Chapter Text
When Hizashi arrived at work, he knew it was going to be a tough day. His patrol had been exhausting, and his classes had been wilder than usual. On top of that, he knew the station would be taking more calls than usual, having decided to raise money for quirkless children. So, he had resigned himself to the fact that today, he’d have to mostly "fake it till he made it."
Because even though he was a pro hero and the loudest person his friends knew, even he had his limits when it came to how much bullsh*t he could handle in a single day.
He'd made sure to shower at home this morning to feel more refreshed, getting the most out of his hero outfit before heading into the studio. The gel in his hair was giving him a headache, but he didn’t want to deal with it right now.
That didn't stop him from giving his all to the show, though. The show was his baby. He had built his fanbase from the ground up, starting back in high school when he was finally allowed to start broadcasting. And now, here he was, using what he had to help those who needed it most. It broke his heart that quirkless people were looked down on for something they had no control over. So, once a month, he would extend his show for another four hours, hoping to reach as many people as possible and really drive the message home.
It was almost time to wrap up the show for the night. Hizashi was about to take his last call.
“Alright, listeners, this is going to be my last call for tonight. I hope you all had fun, and remember: don’t judge the person next to you. We all have a story, and we all deserve a hero.”
He smiled into the mic, trying to push through his fatigue. “Hello, listener! You’re on with Present Mic! May I get your name?”
The response on the other end wasn’t what he expected. A small, shaky voice whispered, “Hep me pez… mommy hurt.”
Hizashi froze for a moment. That was not what he ever thought he'd hear while working this job. His mind went blank for a second, more stunned than he'd ever been in his life.
Hizashi’s mind, still reeling from the first shocking words, froze for a moment longer. He could hear the child clearly now, but it didn’t make sense. His heart was racing.
“Plz… daddy got home, he so mad. He hurt mommy, and now she is sleep... MOMMY, WAKE UP! PLEEZ, YOU SCARE IZU! PREZ MIC, MAKE MOMMY WAKE UP!”
The desperation in the small voice cut through the studio like a knife.
Motioning urgently for his team to do something, Hizashi pulled out his phone, trying to keep his voice calm. “Okay, Izu, take a breath for me, okay?”
There was a pause on the line, the small child’s shaky inhale filling the space between them. Hizashi exhaled slowly, trying to remain grounded. “I need you to let your mommy sleep for now, okay? She must be very tired. Can you go into a different room and stay on the phone with me? I’d really like to get to know you more.”
As he spoke, he quickly typed a message to Aizawa, his fingers flying over the keys.
:ToLoud: I need you to go over to (Address). The caller sounds like he’s about five years old, and from what he’s said so far, his mother may be hurt or in danger. I’m going to try to get more information from him if I can.
Hizashi didn’t wait for a response. He trusted Aizawa would act quickly and as expected. His full attention turned back to the child on the other end of the line.
“Okay, Prez Mic... mommy on floor. She... she okay?”
The child’s voice was so small, so filled with fear, it broke Hizashi’s heart. He quickly tried to reassure him. “I’m sure she’ll be just fine, Izu. Now, can you tell me about your father? Is he home?”
The answer came with hesitation, but it was clear. “No... papa was so scary... he made mommy cry so bad. But he also made her stop and go to sleep. He left, though. He didn’t know Izu home. Mommy hid Izu under the sink because only Izu fit there, and papa never looks for Izu when papa’s angry. He just yells and makes mama cry, then goes to sleep a lot.”
Hizashi’s chest tightened as the words hit him. He didn’t know the full situation, but he could feel the weight of it in every syllable the little one spoke.
Just as Hizashi was about to say something else, he heard the unmistakable sound of another call being connected to the one he was already on. The station had cut to music just as the child started speaking, a deliberate move to protect the privacy of what was unfolding. Hizashi was thankful for the brief moment of relief it gave him.
“Okay, Izu, you’re doing great. Can you tell me what quirk your father has?”
The boy’s voice lit up with excitement. “Oh, papa can breathe fire! He showed Izu one time, but Izu got hurt. Papa said it was because Izuku got too close, and it was Izu’s fault. But mama got mad. She yelled at papa, and then he showed her his quirk, too, and made mama go to sleep again. But... she had to go away for a while, ‘cause he said it was a different kind of sleep.”
The words hit Hizashi like a punch to the gut. He could barely keep his voice steady, the rage and sorrow twisting in his chest. How could anyone do that to a child so young?
“Mommy still sleep, Prez Mic. She let me listen to your show. She said you’re a good hero. If Izu need help, she always say, ‘Call a hero.’ Will you help Izu? Mommy... Izu think mommy is in the different kind of sleep again. Last time, papa had to take mommy to scary man to wake her up.”
Hizashi’s stomach churned at the innocent way the child spoke about such a horrifying experience. He could hear the soft sniffles coming from Izu, each one breaking his heart just a little more.
Before he could respond, Aizawa’s voice crackled through the line, calm and authoritative, over the sound of Izu’s crying.
“Present Mic, I need you to keep talking to the child. I’m almost there.”
Izu squeaked in surprise, his voice shaky with worry. “Who’s that, Prez Mic? Is he a hero, too?”
Despite knowing the child couldn’t see him, Hizashi nodded, doing his best to sound reassuring. “Yes, little listener, that’s my good friend. His hero name is Eraserhead, and he’s on his way to check on you. Is that okay?”
Izu sniffed again, but his tone seemed to brighten slightly, the idea of a hero coming to see him easing some of his fear. “Izu would like that. Izu never heard of him before. Is Ezer... new?”
He seemed to give up on trying to pronounce the name and stuck with what he could. Despite everything, Hizashi couldn’t help but smile at how adorable the little one was, even in such a scary situation.
“That’s because, little listener, he’s not well known. He’s what we call an underground hero. He does a lot of work with the police, mostly at night, helping with things that need to be kept quiet.”
By that time, Hizashi could hear the sounds of Aizawa running up and down the stairs, knocking on doors, whispering to anyone who answered, asking if they knew a child named Izu—or something close to it. It took just a few more minutes of talking to the child when Hizashi suddenly heard the knock on Izu’s door through the phone.
“Okay, he’s at your door. Can you let him in?” Hizashi spoke to both Izu and Aizawa at the same time, though he was sure Aizawa could hear the knock echo through the line as well.
“Izu can’t... Izu too short to reach...” The child’s voice wavered with fear, and he started to cry again.
Aizawa’s voice came through the line, sounding muffled as if he had something in his mouth. “Calm down, take a breath for me, okay? It’s going to be okay. Just give me a moment, and I’ll let myself in.”
Hizashi was grateful for Aizawa’s calm, not just because it helped Izu, but because Hizashi couldn’t see anything and was going through this completely blind. Somehow, that made everything scarier. He never remembered feeling afraid on a case before.
There was a soft exhale from Aizawa as he said, “Okay, I am...”
The pause was thick, and Hizashi instinctively swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Okay, I need you to call the authorities now. I’m going to stay on the scene and keep the child company, but we need the police and paramedics here ASAP.”
He gave the apartment number before hanging up, his heart pounding. Hizashi could hear Aizawa speaking softly to the child, whose face was still pressed to the phone, but he couldn’t make out Aizawa’s words—only the child’s answers.
“Izu scared... Izu mommy say if Izu scared heroes help Izu and mommy... Yes, Izu is four... Mommy say Izu so smart but papa say Izu speak bad... Ok, Prez Mic, Erzer want speak to you.”
It seemed the child had handed over the phone without waiting for a response because the next thing Hizashi knew, he was speaking to Aizawa.
“Okay, I’m here. I need you to meet me at the hospital, and I’ll tell you what happened when we get there.”
Aizawa’s voice was low and steady. Hizashi nodded to himself as if Aizawa could see him. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’ll be there ASAP. Are you sure you don’t need me at the scene?”
Taking a deep breath, Hizashi began packing up the equipment he had brought into the booth. “No, I’ve got everything under control here. Just need you to be waiting for us when we get to the E.R.”
Another silent nod, even though Aizawa couldn’t see it. “Okay, I’m on my way now. See you there.”
After hanging up and receiving the green light from his team, Hizashi rushed out to his car, his pulse quickening as he headed straight for the E.R.
Meanwhile, with Aizawa, before the call.
So far, his night had gone well. He’d gotten to beat the shit out of a few scumbags and even helped a lost child find their way home. Now, he was halfway through his route, sitting on a low wall and eating the lunch he’d promised his husband he would eat. It wasn’t much—a small turkey wrap from the Subway just down the street—but it was something. Not many places stayed open this late, and Aizawa didn’t trust the food at the 7-11.
As he chewed, he turned on the radio app on his phone, automatically tuning in to the station his husband worked at. He knew it was the last few minutes of Hizashi’s show, but Aizawa liked to check in, even if he couldn’t call in to speak with him.
"Hello, listener, you’re on with Present Mic. May I get your name?"
From the tone of his husband’s voice, Aizawa could tell he was exhausted. Hizashi hid it well, though, and Aizawa felt a flicker of concern. He’d make him his favorite bedtime tea when he got home. For now, though, it sounded like Hizashi was holding it together. His shift was almost over, and Aizawa figured he’d wrap up his patrol soon and head home too—just to make sure Hizashi took off the rest of his hero gear before crashing into bed, unlike last time when he’d pushed himself too hard.
Just as Aizawa was about to turn the show off, a voice cut through his thoughts:
“Hep me pez... mommy hurt.”
Aizawa’s attention snapped back to the radio. He could tell from just that single line that something was wrong. Hizashi’s voice shifted immediately, trying to hide his surprise, but it was clear he was caught off guard.
“Plz, daddy got home, he so mad. He hurt mommy, and now she is sleep... MOMMY, WAKE UP! PLEEZ, YOU SCARE IZU. PREZ MIC, MAKE MOMMY WAKE UP.”
With that, it sounded like Hizashi either cut himself off the air or his team did. Aizawa knew something was wrong. The concern was cemented a few moments later when a text came through.
As Aizawa made his way to the address, he tried texting Hizashi, but there was no response. Growing more concerned, he called into the station.
“Hello, Eraserhead. Don’t worry, we’re going to patch you into the call. It’s not getting any better, and we’re worried something more serious is going on.” The producer’s voice was urgent as she started to connect him to both the call and his husband. Aizawa didn’t even have to ask. The fact that they were patching him in without him requesting it told him everything he needed to know. It was worse than he thought.
The first thing he heard when the call came through made his stomach drop.
“Okay, Izu, you’re doing good. Can you tell me what quirk your father has?”
Aizawa’s heart skipped. Wait... Hizashi never called people by their names on air—he always used “listener.” Hearing him call the child by name was an immediate red flag. It made Aizawa’s blood run cold, but he knew Hizashi well enough to understand what was going on. He wasn’t calling the child’s name by accident; he was doing it to avoid scaring him even more. Still, the fact that the kid sounded no older than two made Aizawa’s chest tighten.
Aizawa could hear the little boy’s voice crack with confusion and fear as he responded. It made his lips twitch into a brief, almost involuntary smile—one that quickly faded when the child spoke again.
“Oh, papa can breathe fire. He showed Izu one time, but Izu got hurt, and papa said it was because Izuku got too close, and it was Izu’s fault. But mama got mad. She yelled at papa, and he showed her his quirk, too, and made mama go to sleep again. But she had to go away for a while because he said it was a different kind of sleep.”
Aizawa’s blood boiled. He could already feel the hot sting of anger welling up in his chest, and he pushed himself harder, using every bit of parkour he knew to get from rooftop to rooftop, trying to close the distance as quickly as possible. His mind was racing—he was only a few blocks away from the complex, but the downside was, he had no idea which apartment the child was in. He’d have to knock on doors until he found the right one. Every second felt like an eternity.
“Mommy still sleep, Prez Mic. She let me listen to your show. She said you’re a good hero. If Izu need help, she always says call a hero. Will you help Izu? Mommy... Izu think mommy is in the different kind of sleep again. Last time, papa had to take mommy to a scary man to wake her up.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Aizawa cursed inwardly, pushing his legs harder. He knew Hizashi was having trouble helping the child, stuck behind a phone instead of being able to hold him. But Aizawa couldn’t waste any time. He needed to focus on getting to the boy.
Choosing to use his hero name, Aizawa spoke with as much authority as he could muster, hoping to snap Hizashi back into focus.
“Present Mic, I need you to keep talking to the child. I’m almost there.”
Aizawa’s mind raced as he tried to process what the child meant by “the different kind of sleep.” He didn’t push the issue—he didn’t want to upset the boy more—but every instinct told him this situation was far worse than it appeared.
Aizawa didn’t push the child any further. Instead, he let the conversation continue while he moved quickly, knocking on doors. He wanted to knock loudly enough for anyone inside to hear it, or maybe even for Hizashi to catch the sound over the phone, but at the same time, he didn’t want to scare the child more than he already was.
It took two floors of knocking before he finally found the right door.
“Okay, he’s at your door. Can you let him in?”
Aizawa could almost feel the relief in Hizashi’s voice when he spoke again. “Izu can’t... Izu too short to reach.”
Hearing the child’s wail from the other side of the door made Aizawa thankful he’d picked up lock-picking. It was useful for his work, but also a bit of a hobby—one he’d used to prank his friends when they did something dumb.
He immediately went to work, focusing on the lock. His mind was still racing, but his hands moved with precision. “Calm down, take a breath for me, okay? It’s going to be okay. Just give me a moment, and I’ll let myself in.”
Speaking gently to the child, he hoped the words would offer some comfort, even though he knew they wouldn’t solve everything. Despite what his husband and a few friends thought, Aizawa didn’t see himself as good with kids. He had always dreamed of being a father, but knew deep down he would struggle to comfort children in moments like these.
Sighing softly when he finally got the door unlocked, Aizawa pushed it open, only to freeze in place.
The sight in front of him made his blood run cold.
The apartment was a disaster. It looked like a war zone. Blackened walls showed signs of a fire that hadn’t fully taken hold—like someone had tried to burn the place down but failed. The counters were in ruins, charred and scorched, with half of them reduced to nothing more than ash. The air was thick with smoke, rolling out into the hallway and setting off the fire alarms, though only the flashing lights blinked on. No sound, no water.
His heart clenched as he quickly took in the details. Every inch of the room was a brutal reminder of the horror that had taken place.
The child—Izuku—was sitting on the only chair left untouched in the room. His small body was almost unrecognizable, smudged with soot and ash, like a ghost that had wandered through hell. His clothes, once bright, were now singed and torn, clinging to his fragile form in tatters. His little face was streaked with grime, eyes wide, and full of fear, but what broke Aizawa’s heart the most was the blood. The boy’s head—Aizawa could see it clearly now—was caked with dried blood, the edges of the wound still glistening, though the bleeding had slowed. His tiny chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, each one a struggle.
But it was his right arm that nearly stopped Aizawa’s heart in his chest.
It hung limply at his side, twisted at an unnatural angle. The flesh that should have been soft and pliable was charred black, like it had been seared in fire. The skin was peeling away in ragged strips, like a burned piece of paper being ripped apart by invisible hands. There was no muscle or tissue left, just raw, blackened bone underneath. The sight of it made Aizawa’s stomach lurch. It looked more like something out of a nightmare than a living child—like he was holding onto life by the thinnest thread.
For a moment, all Aizawa could do was stand there, his entire body frozen. His mind couldn’t fully process what he was seeing. How could something so small, so innocent, be left to endure this?
The child’s trembling voice brought him back to reality, pulling him from the depths of his own shock. “Izu... scared.”
Aizawa swallowed hard, his throat tight. He stepped forward, fighting the wave of anger and helplessness threatening to overtake him. He wanted to scream, to rage at the injustice of it all, but instead, he knelt down, forcing himself to keep his voice steady, calm.
Aizawa’s pulse quickened. He immediately called back into the station. “Okay, I need you to call the authorities over here now. I’m going to stay on the scene and keep the child company, but we’re going to need the police and paramedics here ASAP.”
He hung up and moved toward the child, his legs heavy as he crossed the room. Kneeling down to the boy’s level, he spoke softly, trying to reassure him.
“Izu scared... Izu mommy say if Izu scared, heroes help Izu and mommy.”
Nodding, Aizawa softened his expression, trying to push down the anger and frustration that threatened to rise. He needed to focus. For the kid.
“It’s okay to be scared, and your mommy is right. Calling a hero is the right thing to do. It’s our job to help those who ask for it.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “How old are you?”
The boy hesitated, looking lost in thought for a moment before he answered.
“Yes, Izu is four. Mommy say Izu so smart, but Papa say Izu speak bad.”
Aizawa’s heart clenched a little at the child’s words, but he kept his voice calm. “Well, your mommy is right. You’re a very smart child. Now, can you hand me the phone? I need to talk to Present Mic again.”
The child nodded and spoke into the phone, handing it over without hesitation. Aizawa waited until the boy was done speaking before he heard Hizashi’s voice crackle through the line.
“Okay, Prez Mic. Erzer want speak to you.”
“Okay, I’m here. I need you to meet me at the hospital. There, I can tell you what happened.” Hizashi’s voice was low, and Aizawa could feel the concern in it even through the phone.
Looking around the apartment one last time, Aizawa knew he couldn’t stay much longer. The child was safe for now, but he hadn’t had a chance to check on the mother. He still didn’t know if she was even alive.
“Okay, okay. Yes, I’ll be there ASAP. Are you sure you don’t need me at the scene?” Hizashi’s voice was filled with concern.
Aizawa knelt again in front of the child, putting a hand gently on the boy’s knee. “No, I have everything under control here. I just need you to be waiting for us when we get to the E.R.”
“Okay, I’m on my way now. See you there,” Hizashi said.
Aizawa hung up and looked down at the child, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.
“Stay right here, okay? I’m going to check on your mommy.”
The boy nodded. “Izu stay... if Ezer makes mommy wake up again... pweeze.”
Aizawa couldn’t promise anything. He didn’t want to give the child false hope, but he also didn’t want to say he couldn’t help. So, he kept quiet, simply nodding.
He gave the boy a final glance before turning and walking down the short hall to what looked like the master bedroom. The moment he stepped into the room, the sight made his stomach drop.
The woman lay face down on the bed, her body a twisted, lifeless shell. Aizawa’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. There was a large, gaping hole in her back—so wide and deep that it seemed as though her entire chest had been caved in, as if some cruel force had torn through her. The edges of the wound were blackened and burned, the scorched skin still smoking faintly, giving off the unmistakable scent of charred flesh. It was the kind of smell that turned Aizawa’s stomach, that made the back of his throat burn with the urge to gag.
But what truly twisted his gut was the way the hole seemed to swallow her—her life, her very being. The wound went all the way through, and the bed underneath her was stained with the dark, sickening evidence of what had been done to her. The fabric around the hole was singed, the once-soft sheets now scorched and frayed, like they too were struggling to hold together in the wake of such violence.
Aizawa stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest as his mind screamed in horror. The brutality of it was almost impossible to comprehend. The woman had been so close to safety, so close to escape, and yet—this.
He forced himself to look away from the terrible image, but the memory of it burned in his mind like a brand, its haunting intensity pressing down on him. The thought of the child witnessing this—his own mother, murdered in such a brutal way—made Aizawa’s blood run cold. How could anyone do something like this to someone so small, so innocent?
A shudder ran through him as he took a shaky breath, pushing the image aside, but the reality of the situation was worse than he had feared. The pieces were starting to click together, and it didn’t take long for him to realize what had happened.
The child’s father had murdered the woman—his own wife—and then tried to cover it up by burning down the apartment. From the way the fire had been contained, Aizawa could tell that the wife had likely put up some kind of fireproofing to protect her home. But the kitchen—he thought back to what he’d seen, the burnt counters, the way the fire had spread there more easily—hadn’t been upgraded. It was almost as if she hadn’t had the time, or the chance, to finish what she’d started. And the fire had taken everything.
The sound of sirens in the distance brought him back to the moment. Aizawa moved quickly back to the living room, just in time to debrief the police about what he had found. He helped the paramedics move the child, who was starting to show signs of shock, over to a stretcher and into the ambulance.
Aizawa stood at the edge of the scene, the weight of the discovery still settling over him. He could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the adrenaline starting to wear off, but there was no time for rest.
He glanced over at Detective Tsukauchi as he approached, his expression serious but sharp. The man had a knack for reading situations, and it was clear he’d been briefed on the basics already.
“Detective,” Aizawa said, his voice low but steady. “The victim’s been dead for hours, possibly more. The boy—Izuku—he’s in bad shape, but he’s stable for now.” Aizawa’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking back to the apartment. “It looks like the father tried to cover up his crime with fire, but the wife had some fireproofing done to parts of the apartment. It didn’t take long to burn, but it might explain why the fire didn’t spread more quickly.”
Tsukauchi nodded, already pulling out his phone and tapping in a few things. “Got it. We’ll take it from here. You did good, Eraserhead.”
Aizawa gave a short nod, his thoughts already back on the child. “I’m going with the kid to the hospital. Let me know what you find out.”
“Of course,” Tsukauchi said, turning to the team as he started directing the officers to secure the scene.
Aizawa didn’t wait for any more words. He turned on his heel and headed back to the living room, where paramedics were just finishing up with Izuku. The boy’s wide eyes were filled with confusion, his tiny form shaking under the weight of everything that had happened.
Aizawa kneeled beside him again, gently squeezing his hand. “Izuku, we’re going to the hospital now, okay? You’re going to be alright. You’re safe.”
The child’s voice was barely a whisper. “Izu scared, Ezer...”
Aizawa’s heart twisted. “I know, little one. But I’m here. I’ll stay with you the whole way.”
Izuku gave a small, shaky nod, his tiny hand still holding onto Aizawa’s.
With the ambulance doors closing behind them, Aizawa climbed in beside the boy, not saying another word as the sirens blared to life. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for everything to settle, for the boy to heal, but for now, all he could do was be there.
The ER came into view, and Aizawa could feel his breath catch in his throat, the reality of the situation hitting him again. The boy had been through hell. The mental and emotional scars would take longer to heal than any physical wound.
But at least for now, Izuku was safe. And as long as Aizawa was breathing, he would make sure it stayed that way.