Waking up was usually easy for Izuku. On his worst days all he had to do was splash cold water on his face and he would be ready to face the world. He was lucky to be born with that kind of attitude, because any quirkless person without a hopeful attitude didn't make it long. That's why the survival rates were so low.

All of that made this grogginess that clung to his eyes and glued them shut weird. If he were in his right headspace it would probably be downright terrifying, but there was something in his system that was slowing his heart rate and keeping him essentially incapacitated. He would've been honored to be seen as a threat if he'd been consciously aware of his surroundings.

He gargled out a few broken mumbles, asking where he was. He got no answer so he strained his eyes to be able to see.

It took a bit to get them separated, but when he did he saw a darkened window. He was sitting up in some sort of car, one with heavily tinted windows. He doesn't think anyone could possibly see through those from the outside, but he lifts his head and lets it fall against the glass. A token effort, to be able to say he did not just walk into his death and go down quietly.

He lifts his head up again, higher this time. He doesn't know if he's hoping to be knocked out again or if he wants someone outside the car to notice him. His head doesn't hit though. An arm wraps around his back and a palm is between him and the glass.

"None of that. Sit still."

Izuku squints his eyes and tries to turn his head. He ends up falling into the lap of the person who just spoke instead.

Twisting his body, he looks up to see a greasy man with long black hair. He looks right into the man's uninterested glance and then down to see the scar right below his eye.

"Hey I know you," Izuku tries to get out. It sounds slurred and rushed, but the idea he's trying to convey is thrown into the air.

"I know. I read all about myself in your little notebook." The man looks mildly impressed. Maybe because of the content in the notebook, maybe because the heavily drugged boy could still even communicate.

"No, no," Izuku tries to redirect the conversation, because even in a drugged out state he knows not to mention his notebooks. "I've seen you in posters I think. Who are you? I swear I know you."

"I go by Eraserhead. You can call me Aizawa Shota."

Izuku's eyes must go comically wide, because the man above him is snickering. Izuku tries to sit up, to get away from this villain that gave him his real name. A sure way to test if you're going to die in a kidnapping situation is to test whether they're going to be liberal with their name or not. Izuku’s been kidnapped a few times before, so he knew this much.

Izuku was not going to make it out of this. He couldn't even sit up, much less use any muscle power to open a car door. He tries to roll onto the floor of the car. He couldn't think of a reason other than 'get away from danger.' His body doesn't move, but his head turns away from the man.

"I don't want to die," Izuku mumbles.

"You won't. I have some plans for you."

That was probably worse, he decided. Izuku would have kept thinking, maybe about a way out or maybe about what he wanted his last words to be, but he couldn't. His mind was slipping away from him. The next time he blinked his eyes didn't open. A hand petting through his hair lulled him to sleep, though it definitely shouldn't have.

Chapter Text

The next moment of consciousness Izuku manages is spent in a bedroom. Izuku is still severely drugged, so he couldn’t focus on much beyond the fact that the bedsheets here were the softest thing he’d ever felt.

He strains his head toward the edge of the bed to get a look around the room. There was a small table right next to the bed, level with the mattress. There was a desk across the room, on the wall opposite of the one the bed was against.

The walls were a dark gray, and there were only a few stains along the floorboards on the bottom. Overall, there was no dust to be seen. None settled, and none floating around the air.

It was a drastic switch from his own room. The room was bare of hero merch, and Izuku knew that he hadn’t been keeping up with the housework as much as he could have recently. Izuku knew that he was not in his own home. That Eraserhead had seen his notebook and taken him somewhere. He was confused about why he was placed in such a nice room, though. Typically kidnappers did not clean out rooms for their victims.

Izuku didn’t give it much thought though, because he couldn’t. He spent his energy staying awake and staring up at the smooth, white ceiling. He didn’t do anything but study the texture of paint strokes and will his eyes not to blink. He had to sometimes, but unlike last time he fell asleep they opened.

Somewhere in his mind he figured whatever was in his system must be going away. He felt a little useless, as much as he could feel anyway. He’s sure he would be hit with a rush of pent up emotions later, maybe throw a tantrum in this nice looking room. But all he felt right now was uselessness covered in a numb, cold blanket.

He heard footsteps this time. He turned his head toward the door his feet pointed towards. The footsteps seemed to be coming from a hallway, toward the right.

Izuku used some of his energy to turn over toward the edge of the bed. He let gravity pull the back of his body to meet the floor, and he used more of his energy to roll under the bed. Whilst under the bed, he looked for loose boards or screws. He didn’t find anything, so he curled himself into the back corner instead.

The door opened and closed in quick succession.

There was a light “Fuck.” Izuku assumes it happened as soon as he sees an empty bed. Good. Izuku doesn’t want to make his kidnapper’s job easy. He’s actually there to make it as hard as he possibly can, even despite the fuzziness of his mind.

“Kid?” Calls out a voice, “Are you in here?”

There is another opening of a door, this time it’s further into the room. Along the wall that Izuku couldn’t see from his placement on the bed. It must be a closet or something. There’s a shuffling of fabrics, and then another mumbled curse.

“Where did you go little one?” He said.

Izuku shuffled to cover his mouth, as his breathing was getting heavier. Eraserhead was on his knees in front of the bed in a second.

“There you are,” He said, sounding all too pleased. “When did you wake up, kid? You really shouldn’t be awake yet.”

Izuku shook his head no and shut his eyes. He didn’t move his hand from his mouth, as if Eraserhead would forget he was there if Izuku was quiet enough. He didn’t forget, still sitting there with an amused expression when Izuku opened his eyes.

When nothing was said, Izuku attempted his voice. While it cracked a few times, he still got out a small, “why am I here?”

Eraserhead snickered. He held a hand out toward Izuku. When Izuku closed his eyes, he was grabbed by his ankle. There wasn't any real opportunity to fight it, as he was out from under the bed in a number of seconds. He tried to lift his arms to shield his face, but they stayed by his side. He tried to lift his free leg to kick at the hand attached to him, but it wouldn't move for him.

"You are honestly an enigma, Izuku Midoriya. Why do you keep trying to hit me when you know you'll lose? Are you trying to make me mad or something?" The man above him tilted his head to the right, as if trying to figure Izuku out. He must not have found any answers, because he continued his rant. "You are completely in my hands right now. The entire rest of your life is up to me."

Izuku flails a little bit and then mutters "I hope its a short life then, fucker." If Izuku had any strength he would have spit in the man's face. It was probably a good thing he couldn't, because Eraserhead was already glaring down at Izuku.

"I can promise you it won't be. Now come on. Bed time."

Izuku was lifted from the ground. He felt like a little kid in the man's arms. Izuku hadn't been picked up since he was around four, so it had been almost exactly a decade. The sudden movement made him light headed, and his vision spinned while he was thrown back onto the pile of soft bedding.

"What're you doin' with me?" Izuku demanded.

"Putting you in bed, because you need to sleep." The man didn't seem angry anymore, his face was back to amused. He sat next to Izuku's torso, and ran his hands through green hair. When Izuku tried to pull away, he bunched it up in a fist and kept Izuku laying where he was.

Without anything else to really do, Izuku fell back into a deep sleep.

**

The next time Izuku woke up, he was capable of having and holding thoughts in his head. It was a wonderful thing, to be able to curse his captor out in low mumbles. Something that he guesses would quickly become a hobby.

He was able to lift his body up as well. That made him feel significantly less useless than usual. His legs wobbled a little bit while standing, but he only fell back onto the bed once. Overall, standing up was a quiet endeavor.

He kept his steps light as he made his way toward the dresser next to the closet door, something he couldn't see last time he woke up. There was a mirror that showed the top of his hair to his mid torso.

He was wearing a long black shirt and a pair of shorts that looked too big, but were tied in the front with a drawstring. He wasn't in his school clothes. Which had some implications. Implications he chose to ignore at that moment, because he had bigger issues to deal with.

Having the opportunity to think back, he wondered how he could have been so stupid. He had every opportunity to try and run but he’d been frozen in place as soon as he’d been faced with the fact someone tracked down his address. If anything, that should make him run. Because they knew where he lived.

Izuku really couldn’t do anything right. He’s just some sad kid with a hobby he got too into. And apparently that hobby wanted him to stop pestering it, so it got him into trouble.

He hadn’t even written that much about Eraserhead and his organization. Just basics on the three members that were public knowledge, and about how stupid they were for going after certain other heroes with their kind of fire power. And he really went in on them, because he never thought another human being would ever even see that page. Not to mention Eraserhead himself. Izuku was all around screwed.

He needed to get some sort of weapon. He considered punching the glass of the mirror and throwing shards of it into the man's eyes, but he didn’t know if he could handle the kind of pressure that came with completely debilitating another person's quirk. He didn’t really wish a quirkless life onto anyone, and the villain group Eraserhead ran was far better for the world than a lot of the other groups rising. They got rid of rogue villains, and didn’t cause the deaths of general civilians. If he couldn’t erase other people’s quirks, there would be a rise in villains that meant actual harm to people.

The pressure was building inside Izuku. He figured all he would really need was something to cut the scarf that Eraserhead used to capture people, because Izuku was small enough and fast enough to outrun someone. Practically anyone. Well, anyone without a speed quirk.

He kept looking around for something to cut with, eyes scanning the open room. He couldn’t see anything out in the open, so he opened the closet to see it was empty save for a few shelves and metal hangers. He could give himself a homemade abortion, but couldn't cut a man. Pity.

He closed the closet, eyes looking back to the mirror and bed. He could probably wrap one end of glass in part of the blanket on the bed, as a makeshift handle. But he didn’t have an idea on how to break the glass without calling way too much attention to himself.

He had to look around for a little longer, there had to be something. He turned his attention back to the dresser, and opened the drawers. There were three, and he started with the bottom.

It was empty, but he took notice of the placement of the screws. They seemed long, but skinny. The second drawer had some clothes in it, just three rolled up shirts and one pair of folded sweatpants. He pulled out the sweatpants, and threw them onto the bed. The top draw had a few safety pins in a small plastic container. He pulled those out and set them on top of the dresser’s surface.

He closed all the drawers and went back to the closet. He grabbed the boards that lay on triangle brackets and set them on the floor. He’d take them with him if they weren’t going to ultimately slow him down. He grabbed a metal hanger and twisted it so the curve was now straight, then tried to fit the metal into the groves of the screws. When he realized the hanger was too big, he went back to grab a safety pin. He opened it so the sharp bit was out, then stuck part of the pin in between his molars and pulled the rest of the pin down. Going back to the closet, he unscrewed all the screws he could see and put them in his pocket with the pin. He then put the remaining metal on the top of the dresser. He grabbed the big comforter from the bed and draped it over the mirror, hoping it would muffle the sound at least a bit. Then he punched right into the blanket, and heard a shattering that was, in fact, muffled.

Throwing the blanket to the floor, he picked out the biggest piece of glass he could find that would fit in his hand. After wrapping a leg of the sweatpants over half of it, it looked like a dagger. He kept it in his right hand, ready to run this time. He pulled the pin out again, working on getting the screws that held the dresser together.

He was about halfway through the last draw before he heard footsteps from somewhere near the door. He made sure he had all the screws and the bent safety pin in various pockets, then clutched at the glass again. He grabbed a board from the closet, holding it up above his head to bop whoever would make their way through the door.

There was only one person's footsteps in the hall, and there was no conversation as they got closer and closer to the room Izuku was in. Izuku was ready, and whoever the fuck was outside the door wouldn’t know what hit them.

Chapter Text

The door opened slowly, as if the person thought Izuku would still be asleep. Izuku started to wonder how long he’d been here, but refocused himself to the task at hand.

It was Eraserhead again. As soon as their eyes met, Izuku slammed the board down onto the top of his head and ran past him without assessing the damage he’d just caused. If any damage happened at all. It seemed to stun him for at least a second though, because Izuku was halfway down the side of the hall he chose to run down before cloth started to hit his arm. He was wrapped up in a cocoon of white before he could get any further. The man turned Izuku so he was facing him, even though there was still a good 15 feet between them. Izuku was proud of that, he didn’t want to catch whatever brand of crazy Eraserhead had.

“Child, why would you think this was a good idea? Running is only going to get you in trouble,” Eraserhead said.

“Fuck you that’s why,” Izuku wiggled around until the hand with the glass dagger could reach the scarf wrapped around him. He sliced up, cutting it so that about half the scarf was unusable. He turned and immediately started running again.

Eraserhead must have been stunned again, or maybe he was getting a concussion from the amount of force Izuku had used earlier. Either way, it took a few seconds for more scarf to be thrown his way and footsteps to follow him down the hall.

“You’re not even going the right way! We’re thirty floors underground!”

“Your mom’s thirty floors underground, bitch. Stop chasing me!” Izuku yelled out, not even breathless. He’d had plenty of endurance. He needed to, because middle school bullies were more relentless than adults who made it their career to kidnap kids.

The scarf wrapped around the hand with the glass, so switched hands just as the man was twirling him around and lifting him up enough that he was scrambling to get onto his tippy toes. The man was glaring down at him and stepping closer.

“You are a brat.”

Izuku reached his piece of glass up to cut at the scarf again but he was lifted completely off the ground instead.

“You are a bastard,” Izuku slashed out toward the scarf in front of him, tearing about halfway through the piece before it was drawn away. “Let me go!” He kicked his legs up and got the back of his ankle to hook around part of the scarf to draw it closer and slashed out again, grazing the back of his calf as he did so.

He hit the ground on one leg and fell over on his back. The remaining 5 feet of the scarf wrapped around both ankles to keep him in place. The man stood there, with an almost amazed, definitely annoyed expression. Izuku still had his arms though, and the man had no more scarf to reach toward him with.

Izuku held the glass in his left hand. He wasn’t left handed, but he figured he’d need his right hand for other things, and he was ambidextrous enough that it wouldn’t affect his slashing ability. He drew out all the screws from his right pocket as soon as the man started pulling Izuku toward him, and threw them quick enough that the man only had a few seconds to cover his eyes.

Izuku cut at the last of the dude's scarf and turned so he was on his hands and knees. Then, he took off in the type of way he imagined a track runner would. He made it all the way down the hall and turned right, with footsteps chasing after him.

It was a tragedy that he was a bleeder. His blood was too thin, came out too quickly. He probably would have made it to at least the stairs if he had not been bleeding. But he had been, and about halfway down the second hallway he slipped on his own blood. He fell on his back again, sliding almost a foot before his skull made contact with the floor and his vision was blacked out for just a second.

A second was all it took. The makeshift knife was kicked out of his hands, and his right arm was being lifted so he was off the floor yet again.

“I really shouldn’t have underestimated you. I mean, I’ve seen your work. I should have just put you in an empty room. You’re going to be so useful though,” Eraserhead started ranting. He seemed stressed, like he was trying to convince himself all this work was worth it. Izuku wanted to make his day worse.

His left hand was reaching into that pocket while Eraserhead kept talking about Izuku's potential within this group. Izuku once again had a handful of screws, but this time he didn’t think he could throw them at the man to deter him. He could probably shove them into his eyes, but he really didn’t want to be responsible for someone losing their quirk. So, he did the next best thing.

Izuku now had a mouth full of screws. He’s glad his mom keeps him up to date on his tetanus shots.

Eraserhead seemed baffled for a minute, mouth open like it had been during his rant but as if he’d been frozen. “What the fuck, kid? Open your mouth. What did you put in there?”

Izuku shook his head no, and turned his head.

“Are you a goddamn cat or something? Open your mouth!” His hand took hold of Izuku’s jaw and tried prying the mouth open. It was hard with just one hand, but Eraserhead didn’t seem to even consider putting Izuku down. Izuku felt the man’s hands on his teeth, trying to pry them apart, but Izuku kept it all shut. They struggled against each other for a good five minutes, both too stubborn to give up. Eventually, Eraserhead realized he was an adult and had the boy literally lifted off the ground.

“I will knock you out, I swear to god,” Eraserhead said, voice hard as steel.

Izuku opened his mouth and tilted his head so the saliva-covered screws fell into the hand of the villain.

“Fuck you.” Izuku said.

“Yeah, yeah. Now come on, we’ve got a meeting to get to,” Eraserhead smirked a bit. Way too smug for a man who just spent five minutes of his time with his hands in a teenager’s mouth.

He shifted Izuku so the boy was over his shoulder, and ignored the fact Izuku was doing his best to bruise his back on the walk toward the opposite end of the building.

Chapter Text

The new room he was placed in looked a lot like an interrogation room in a police movie. Izuku was left alone with a quick “Behave,” from the man.

Izuku immediately tested to see if he locked the door. He, unfortunately, did.

Izuku went back to his chair, thinking about what the fuck to do. There was a huge mirror along one side of the wall, so he hid directly under it while he was thinking. He considered taking apart the wooden table and throwing the top of it at the glass, but he wasn’t exactly sure if he actually was thirty floors underground. If he was, he knew he couldn’t make it that far without being stopped, and he wanted to keep the safety pin screw driver he made. He was starting to feel an emotional connection there.

He didn’t have as much time to think that through before Eraserhead came back into the room with a tired looking man following behind him. Seriously, what’s with this group and not getting enough sleep?

“Get off the ground, sit in your chair.”

Izuku glared up at him, but got on the chair anyway. There were only two, one on either side of the table. Eraserhead sat opposite of Izuku and the man that was following Eraserhead stood with his back leaning against the mirrored glass, almost halfway between the two sitting but a little closer to Eraserhead.

He had obviously not been filled in on Izuku’s habit of trying to sprint, because he left the door unlocked. Eraserhead glared down at him as soon as he looked a little too long. Izuku elected to keep the ‘bolt’ plan on the backburner.

“This is Tsukauchi. He’s here to make sure you’re answering truthfully.”

Izuku squinted toward the man. “A quirk? What’s it like? A lie detector test?”

Just as the man opened his mouth to answer, Eraserhead said “Don’t talk to the kid. He’s trying to analyze your quirk. A little goes a long way with him.” Eraser looked up toward Izuku, as if daring Izuku to fight back.

Izuku didn’t. He kept his mouth shut, because the detective’s quirk must be voice based. It relies on Izuku verbally answering something, he’s sure of that. And it seemed that the questions didn’t have to be from the quirk user, because Eraser was the one talking. Izuku doesn’t know how far the voice based quirk would go though. Would it detect a lie if said not in response to a question? Would it detect a malicious intent while he was asking a directed question?

Izuku would find that out throughout the course of this interview.

“I wish you would stop telling me people’s names. It makes me feel like I’m going to die here,” Izuku replied, keeping his attention toward the lie detection quirk despite his eyes being on Eraser. He was looking for any physical reactions from Tsukauchi. Like when his right hand twitched upward.

“If I have anything to say about it, and I do, you are going to die here.” Another twitch of the right hand. “You’re an asset I’m not willing to lose, despite the attitude. We can train that out of you though.” A twitch of the right hand.

The quirk must be based on what the speaker believes, because Izuku would rather be dead than go through whatever conditioning Eraserhead had planned for him.

“That’s stupid. I’m fourteen, and you’re going to die before me. You can’t keep me here as a ghost.”

Eraser sighed, closing his eyes as if already exhausted. Izuku hoped he was.

“We are not going to argue about this. You’re staying here, and that’s final. Now let’s get on with business,” Eraser pulled out a recording device and placed it on the table. He clicked a few buttons, and then pulled out a manila file with a few printed papers inside.

“Where did you get your initial information about me?” No hand twitches from Tsukauchi.

“Is that what you call yourselves? That’s so dumb, you know that?” Izuku responded, half to piss Eraser off and half to test the truth quirk’s parameters. He had known the villain’s name, but he never wrote it in his notebooks so if he claimed to not have known there was some evidence for that.

“I didn’t ask for an opinion about my naming abilities, I asked where you got your information.”

Tsukauchi looked like he wanted to jump in and tell Eraser that he hadn’t actually gotten a true or false status on those questions, but Izuku made sure to speak before him. “I first heard about you guys in school. They were talking about how scary it would be to not have a quirk anymore.”

Eraser pondered that for about a minute. “You’re quirkless, right? How did you feel about that?”

Izuku looked at the man like he’d just sprouted bullshit. “This is an interrogation not a god damn therapy session. I would like to get this over with and be put in a new escape room.”

“But you are quirkless, yes?”

“Yeah, I mean you should know that you fucking stalker,” Izuku considered the image in the mirror earlier. “Let me ask a question. What pervert changed me? That’s so fucking gross because, again, I’m fourteen. Is that what this group does? Go around and kidnap kids just to change them? Disgusting, dude.”

Eraser seemed to overlook everything beyond an answer. “And your classmates don’t like you because you’re quirkless?”

“Why does that matter though?” Izuku demanded.

“Aren’t you tired of a society like this? Don’t you want to help others, people just like you? You could be their hero.”

“Oh so this is an indoctrination session or something. Emotional manipulation at its finest. I’m not interested in joining whatever cult you have here. I think you’re dumb.”

“Oh but you think we do good work,” Eraser said. “You think we ‘get rid of threats before they have the opportunity to become dangerous,’ don’t you?”

“I have never said those words in my life.” Mental, but not vocal, emphasis on said. When Eraser looked back at Tsukauchi the man on the wall gave a thumbs up, to signify Izuku telling the truth.

Eraser looks disgruntled when he looked back at Izuku. He lifted a familiar notebook up for Izuku to see “But you wrote them.”

“I have thirteen of those bad boys. Started this series when I was about ten. That’s way too many notebooks a year. And you’re asking me to remember a very specific quote from a certain volume? Fuck you.” Izuku absolutely remembered every word and the coordinated page.

Eraser tilted his head. Izuku wondered if he gave something important away, because it definitely looks like he did. Eraser isn’t frustrated at a non-answer, he’s thinking about the answer Izuku just gave.

“This… Series?”

Oh shit. Izuku thought for a moment about how to dig himself out of this hole he’d so perfectly dug for himself. He disguised the thinking with a snarl, though it wasn’t a good disguise.

“I started this one when I was ten,” He repeated, still thinking of ways to withhold as much information as possible. “I had one from age five to ten, basically all about various pro heroes. There’s nothing of value in there really, just fanboy rambling about basic facts on their quirks.”

Eraser seemed smug to get any sort of answer. Izuku was internally smug to find out lies by omission were not able to be detected.

“Well then. Why did you start analyzing quirks?”

“Did you not read the fucking cover. The cover of the notebook. It’s right there. It’s in front of you now.”

“Right,” Eraser elongated, “because ‘for the future’ is so descriptive.” Surprisingly, a twitch of the right hand. Sarcasm must be an interesting facet of getting through this quirk. Izuku was good at straight faced sarcasm. A useful ability in classes, he could make fun of his peers and teachers without letting them in on it.

“I want to be a hero. What the fuck else would I have been doing all that for?”

Eraser seemed to catch on to all the questions right at that moment. He hummed for a moment. “What else would you have been doing it for?”

Izuku glared right at him. He already knew he wouldn’t be getting out of this alive, he might as well go all out.

“I would rather have swallowed those screws than be here answering this question in particular.”

Izuku had a reason for that. See, Izuku had a lot of different hobbies. Hobbies his mother did not approve of. Being an informant paid a lot though, and his mother needed help with the bills. Besides, if this man got his hands on some of the other series of notebooks, namely the support gear one, then the entire world would be screwed. The weapons in there were powerful enough for a quirkless boy to be a hero, imagine that in the hands of Eraserhead.

So he’s perfectly valid in the answer he gave to Eraser.

Eraser continued looking smug, even had the audacity to put his elbow on the table and support his chin with his palm. As if he already figured Izuku all out. But he definitely didn’t. Izuku was too slick for this.

“What have you figured out about Tsukauchi’s quirk?”

“Well, for one, lies by omission do not count. And that’s probably all I really need to know, right?”

Eraser smiles, a deranged smile you’d expect a villain to have. “Then why do you speak in questions?”

“I thought it would be funny.” Izuku’s face didn’t move much. Sarcasm at its finest.

“You’re joking.”

“I would never joke about quirks. They deserve so much more than that,” Izuku said, truthfully.

Eraser lifted his head up, his face scrunched up in confusion again. “I hate children,” He said.

“You could always put me back where you found me. I would appreciate it,” Izuku offered.

“No. You’re mine now.” Eraserhead was glaring down at Izuku with a possessive look that didn’t belong on anyone’s face.

Izuku had the dawning realization, right then, that he would truly never get out. He had flirted with the idea earlier, but it hadn’t hit him like it had now. That this man had his address, might know about his other notebooks, and could very well have placed some sort of tracker inside his skin while he was out. The police wouldn’t waste resources on a quirkless kid, and that’s only if he made it to a police station that didn’t have any of Eraser’s men in it. He was honestly trapped here for as long as this man needed him alive, and when he did leave it would be as a corpse.

Izuku looked up for a second. The texture of this ceiling was the same as the texture in his room was. He closed his mouth, not trusting himself to just start yelling about fairness and murder plans.

Eraser opened his mouth to ask another question, but Izuku covered his ears and screamed.

Chapter Text

“Child. Stop it.”

Izuku shut his eyes and continued his screaming, not wanting to make anything easy for the man. If he was lucky, he would be killed right here and now for disobeying.

“Stop screaming.” The voice took a darker undertone to it, as if this one was a threat and the first one was a warning. Izuku didn’t care, he kept screaming.

“This is your last chance,” Izuku heard from somewhere beyond the little world he’d built for himself in this chair. With screams and darkness and very little sound getting into his ears. “I will not ask again.”

Izuku had to breathe in a gulp of air, but kept his hand over his ears and his eyes remained shut.

“What are you doing?” Eraserhead demanded. “Are you really throwing a tantrum? You’re fourteen.”

Izuku screamed again, a short one, just to get a point across. Then, before Eraser could interrupt him, he yelled, “I just got kidnapped, I’m going to be throwing a lot more tantrums than just this.”

Izuku could hear a sigh coming from across the table. A few mutters were exchanged while Izuku let out a few screams at times he felt appropriate. There was a door that opened and shut, and Izuku started screaming more at that. There was a door, and unlocked door, but last time he’d made it out a door he hadn’t even known where he was going.

He lifted his head up to glare at the man who had crossed the table to stand right next to him. They had a short staring contest before Izuku squeezed his eyes shut to scream yet again.

“Stop it!” The man grabbed his hands and pulled them away from his ears. “You will stop if you want to be able to see the sun in the next few months,” He threatened.

Izuku drew in another breath, and started sobbing immediately after. Eraser looked so uncomfortable. Izuku almost wanted to laugh, but the thought of his mom pacing through an empty apartment had him bawling even more.

“Stop that too,” said Eraser. “You’re going to get dehydrated.”

Izuku sobbed even harder at that, because his mother would always used to buy water bottles to keep in her purse to make sure the both of them had enough water on hand to continue their excessive crying habit.

Izuku started crying so hard his vision was blurry and his ears were ringing. He wasn’t sure how he managed that, but he was certainly proud of himself.

“Child. Izuku,” said a voice he couldn’t really identify anymore. “Stop that, you need to drink this.”

Izuku could feel a person scrambling around him, trying to press something into his hand or feeling his head as if trying to gauge his temperature. But Izuku couldn’t, wouldn’t even if he could, respond. Then he felt a prick near his neck, and his energy was slipping from him. He faded into an ever-familiar blackness.

**

Izuku woke up groggy again. He didn’t quite know why, but it felt better to be drugged out and not be able to do anything than to be completely sober and still useless.

Yet again, Izuku was so drugged out. This time he couldn’t even feel ashamed to let it envelop him. If this was going to be a common occurrence he might as well enjoy it.

Izuku could hear a shuffling of papers next to him, and tried to shift toward them as if he needed to feel who was there. Opening his eyes didn’t even occur to him. Instead of reaching a person, he fell off whatever he was on. He didn’t have the strength to break his fall with his arms, so he landed on his cheek.

“Jesus kid, are you suicidal or something? Do I need to watch out for that?”

Izuku recognized that voice as bad. He didn’t know who exactly it was, or why they landed in the bad category, but he went with it anyway. “‘m not suicide. Might develop an addiction, cause the drugs in me so much. Family has prob,” Izuku took a break in his sentence to take a breath, “lems with that. Drug. Ssss.”

There was a low chuckle over him, and Izuku attempted to open his eyes just once. It didn’t work, so he resigned to just die. It felt merciful to just die right now, but he didn’t remember why.

Instead of pain, he got picked up and put back on the soft surface he was on previously. A hand made its way through his hair, and stayed there. “Y’know, you’re kind of cute when you’re not throwing a tantrum. Like a cat. It’s honestly a shame about the family history, because you’re a much better child like this.”

Izuku felt a little offended. He tried to snarl, but based on the laughter, he didn’t think it worked very well. The hand didn’t do anything except continue to pet him, and eventually he fell back into a dreamless unconscious state.

Chapter Text

The next place Izuku woke up in was an office. It looked nice, it had crimson walls with bookshelves lining them. There was a picture rail at the top of the walls, in dark wood. Izuku didn’t know anything about wood beyond minecraft, so he imagined it was a dark oak. The room looked like something he’d see on a pinterest board.

There was also a man in front of him, facing away. Eraserhead. Aizawa Shota. He was clacking away at a computer, occasionally taking a few seconds to think between the sound of keys. He seemed hard at work, whatever sort of work villains did. Izuku felt it would be a shame to interrupt him, so he didn’t.

Instead, he slowly lifted himself off the couch he laid on. The couch must have been high quality, because not only was it soft, it also didn’t squeak when weight was shifted around.

Izuku looked over Eraser’s shoulder, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the light sinking into them. Eraser was writing about someone. A report about an enemy or something. He was going in detail about the other person’s quirk, but he was wrong. He was writing something about the amount of time someone could spend out of water, in reference to whoever the enemy was, but being provided with a picture Izuku could tell they were closer related to an eel instead.

Something in Izuku’s brain must have still been affected by the drugs. It was probably to be expected, it couldn’t have been too long since he was taken in the first place, considering he hadn’t eaten once and still didn’t feel hungry, and he had been drugged twice. His liver must be working overtime on filtering whatever they had put in his system. He appreciated it, but he wished they worked faster.

“That’s wrong,” Izuku blurted.

Eraser jerked to reach for something before he stilled himself. He turned around in his fancy office chair, and looked at Izuku. “What is?”

Izuku tried to keep his mouth shut, but all that accomplished was him muttering out, “Eels and fish are different…”

Eraser tilted his head a bit. He reached his hand out to feel Izuku’s head, but Izuku backed up and ended up sitting back down on the couch. “You’re still under it, huh?”

Izuku snorted, “Well, I've got a small body. And a liver that have already gone through this whole process earlier.” Izuku thought for a moment before continuing, “I’m not going to overdose on this am I?”

Eraser hummed. “So you really aren't suicidal. That’s surprising. Y’know if you just listened you’d be fine right now.”

“So I'm not fine right now? You’re going to kill me? Pump me full of drugs until my body can't keep filtering them out?”

Eraser seemed amused. He turned back to his work, typing a little note to himself before shutting his laptop and giving his full attention to Izuku, who was swaying trying to keep himself upright.

“You’re just fine. It took awhile to get you to even answer a few questions, and I’m willing to wait until you decide to aid us in our mission.” Eraser seemed absolutely certain that would happen. Izuku didn’t like that.

“Why was I asleep on the couch? Are you poor?” Izuku asked, solely for his own amusement. It worked too, as he gave a little giggle right after finishing his sentence.

Eraser grabbed Izuku’s face, seemingly entranced with the fact Izuku is capable of laughter. Izuku tried to slap his hand away, but let his hands fall as soon as the grip tightened.

Eraser completely overlooked the second part of the outburst, “You’re in my office because you don’t seem to know how to behave. As soon as you go at least a few days without trying to run away, or if you manage to not dismantle a room either mentally or physically, then we can try giving you your own area.”

Izuku moved his head back a bit. The hand was still on his face, but it was loose enough for Izuku to jerk out of the grip and bite the flesh beneath Eraser’s thumb.

“Shit!” Eraser yelled, then jerked back. “If you act any more like a cat I’m getting you a fucking collar kid. A shock collar. You’re on your last strike.”

Izuku didn’t give that much thought, instead he laid back down and muttered “eels can breathe through their skin. And they eat harder things than fish, so their teeth are harder.” Then, Izuku fell back asleep.

**

The next time Izuku woke up, he was alone in the office. The lights were off, and it was nearly pitch black. The only source of light illuminating the room was coming from a vent on the ceiling. Izuku immediately zeroed in on that, as ventilation systems don't typically have lights in them.

Peering through, he could see a blue sky bordered with green strands of what he assumed was grass. There were a few screws holding the metal in place, and Izuku patted himself down for the safety pin he had just before he fell asleep. Unfortunately, someone had once again changed his clothes. Those perverted fuckers.

He looked around the room for something similar. The room was far too cluttered for his tastes, almost like someone had taken offense to the idea of a minimalist aesthetic and made it their life mission to have everything they could fit fill a space. There were a few pens scattered on the top of the desk, a lot of glass that Eraser seemed to not care about considering he left Izuku in a room with them. There wasn’t anything Izuku could imagine would be helpful.

There was still a heavy fog in the back of his conscious being, but not nearly as much as before. There was also a dull ache in his stomach, signaling to the fact it has to have been at least eight hours since he’s been taken, since he typically doesn't eat dinner and gets hungry in the morning.

The thirty floors down thing might have been a lie, or maybe he had to have been brought up here for supervision. Either way makes sense.

Izuku goes to the door, trying to open it. Surprisingly it was unlocked. He held his hand so there was nothing stopping the door from opening, but didn’t want to open it quite yet.

Listening into the hall, he couldn’t hear anything. But Eraserhead was a stealthy person, so Izuku just couldn’t be sure he’s not just standing out there waiting.

Then, Izuku remembered that he was going to die here if he didn’t do anything. So the door opened up to an empty hall.

Their halls were clean, the walls were gray with different colored lines along them. Izuku assumed they signify certain things, but he didn’t want to be here long enough to figure them out.

He stepped out of the room, slowly enough as to not make noise. Then he closed the door behind him, making sure the only thing heard from it was a small click when he let go of the handle.

He went left. There were two options and while it was silent throughout the building, he got a bad feeling when even facing right. He wasn’t in the practice of ignoring his instincts, that’s how quirkless kids get killed.

The hallways were too similar to really navigate properly, and Izuku wondered if that was the point. He could feel a steady decline in altitude as he went down that hall, and for a second he wondered if he chose wrong, but when he started hearing sounds of shuffling and murmurs about a missing kid from behind him he realized he absolutely chose correctly. He dove behind a corner and stopped making any noise, covering his mouth so he wasn’t even breathing.

“What does this kid look like anyway? And why’s he important exactly?” A blonde man in a bun said, “I mean, I love kids and all, but isn’t this too much effort for, like, a middle schooler?”

The man from the interrogation spoke up next, and Izuku recognized his voice. It had a distinctive soothing effect to it, one he was too distracted to notice earlier. Probably a secondary mutation of the quirk he had lowering heart rate and such to subtly discourage lying.

“He’s a piece of work,” harsh but fair, “Izuku Midoriya, green hair and green eyes. The only child you will see on the premises. He’s apparently got a knack for analysis, better than the team of people we employ now. Aizawa says as soon as he gets the kid talking freely he’s going to ‘let go’ of the others.”

That was anxiety inducing. Izuku certainly didn’t want to be the cause of anybody’s death, even if they were working for a crime syndicate.

The footsteps were getting closer, they were passing by. They walked by Izuku without noticing him, he was at least a foot or two shorter than the both of them and he was slightly crouching down. They continued walking by while Izuku was frozen in place, watching as their figures got smaller and smaller until they turned somewhere down that hall.

As soon as they were gone, Izuku started breathing again. He got himself into gear and turned the corner again so he could go the complete opposite way of the two men looking for him. He kept his footsteps light and made sure his breathing was quiet, then swiftly made his way back toward the room he woke up in. He was probably better off in Eraserhead’s hands than random men who talk about how they love kids.

The walk back was easy because Izuku has always been good at directions. His internal GPS was better than any map he could get his hands on, and he suspects it had to do with the furious amount of running that was necessary before, after, and during school. Any time he wasn’t in his own home essentially.

The door looked the same as all the others, but Izuku knew this was Eraserhead’s office. The flooring was different from every other room, and it peeked out from under the door.

Upon opening the door, he was once again met with an empty room. The maximization of space was almost comforting despite his mind trying to run calculations on how expensive it must have been to gather all of this stuff into one room.

He was still hungry. The clenching of his stomach was typical, and he could handle it, but it was nearing the time he’d usually give in and eat a granola bar. He decided in this room was the only option, and hoped that the next person to bother him had food on hand.

Chapter Text

It took awhile.

The scuttering sounds outside the room grew and grew over time, as if they were getting increasingly more and more panicked. Izuku felt like he could probably end the search by just opening the door, but he didn’t particularly feel like talking to another human being anytime soon. Besides, shouldn’t these people have cameras in their base? So he just sat there on the couch that was quickly becoming his new favorite thing in this place.

The opportunity to leave was long gone, and he didn’t want to be caught taking the vent on the ceiling off because the threat to collar him seemed genuine. He wouldn’t put it past such a deranged man to collar a child.

So he sat there for quite a while, waiting for someone to come back and feed him.

Eventually there was a pair of footsteps approaching the door instead of just walking by.

“Listen, the kid is somewhere. He literally cannot have left the building, we just need to keep looking around Sho!” That sounded like the weird blonde that walked by him earlier, and Izuku considered dashing under the desk.

“Shut up,” Eraserhead said. Izuku relaxed, letting himself awkwardly rock back and forth on the couch. “You don’t know how smart he is. You need to stop underestimating kids, they’re the devil.”

The door opened smoothly, and the two men almost stepped into the room before making eye contact. They didn’t move, just stared at Izuku baffled.

“Well,” The blonde started, “I think I found him?”

That got Eraser moving, rushing toward Izuku.

“Where have you been?” He demanded, leaning so he was sort of sitting on the desk, but still ready to book it if needed.

Izuku stared at Eraser for a second before saying, “Here?”

The blonde started laughing, doubled over and leaned against the doorway.

“Get out. I don’t need you here anymore.” Eraser said without even looking back. Then he turned his full attention back to Izuku, “What do you mean here? I was in here earlier and you definitely weren’t.”

The blonde took his leave, shutting the door behind him and laughing all the way down the hall.

“Well I mean I left for like…” Izuku thought for a second, “Fifteen minutes? Because you left the door unlocked and I wanted to explore. But I came back. That lie detector man and the blonde walked by me and I figured it’d be better to be in here than getting caught by a random person. I mean, at least I know you want me alive.”

Eraser squinted at Izuku, as if to gauge whether he was lying or not.

“Alright. How long have you been here?”

Izuku thought for a bit, “I dunno. I’ve sorta just been sitting here. I’m hungry.”

Eraserhead sighed, then motioned for Izuku to follow him. Izuku did, scrambling to catch up to the man’s long stride the whole time. Though, he doesn’t know how much more of this emotional ping pong he can take when he’s the little plastic ball bouncing between intimidation and manipulation.

“Uh… what time is it?” Izuku asked, trying to fill the awkward silence that was lingering above the two of them.

“Around ten in the morning.”

Izuku didn’t think he was going to get any important information out of this man, despite him being on his best behavior this morning. And it really was his best behavior, he literally could not do any better than he already had.

“How long have I been kidnapped?” Izuku said, “Because I’m usually home by now and my mom’s probably freaking out. Why can’t I just go back, it’s not like the police would believe me if I told them you kidnapped me.”

Eraser didn’t even look at Izuku as he said, “If you keep bringing up your mother as a reason to leave I will track her down and deliver her corpse to you.”

Izuku felt another shot of fear run through him, slowing his steps and making his breathing process very much manual.

Apparently Eraser noticed that Izuku slowed down, because soon he was crouched in front of Izuku, looking somewhat concerned. “Come on now, you need to eat food. You look pale.”

The fact he hadn’t eaten was completely not the reason he was faint, but Izuku was too scared to bring up his mother again. Eraser took his hand and led him around the building, ending up in a kitchen.

“What do you want to eat?” Eraser asked.

Izuku still couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he just stood there and shook a bit.

“Are we really doing this? I wish I was this scary when you were screaming about my mother,” Eraser sighed, once again crouching to Izuku’s level. Izuku couldn’t bring himself to look the man in the eyes, his teachers all hated that. Liked Izuku better when he was scared. Liked him better when he was quiet, and malleable.

They both stood there until Izuku was able to meet the man’s eyes, and they were surprisingly soft. Like his mom’s when he used to come home bruised and bloody as a grade schooler. Like a parent trying to get through to their child.

Izuku had been through so much these past few days. He hadn’t had a break from the invading adrenaline since before he’d lost that notebook. He hadn’t let anyone touch him unless he was literally powerless to stop it.

He wanted everything to be okay.

His mom wasn’t an option right then, and he was able to convince himself that was the reason for his actions.

He leaned forward until his body was on Eraser’s in an awkward hug, and Eraser didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Izuku a little too tight. It was suffocating. Izuku tried to convince himself it was similar to a weighted blanket.

Izuku nearly started crying right then and there, but he collected himself instead. Used the time in the other man’s arms to pick up the pieces that had fallen from him, and put them together in a new way that justified the fact he was hugging a serial murderer.

Eraser held Izuku steadily until Izuku pulled away, rubbing at his eyes to discard the little buds of water that were on his face.

When Izuku was deemed calm enough, he was picked up and sat down on a stool behind the little island in the middle of the kitchen, facing Eraser while the other man faced the stovetop.

Nothing was said, Izuku just laid his head down on the counter and let the cool of the counter take the heat from his forehead without a struggle. It felt good. Normal. Familiar.

Izuku couldn’t help but think of the people this man had to have killed. Even kids his age that weren’t useful enough to him. It's a wonder that the quirkless one was the one that was spared.

Eventually his thoughts were broken up by a bowl tapping the counter in front of him. He looked up to see Katsudon sitting prettily in a bowl. It slid closer to him.

“How’d you know…” Izuku asked, not wanting to give anything away if the man didn’t already know.

Eraser huffed, “You use your analysis journals as a diary.”

Izuku felt like he turned pink, but didn’t move to take the bowl.

“Take it,” it slid closer, “I promise nothing bad will happen. I need you, remember?”

Izuku doesn't think he’s ever really heard that string of words come out of another person's mouth in reference to himself. His mind was fighting itself, not wanting to slip from his everlasting panic attack, but being so tired at the same time.

“Thanks Eraser…” Izuku said.

“Just call me Aizawa. And you’re welcome,” He said, turning back around.

“Thanks Aizawa,” Izuku muttered before he began to eat.

Chapter Text

Izuku hadn’t been allowed to leave the office even once after that. He’d been deemed more of a flight risk on account of the fact he was sneaky enough to have two grown, trained men walk by him unsuspectingly. He hoped they weren’t punished or anything, he would feel really bad. He would never admit it out loud, but punishing other people for his misbehavior would probably be more effective in keeping him in place.

Living in an office was weird. He laid on the couch most times, except during meals. He sat on the floor in front of it, just to shake things up.

It was boring. Aizawa was the only person to talk to, the only person bringing him food, the only person to start conversations with. Izuku can’t help but wonder if that was on purpose. If there was a methodical manipulation tactic behind any and all of these words that he heard everyday. Every greeting, every time he left, every hand that made its way through his hair or onto his shoulder or that held his face, every plate of food that was delivered in such a timely manner. The concern behind his eyes when Izuku physically couldn’t eat three meals a day.

Sometimes he wished it wasn’t manipulation. That someone actually cared enough to be there. His mother had always had to work so long, especially during nights. From the moment Izuku got home to the moment he left for school, his mom was working. He took care of himself and got them groceries. He made sure that the house was clean. He made money and left it in places that she would assume she left.

Now that he was thinking about it, nobody he worked for could really get a hold of him aside from the burner he kept on himself, and he assumed that was in the possession of Aizawa at this point. As was literally everything he could even want back.

Izuku spent about three days sitting there clicking a pen. He didn’t know if he wanted to annoy Aizawa while he was working or if he was genuinely bored enough to sit there and click a pen for hours at a time, and he didn’t want to think about it too much either. It was probably the ladder considering the first two days hadn’t gotten anywhere close to annoying the man.

Izuku didn’t know what was wanted out of him. He couldn’t throw another tantrum about returning home, for the sake of his mother’s life, and he couldn’t exactly ask for something to do because the answer would always be that he should help Aizawa with his work.

Izuku just doesn’t know what to do. He feels lost in a way. Like he’s an otter that’s lost his other half and is left to float along the water. He wonders if his mom feels the same, or if there’s a bit of relief there.

Izuku hadn’t exactly missed the stares. The ones that felt like she was watching someone who was already dead, or gone, or out of reach. He knows that she worked hard to keep him afloat, and maybe when he’s gone she can focus more on getting herself to land. Get a better job where she wouldn’t mention that she had a quirkless kid, get a better salary, not have to leave work to sign any papers at his school.

Thinking about it now, he had to assume that she was relieved. He would be.

Eventually his thoughts turned down a darker path. And, because he didn’t want to relapse into any bad habits, he had to turn to his better habits.

“Can I have a notebook?” Izuku asked, still staring past the pen he was clicking above his face to stare at the ceiling instead of making eye contact. “Please?” he added.

Aizawa stopped typing for a second, thinking about it.

“I can’t give you back one of yours. But I can give you a new one,” He said.

Izuku, who honestly did not think he’d even get this far, let out a breathy, “Yes. Thank you.”

Aizawa huffed out the same type of laugh he does when he thinks Izuku did something exceptionally funny. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m here to take care of you.”

Izuku, tired of emotional whiplash, very carefully avoided the fact that his mother had never said anything similar to that to him. That she always guilted him into thanking her.

He turned so Aizawa could not see the tears welling in his eyes.

**

The notebook had arrived a day later. It was fancy, the kind of notebook that was important enough to have a ribbon connected to it, to be used as a bookmark. It was a pale green with a similar feel to leather, the first page already filled out with his name and presumably Aizawa’s contact information. He doubts that Aizawa would ever allow this notebook to go missing, but it was nice that he thought of Izuku when filling it out.

The pages weren’t exactly white, they were a light beige. It was considerably easier on the eyes, especially considering Izuku hadn’t worn his glasses since he’d been snatched up. They were just reading glasses, so he didn’t really need them unless he got a headache while writing or doing something close-range.

He felt considerably pampered and appreciated. He hadn’t had nice things in awhile aside from the merch he bought with his money, but never had nice things given as a gift.

He really didn’t know what to think about the fact the villain that goes around killing practically everyone did this for him. So he didn’t think about it at all.

He thought about all the things he could write about. The most interesting quirk he’d seen in action was the truth quirk from the man in the trench coat, so he’d written about that.

About the look of the man, then gave a little sketch from memory. It wasn’t bad, but he was used to having a reference, so there were a few features that seemed wrong. He noted that he’d need to revise the sketch, then moved on to the quirk.

He wrote about the basics of the quirk, the solid facts he was given from the man and Aizawa. Then he went on to theories. About how intention warps the idea of truth with his quirk, sarcasm being one of the easiest ways to bypass that. As long as you intend for it to come off sarcastic, you could say the sky was pink and get away with it. Then about the questions, how only statements can be put under investigation.

On a different page entirely, he wrote about the idea of calming effects of the voice. How that would work, what it would be doing for the affected, how it would make them more likely to tell the truth. He went on and on about the fact that the user himself probably didn’t know he had a vocal type quirk, because effects like that can be trained. That if it was trained interrogations would go so much easier for this organization.

Then he hid the notebook under the couch. He didn’t exactly want anyone here to use this information. Not an ideal thing to have on his conscience.

When he woke up the next morning though, it was considerably straighter. Aligned with the sides of the couch better.

It looks just as straight as notebook number 13 did when he’d found it that day.

Chapter Text

Izuku started leaving his place on the couch more often since he’d gotten a new notebook. He even tried opening the door once, when Aizawa was gone. It was locked this time, but he felt better knowing he had at least tried. Like he was still clinging to shells of himself he’d lost at some point.

Aizawa was leaving more often since Izuku had gotten the notebook. Izuku doesnt know exactly how long it’s been, it could have been months of him being missing. He’d been asleep and awake for longer periods of time than he was used to. Or maybe he was just bored, so they seemed longer? Aizawa had covered the vent on the ceiling from wherever it leads to, making it impossible to uncover without taking the vent off, and he didn’t know if he wanted to risk his mother’s life like that. All that to say, his day and night were decided by Aizawa’s flip of a light switch.

Realistically, Aizawa wouldn’t get mad at Izuku for flipping a light switch, but Izuku had been paranoid since he’d figured out Aizawa was probably reading his notebook. He made sure not to write anything that wasn’t already in his thirteenth notebook, and absolutely nothing that could aid Aizawa’s ‘work.’ Needless to say, Izuku didn’t really have any opportunity for improvement, nor intellectual amusement.

When Aizawa started leaving his monitor on Izuku assumed it was just a mistake. But then it kept happening. Over and over, there it was, taunting him. It had internet access and videos and hero news. It was nearly mouthwatering. Aizawa had been away for longer times too, so he could probably get away with it.

He held out for a while. At least a week, he just sat there clicking a pen and writing about quirks he already knew. He needed something to change, needed some kind of stimulation.

So he looked at the screen. It was open to a file about some man’s quirk, one where he can scream. The picture looked like that blonde man Aizawa knew, but there was another picture of him to the left of that showing him in a costume. A villain costume. He was the second in command then, Scream. An unoriginal name but it got to the point. It seemed like a name Aizawa would pick out.

The quirk relied on the man’s voice getting increasingly louder.

Izuku’s hand itched to move, but he knew that the notebook was not a safe place to write any of this down. It would be seen, and then it would either be used or Izuku would be punished for snooping around. Instead, he started muttering.

He let himself talk as fast as he wanted.

The quirk had to have some physical mutations, as a human voice was not built for volumes that high. He wonders if the mutations allow for a lower range, one unable to be heard, one that would make people dizzy and sick. It might not be able to do any damage to buildings, but it would definitely affect the people within. With work underground like these people do it would be really useful, unable to be connected back to them because they’ve never shown they’re capable of anything like that.

Not to mention the effects a quirked voice can have on people’s emotions. It can change heart rate, either causing a state of arousal and panic that would either make their movements sloppy or calming them down to the point of sleep. Much like jigglypuff.

The vocal cords would have to have more space in order to be able to make noises like these, and Izuku wondered what part of the throat was sacrificed for that. Maybe the man has a smaller esophagus, or maybe the muscles around the windpipe are smaller, more fragile. He knows the throat didn’t grow at all because the man did not have a comically large neck. It would be beneficial to change the diet if it were the esophagus, but it would probably be beneficial to change the diet either way because dairy is bad for the vocal cords. If it were just the muscles, armor would probably make up for it, though the man would have to avoid headshots. One pinkie toe would probably snap his neck, even if there was a brace supporting it.

The man really did have an interesting quirk.

Izuku sat in the office chair and spun around, thinking over the theories he’d just had. It would be cool to be able to test some of them, but he was sort of trapped right then.

He stared at a stray blank page on the desk, imagining what the analysis of Scream would look like if he could write it down. He’d probably want to plan it out to look good, but get too overzealous to actually fit everything on one page. It might take three or four, he really liked voice quirks. The respiratory system was really interesting to him. He knew a lot about it, he helped his dad stop burning his throat a while back when he was in elementary school.

Izuku let his head fall back, and fell asleep right on the chair.

**

Aizawa woke him up by entering the room the next day. Or at the end of this particular sleep cycle, or whatever. Izuku was still too sleepy to worry about getting caught looking at his things, it wasn’t even an idea in his head yet.

“Hello Izuku,” Aizawa said lowly, acknowledging that the boy had just been woken up. He approached slowly, “How was it here?”

Izuku opened his eyes and looked over to the man. He didn’t look scary, didn’t have blood staining his clothes or dirt from running around. He must have cleaned up before coming back to see Izuku. Considerate.

“I’ve been sleepin.”

Aizawa huffed out a singular laugh, then put a hand through Izuku’s hair just to keep it tangled through those curls. He’d gotten infinitely more affectionate since Izuku had been staying here. More affectionate and less pushy. “Yes, I can see that. Did you do anything while I was gone?”

Izuku was still too sleepy to realize the man had caught him sleeping at his desk, where the page about Scream was still pulled up.

“I don’t think so?” Izuku said.

“Alright Izuku. Let’s get you to sleep then,” Aizawa said, pulling his hand back. For some reason Izuku’s head followed, leaving his face falling toward the ground before the man stopped him. He was lifted up and set onto the couch, facing the desk. He closed his eyes, expecting the man to just leave right away, but the shuffling at the desk had him opening them again.

There was a small black cuboid that was on top of the computer monitor, one he didn’t notice earlier. It had a circular area jutting out, much like a camera.

Izuku was sure he would panic about that later, because he had been muttering his analysis, but right then he couldn’t bring himself to care all too much. It wasn’t like when the drugs in his system had physically kept him down, it was more like letting go of a long panic and not emotionally being able to handle anything more. Like no matter what he did someone else would win. A feeling he was becoming increasingly too familiar with. So he just watched the man pocket it and then take his leave, making brief eye contact before the light turned off and the door clicked behind him.

Chapter Text

Starting conversations was not something Izuku knew how to do. He wasn’t allowed at school after hours, because they considered him too fragile to do any clubs or hang around other students at all, really. He hadn’t seen his mom often enough to practice asking for things except through notes, and even that was discouraged when the things he was asking for were ‘not necessary.’

Communication skills were just one of the things he did not have. So, asking for his own room would either be a disaster or just really awkward. But he didn’t think he could handle the constant paranoia that came with the memories of Aizawa picking up the camera.

Aizawa had noticed the paranoia. With Izuku jumping left and right, there’s no way he couldn’t. He hadn’t brought it up, so they both just ignored the fact Izuku didn’t feel safe. Izuku was very used to that, so he felt sort of at home.

However, Aizawa had said that if Izuku was good then he’d get his own room again. And Izuku had been good recently. He’d been quiet and well-behaved, not even trying to leave once since the camera incident a weekish ago. Didn’t even feel like touching the door at all. Barely even looked at the vent. Let the man pat his head and grab his face without biting or pulling away.

So, maybe Aizawa had just forgotten that he said that and he needed to be reminded? Maybe Izuku should just go ahead and ask for his own room. His own room with no cameras watching when he slept, somewhere he could mutter freely without fear that he would be an accessory to murder in a weird domino effect.

He had to take a day to really psych himself up. It took an entire day to make himself genuinely believe nothing would go wrong when asking for something, his reasoning being that Aizawa wasn’t the type to hurt him when he spoke out of turn. The worst the man would do was continue to keep Izuku locked in an office like he was a pet.

So Izuku asked, “Can I have a room?”

Aizawa turned toward him, evaluating the intent behind the question.

“Why?” He asked in return.

Izuku took a deep breath and kept himself from profusely apologizing for even existing, and instead said, “I’ve been good,” in a small voice.

Aizawa hummed at that, “yes. I did say that, didn’t I?” He got up and walked toward a bookshelf along the wall, picking a book up. Izuku didn’t see a title, the cover was black and missing the sleeve that had the title, so he was either reading something relevant to this conversation or just trying to occupy his hands.

“Yes, you can have your own room. You do understand that I'll have to install a lock on it, though?”

Izuku let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, then relaxed his muscles because he wasn’t getting hit anytime soon. “Yes, yes I understand. I just…” Izuku hesitated, not wanting to cross any lines. Apparently he’d been quiet for too long though, as Aizawa had turned around and leveled him with a stern look.

“I just don't want to be watched. I don't want… Cameras.” Izuku rushed to say.

Aizawa nodded, as if Izuku’s request was completely predictable, pretty much guaranteeing that Izuku had been right to be paranoid these past few days.

“Yes, I can do that. Most rooms don’t have cameras anyway. You’ll have to give me a day or two, but I can set up a room for you. As long as you continue to be good, you won’t have to be monitored,” Aizawa explained.

“Thank you Aizawa,” Izuku said, nearly in tears but keeping together because of the sheer amount of awkwardness that bursting into tears would cause right now. Aizawa was definitely not the type of man to be able to handle his emotions, much less another entire person’s.

“Yeah, yeah. You still don’t have to thank me,” Aizawa said, sitting back in his chair and briefly ruffling Izuku’s head before spinning back around to face his work.

**

The room was done in just a day. Aizawa had apparently made it his top priority after Izuku had asked, because to accomplish this in just a day?

The room was furnished just like Aizawa’s own office. Filled with little green trinkets and toys, and even a few pieces of Hero merch thrown in there. He could see Aizawa sneering at the plushies sitting on the bed, so he had to guess that even the idea of buying these disgusted him. But he still did. For Izuku.

There were five bookshelves total, one in each corner in between arches that look like they could have a window if the room wasn’t underground. There were cushioned benches on the left and the right wall, each stretching from bookshelf to bookshelf, presumably so Izuku could read on them. There was a desk near the doorway, the dark wood was polished and unblemished. It had a few drawers, and supplies already laid out on the desk. On the other side of the entrance, there was the fifth bookshelf.

Izuku was honestly ecstatic to have a space like this. He didn’t expect much out of asking for a room, he assumed he’d get another room just like the one he’d originally woken up in. Not one that looked like it was teleported out of a fucking mansion.

He stood in the doorway of the room for the longest time, just staring. He was in awe. He did not believe that someone went this far for him.

When Aizawa touched his head he looked up at the man. Izuku must have already been crying or something, because the man said, “I can change things if you don’t like it.”

That made Izuku cry very verbally, because how could he think Izuku didn’t like this room? And the fact that he’d be willing to change the entire room because Izuku didn’t like it, that was something nobody would ever do for him. Nobody but Aizawa.

He took shaky steps toward the nearest bookcase, seeing a stack of notebooks. Behind them was a bunch of intellectual content on quirk theories, years and years of research fit neatly into one shelf. On the shelf below were a couple comic series that were popular with his peers, the types of series that Izuku had always wanted to pick up at the library but didn't want to risk getting beat for it. The shelf above had more research on quirks mixed in with actual books that he could spend his time reading.

And that was just one in five bookshelves.

Izuku cried harder, and only managed to get out a quiet, “for me?”

Aizawa seemed to understand then, taking a step toward Izuku and crouching to his level. He grabbed Iuzku’s face with both hands, cradling it before wiping away stray tears.

“Yes, for you. You get everything in here. And more, if you ask for it.” Aizawa affirmed.

Izuku leaned into the hands on his face, closing his eyes to cherish this moment. He didn’t really like getting too comfortable here, but he couldn’t help it when this man had done more for him than anyone had ever even expressed that he deserved.

He let himself relax, and leaned forward so he wouldn’t have to keep supporting his own weight.

Aizawa just stood there and held him, not saying anything more. He didn’t really need to though, because all Izuku would need to do to validate the man’s words was look around.

Chapter Text

Izuku spent most of his free time in his room. Occasionally, Aizawa would knock and come in to escort Izuku to his office or sit on one of the benches so that he and Izuku could spend time together, but other times Izuku would sit in his room and read his new books.

There wasn’t a day, or sleep cycle, or whatever, that went by that he didn’t see Aizawa. He was always there to drop off food or writing utensils or just to ask Izuku how he was doing. It was the most amount of amicable human contact he’d ever had, and he was thriving in it.

With new books on quirk theories and some he’d asked for on anatomy and such, he was able to actually write out more in-depth analyses of heroes. He was able to go back through his mind and write out what he’d already had, and add in some information and new theories about different ways their quirk could work, and different ways it could be countered.

He did still avoid the topic of defeating them in any sort of battle, because while Aizawa was being nicer about privacy he did still have some issues now and then.

The bed Izuku had gained with his room was even better than the couch he’d spent about a month sleeping on. It was soft, it seemed to be memory foam, and the pillows were just perfect. He thought about sleeping forever on more than one occasion.

He started thinking about his mom less and less. The rule about not bringing her up probably helped with that, and he can’t help but be a little grateful that he doesn’t have to miss her. He has a good life here. Nobody to bully him and a loving, doting parental figure that would be ready to give him anything he asked for.

The things he could do for stimulation are still very little though. He sort of missed school. Not the students, or really even the teachers as impassive as they were, but the content. He missed learning things and feeling accomplished when he could regurgitate information into different forms, shape it to fit different contexts and needs. The chemical makeup of acids and bases? Fits perfectly with this random quirk he saw at the coffee shop! The atomic structure of the noble gas xenon? It can be applied to this person with the Jupiter quirk.

Basically, he loved learning. He hoarded information like a dragon, and he was good at it too. Good enough to gain the attention of a villain anyway.

So one day, in Izuku’s room, he asked, “Aizawa? Can I go to school?”

Aizawa froze for a second, thinking. Izuku has noticed that recently. The man froze when he thought things through.

“What?” Aizawa asked.

“Well, I want to learn?” Izuku said, unsure of himself. He didn’t really want to leave, he didn’t want people to know him, or see him, or perceive him in any way really.

Aizawa was still frozen, sitting on the end of the bed with his laptop in his lap. Eventually, a minute or two later, he composed himself enough to ask, “Just to learn?”

Izuku nodded, “yeah, I don’t exactly want to talk to people. I don’t really…” he looked away to think of a way to say this without anyone getting killed, “get along with other kids my age.”

Apparently looking away was the wrong thing to do, as Aizawa was immediately suspicious of him. He didn’t bring it up in any way other than squinting at Izuku. Instead he said, “yes. School. What grade are you in?” He put his hand up as if to measure Izuku’s height, like that would answer his question.

Izuku snorted a bit, “well, I’m in my last year of middle school. But I think I’m a bit smarter than them. I skipped a grade before my diagnosis, and they won’t believe me when I say they’re not academically challenging me at all.”

Aizawa nodded along, offended that the teachers at Aldera would ever doubt Izuku’s intelligence.

“Yes, we will get you schooling. Online schooling. You can have a desktop in here so long as you behave with it. Remember that I have the means to relocate you if it comes to that,” he threatened before patting Izuku’s head, “but you’ll be good, won’t you?”

Izuku gave a small nod, trying not to jostle the hand on his head too much.

That was all the conversation that had to happen, as a few hours later Aizawa left and came back with a desktop that he set up right away.

“I won’t be able to sign you up for any schooling until I have custody over you, or at least an alternate identification with your face on it,” Aizawa said. “How do you feel about being Izuku Aizawa?”

Izuku looked at the man in awe. “You’d want me?”

Aizawa’s face softened, “Of course I would want you. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn't want you.”

“Okay. I would like that,” Izuku was still awed. His voice came out small and fragile.

**

Before he was registered for school, Iuzku used his newfound internet access to start watching the hero news. The villain organization Aizawa belonged to had had an increase of power, though they hadn’t exactly been abusing that power. Just kept everyone else from hurting civilians and such. He had been frantically scribbling analysis until Aizawa had physically pushed him into bed. Even then, he swore he could feel his hand moving to write more theories down in his notebook.

Then he started school. Schooling was fun when he didn’t have little teenage assholes breathing down his neck the entire time he was learning. He absorbed information like a little sponge, and with the type of school Aizawa had picked out he was able to go at his own pace until he reached a college degree. Maybe even get a doctorate.

Aizawa had registered his new identity so that it looked like he had a quirk that kept him from going outside in any way, shape, or form. It would be quirkist if any university denied him entrance based on the fact he couldn’t leave his home. The air itself would choke him until he shriveled up and died on a sidewalk. The sun would burn him, and the moonlight was just as bad on his skin. It was an interesting thing to think about, and Izuku could definitely think about a few different quirks that could combine to make this made up abomination.

Izuku was happy though. Way happier than he would be alone in his apartment at nights, studying. This time he had someone who made an effort to see him and a lack of burns littering his skin.

With that happiness came guilt. He was guilty that he didn’t really care what happened to Aldera or his mom. Guilty that he knew there was nothing that could make him ask about them, even various news segments he turned off the minute they said ‘Midoriya’ or ‘Aldera.’ Started to become numb to the idea of his analysis being used to hurt people, and just wrote whatever he wanted.

Sometimes he cried about that. The fact that his morality was slowly slipping from his own grip, rather than being torn away from him. Whenever he did cry though, Aizawa was always there to comfort him. Assure him that he was still good. A good kid, a good person, a good son.

Chapter Text

The topic of Izuku’s analysis being used for Aizawa’s work was ignored for a long, long time. Izuku was able to get through two years of school with his new computer before Aizawa even briefly mentioned it again. It was odd, because that was the entire reason Izuku was brought here. Though, maybe Aizawa was able to go on with the brief moments of analysis he was able to read with Izuku’s notebooks. Notebooks that he had three of at this point.

Or maybe the reasoning for keeping Izuku changed?

Izuku doesn’t think too far into it.

On this day, Aizawa walked Izuku to his office once and sat him down. Izuku was already nervous, because Aizawa had been even less talkative than usual, with a look on his face that probably meant more to Eraserheads enemies than it did his kid.

“I need you to do analysis on these people,” Aizawa demanded. He left no room for discussion, no room for disagreement. There was a file in his hand outstretched toward Izuku. “This is the only time I will be doing this. You can live your life however you want, but there is no choice for this.”

Izuku took the file, looking through it quickly. There was a picture of the person, there was a legal description of the quirk, and some eyewitness testimony that could be used to help come up with potential uses. But there was no reason stated that they were enemies. It was the Shie Hassaikai, a yakuza group that should not be an enemy to anyone. Typically two groups like these would find a way to coexist or go to war way earlier than now.

“Why?” Izuku questioned, looking back up at Aizawa.

Aizawa turned to pull something up on his computer. Camera footage from the street. It showed Aizawa on the sidewalk, leaning against a building until a little girl ran into him and clung. There was no audio, but Izuku could see she was shaking.

Then a man, the same one from the file, came to pull the little girl away. Then the footage changed to a different camera, the alley that the pair went into, and it showed the man yanking the little girl behind him.

Eventually, the kid starts kicking up a fuss again. Aizawa watched in the video, stepping closer until the man across from him gets annoyed at the two opposing him and lets the girl go, falling to the floor. With his newly freed hands he took off one of his gloves, briefly sneering at the alleyway wall before hoovering his hand above it and talking to the girl again.

The girl rushed up to him, shivering and shaking. The pair left, and Aizawa went back to return to where he was, just to show up in a blur at the top of the roof. He trailed them as they left.

Then Aizawa, the one next to him, reached over to stop the camera footage.

“That’s his daughter. He is a prominent member of the yakuza, and she had bruises all over her. The heroes haven’t been able to do anything for her. So I’m going to help her,” Aizawa looked over Izuku, as if measuring him in some theoretical, metaphorical, stupid way. “We are going to help her.”

Izuku was in shock. He didn’t know what exactly he could really do here. He wasn’t born to help people. If he was born to help people he would have a quirk. An ability to aid him in the aid of others. All he was on this earth for was pain. Because someone had to be at the bottom of the social ladder, and it was better if it was him and not someone with potential like Kacchan or All Might.

“I…” Izuku got out before his own tears made their presence known by slipping into his mouth. That, being the worst thing he could possibly feel right then, got him scrubbing at his face furiously. If he had sandpaper hands he would be just like a korean bathhouse worker.

“Izuku, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Aizawa guided his hands away from his face and replaced them with his own sleeve, dabbing at Izuku’s face. “C’mon now, you need to calm down.”

When Izuku’s eyes stopped producing water like they were Izuku could see the incredibly uncomfortable look on Aizawa’s face. That made him let out a wet laugh. That devolved into a sob, and everytime he took a breath the way he exhaled it was a 50/50 chance of a sob or laugh coming out.

All throughout this, there was a steady hand on his back and another hand batting Izuku’s away from his own face.

Izuku just couldn’t make this decision. With his analysis they would win, there was no doubt in his mind. While that man seemed evil, and Izuku was sure the world would be better without him, who was Izuku to be the cause of another man’s death?

What if Izuku had to live with the fact he had done that for the rest of his life?

“I can’t just,” He took a sobbing breath in, “I can’t be the one to decide that.”

Aizawa put both hands on Izuku’s face, under each eye and somewhat on his cheeks, squishing them together.

“You aren’t deciding anything. I have already decided that you’re doing this. You don’t get a choice. You have no moral stakes in this, because I am the adult here and I am ordering you to do this.”

Izuku let his face be held. He soaked up the physical comfort while he could, and then started crying harder.

Aizawa sighed and picked Izuku up. Izuku has never felt more small. He was able to cover his face this time, because Aizawa did not have any way to stop him. He didn’t move his hands to scrub away any stray tears, so Aizawa didn’t mention it.

Izuku didn’t stop crying until he passed out with Aizawa’s hand once again petting his hair.

**

The topic was not let up the next day, though Izuku was able to collect his thoughts before Aizawa came into his room. Izuku sat at his desk, waiting and thinking, until Aizawa entered the room.

Sometimes Izuku felt like he didn’t really exist without the man. But that was silly, so he pushed thoughts like those aside.

When Aizawa did enter, Izuku saw the file in his hand once again. Nothing was said, leaving Izuku feeling a little bit silly for having prepared for a conversation about this.

Izuku was left with the file, and he did analysis on it like he would anything else. He paid no special attention to it, but it was surely enough to get the job done. When Aizawa came back for the file that night, Izuku received a pat on his head before the man left again.

**

The next night, perhaps not even 24 hours later- though, how could Izuku know that for sure?- the same little girl from the camera footage was carried into the room and placed right next to him.

It woke him up, the jostle in the bedsheets. He opened his eyes to see the girl with wet hair, seemingly just washed up.

“She is your sister now.” Aizawa said.

Izuku was thoroughly confused.

“Huh?” He asked.

Aizawa pointed to the girl, “This is Eri. She is your sister now.”

Izuku decided to play along, if not for the sake of Aizawa’s awkwardness then for the sake of this traumatized child.

“Hello Eri. My name is Izuku.” he murmured, still fighting off sleep.

The girl gave a little wave before she cowered into herself.

That night, Aizawa slept in the middle of Izuku’s bed with Eri on his left and Izuku on his right. Aizawa practically forced his arm underneath the two kids' heads, apparently thinking that fathers just had to do that to provide for their children. Izuku wasn’t really certain how the fuck this would end up working out like, but he was tired, so he ended up falling asleep using the man’s arm as a pillow anyway.

Chapter Text

Eri was a good kid. She was shy, probably on account of the trauma. But Izuku enjoyed making her laugh, even if she caught herself and looked terrified afterwards.

No one was allowed around her, the same way Izuku hadn’t seen a human being since he’d been brought here. It was probably good to have steady people in her recovery, but bad for any sort of social skills. Not like Izuku could really talk, as the way he was socialized was being shoved into lockers, into toilets, down the stairs, toward the roofs edge. All sorts of shoving.

The room soon became their combined room, and it was slowly filled with unicorn plushies and toys in the same way Izuku had received hero merch and green themed trinkets. Aizawa seemed to give them both an equal amount of attention, and made it a priority to spend time with them. Anytime he had to attend a meeting Izuku could see the twitch of his face.

Izuku didn’t know exactly the status of the people working for Aizawa but he had to imagine it must be scary to call a meeting with the man. Anything that had to be said to him would have to be in email form or else a life would be on the line. A very, very thin line.

Eri and Izuku were never the target for that attitude though. While he was as emotionless and awkward as ever, Izuku had caught him genuinely smiling on more than one occasion watching him and Eri get along.

Izuku didn’t really know how to feel about all this. He really did like to hang out with Eri, and he was slowly coming to consider her his younger sister. The three of them made up a tiny little happy family. A family that was cut from their own blankets and forcefully sewn together into an unorganized quilt.

It had been very traumatic to become a part of this family, and he didn’t quite agree with the work Aizawa did. However, he didn’t think he’d really be accepted back into society after all he’d done to help. So it was better to be here and have a family than out there and alone.

He couldn’t think of anything he would change. He had an idea about where his life was going before all this, but nowadays he didn’t. He had no clue what was going to happen or why. He was confused and wandering the world aimlessly, because any attempt to reach goals had to be monitored by his newfound father.

But certain moments made it all worth it sometimes. Helped him not be so distraught, not so caught up on goals. Allowed him to just live in the moment.

“Izu?” asked Eri.

Izuku was on his computer, getting closer and closer to a high school degree by the day. He dropped what he was doing to turn toward Eri though, who seemed to be holding up a stuffed frog.

“Yes?” Izuku asked back.

Eri held the frog up to Izuku’s face, “What’s this? Is it alive?”

Izuku snickered a bit. He didn’t quite understand why Eri would go to him for questions like this, but maybe Aizawa had told her Izuku was smart.

“That is a frog. They are a real thing,” Izuku referenced a similar conversation he’d had to have with her about unicorns, “but this is a stuffed animal based on a frog. So, frogs are real and this is what they look like, but the thing you’re holding is just a representation of a frog and not an alive one.”

Eri turned the frog around to hold it in her own face like she just finished doing to Izuku.

“You are a frog,” She said to it. “You are a stuffed animal that represents a frog.”

Izuku wasn’t quite able to stop himself from laughing a bit, but as soon as it slipped out he covered his mouth.

“Yes Eri, that is a frog. But I don't think it can hear you, because it’s not alive, remember?” Izuku reminded her.

Eri seemed sad at that.

Aizawa must have overheard that conversation, because a day later there was a full froggy setup that replaced one of the benches. A glass aquarium with terrain for a frog, a heat lamp, and everything else that Izuku imagined a frog could need.

“Frog,” Aizawa said, pointing to the setup he must have put together throughout the night, as Izuku and Eri had not been witness to anything of the like. It was baffling but somewhat expected on Izuku’s part, as Aizawa had a habit of jumping on certain things said offhandedly at the weirdest times. That must just be a dad thing?

Eri, however, had not been used to this habit of his. She was confused, but ecstatic. Izuku could see that she was hesitant to hold it, so they simply watched him for a while.

“We should name him,” Eri said, assigning the frog a gender.

“Yes, he should have a name,” Izuku played along. He didn’t want to name it though, Eri has never had the opportunity to name a pet, much less have one.

“Well. Maybe…” she thought. “Maybe something like greg?”

Izuku thought that was such a funny name. He wondered where she got a name like that, a standard American name, but he didn’t want to ask. If anyone questioned her she would immediately backtrack and Izuku was working on her confidence.

“Yes. Greg it is.”