Chapter Text
His second day with Izuku guards entered the cell and held some alarming equipment, but due to his muzzle and the ropes binding his hands, he could do nothing to stop them from drilling a chain into the wall and attaching the chain to some cuffs which irritated his wrists.
Izuku had a guilty and sad look on his face as he watched Hitoshi’s vain struggling, but he didn’t pay any attention to him in that moment.
The ropes, now replaced with cold metal, never ceased to weigh his hands down, the cuffs connected to one another before trailing to the bolts holding it in place on the floor. He could move no further than five meters because of it.
It was clear they planned to keep him here for a while.
Izuku wasn’t the chattiest of cellmates, but he talked to him, which that itself was a massive achievement to him. Hitoshi always listened to his stories intently and nodded accordingly, often his stories would be interesting, a little morbid and sad but interesting, nonetheless. It was concerning and a little painful that all the stories had sad endings though.
One day, Hitoshi presumed there was something happening, and there was a massive lockdown, all the power was turned off, even the locks were permanently shut now. He assumed the cameras were off too, and the only light was some emergency red ones lining the walls, and that’s when Izuku acted.
It had been around two weeks since he was given to Izuku and in that time Hitoshi liked to think they’d become friends; he wasn’t a real people person but being locked in a cell on your own for a while changed a person.
Izuku stood up, the strait jacket not hindering him at all, as if he was used to walking around in it, or he was using a quirk. Which should’ve been impossible because of the dozens of quirk suppressors on him.
Apparently not, because he stood up and his body slipped from the jacket like it was nothing, and he walked to Hitoshi casually, who was wondering if their fragile friendship was enough to keep him from being tortured to death.
It was, and Izuku’s soft hands reached to his face and cupped around his cheeks, feeling for the mechanism holding his muzzle in place. Izuku’s eyes were focused on unlocking the muzzle and he didn’t notice Hitoshi’s wide eyes gazing at him like he was a saint.
No one had tried to help him before, no one tried to take the muzzles off that he was so used to. No one touched him so gently and no one held his face in their hands like he was some precious treasure that scratched easily.
No one was like Izuku.
Too soon Izuku managed to gingerly pull the muzzle from his face and lift it away, showing his red face and harsh indentations in face that began to bleed, the pressure taken away.
Izuku’s face softened and held a look of pity, but not the kind that didn’t understand and irritated you, the kind that knew that pain and felt bad they weren’t there for you, the kind that you wouldn’t mind if they always looked at you like that.
“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to dress the wounds with, do you mind if I heal you before the lockdown is over?” he asked kindly and dropped the muzzle on the ground, and a resounding thud filled the silence.
Hitoshi didn’t trust his voice, he didn’t want Izuku to hear how hoarse and crackled it would sound, not being used in months, if not years, so he nodded instead. Izuku understood.
He felt his sweet hands, uncalloused from being locked up for so long, on his face again. At first it stung, and he flinched, tempted to draw away, but then warmth bloomed and Izuku traced his finger along the wounds, and he felt them close up and heal in response.
He melted in Izuku’s touch and let him take care of him, his eyes drifted shut. It had been an eternity since he didn’t have to look out for himself, just letting himself relax in his hands was so nice and if he could’ve stayed here forever, he would’ve.
But then a series of beeps sounded, and Hitoshi looked up Izuku was back in his restraints and when the cameras clicked on, it was like nothing ever happened.
Izuku met his eyes and winked, a small smile flashed on his face and Hitoshi smiled shakily back, his face still stiff from the muzzle.
The door into the observation room opened, and Hitoshi knew people entered to make sure nothing was wrong, before leaving again, but not before a snide remark echoed into the room.
“If they get along that’d be great, we can use him as leverage, and perhaps control All for one’s kid and use him to take down his dad,” a loud, and very clearly annoying, guard snickered with another.
Hitoshi dared to look at Izuku’s face and he saw an acquiescent and slightly angry expression, his eyebrows pinched together, and his lips formed a line, but his eyes were sad and resigned.
He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t do anything to change it, is what Hitoshi assumed he was thinking.
Hitoshi didn’t like it either, and right now he couldn’t do any more than a bird in its birdcage.
The days passed easily, with Izuku slowly opening back up and talking to him, Hitoshi was still hesitant to speak, but he offered small responses here and there, and each time Izuku lit up with joy and it was all worth it. Tartarus was worth it because he met Izuku.
“So that’s why ghosts and zombies can’t eat food!” Izuku finished after a rant about how stupid it was that zombies craved human flesh, and ghosts attacked people, which turned into an informative ramble on cells and the process of eating.
“Wow,” Hitoshi replied, as dry as ever, because he didn’t know what else to say, Izuku always left him breathless.
“I know right! and people always think these inaccurate zombie movies are soooo good because they’re slightly more realistic than the last, zombies shouldn’t have brains! They’re the first thing to decay in a dead body!” he continued, expanding on how stupid zombie movies and shows were.
Izuku always made the most random topics interesting, he made. Boring things fun and sitting in a cell in Tartarus wasn’t so bad anymore. Maybe he even enjoyed it a little, he had a friend now after all.
More time passed and the two grew closer than ever, they hadn’t fully trusted each other before, but now they were so comfortable the only people they worried about were those watching through the cameras.
They had to be careful what they said, in here, everything would be used against you, hence why the random topics became popular conversations, they held no real information but were still interesting to hear about.
It had been a good six months since Hitoshi was put in here and they hadn’t once tried to put his muzzle back on since the blackout all those months ago, he wasn’t sure if that was because of Izuku or the guard’s laziness.
He remembers one night though, which he holds close to his heart and likes thinking about.
It was lights off, around 4 months ago, and Hitoshi was attempting to get some rest, when the tell-tale sign of the door clicked and people entered the observation room, and after a moment they entered the cell, muzzle in hand.
Hitoshi was half asleep, so he didn’t feel the fear and dread that crawled up his spine, he was about to get up and shuffle away pathetically when Izuku spoke up.
“don’t go near him,” he ordered with a dangerous voice, a cruel coldness that Hitoshi had never heard from him before, it was protective though and he felt butterflies in his stomach, he blamed that on his fear of the muzzle though.
“you’re in quirk cancelling chains what could you do?” one sneers with a roll of his eyes.
“You know my father will come for me, and when he does, I’ll point you out to him and you and your families will never be the same after, I wonder how you’ll live once your hands and legs are missing…” he questioned maliciously with a smirk on his face, either he was a superb actor, or he was serious.
The guards shared a glance, sweat and fear building on their faces, “your father hasn’t come for you in the past three years, why would he come at all?” one reasoned, feigning confidence.
“You know my father, he makes plans, devious schemes that don’t make sense to anyone other than him, he’ll come when the time is right and no one will see it coming,” Izuku told them, he was kind of scaring Hitoshi, but he was grateful to him.
The guards looked at each other again and Izuku glared at them with an intensity he’s never seen before, if looks could kill those two would be less than cosmic dust right now.
Without warning they both backed off, cleverly choosing life and they left. They haven’t been back since.
Izuku had smiled kindly at Hitoshi, and he smiled back, albeit more shakily but he was happy. He’d never had someone stand up for him before, he liked the feeling of being protected.
After that their friendship really grew and he was sure if they weren’t forced together, they would’ve been inseparable in the real world too.
Hitoshi had wondered many times what it would be like with Izuku outside Tartarus, what would he wear? What school would he go to? Would he have a home? Maybe they could live together and keep each other safe.
Hitoshi found that he wouldn’t mind if they were homeless if they were together. It would suck but with Izuku he could get through anything.
“Izuku, who is your dad, exactly?” Hitoshi asked one day, his feet sprawled in front of him and his hands behind his back for support.
“Everyone calls him All for one, he’s two hundred and his quirk allows him to steal other people’s quirks,” Izuku recited like he’s said it hundreds of times, and he probably has, he’s sure the HPSC wasn’t past torturing a child for information. Hitoshi felt bad for asking but he was curious and bored, not a good combo.
“Oh…” he didn’t know how to respond to someone saying their father was a top villain, “what was he like? If you don’t mind me asking,”
“He…” Izuku struggled to find the right words, “he was normal at first, there were some strange things, but he was never a villain around me as a kid, just a parent,”
“Did you hate him?” he asked, before fixing his question, “do you hate him?”
“I-I don’t hate him,” he replied, emphasising the ‘hate’, “he’s bad, and I know he’s bad, but he raised me,”
Hitoshi heard the hurt and turmoil in his words, he understood to some degree, his father wasn’t a top villain, but he wasn’t a good person either. Hitoshi had been insensitive in his questions, but he wanted to know more about Izuku.
“Was-was he a good father?” Hitoshi asked quietly after a moment, eyes studying Izuku’s person, his face looked sad and resigned. He’d given up on his father.
“He was the best father I could’ve asked for, but he was also the worst in the end,” Izuku admitted with defeat lacing his voice. This was a fourteen-year-old who sounded like they’d fought in a world war and lost.
“He wasn’t around much but whenever he was, he would always give me his full attention and love, he always left All for one behind and became ‘Dad’,” Izuku said, his eyes glassy with tears refusing to fall. Hitoshi could see how much this was hurting him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, because what else could he say? Nothing would ‘fix’ Izuku, his father was a good father but not a good person.
“It’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong,” Izuku was quick to defend, and after he heard that he was here because of his father, it only twisted the knife in the wound.
“I’m still sorry,” Hitoshi repeated, and now more than ever he wanted to hug Izuku.
Izuku didn’t say anything, and they sat in silence, Hitoshi didn’t break it, he knew Izuku needed some time alone, so he turned and busied himself with other thoughts, another apology hanging from his tongue.
It wasn’t long before they were back to best friends, Izuku’s father forgotten for now. They chatted and Hitoshi wished he knew what day it was; he’d been here so long he’d lost count; he didn’t know if he was still 13 or if his birthday had passed yet.
He knew he spent his twelfth birthday here and he had a feeling year 2 in Tartarus was closing in so surely his birthday was soon, or earlier.
Izuku had been here for much longer than Hitoshi, getting here around three years before him, so he wondered how Izuku was doing, no birthdays for four years, if he even knew four years had gone by.
“Do you know the date?” he asked a guard who brought their food, but he scoffed and didn’t reply, and for a it took Hitoshi a moment to remember what his quirk was, what it did. He’d forgotten how mistrustful people were when he asked questions because Izuku always answered them without hesitation.
The next day when a different guard entered with their meals, Izuku asked “what’s the date?”
Hitoshi hid his smile and buried the warmth swirling in his stomach.
“It’s… the 2nd of June, 2XXX,” they replied hesitantly. The two-year mark was right around the corner then, he was taken on October 6th, it fit the spooky season, he supposed.
His birthday was also only a month away, and Izuku’s too. He loved that their birthdays were only 2 weeks apart.
They both knew each other’s birthdays and when they were taken to Tartarus, so when Izuku now had a scheming look on his face, Hitoshi knew something was going to happen.
Once the guard left, Hitoshi levelled Izuku with a stare, “what are you thinking about?”
He often forgot there were cameras in here that have sound receptors, Izuku seemed to always know though.
“What am I going to do for your birthday,” he answered, last year Izuku sang him a song. He cried that day.
“What am I going to do for yours?” Hitoshi asked half to himself, his brows creasing in thought.
“You don’t need to worry about my birthday,” he replied with a smile, Hitoshi sensed there was more to his words but didn’t press. He was still going to think of something for his birthday.
For now, that was that and they moved onto talking about how it’s illegal to hold a fish suspiciously in the UK.
The four weeks that passed after that were slow going, the hours ticked by at a snail’s pace and the two’s conversations only filled so much time. But once it was over and Hitoshi’s birthday was only a day away, the air was filled with an anticipation.
Hitoshi wasn’t sure why, but he knew this birthday would be different somehow. He could almost taste it in the stale air that buzzed around them.
Conversation was harder today, the suspense in the air halted whatever trains of thought they could talk about, and the day passed slowest of all.
After they received and ate their dinners, the expectancy was at an all-time high.
Hitoshi was almost certain Izuku was counting the seconds in his head.
Hours passed, they received dinner at 7, so it was hard to assume when midnight struck, after what Hitoshi estimated around four hours, perhaps less, he could see Izuku buzzing with energy and Hitoshi wondered hard about what he was planning.
The next hour slewed by, inching along until only a sliver remained, then that too was gone.
And the lights which had turned down low for the night, flickered off. The cameras red dots stopped blinking and the room was swallowed by complete darkness.
Hitoshi blinked, trying to adjust to the light, but he saw nothing.
However, he heard the shuffling of Izuku’s form and then clinking of unlocked cuffs, which dropped to the ground with a clang.
He had slipped from his strait jacket and was unlocking every quirk cancelling cuff, which was a lot. After at least twenty thuds onto the floor, he hears a grunt and a smaller clink before his steps echo in the room, closer and closer to Hitoshi.
“Izuku?” he asked hesitantly.
“Hitoshi,” he responded, glee in his voice as he reached him, and sunk to the floor. He felt hands on his, before they trailed up to his wrists where his metal shackles clung, he’d gotten used to them by now. Without a word or action, they clinked open and fell to the floor, its metallic sound echoing through the room with a sense of finality.
Izuku’s hands did not leave his wrists as he stood up, pulling Hitoshi up with him. they stood for a moment in complete darkness, Hitoshi couldn’t see him, but he was looking at his face and he felt Izuku’s eyes on him too.
“This will hurt, but I’ll heal you, can you turn around for me, please?” Izuku asked softly, his hands letting go of Hitoshi’s.
He longed for his touch again, he wanted to hug him and hold him close so badly he had to hold himself in place, he didn’t care if Izuku hurt him, if he stayed with him, he would do anything for him.
He obediently turned around, unsure which way he was facing now, but he stopped when he felt the ghost of Izuku’s hand on his neck, it was so soft, and warmth made him lean into the touch, until he felt Izuku’s fingers dig into his nape, his nails drawing blood as he ripped a hole in his neck.
Hitoshi bit back his scream, he didn’t want to alert the guards, but he keened and muffled his cries and Izuku pulled something from the wound in his neck.
“I’m sorry, I’ll heal it now, don’t worry, I’m so sorry,” he promised and whispered his apologies over and over, he dropped the item he pulled from Hitoshi’s neck, a small tracker, and slowly drew his hand back over the wound, and as gently as possible he healed the wound he made.
Even after the injury was healed, Izuku still caressed his hand across his neck, his healing quirk still humming with use, it emanated a glow that warmed everywhere it touched.
“Thank you,” Hitoshi murmured quietly, and Izuku slowly pulled his hand away, like it hurt him to draw away from him, Hitoshi’s skin felt cold in the absence of his hand.
“Come on, we don’t have much time before they notice,” he finally said, and with an outreached hand he drew forth a dark green mist that swallowed the two, Hitoshi gripped Izuku’s hand like a lifeline as they seemingly floated through space for a moment.
“Iz-“ he tried, but his voice was lost in the mist, he couldn’t even see Izuku, or his own hand, or anything other than a smoky green fog.
After a long, uncertain time, the mist cleared and the two were in a house, the front door behind them. It opened into a white and blue kitchen connected to the living room, which have a couch and a loveseat facing a tv next to a window.
There was a small hallway which had four doors, assumably bedrooms, bathroom, and a laundry. Hitoshi took it in while Izuku acted as if he’d lived here forever, he stepped into the kitchen and washed his hand that was covered in Hitoshi’s half dried blood.
Hitoshi tried not to cringe as he saw the sink turn red.
“This is one of my dad’s safehouses, still in Musutafu,” Izuku told him, they were both born in Musutafu, so it was nice to be back in their city.
“Does he know about… this?” Hitoshi gestured to himself and Izuku, then the house.
Izuku tilted his head, “of course not, we haven’t been in touch since my mother’s death,” he replied with a small laugh, Hitoshi frowned and took a hesitant step forward.
“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” he said softly after a moment, resisting the urge to hold Izuku’s hand and squeeze it comfortingly, or hug him and kiss his forehead.
“No, it’s ok, I’ll never blame you for asking questions,” Izuku reassured and closed the gap, his hand reaching out and intertwining with Hitoshi’s. they smiled and decided to cook something, after all, they’d been in Tartarus for 3+ years, only eating cheap bland foods.
“Is there anything other than soup or foods that take forever to expire?” Hitoshi asked with disappointed and shut another cupboard filled with canned food.
“This is a safehouse, it’s not meant to be visited often so there’s only food here that will last,” Izuku reasoned with a shrug, shutting cupboard of his own and sighing.
“Either we eat soup, or we go outside and get something,” Izuku declared, but even he was dejected.
Neither of them wanted to eat plain old soup, but neither had been outside in years, they had no idea what life was like out there, no idea where stores were and no idea how to interact with anyone other than each other.
“Maybe we just eat soup for today and get something tomorrow,” Hitoshi offered with an uneasy smile.
“Alright, we can do that, tomorrow it is!” Izuku cheered with enthusiasm Hitoshi had no idea where he got, “how about we practise? We can pretend we’re strangers!” he suggested and ran to the front door, pretending to re-enter as a different person.
Hitoshi grinned and went along with him.
“Hello, how are you?” Hitoshi asked slightly awkwardly, with a big clearly fake smile.
“Hi! I’m good, how are you?” he asked back, before whispering with a giggle, “lose the scary smile, I might run away!”
“I’m good, can I interest you in soup?” Hitoshi asked more blandly, without the smile.
“Yes! I would like Lentil soup please!” Izuku asked, before bursting out laughing because who the hell goes into a store just to buy lentil soup? Maybe he also laughed because fuck, they were free.
Hitoshi laughs with him, and between their fits he hears Izuku say “happy birthday, Hitoshi,” and he ignore the tears that build in his eyes.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to top this for your birthday,” he said with a chuckle and collapsed on the couch, taking in the room again and breathing in the cosy air.
“This can be for both our birthdays then,” he said and sat next to him, bumping their knees together.
“I didn’t do anything though,” Hitoshi mused, frowning, and fiddling with the hem of the armrest on the couch.
“You gave me a reason to leave, you gave me friendship, you gave me a reason to live,” Izuku listed with pure, soft joy in his voice, a soft smile on his lips that Hitoshi wanted to see forever. Hitoshi loved the sappy side of him.
“Thanks,” Hitoshi said, perhaps not the smartest thing to say, but true. “I think you gave me a reason to live too,”