Chapter Text
“S-shit…”
Y/n was dying.
That wasn’t new. For the past two months, ever since his and Lua’s escape from that damned laboratory, death had hovered over him almost daily. Being hunted had become routine, and now was no different.
Just minutes ago, hired killers had appeared out of nowhere. one of them precise enough to fire straight into Y/n’s abdomen. Luckily, a narrow passage into an alley had saved the two of them from becoming nothing but statistics.
Now, leaning against the cold wall, Y/n let himself be held up by Lua, who pressed down hard on the wound. His friend’s face was rigid, with eyes fixed on the blood spilling out as if entranced.
Y/n, however… every fiber of his face screamed in pain. Eyes clenched, lower lip trapped between his teeth, sweat sliding down his forehead.
In a world full of heroes, like in the comics, why not ask for help?
Simple, heroes weren’t trustworthy. They never had been.
Y/n’s trembling hand, once gripping the ground, lifted to touch Lua’s face. Lua didn’t even glance away from the bleeding wound.
“…It hurts… argh… let’s stop. I can’t die like this call a hero.....”
The words were weak, strangled. But it wasn’t just pain tightening his brow, the wounded pride of depending on a hero weighed even heavier.
Lua slowly raised his eyes, pure frustration burning in them.
“I can handle—”
“Now.”
Y/n’s tone was short and sharp. Lua froze for a second, then sighed in irritation.
“…Fine.”
He stood. A golden flash swallowed all his body and, in the next instant, he disappears.
Y/n’s body finally relaxed. He let his eyes close for a moment.
-.....-
The sounds reached him muffled, indistinct. Murmurs, unfamiliar voices, echoes coming from far away. There was no pain anymore, only a crushing weight pressing down on his eyelids.
He forced them open. The light blinded him for a moment.
“Y/N!”
The voice cut through the haze. Familiar unmistakable. He blinked and recognized the figure rushing toward him, shoving someone aside in the process.
“Lua…” His voice came out dry, almost hoarse. A cough shook his body, but he managed to sit up slowly.
“You’re okay…” Lua breathed, a mix of relief and despair. “Thank God…”
The hug that followed was fierce, nearly suffocating. Y/n stayed silent, eyes wandering across the room, a hospital. Of course.
“You should let him breathe, dear.”
The gentle voice of an elderly woman reached them. Lua clicked his tongue in annoyance before reluctantly releasing Y/n.
In front of the bed, a little kind-looking old lady adjusted her glasses. The badge on her chest said it all: Recovery Girl.
“…You helped me?” Y/n asked. His face looked neutral, but Lua knew him well enough to see the hidden glimmer of relief.
The old woman merely nodded and approached calmly, fastening the blood pressure cuff around his arm.
Y/n, however, wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the man standing at the back of the room: black, medium-length wavy hair, heavy eyes, exhausted, as though he carried the weight of the world.
“Who are you?”
“Eraser Head, pro hero.”
Y/n’s body stiffened. Recovery Girl noticed, her gaze sharpening.
Behind him, Lua leaned close, whispering low enough that no one else could hear:
“Let’s get out of here.”
Y/n shot him a sideways look and, as soon as the doctor finished checking his pressure, pulled the cuff off.
“Thanks for the help. But we’re leaving. I feel fine.”
Recovery Girl and Eraser exchanged looks.
“Wait, dear.” the old woman interjected kindly. “I still haven’t examined your friend. Could you convince him?”
“No need. He’s fine,” Y/n replied immediately.
She hesitated. The boy really did look unscathed now, despite barely being able to stand earlier. A healing quirk like she?
Aizawa, however, wasn’t relaxing. Nothing about this scene felt right, from the moment that dangerous-looking boy appeared out of nowhere in a golden flash in the middle off his job, to now. The hostility, the protective stance, the veiled threat he’d made earlier if the two of them didn't get out of there alive.
Impossible to ignore.
“Sorry,” Aizawa said, stepping in front of the door, voice calm but firm. “We still need some information.”
“Move.” Lua growled, low and threatening.
Y/n sighed, crossing his arms as he glared at the hero.
“What else do you want? You saved us. Job done.”
Aizawa’s gaze narrowed.
“That’s true. I saved you from dying. But figuring out who attacked you is also part of my job. It’s public safety. And we need the names of your guardians.”
“We don’t have guardians.” Y/n shot back, not breaking eye contact.
Silence stretched between them.
“Then at least tell me how the attack happened.”
Y/n stayed silent.
Aizawa exhaled deeply, weary.
“I really just want to help. You don’t need to react this way. There will be an interrogation, but it’s nothing serious. The detective is a good man. If you cooperate, you’ll be free to go soon.”
His eyes met Lua’s, and a chill crawled down his spine. Something was wrong with these two. Something big.
Y/n nudged Lua’s arm lightly.
“Hey. Let’s just do it and leave, alright?”
Lua didn’t answer, only gripped his arm tighter. But he didn’t refuse.
.'''''.
The interrogation room was suffocating, a box of peeling paint and stale air designed to break spirits. The heat clung to Y/n’s skin like a second punishment, invisible shackles meant to pry open his mind.
He wasn’t a criminal… not exactly. But after years on the run, survival had become his only law. Every broken rule was just another step forward, another day alive.
What ate at him wasn’t the officer’s courteous yet cutting smile, nor the fact that a hero had saved him, nor even the stench of yellowed smoke and sweat that seeped from the walls.
It was Lua’s absence. That gnawed at him like nothing else. Since they were five, they had been inseparable, shadows of one another, never apart for more than an hour. Being here alone felt like suffocation within suffocation.
“Nice to meet you.” The calm voice dragged him back. “Naomasa. Just a few security questions. None of this will be made public, understood?”
The detective sat across from him, the very man Aizawa had vouched for.
Y/n lifted his chin and nodded, defiant despite the weight pressing down on him.
“Your name.”
“Y/n.”
“Age.”
“Fifteen.”
The scratch of pen on paper was painfully slow.
“What were you and your friend doing before the attack?”
Y/n chewed his lip, eyes searching the ceiling as though the truth might be written there. But there was nothing to tell. Nothing except cheap motel rooms, hunger gnawing at their stomachs, coins spent on fleeting weekends in noisy parks, and nights sharing a flickering old phone, laughing over the snake game until sleep dragged them under.
“...Walking around,” he muttered.
“And what happened, exactly?”
Silence stretched. Lies came easier.
“Street fight,” Y/n said, voice cold as steel. “Some creeps picked a fight. Lua snapped and beat them down. One pulled a gun and fired.”
A lie crafted with care, steady enough to sound like truth.
But Naomasa’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker.
The room seemed to shrink under the silence.
“Someone’s after you, aren’t they?” The detective leaned forward, pen abandoned.
Y/n’s breath caught.
“...Why would there be?”
“You don’t shy away from admitting the law was broken. You spoke freely about your friend assaulting strangers. So why hide the attackers? This isn’t the first time, is it?”
A headache pounded at Y/n’s temples. Was he really that transparent? Or did this man know more than he should?
And if he was tied to that laboratory-
“...”
“We can help you,” Naomasa said gently.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice iced over.
“You care about each other.” The detective’s tone softened further. “But how long can you last like this? Next time, maybe you won’t be the one bleeding.”
Heat flared in Y/n’s chest. The man dared to use Lua against him? His glare sharpened like a blade. If Naomasa thought Lua could fall without him, he understood nothing. Nothing about what bound them, nothing about the nightmare they had escapedm and nothing about Y/n quirk.
But how had he pierced the lie so easily?
“You know something… or maybe you can tell when I’m lying.” Y/n leaned forward, scanning the corners of the room, hunting for wires, hidden devices. If there was nothing, then....quirk.
Naomasa’s lips curved into a restrained smile, infuriatingly calm.
“You’re clever.”
“So are you.”
“What’s your quirk?”
“What’s yours?”
The detective leaned back, relaxed, unshaken.
“I know when someone lies.”
For a moment, the world froze.
He said it so plainly. No hesitation. Why expose himself like that?
“...You’re serious?”
“I’ve no reason to lie. You’d find out sooner or later.”
Y/n inhaled sharply.
“So I can leave?”
“I need your quirk. You’re not registered.”
“I can’t tell you.” The reply was quick, sharp. “Thanks, but we don’t need help from heroes, or whatever you call yourselves.”
He rose, ready to leave. But Naomasa’s phone buzzed. His eyes skimmed the screen, and before Y/n could take another step, a firm hand caught his arm.
“I have a proposal.”
“Not interested.”
“Twenty four hour protection.”
The words sliced through Y/n’s resolve. His pulse stuttered. Protection. Twenty four hours a day. If he and Lua had that…
No. Foolish. Dangerous. Trust was a death sentence.
“The hero school… U.A.”
The name struck like thunder. Y/n’s eyes narrowed.
“...U.A.?”
Before Naomasa could answer, the room burst in golden light. A figure solidified, burning with fury.
“Lua?” Y/n’s breath caught. “You’re done already?”
Lua’s eyes blazed.
“You… you didn’t say yes, did you? To U.A.?”
Silence.
“I knew it.” Lua’s voice was a growl. “The moment they told me, I knew you’d consider it! Still chasing that ridiculous dream of being a hero!”
Y/n turned for the door, refusing to answer. A fist slammed into his back, forcing a gasp of pain and rage.
“URGH!”
He spun, ready to strike back, only to be ensnared by gray bindings.
Aizawa stood behind them, chest rising with labored breath, scarf coiled like living steel. He and Naomasa exchanged a single silent look before he released the bindings, letting them fall free.
Lua and Y/n glared, sparks dancing in the air.
“Perfect!” Lua snapped. “Go play hero with them! I want no part of it!”
“Will you shut up for once?! I didn’t agree to anything!” Y/n’s words spat like venom.
Aizawa let out a long, weary sigh.
“Can you two stay quiet for just one minute?”
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Both boys stood locked in a battle of wills, breaths ragged, neither surrendering.
From the corner, Naomasa watched, brow arched in thought.
These children… were even more complicated than he had imagined.
.'''.
With Lua and Aizawa:
The interrogation room pressed down on them like a cage. Four walls, no windows, the fluorescent light buzzing faintly overhead. It felt less like a room and more like a trap.
“How old are you two, exactly?” Aizawa’s voice was low, rough from exhaustion.
Lua didn’t answer. He was folded into the chair with his shoulders tense, his right leg hammering against the floor in a restless, irritated rhythm that filled the silence like a ticking clock.
“Kid, I know you’re nervous,” Aizawa continued, trying patience. “But like I said, my job is to help, not make things worse.”
Lua’s jaw tightened. His silence was sharp, deliberate.
Aizawa exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. “You seemed worried about your friend. That’s good. You did the right thing, calling for professional help. You thought fast.”
“I didn’t want to.” Lua’s voice was a low murmur, each word dripping with disdain. His eyes lifted with cold and venomous.
“…Didn’t want to ask for help?”
“Didn’t want help from heroes.” he spat, as though the word itself tasted foul.
Aizawa’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable. He let the quiet stretch.
“Your friend seems to feel the same way,” he finally said.
“Of course he does.”
For a moment, Aizawa studied him. The boy’s hostility was instinctive, visceral. At first, he had assumed their closeness was familial, a bond forged by blood. But the longer he observed them, the clearer it became: their connection was heavier, sharper, as if they were each other’s anchor in a storm. Romantic feelings? Maybe. Maybe not. It wasn’t about labels. It was about the way Lua’s every word, every glance, was charged with something absolute when it came to Y/n.
“Not very smart of you two,” Aizawa said at last, deliberately baiting him.
It worked. Lua’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing, mouth twisted in a scowl.
“Who the hell asked you? You heroes are all the same, a pain in the ass. You think everyone’s stupid enough to trust you blindly? Both me and Y/n know exactly what goes on behind your masks, so don’t try to play me.”
Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. What goes on behind the mask? He knew the world wasn’t clean, of course. He’d seen corners of the system rot before. But the certainty in Lua’s voice was unsettling. Too certain, too informed.
Had these kids crossed paths with a corrupt hero? Or worse, been targeted by one?
The thought clawed at him, leaving questions he couldn’t voice.
The rest of the interview slipped through his fingers. Lua clammed up, retreating behind a wall of silence and defiance. Every question met with nothing but scorn or blank stares. Whatever strategy Aizawa had tried, it was useless now.
In the end, the only path left was the one he had dreaded: social services.
He pushed his chair back and stood. Lua only arched a brow, unimpressed.
“Well, since neither of you has relatives and you’re both underage…” Aizawa began, voice flat with resignation.
The vibration of a phone cut him off. He sighed, fished it from his pocket, answered without a word, and walked out, leaving Lua alone in the suffocating room.
Minutes dragged into half an hour. The fluorescent light buzzed on. The chair creaked beneath Lua as his leg never stopped tapping, faster and sharper, each second amplifying the irritation boiling inside him.
When the door finally opened, Aizawa’s face carried a weight it hadn’t before. He looked older as if the call had carved something new into him.
“…Have you ever thought about entering the U.A. hero course?”
Lua’s eyes widened, then narrowed with a flash of disbelief. Slowly, almost cruelly, a grin spread across his lips, sharp, ironic, mocking.
-'''-
In the Aizawa call:
The hallway outside the interrogation room smelled faintly of dust and disinfectant, a place made for routine, not humanity. Aizawa stood with the phone pressed to his ear, his voice flat but edged with caution.
“Director Nezu? What happened?”
On the other end, a calm, almost cheerful voice replied:
“You have two boys with you right now, don’t you?”
Aizawa froze. His eyes flicked to the closed door at his back, surprise flickering briefly in his expression.
“…Yes. How do you know that?”
“You should’ve guessed by now that I have my contacts.” A low chuckle hummed through the receiver. “Aizawa, I want you to invite them into U.A.’s hero course.”
For a moment, the tired hero simply blinked, his mind struggling to catch up.
“…Excuse me, what?”
“You heard me correctly.”
The silence stretched, heavy.
Aizawa’s voice came slower this time, edged with suspicion. “The entrance exams already happened. What explanation am I supposed to give?”
“We can arrange another,” Nezu replied lightly, as though obstacles didn’t exist in his world. “It’s… embarrassing to admit, but my decision isn’t entirely professional. Perhaps you’ll understand later. For now, please speak to them in my place.”
Aizawa’s gaze drifted back to the door. Behind it, Lua was still locked away, the boy’s defiance practically radiating through the walls.
“…Fine. But I want a better explanation afterward.”
“Of course!” Nezu’s tone remained animated, almost playful. “Oh, and Aizawa… don’t let them run.”
The line clicked dead.
.'''.
The two boys sat in the stiff wooden chairs, Naomasa and Eraser Head across from them. The air between the children was brittle, stretched thin by the argument that still lingered unspoken between them. They didn’t even look at each other.
Aizawa was the first to break the silence, his voice frayed with exhaustion yet carrying a weight that couldn’t be ignored.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through out there. But from what Lua told me, your experiences with heroes… haven’t been the best.”
Still, neither boy spoke. Y/n kept his gaze lowered, while Lua hunched into his chair, his leg bouncing with restless fury.
Aizawa pressed on, simplifying his words, stripping them bare.
“But leaving my job aside, speaking as directly as I can: an opportunity to enter U.A, is no small thing. Whatever you’re facing out there, the school can offer security.”
Naomasa’s eyes sharpened, reading what Aizawa couldn’t. Y/n’s lip trembled with a small, nervous bite. His eyes, though wide, carried a glimmer, interest, hope, something he couldn’t smother. Lua, however, was a storm. Shoulders tight, leg rattling against the floor, brows knotted. Discomfort with Rage and Fear.
Naomasa stepped forward, voice steady and calm.
“Look… bad experiences happen anywhere. If you’ve suffered at the hands of heroes, you also know police aren’t much different. Corruption exists in every corner.”
The rhythm of Lua’s leg slowed. His eyes flicked up, reluctantly, meeting Naomasa’s for the first time.
“But the world isn’t only black and white. Just as there are bad heroes and bad officers, there are also good ones. Maybe my words don’t reach you now. But I ask you, give people like me, like Aizawa, one more chance. Just once more. Think carefully: will you ever get an opportunity like this again?”
Y/n’s lips parted, a breath catching in his throat, then closed again. He and Lua had been alone for a long time, just the two of them. Two months, ten years, all this time it was only their two… but is that right? Is that really all they could have? Y/n only needed Lua, and Lua only needed Y/n. But can you really judge someone for being greedy? He dropped his gaze thought gnawing at him, before lifting his head once more, not toward the adults but straight at Lua.
“I want to go.”
Lua’s leg froze mid-tap.
The silence roared.
His eyes narrowed, venomous. “You’re weak.”
“We can’t keep running,” Y/n shot back, firm, unwavering.
Lua didn’t respond. His silence was louder than words.
“If anyone can keep us safe, it’s—”
“Shut up.” Lua’s voice cut through, harsh enough to shatter the air. “Do you even hear yourself? Heroes saving us? Don’t make me laugh. You know we dont need them.”
The tension thickened, the weight pressing down on every breath.
But Y/n didn’t flinch. He turned toward the heroes instead, his voice steady, final.
“We’ll join.”
For the first time that day, something softened in Aizawa’s eyes. A thin, fleeting smile curved his lips, though his mind was already elsewhere. Y/n’s words confirmed what he suspected: these kids were running. From what? Nezu probably knew better.
Naomasa glanced to Lua, waiting for the explosion. But none came. The boy who had spat venom at the very idea of U.A. now sat in silence, staring at the wooden floor as if the knots in the grain might give him answers.
“You’re coming with me tonight,” Aizawa declared flatly. “Tomorrow, your room at the school will be ready.”
Naomasa blinked, startled. Was he really taking them into his own home? Not ideal, but logical. A police station was out of the question. A hotel would only tempt them to vanish. If they were being hunted, leaving them alone would be reckless.
Y/n rose first, his movements deliberate. Lua followed in silence, his scowl unbroken.
“Hero.”
Aizawa lifted his eyes, meeting Y/n’s.
“I’m trusting you.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Aizawa’s chest tightened at the weight of them, though his face remained calm.
“All right. I’ll be worthy of it.”
He flicked a glance at Lua, as if silently including him in the promise.
.'''.
“...So this is a hero’s house,” Y/n muttered at last, his disappointment plain in his eyes.