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Shouta is breathing hard when he comes to a stop on a rooftop. He quickly checks behind himself, one hand pressed to the wound in his side and he groans when no new villain springs up to fight him.
That had been one brutal fight and Shouta is not at all ashamed that he had to flee the scene.
He restrained two villains already, put a tracker on the remaining three and, honestly, if even more showed up after he started running, well.
That's no longer his business because he informed his agency and they promised they would send backup and that had been at villain number two.
By the time the fifth shot up like weed, Shouta had decided to cut his losses and priorities his life because he might be a hero through and through but he can't be when he's dead so.
Take that, fucking agency, he viciously thinks and remembers Hizashi words from a few weeks back.
Even all the way back then Hizashi had called Shouta's agency shit and had begged him to change to one that would maybe put his health and life a little bit higher up the priority list than this one does and back then, Shouta had just rolled his eyes, because why even.
Nothing bad had ever happened, not really, but this now? Yeah, he damn well is going to look into other agencies.
He's not going to die because of a lack of support from those who are literally there to help him.
Shit, Shouta would have had better luck calling in one of the vigilantes he knows patrol this area sometimes and that's really a no-go.
As soon as he gets home, he's going to look into other options for himself, he promises himself that and then actually concentrates back on the current situation.
He's still bleeding, out in the middle of town, in the middle of the night, on a rooftop he doesn't really recognise and therefore he has no clue which way the nearest hospital is.
Wonderful.
"Fucking shit," he mutters under his breath as he reaches for one of his many pockets, but before he can take out a bandage, there's a noise on the roof that has Shouta's head fly up immediately.
He only checked behind him and in his panic didn't bother to check the rooftop as a whole and if there is another villain popping out right now then he probably deserves the gruesome death that's in his future.
Still, he crouches down and gets a hand into his capture weapon, because he's not going to go down with a fight.
"Who is there?" he calls out, tensing every muscle when he hears shuffling footsteps coming closer.
Shouta is prepared for a lot of things, but he's absolutely, one hundred percent not prepared for a child to step into his view.
He's taken so completely off guard that he merely stares at the kid for a full minute and it seems the kid is doing the same.
The kid must be around ten, maybe twelve, but he's scrawny and thin. His clothes don't make the best impression, even in the dead of the night and Shouta spots at least three tears in the low light. But most damning at all is the fact that the kid isn't wearing any shoes.
And the blood running down his temple and oozing out some strangely placed cuts on his face.
"You're bleeding," Shouta says, forcing himself out of his crouch, shaking out his limbs so he doesn't come across as a threat, though—it's probably a lost cause.
He knows what he looks like and the fight didn't help, that's for sure.
The wound in his side is hardly the only one he received and he can still feel the side of his face throb.
"So are you," the kid replies, his voice scratchy and rough and Shouta winces just hearing it.
Either he's sick or there's a worse reason for him to sound like that. Like having been choked just recently.
"True," Shouta still says with a look down. "What are we going to do about that, huh?" he asks and the kid merely shrugs.
"You were—getting something. I can help," he offers as if it's totally normal to help stabbed people on a roof in the middle of the night and Shouta deflates where he stands, slowly sitting himself down.
"How about I help you, too?" he then asks and the kid words his jaw for a moment before he shrugs again.
"Nothing to help with," he then says, but he also does come closer.
"Doesn't look like that to me. I'm the hero Eraserhead. Aizawa Shouta," Shouta offers, because even though he hides it well, the kid must be scared out of his mind.
At hearing his name the kid drags his eyes up and down Shouta's form, taking in the scarf and the jumpsuit and something like recognition flashes over his face before he shuts it all down again.
He seems to be very good at controlling his face and for a kid this age, that's worrying as hell.
"There's something under this," the kid says and points at the scarf. "What is it?"
It's a test, that's crystal clear, and a good one to boot, Shouta has to give that to the kid.
Not many know about the yellow goggles after all, so he simply pulls them out and shows them off.
"Do I pass?" he then drily asks but the kid only nods.
"Shinsou Hitoshi," he finally offers, clearly not comfortable with giving his name away to just everybody and that, too, is a good habit to have.
"So, Hitoshi, what do you say about tending to our wounds?" Shouta offers again and pulls out some wet wipes, a few bandages and the disinfectant spray he always carries around.
Hitoshi regards everything with a faint distrust, but finally he holds out his hands.
"I can help," he says, not at all mentioning his own injuries and Shouta worries.
Nothing about this is normal, least of all Hitoshi's reaction to his own injuries; it makes Shouta believe that it's not the first time he's hurt like that and that he knows it's not going to be the last and Shouta boils with rage when he imagines someone hurting a child like that.
"Only if you let me help you, too," Shouta says, keeping the supplies close and Hitoshi stares at him.
He stares at Shouta for so long that he's starting to get antsy, which is quite the feat, considering that it's literally Shouta's job to stare people down.
"There's nothing to help with," Hitoshi finally says and Shouta has to disagree.
"Apart from the worrying situation you're in, you're quite literally still bleeding, kid. I think there's plenty to help with."
Hitoshi tenses in a way that makes Shouta fear he's about to run off on him, even though there's hardly anywhere to go on this rooftop, but then Hitoshi relaxes.
"It's too much work," he mutters, simply taking the supplies out of Shouta's hands and motioning for him to sit up straighter, so he can bandage the wound in his side.
Shouta stops him to spray some of the disinfectant on it before he allows Hitoshi to wrap it and for a kid his age, he seems awfully adapt at wrapping bandages.
Worrying, indeed.
"You need to go to a hospital. It's deep," Hitoshi says as if he's the authority on matters like this and now that he's this close, Shouta can see the cuts on his face better.
It takes him a moment to place why those seem strangely familiar to him but when he remembers faint, silver lines at the exact same spots on Hizashi's face, he goes cold with rage.
"You were muzzled," he says without thinking, too shocked by the realisation, and Hitoshi jerks back as if Shouta hit him.
"I'm not—I didn't use it," Hitoshi chokes out and then presses his lips together so hard they go white.
A voice-activated quirk, then. What else would it be.
"I didn't say you did," Shouta says, trying for soothing and possibly missing by a mile. "It wasn't an accusation. It was an observation and your reaction tells me I'm right. Who did that?"
Hitoshi stares off to the side, working his jaw and clearly debating if answering the question is worth the risk of being hurt for daring to speak and before Shouta can reassure him, he jerks his hands up, starting to sign something before he cuts himself off there as well.
"It's okay, kid, I know sign. My husband's half deaf. If you're more comfortable like that, you can sign to me."
Hitoshi's gaze drops to the ground, before he finally starts to sign.
You need a hospital, he signs and Shouta nods, because yeah, he kinda really does.
The wound is deep, he's bleeding a lot and he definitely has a concussion to boot. But—he can't leave without Hitoshi, not anymore.
"So do you. And you need help. Help I can give you," he offers and Hitoshi jerks as if Shouta hit him.
Not that easy. Foster care, Hitoshi tells him and Shouta lets out a sigh because of course the poor kid would be in foster care.
Shouta desperately wonders when the treatment of voice quirks will ever change but the honest answer is probably not one he's going to like.
"I can make it easy," Shouta offers. "I'm a pro hero. That makes it a lot easier to get you out and to make sure you're placed somewhere you're safe."
Which would mean with him and Hizashi, because there's no way Shouta is going to let this beaten down kid out of his sight again and as soon as Hizashi lays eyes on him, he's going to say the same.
No such place, Hitoshi tells him, which probably means that this is not the first bad family and that Shouta is probably going to find more wounds and more scars on him than he would like.
Still. The situation remains the same.
"There is. It's with me and my husband. My husband isn't only half-deaf, he also has a voice quirk." More like the voice quirk but they don't have to go into that right now. "He knows what it's like for kids like you in foster care, cause he was the same once. So we'd make sure you're alright and that means staying with us."
"You can't just—" Hitoshi starts and then slams a hand over his mouth, aggravating some of the cuts again and making them bleed once more.
"You can talk, kid, I'm not going to hurt you for it. You didn't even do anything."
"You don't know that," Hitoshi whispers, his eyes wide and scared and Shouta sighs, the wound in his side aching something fierce.
"I do know because you're way too scared to do anything to me. And even before I knew what was going on, you didn't try anything. I'm not worried."
"That's dangerous," Hitoshi says, something hard settling over his face. "I can do who knows what to you, after all."
"Yeah, you can," Shouta agrees because for as hurt as Hitoshi is, he's definitely not beaten yet. "But you haven't. And I trust that you won't. And even if you do—you still deserve help and a safe home. There's no question about that."
"You don't even know my quirk," Hitoshi mutters and Shouta shrugs.
"I'm not worried about that. You can tell me, or you don't, and it's going to be fine either way. And if your quirk is hurting yourself, then I can shut it off at any time. You seem to haven known who I am so you must know my quirk."
"I do," Hitoshi admits with a nod. "You can stop quirks."
"Erase them, for as long as I look at that person," Shouta tells him and decides against a demonstration.
The fight really took it out of him and his eyes are burning almost worse than his side.
"So I could protect you or myself if you do anything, on purpose or on accident. But kid, we really have to get going to a hospital."
The blood loss is starting to be noticeable, even though Hitoshi expertly wrapped the wound up and Shouta would really rather have Hitoshi come with him willingly than having to restraint him and bring him anyway.
"If you lie to me, I'll kill you," Hitoshi says and it should be ridiculous, it should be rude, but it's just desperate and helpless and even so, Shouta knows that Hitoshi means it.
"That's fair, kid," he agrees with a nod and pushes himself up to his feet again. "Did you get up here by yourself?" he then asks and looks around, because he can't spot any shoes.
"Foster father quirked me up here when he was done with me," Hitoshi admits, scuffing his feet across the concrete.
"Alright, piggy back it is," Shouta says and mentally prays that he still has the strength to get them to the ground, but once Hitoshi is situated on his back, all of that worry gets replaced with worry about how light the kid is.
He definitely needs more meat on his bones.
"Grab on tight, I'll swing us down. And then we'll make our way to the police or a hospital, whatever is nearest."
"Police station," Hitoshi says and points to their left. "Two blocks down there."
"Great," Shouta says and even means it.
Two blocks is doable, even for him in this situation and once they are there they can simply call an ambulance and get an investigation into Hitoshi's family started.
Two birds with one stone, that's how Shouta likes it.
"Thank you," Hitoshi says, so quietly that Shouta almost misses it when he brings them down to the ground and Shouta promises himself to hug the kid real tightly once he's no longer in danger of bleeding out, because no child should need help like that.
"You're welcome, Hitoshi. I'm going to make sure you're safe. I'll help you."
He said it before but he really feels the need to say it again and Hitoshi only presses himself closer to him, so it definitely was the right choice.
And Shouta is not about to give Hitoshi a reason to kill him, either.