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Shouto stares up at the large sign declaring this the Musutafu East District Fire Department, wondering what the hell he’s doing.
See, it was all Touya’s fault, to begin with.
The four Todoroki siblings had gathered together for their monthly get-together, where they cursed their estranged father while using the trust fund he’d given each of them in an attempt to buy back their love. It didn’t quite work, other than to bring all of them closer together.
At Fuyumi’s question of what Shouto’s next project was, he told them that it was a drama. He’d be playing a paramedic with a mysterious past who formed a relationship with one of his patients. At this announcement, Touya laughed so hard that he dropped his cigarette, burning a small mark in the carpet that Fuyumi glared at him over.
“You, a paramedic? Come on, Shou. Paramedics are hardcore, no one can stay in the job too long because it breaks you. They’re the ones that rescue all my people when shit gets bad.”
Touya helped run a rehab clinic, funneling his former self-destructive tendencies into something more helpful. Shouto could admit that he’d often told tales of ambulances and their EMS workers pulling his patients back from the brink of death.
“Fine,” Shouto had said, glaring. “Then introduce me to some of them, so I can learn what it’s like.”
He’d expected to do an interview or two, perhaps meet with the head of the department. That was what his usual background research for a role was like. Now, though, he’s supposed to ride along with some paramedics for an entire 24-hour shift, in one of the busiest districts in the city.
It shouldn’t be too hard, right?
Right??
-x-x-x-x-x-
Enormous brown eyes and pink cheeks pop up out of a hole in the concrete floor. “Hey there! Can I help you?”
Shouto blinks. “Uh. Perhaps. I’m here to see Captain Aizawa?”
“Yeah, no problem!” Some clanking and quiet cursing later, a young woman in a blue paramedic uniform levers herself up out of the floor, flipping closed a metal cover. “Sorry about that, something is funky with our foam suppression system. It’s always something new!”
“Sure,” Shouto murmurs. Despite the fact she’s at least half a foot shorter than him, he has to trot to keep up with her. Apparently people here don’t waste time sitting around.
“Hey, Cap, this guy says he needs to talk to you,” the woman says as she raps on an open door. The most exhausted man Shouto has ever seen in his life glances up, fixing Shouto with a look that automatically makes him stand up straighter.
“We were expecting you,” he says, voice as flat as his appearance. When the woman moves as if to leave, he shakes his head. “No, I need you for this, Uraraka. Stay.” He gestures to the seats in front of them, and Shouto and the apparent Uraraka promptly sit.
“Welcome to the Musutafu East emergency services department, Todoroki-san. I spoke with your agent, who said you wanted to see what being a paramedic is like for a role.” The ghost of a smile crosses Aizawa’s lips. “I also spoke with your brother, who said, and I quote, ‘don’t let him pussy out on anything.’”
Shouto winces: thanks, Touya. “I apologize for him, Captain Aizawa. I suppose he is right though - I’ve done my own research by watching the shows and films about paramedics available, but it always seems rather sanitized for the public. I take authenticity seriously, and don’t want to misrepresent what you do.”
Aizawa nods, and it feels like Shouto gave a correct answer on an exam. “I’m going to have you join our main ambulance for this shift.” He nods at the woman next to him. “Todoroki Shouto, this is Uraraka Ochako, one of our most experienced paramedics. Uraraka, Todoroki is an actor who will be shadowing you today.”
With a smile, Uraraka turns to Shouto and shakes his hand. “Welcome to the department! I’ll show you around the place first, get you situated before we get called out.” Standing, she gestures for Shouto to follow her. Pausing with a hand on the doorframe, she glances back at Aizawa. “I’m busy, so you can tell Bakugou. Sir.”
As Aizawa sighs heavily and Uraraka cackles, Shouto wonders who Bakugou is and what exactly he’s gotten himself into.
-x-x-x-x-x-
“Here, put this on,” Uraraka says as she shoves a blue pullover into his hands. Shouto pulls the sweater on - it’s thick and blue with reinforced seams and the name of the fire company on the sleeve and back.
“It’s not like we’ll have you doing active EMS work, but we want it clear that you’re with us.” Twirling around, she gestures at their surroundings. “Well, this is the department!”
Shouto is taken on a whirlwind tour. “The firetrucks are here - we have pumpers, ladder trucks, a rescue truck and the command unit van. Over here are the ambulances, we go out with fire maybe half of the time. Here in the city fire trucks do a lot of house fires, though in rural areas they do everything from water to mountain rescue. Us paramedics are called out for everything, though. If there's fire, there's someone probably injured.”
As if summoned by her voice, an intercom sounds. “Unit 38, 10-55 with minor injuries.” Uraraka jumps up. “That's us! Let’s get going!” Shouto wonders vaguely if everything she says has an exclamation point attached to it.
Uraraka trots over to a large white vehicle with Shouto in tow. She manhandles him into a center bench seat that’s placed just behind the two front seats. Uraraka is just settling herself into the passenger seat when the drivers’ side door is yanked open and just as abruptly slammed shut. Shouto finds himself stared down by a fringe of blond hair stuffed under a watch cap and angry red eyes.
“Who the fuck are you and why are you in my bus?”
Uraraka sighs. “Aizawa didn’t talk to you, I take it.”
“No. Why are we not kicking him out? Does Iida know you brought another boyfriend?”
“Shut up , Bakugou. This is Todoroki. He’s an actor who is going to be playing a paramedic, and he’s going to spend the shift with us learning about what we do.”
Bakugou snorts and throws the truck into gear, pulling out fast enough that Shouto has to brace himself against the seats. What a delightful person - he sees why Uraraka wanted Aizawa to speak with him.
“I’ll try not to get in the way, but I genuinely would like to learn about what you do,” Shouto says, stiffly but politely.
Bakugou shoots him a side eye as he winds his way through traffic. “Yeah, like you’re not going to be a recognizable distraction with those looks, Half ‘n Half.”
Uraraka tilts her head. “Yeah, that’s why it took me a minute to place you. You don’t normally look like this in your movies, do you? I remember that one about the quiz bowl, your hair was all red in that, right?”
Shouto shrugs, used to the question. “Wigs and dye, contacts, and makeup,” he says. “It’s all a hassle, so I go back to my natural coloring between roles.”
A snort from the drivers’ seat. “And here I just thought you had terrible taste in hair dye.”
Rolling her eyes, Uraraka smacks Bakugou in the arm and plucks the hat from his head. “Here, put this on and it should be enough to keep the looky-loos away.” Bakugou squawks and Uraraka snips back, but Shouto just quietly pulls on the knit hat with MEFD embroidered on the front. It's warm, smelling of antiseptic and cedar.
“What does 10-55 mean?” Shouto asks, interrupting the bickering in front of him.
“Intoxicated driver. They didn’t say anything else so it means it’s just a one vehicle accident. Minor injuries, so it’ll likely be whiplash, cuts and bruises, maybe a sprained or broken limb but nothing too bad.” Uraraka says.
“‘S why you always want to give 119 as much info as you can when you call,” Bakugou says reluctantly. “The more we know going there, the better prepared we are.”
“What happens if it’s more than you can handle?” Shouto asks, curious.
Bakugou shrugs. “We call whoever we need to. Cops, fire, other ambulances. It also depends on where we are - we use two hospitals, one handles heavier trauma and one does lighter stuff, so sometimes we have to reroute.”
The ambulance radio has been giving occasional instructions, and soon they’re at the scene - a car has run into a telephone pole. A man with blood streaming down his face leans up against the car, a police officer standing next to him. Shouto hops out after the others, following Bakugou who has a large bag slung over his shoulder. Behind them, Uraraka pulls a wheeled stretcher out of the back of the truck.
The cop, blond and immensely tall and thin with deep-set eyes, walks over to greet them and nods a hello with a curious glance at Shouto. “Akiyama-san here had a few too many with his coworkers, celebrating a promotion. We’re just drunk right now, but we’re not going to be disorderly, are we, Akiyama-san?” The last question is directed back at the bleeding man, who grunts in response.
“My name is Bakugou, can you tell me your name, sir?”
“He jusht did.”
“I know, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
“Akiyama Naoki.”
“What year is it?”
“20…23?”
“Close enough. Who is the prime minister?”
“Suga. No wait, Kishida. Fuck, they keep shchanging them.”
“Yep. Follow my finger…” Shouto watches as Bakugou rapidly takes the man through a series of tests while wiping away the blood from his head wound. It’s an impressive change from the foul-mouthed man Shouto met half an hour ago. Uraraka fits a plastic collar around the man’s neck and leads him over to the stretcher.
“The collar is just a precaution because you hit your head, Akiyama-san. You’re going to need some stitches for your head and someone to look at that wrist, but I think it’s just a sprain. Let’s get you up onto here and we’ll get going.”
From stop to start the whole thing is less than ten minutes. Uraraka stays in the back with the patient to fit him with a wrist brace while Shouto sits in her seat up front next to Bakugou. “Unit 38 leaving scene, heading to MNH,” Bakugou says into his shoulder radio.
They drop the patient off at the hospital when another call comes in - suspected overdose. “Do you get a lot of those?” Shouto asks, interested. This is Touya’s realm.
“This time of year, when it’s cold so there’s no barbecuing and no swimming? ODs are probably half of our calls at night,” Uraraka says, tiredly.
Bakugou’s face is grim. “Unlike pretty much every other country out there whose problem is opioids, ours is methamphetamine. It’s just as easy to overdose on but harder to treat.” He sighs as he activates the lights and sirens. “Get ready, Half ‘n Half. We might need you on this.”
Shouto understands what they mean once they get there. There’s a cop, holding a man up who is alternating struggling and shaking in what looks like a seizure. Bakugou and Uraraka get him onto the stretcher, and while Uraraka gets additional items from the truck Shouto is used as muscle to help hold the man down.
“Isn’t there some stuff you inject people with that reverses an OD?” Shouto asks, dodging a flying arm.
“That’s only for opiates,” Bakugou grunts out as he gets the man’s legs pinned down. “All we can do is sedation and charcoal until he’s clear enough for treatment.” ‘Charcoal’ apparently meant a disgusting looking slurry of black goop that they get the man to drink down before he passes out.
“He gonna live?” a familiar voice asks. Shouto looks up to see Touya slouching over, his stupid oversized coat mostly covering up his rehab center uniform.
To Shouto’s surprise, there’s something approaching a smile on Bakugou’s face. “Dabi,” he says as he pushes himself off from where he’s slouched, and he and Touya do one of those complicated bro-handshakes that Shouto has never understood.
Touya’s smile sharpens as he looks Shouto over. “Nice outfit, Shou,” he says. “Anyone puke on you yet?”
“The night is still young,” Shouto says dryly, as Bakugou looks back and forth between them in confusion.
“You know each other?”
“Look at their eyes, you idiot. Dabi’s the brother that Cap mentioned?” Uraraka asks.
“Oh yeah, Shou’s the family’s little golden boy,” Touya says, his smile sharp as a razorblade. He looks down at the man on the gurney and sighs, pulling out his phone. “He’s one of my regulars, called me crying before someone called the cops on him. I’ll get his girlfriend to meet him at the hospital.” He wanders off, phone already to his ear.
"Guess your whole family isn't useless," Bakugou says, and gets hit in the arm by Uraraka as Touya cackles in the background. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets and watches as they get the man loaded in and start back to the hospital. They’ve barely dropped the guy off before another call comes in - a hit-and-run.
Then comes a heart attack.
A diabetes incident.
Alcohol poisoning, followed by another two overdoses. As the sun rises high in the sky they stop to get coffee, drinking it slowly as they sit on the back bumper.
“So, is the paramedic life like you thought it’d be?” Bakugou asks, slurping his coffee.
Shouto stares into the brown depths of his cup. “It’s - more,” he finally says. “You guys do a lot.” He’d watched Uraraka gently talk a teenager down, her even voice helping soothe the girl’s meth-amped heart as much as the sedation. Rough-edged Bakugou calmly held an old grandmother’s hand as he checked her blood sugar and injected her with glucose, keeping her from panicking. He’d watched them dodge sprays of vomit and blood and not even blink - Shouto got it, now, why Touya wanted him to see them at work.
The ambulance’s radio chirps and with a sigh they all get back inside.
-x-x-x-x-x-
They’re talking about going back to the firehouse to grab some sleep when the radio crackles to life. “10-52 for firefighter treatment, southwest corner of Johoku Park.” Both Bakugou and Uraraka stiffen in their seats. “Dispatch, what’s the engine number?” Uraraka asks. At the reply, Bakugou swears and throws the ambulance hard into gear, as Uraraka hits the lights and sirens.
“What’s wrong?” Shouto asks, unexpectedly nervous.
“A firefighter is injured and needs treatment, and it’s one of our engines,” Uraraka says grimly. “God, I hope it’s not bad. They usually get burned, which is never a good thing.”
The ambulance pulls up right next to a large red fire engine. The two paramedics have their bags over their shoulders and are out of the ambulance in a flash, Shouto scrambling to catch up. All the firefighters standing around, however, seem…suspiciously calm.
Shouto trots up to find Bakugou berating a tall firefighter with shaggy red hair, the red continuing onto his face as he bleeds from multiple thin scratches across his cheeks and forehead. “...would get it if this was the first time, Hair-for-Brains, but noooo it’s the goddamn fourth! You fuckin’ idiots are not allowed to deal with cats unless you have your helmets on! When you get your eye clawed out I’m not helping to look for it!”
As Bakugou literally drags the sheepish looking man by his ear over to the ambulance, Shouto can see an elderly lady hunched over the enormous tabby cuddled into her arms. Uraraka talks to her calmly, reaching out to pet the cat carefully. It’s a ballsy move, given that Shouto can see the blood staining the cat’s white paws.
“Sorry about that, Kacchan is…protective of us. Especially Kirishima.” A short man in firefighter’s turnout pants and suspenders smiles up at Shouto. The big eyes and freckled cheeks are belied by his strong handshake and thick arms roped with burn scars. “I’m Midoriya, I heard you were joining the paramedics for a shift.”
“News travels fast,” Shouto says, smiling back awkwardly.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” Midoriya laughs. “We’ve got nothing better to do between calls than gossip, so any change to everyday life gets scrutinized.”
Shouto is soon called back over to the ambulance - another call. Kirishima gives him a wave as he goes past, face covered in butterfly stitches and shark-patterned band-aids. Bakugou grumbles to himself as he unloads his bag into the back and cleans up. Uraraka rolls her eyes.
“Ignore him. It’s way more drama than you want to sign up for. I swear it’s like high school around here sometimes.”
“Shut up, Cheeks!” Bakugou snarls as he throws himself into the drivers’ seat, and with that they’re speeding off to a car accident.
-x-x-x-x-x-
“Thank you so much for letting me accompany your paramedics, Captain,” Shouto says with a low bow to Aizawa.
“Not a problem. Uraraka said you were helpful and Bakugou only swore once talking about you, which is practically a declaration of love from him,” Aizawa says, voice flat as ever. “I hope you gained information that will help you with your role.”
“I really did. There will be a local premiere of the film - I’ll send passes, it would be wonderful if you and the paramedics and anyone else could come.” Shouto pauses for a moment. “If you ever need help with outreach or fundraisers or anything, please let me know. I’m not very good at the public thing, but it’s clear how important you are and I’d like to support you.”
Aizawa’s face softens slightly. “That’s kind of you, Todoroki-san. Thank you.”
Shouto walks down the road - he hasn’t called his driver yet, wanting some time to himself. The wind ruffles his coat, but the knit hat he’s still wearing keeps him warm. When he’d tried to give it back Bakugou had sneered and said he’d tainted it so he might as well keep it. Shouto took it as the closest thing to a nice gesture the man was capable of.
As he walks, an ambulance goes screaming by, followed by a fire truck. Shouto watches them until they disappear, wondering where they’re going, what’s waiting for them. The shift might be over, but the emergencies never stop.