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Chapter Text

Izuku (POV)

Dark. Hollow. Silent.

That’s what Izuku would describe the room he had grown up in. It smelled always like chloroform, sometimes of old blood if they were harsh on him if he tried to refuse the needles. But after a year he never did again. The room itself, while small, was empty. Only holding a small, mouldy, decaying bed in the corner, with an old baby toy laying on the ground. The cold, sharp ground that always brought out crimson tears from Izuku's tiny feet every time he was forced to walk on it. There was never light or noise in the room, as if it was forbidden as a whole, the idea of a window foreign to the young Izuku as well as the idea of the outside world.

....

Warm. Full. Quiet.

Izuku would use those terms to describe the room in its current state.

After having his arm prodded and cut into again for the hundredth time this week. For the billionth time he's been trapped in the facility. Allowing his blood to be selfishly taken away from him, letting his wings be pulled and tethered together to test strength. Letting them shine bright lights into his dull eyes, reluctantly having them take away his vocal cords for “Science”.

For once, Izuku wanted to unwelcome touches to stop. For once Izuku wanted to have a choice.

STOP IT. END IT.

Ẹ̸̢̙̗̘͓̖͔͌ą̷̛͚̺̜̜͈̠̭͎̫̽̎͊̎̃͒̊́̒̐̈́̒͆͝Ṭ̸̱̂̀ ̴̨̧̳̼̰͕̭̻̲̱͖͔̲͔͓̫̠͋͛̎̔̈́̎̌̕̚͝͝t̶̖̼̹̙̑̾͘H̶̝̤̘̖̩͆͆̽̈͒͑̋͝ȅ̶̲̟͛͘m̵̨̛̠͙͇̥̺͎̪̳̘̼̍̀̍͊̈̑̔̌̑͊̉̉

After clutching his eyes as small eyelashes harshly attack his pupils, Izuku let his eyes flutter slightly open. He couldn’t, wouldn't, see the room. His large wings burrowing him to protect him from the attack. But he could hear it. Beautiful noises his ears had never had the honour of hearing before. A subtle dripping from the ceiling and off the tips of his wings, muffled groans from something he couldn’t care to identify, his own hot breathing bouncing off his wings and caressing his cheeks. Letting out a wavering breath from all the new experiences, as well as grasping his wings to a sore degree as his fingertips embedded themselves in, he slowly unclasped his fingers , let his eyes relax and to take in the room, letting the overwhelming static corrupting his mind stop and force his wings to ease down.

Red. Dark crimson was coated in every corner of the cramped room like the aftereffects of a crimson tide. His pearly white wings honing an obvious contrast to the room, although now donning a washed-out pink dying the tips of his wings. A cacophony of severed arms, hands, fingers and eyes splayed around the room like a disturbing new idea for piece of artwork that no one will ever see. The mumbled groans echoing once again in his mind now connecting a master to its distorted voice. Another of the many men wearing a white coat using his last breaths whilst barely alive from the attack that Izuku is half aware of.

“P-please.. Subj-ject 001..” ‘cough cough’ “Help m-”

Splat.

Izuku's left wing pushed harshly down on the man, like a concrete wall with no mercy to give to the man.

It was silent again. This time not as bad as before. Its more calm, less scary. No more groans or shouts from the bad men that had hurt Izuku whole life. No more bandages taking over his skin like a second skin.

Clang!

Izuku's head whipped around sharply in alarm to the noise as his eyes widened slightly to see the normally locked door slowly open as a soft light flooded the room. Izuku immediately, shakily held himself close again, wrapping his wings closer and tighter to himself as he awaited what was next to come.

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Aizawa (POV)

Aizawa, despite being a hero, thought spontaneous raids were an illogical thing. It seemed silly to randomly call a load of off shift heroes in a lack lustre attempt to mix and match them in half assed groups. Which Aizawa despised even more, that carelessness could cause many people to be killed, or injured enough to retire.

This time the raid was different. It was more planned, more oriented and with a clear goal in sight that no one knew. It had surprised Aizawa when he had learnt a bunch of limelight heroes were teaming up with underground heroes for this raid. Interesting. Aizawa couldn't even make the detective, Tsukauchi wouldn't let anything integral spill under pressure. All Aizawa knew was that he was helping raiding an illegal lab.

So why was it all tight lipped?

As Aizawa allowed these storming thoughts try to conquer his frustrated mind, he began to violently kick down the many doors blocking his way within the run-down facility, using his capture weapon to tie up the many lab coat wearers he saw in every area he entered, following all protocol he had learnt knowing it would be useful for any future questions in the distant future.

As Aizawa was tying up one of the last villains in the room, his ears picked up the mumbles of a previously knocked out man.

“Where are the others that were meant to rid of that little brat?...” the man with blond hair mumbled to another.

“I haven't seen them in hours” the other admitted with a huff.

Aizawa immediately narrowed his suspicious, albeit, curious eyes, as he locked eye contact with them as he hissed out with slight confusion “And where is this ‘brat’ you mentioned?”

Aizawa huffed in frustration from the lack of answer he got after a few minutes, having to knock both men out with a sharp kick to the head full of overgrowing annoyance, in case they revealed anymore information to others that might try to escape. He then continued stealthily walking vigilantly throughout the facility, hoping he would find the child they spoke of, and to not run into a trap.

After a few minutes of walking around the crumbling, unorganised maze of a building, his nose shrivelled up after picking up a subtle pungent smell of death. It had to be new, by how prominent it was to the mouldy smell that had been fuelling Aizawa's nose previously. With his heart in his throat, he slowly followed the scent, talking into his comms “Hey Tsukauchi, I've been told their is a child down here.. make sure the ambulance is ready in case of anything that can happen”

He got a response after a minute, Tsukauchis concerned voice filled his ears “Everything is sorted Eraserhead. Just...” a small sigh followed “come back in one piece, I don't need any more paperwork”

Aizawa grunted in conformation before turning his comms off to return investigating, only to find himself in front of a large, old door. The door itself wasn't anything special, but it had to be where they were keeping someone by how thick it was. It was bigger than Aizawa himself, maybe 7 foot tall and made of compact ashen steel. With darkened green and brown mould making themselves known by colouring on certain areas of the door. It clearly represented an old age of sorts.

The handle itself slightly chipped and greasy, used a lot as it seemed as it was being barely held together with a heavy, broken lock, that was discovered to be in pieces sprayed across the off-white, tiled floor.

Aizawa swallowed his worries as his hand made hard contacted the handled and pulled it open.

Chapter Text

Aizawa POV

Nauseating.

A start of how Aizawa would even begin to attempt a description of the scene he was unthankful for witnessing.

Blood covering every surface of the ever-shrinking cell-like room. Mutilated body parts sprayed all around like marionettes cut from their strings, attempting to reconstruct one last dance. The walls raving in silent darkness, back stinging as if he had millions of eyes were judging his efforts of swallowing back the sickness that only wanted to escape from his tightly closed mouth. Even if he tried to close his eyes now, the black void that would usually invite him would slowly turn red. It was unescapable.

During the time Aizawa was accepting reality, he failed to notice the small child sitting in a pool of glistening blood, clutching a soaked rabbit toy as he blankly stared up at him as if he was a shadow flickering into existence.

Aizawa only realised the existence of another being as he calmed himself and began analysing the situation like a stoic robot. When he was looking at one of the dismembered arms and saw a twitch of something from the corner of his eye, revealing the child.

And oh, how the child immediately captivated his prioritised attention.

The child himself seemed to be a male, maybe three or four years old from his height and physical appearance. Cheeks that should be filled out, only to be sunken and covered with splatters of blood. Hollow eyes that no child should bare to accept to have. Dark, curly green hair so clearly matted with knots, clumps of filth and mould, and even tissue that somehow landed in his hair from the mass of the dead that littered the room. Fingers so nimble and crooked it made Aizawa's heart squeeze with pain that was so close to spilling out from his eyes and mouth.

However, the most important detail Aizawa found was the large wings sprouting from the back of the child. They must have been twice the size of the child himself, light-pink tips from the soaking of blood, and the rest a perfect white colour that impossibly untouched by the decayed state of the room.

Before Aizawa could waste more time by staring at the child rather than helping, he shook his head before slowly walking towards him. By the time he was infront of the child, he crouched down, forcing his voice to go soft as he muttered “Hey kid.. I am a hero, do you know what that is?”

Aizawa patiently waited for a response. After what felt like hours the child shook his head. Aizawa swallowing down his frustration as he continued “Thats.. Ok. I’m here to help you kid.” After receiving no verbal response once again he asked “Can you even talk kid?”

A shake of the head was quickly received and all Aizawa could think was how more complicated this all got. The child didn't know who heroes were, and Aizawa couldn't be so sure how he would react to being amongst a mass of them, especially from the scene he was found in. He wasn't sure if the child could help tell them what happened in the room at all from his lack of response, especially finding he couldn't talk. If it was medically or from shock Aizawa couldn't be sure.

After contemplating his next decisions, he said to the child “Hey, kid... do you want to be carried? It means I hold you up in my arms..” After seeing the child look up at him, he quickly added “But if you don't like it, do an X shape with your arms----like this” Aizawa slowly demonstrated how to make a cross shape with his arms, before picking the child up, being waryof his wings.

Whilst he was carefully walking out of the abandoned laboratory, he put his free hand to the earpiece and quietly uttered, not wanting to startle the child in his arms ”Tsukauchi... I've got the kid. He can’t verbally respond, I don't know if it's a medical reason or just from shock” Aizawa swallowed some bile that threatened to escape again as he shakily continued ”. I’ll report you on everything else later.”

The crackling noise of the responder filled his head like a background noise before he heard a groaning Tsukauchi “All noted Eraserhead. Everyone is prepared for you outside, I'll meet you out there.” The starteling stop to the noise was all the conformation Aizawa got that the conversation had ended.

He gently stroked the back of the child as they finally got outside, basking themselves in the sunlight as if they were the chosen ones.

Shouts, screams, and sirens filled his ears as he blindly walked closer to the ambulance, feeling the child shiver against him as the child's wings threatened to stop his breathing flow from how tightly they were coiled around him. Letting out slow and calculated breaths so contain air as he made his way to an ambulance, ignoring the stunned stares of the other heroes and police that looked his way. Before Aizawa could place the child on a stretcher, the child was touched by an ambulance worker.

Boom.

Aizawa found his mouth filled with a metallic taste with his eyes widening in shock over the horrified screams.

The ambulance workers head now smashed like a coconut. Chunks of brain matter coating the inside of the ambulance carelessly, as the rest of the body fell down to the ground like a rag doll. Chaos only becoming more stronger by the display. Aizawa immediately put the child down as carefully as he could and spat out every piece of blood and tissue matter that landed into his mouth out. Vomit erupting out uncontrollably from how overwhelmed he was. Heros looking at the child in horror, the child holding onto Aizawa in a death grip seemingly unaware of how horrifying his actions were.

Aizawa shakily said after a few minutes to the heroes “L-lets.. Keep me with him. I don't think he wants to be taken away from me” The heroes had no disagreements from how dangerous the child is beginning to be. Some turned green and others distancing themselves as much as they could. While a sedative gas administered through the child's nose, causing him to fall unconscious in an instant. Aizawa could only dissociatively sit in the back of a new ambulance with the sleeping child in his arms that now bore quirk suppressers around his tiny wrists. Hoping for this to be solved sooner than later.