Chapter Text
"Distance makes the heart grow fonder."
Distance, distance, distance. People treated it like something good, but the last thing they ever wanted was distance.
At least, not with Izuku.
Fortunately for them, distance wouldn't be an issue for much longer. Their plane to America just arrived, having been confined to their job and duties in Japan, making it safer for Izuku while he was gone.
And of course, they had to cover their own asses. Building up their reputations amongst the people underground, networking with the most powerful people, the more private people, making themselves prominent among the public, and securing a safe journey to America and back. They had to find a way to cover business until they were able to return home.
Home with Izuku.
Finding him and escorting him home with them were two different things, one more difficult than the other. It would be okay, though. They would find a way to get to Izuku. They would keep pushing and fighting until they were back with him again.
They waited this long, so they would make sure their hard work was worth it.
After three long years, they would have him. They're got going to stop until they do. But they also had to work fast. They'd gotten intel about Shigaraki's group in America for the same reason they were there: for Izuku.
They wanted him as a leverage against them, the league that they formed to work against their own. Though the mafia they were in worked to weed out the bad in the world, Shigaraki's was formed to seemingly do the opposite. They wished to get revenge, to pick apart and dismantle the society that failed them, to use others' second genders against them.
And from what was said, they were willing to do whatever it took. They had weapons, carefully constructed and made to target second genders, an attempt to erase them completely. Although, it was something nearly impossible; one's self was practically intertwined with their omega, beta, alpha, or enigma. Any attempt to tear them apart from one another would have dire consequences.
This, everyone knew, but their attempts to get to Izuku faster than Shigaraki was becoming more important than ever. It was a trip they'd begged to go on, but their duties within the mafia kept them anchored to Japan.
Until they'd gotten word that Shigaraki was seeking an omega to do tests on in order to erradicate second genders for good.
It'd come through someone within Shigaraki's walls, a double agent named Hawks, and what he discussed that Shigaraki was willing to do in order to fulfill his goals…
Well, they needed to get to Izuku and fast.
Who knew what would happen if Shigaraki got to Izuku.
Regardless, they didn't and wouldn't find out. Because they would get to Izuku in time. They would scour the whole damn country to find him.
And then, they could take him home and live the life they'd always wanted. The life they deserved.
Midoriya tried not to act disgusted when the child he was helping focus on his test picked his nose, looked at his booger, and proceeded to wipe it on Midoriya.
Any time he thought of something a child wouldn't do, they would do it. But maybe one hundred times worse.
Midoriya wanted to scream, but he would just have to hold his breath and discreetly use the pocket hand sanitizer he thankfully had on hand.
More problems, kids being rowdy, and well, kids, and reading over some questionable answers while he graded some work, Midoriya was finally able to leave and head off to his job.
After leaving Japan, Midoriya and Hitoshi had it rough for a bit, using a cheap hotel room and scrounging together money to get the—admittedly dingy— apartment that they had now. The area wasn't awful, but it wasn't necessarily nice either with the amount of potholes and amount of worn down buildings.
Hitoshi ended up finishing his degree, and now taught Japanese at a local university. It wasn't what he originally wanted to do, but with the drastic move, Hitoshi settled on it and translated Japanese works to English from time to time as a side-job.
Midoriya knew the move was hard on Hitoshi, and he was forever grateful for his friend. Everything had been so quick and fast—they didn't even scrape the surface of bringing what was in their apartment back home. The only thing they managed to pack were essentials and few items of sentimental value.
Midoriya mourned the loss of some of his things, silently missing it from time to time.
After everything that happened with the facility, Midoriya concluded that he wanted nothing to do with research or testing like he originally had.
Not after what he'd seen. Not after seeing the testing done on the Engimas.
He couldn't bare the thought of somehow being pulled into something like that again, so he somewhat followed Hitoshi's path. He found himself on the path of teaching, like some part of him ached for something to fix. Someone to help. That maybe, he could help and intervene, advocate for these children before it was too late.
He'd seen the pain and suffering of the Enigmas, and didn't want to see anything remotely like that to happen to anyone.
So, yes, it was strange to see an (assumed) beta male, over six feet tall, scrambling around to control a group of kids as part of his degree for school, but Midoriya was okay with being looked at or laughed at. …and even if it meant washing his clothes when he got home because a kid thought his shirt would be a great napkin.
School wasn't something to laugh about, though. Midoriya had to get a job to pay for it, and he wasn't quite anticipating for school to be so expensive in a country that was built on the idea of 'following dreams'. Midoriya found it absurd of how much was said about being free, when he only felt chained by the weight of living and the money it took to be alive.
By the time Midoriya finished doing his hands-on classroom work, Midoriya would have to change gears to something else entirely. Well, not really. He was just going from watching little, rebellious kids to watching rowdy, drunk adults.
Midoriya was thankful for the job as a bartender. He was still learning English with the help of Shinso when he first got the job, and learning what to do was easy when all he had to do was memorize the names of the drinks and put them together.
Though tonight, the loud music and flashing lights were overwhelming. The noise bothered him greatly and the lights didn't help with his growing headache. Midoriya had a lot of those kinds of issues— headaches, bouts of dizziness, and being tired at points he shouldn't be.
He only went to a doctor once about it, never bothering to go again after how expensive it had been, and Midoriya was told that maybe they would have to do some tests. Which, based on their price, Midoriya did not allow to happen, but he ended up telling them vaguely of how he'd hit his head.
Doctor told him that his symptoms might line up with long term effects after a poorly treated concussion.
Midoriya never wanted to think about it too hard, haunted by the memory of Shigaraki and what he had done, but it was still chilling to think about. How, every time he reached up to touch the scar on the top corner of his forehead, he thought of the facility, of Emiko, of Shigaraki…of them.
Those three were in the back of Midoriya's mind more than he would've liked.
Something in him wanted to force himself to forget them, to stop thinking of them because of how much it hurt to do so. He would want to tear himself in half on some days, angry about what had happened and how it went down, but other days he was stricken with grief. The grief of what he'd left behind.
Because despite the situation, someone finally understood him. They knew that he was an omega, and they didn't care. In fact, they embraced the idea, loved it. They cherished him, treated him as an equal, and they were so gentle and kind with him. They listened, they let him ramble about his interests, talked so easily with him, remembered the smallest things about him, and they didn't even care about his weight. They would rub parts of him that he didn’t like soothingly, uncaring if their thumbs brushed his love handles or squished into his tummy. They didn't care that he was a bit heavy, and that they didn't care how much he ate or when, they didn't force him to go to the gym like Shindo did because he 'wasn't ideal'.
To them, he was perfect, and for him, they were too.
Even with the pain and heartache, Midoriya's omega had been more awake than ever with them.
But now, it had been unusually silent. Barely even popping out for a heat.
Midoriya didn't think of it as a problem, especially living with Hitoshi and having no where to spend them, but its lack of presence was starting to worry Midoriya. Hitoshi even commented on it, noting that Midoriya's scent was dull, now.
Of course, after everything, Midoriya couldn't keep anything a secret from Hitoshi. He told him about the facility, of his omega status, and why people were after Midoriya, chasing him out of Japan.
But he never told Hitoshi about them.
He just told the alpha about Enigmas in general, but never about how deeply he was actually involved in the whole thing. Midoriya told him about how he was made to help Enigmas, since they found out he was an omega, and that's why he worked such long hours. He talked about Emiko, about how, yes, it was the same facility that showed up on international news, broadcasting and documenting the existence of Enigmas to the public for the first time ever.
Midoriya wasn't sure why, but he wanted to selfishly keep the memory of those three to himself.
What he didn't keep secret to Hitoshi, however, was how he felt like he was being watched or followed more often lately.
"Again?" Hitoshi asked when Midoriya let out a loud, panting breaths once stepping through the door of their apartment. The alpha was occupied watching TV on the living room couch, and Midoriya was at least thankful for the fact that he was home now. His abrupt entrance made Hitoshi sit up on the couch to face him, "Is it just because it was cold or…did you have one of those feelings again?"
Midoriya told Hitoshi that he was willing to brush it off, and that he knew what he was getting into at the bar. There were bound to be some people staring or curious about him, especially being foreign, but sometimes when Midoriya was making his way home, he felt like someone was staring, watching, hunting him. Waiting to pounce.
"It was bad," Midoriya agreed, speaking in his native language around Hitoshi, "I felt it. It was making me feel sick. I mean—people are out drinking for their 'football' that they like here, but— I don't know." Midoriya exhaled, glad to be in the apartment.
"I told you I could go pick you up," Hitoshi offered. "Or you could use one of my jackets."
"No," Midoriya waved off, "You're working, too. It's not fair to you that I'm paranoid. I'm sure it's nothing."
"But you still have a feeling," Hitoshi pointed out. "Might I remind you that we're talking about Enigmas that know you exist."
Midoriya rolled his eyes once he took in Hitoshi's smell of lavender and vanilla mixing with his own scent of rain, relaxed by the smell. He headed to the kitchen, happy to see leftovers of the dinner Hitoshi promised he would have for him if he wanted once he got back from work.
He and Hitoshi weren't…together so to speak. They did think about it, and talked about the possibility, but all in all, the realized they would be more compatible staying as friends, if not very close packmates. They would sometimes scent each other's items if the other asked, and worked together on helping each other out.
"Thank you for cooking," Midoriya acknowledged the food, going to heat it up before he circled back to Hitoshi's point. "They know I exist, but we're an ocean away. I'm sure that's the farthest I can get. Besides, they probably have better to do than to hunt me down."
Midoriya tried to convince Hitoshi, but he knew he wasn't doing a very good job of convincing Hitoshi or himself. He knew in the back of his mind that there was a reason. A reason that he was so on guard. He would find out later, and soon.
Too soon.