Work Text:
Soaring through the sky with his capture weapon was Shinsou’s favourite part of his patrols, but falling towards the ground, hurtling headfirst towards the concrete was not the same experience.
The sky was clear. It was just him, the chill, and the streetlights. He didn’t see the villain until they slammed into him mid-leap, his stomach dropping at the sudden impact.
Instinctively, Shinsou threw out his capture weapon, aiming for a balcony to his left. But the villain twisted until they were both spinning in the air, the world turning in a whirlwind of flashing lights, brick, and darkness. His weapon flapped uselessly above him, almost tauntingly.
Something sharp bit into his side. Shinsou cried out, bucking against the villain like a colt with a horse-fly. But the villain didn’t budge and tightened his talon-like grip on his waist.
The villain outweighed him, outmatched him in strength, and fighting while having no control of his environment, falling closer and closer to the ground, Shinsou knew he wasn’t going to get out of the villain’s grip. He needed to think. He needed a plan instead of blindly reacting in panic.
An idea sparked, and Shinsou kicked out before wrapping his legs around the villain’s waist. They struggled against him, their grip squeezing the air out of his lungs. But Shinsou tightened his thighs hard enough to bruise. This had to work.
With a guttural yell, Shinsou pivoted mid-air, twisting until he was above the villain, driving them both towards the ground.
The villain roared in his face, but Shinsou ignored him, and instead threw his cloth out again towards the buildings they were speeding past. With the rain stinging against his eyes and the wind rushing around him, it was almost impossible to see if his throw worked. He continued to fall, waiting for that tell-tale snag that his weapon had looped around something.
A sharp tug against his fingers sent a flare of hope through him. He braced himself. This was going to hurt.
The weapon went taut, and Shinsou yelled as pain ripped through his arms as he held tight, gliding through the alleys, his legs still wrapped tight around the villain as they swung towards the ground.
They spun in a dizzying spiral, the villain desperately trying to twist themselves free. From this height, they wouldn’t die, but Shinsou didn’t want to push his luck. So, he held on, locking his ankles together behind the villain’s back. A hero saved everyone, even if said someone was trying to get them both killed.
The ground quickly approached. The road was coming at them at an alarming speed. Shinsou twisted the weapon further up his forearms and braced, pulling at the cloths, desperate to slow their landing. The cloth strained against his arms. It ground against his bones until he was sure he’d break them. He just needed to get close enough to drop the-.
Something hot and sharp flared in his leg. Shinsou screamed, his voice distorted inside his chord device. Instinctively, without meaning to, Shinsou opened his grip and the villain fell, landing on the ground like a cat that weighed a thousand pounds. The concrete around them cracked and buckled under their weight, but they looked unharmed as if they hadn’t fallen at least twenty feet.
Shinsou fought with his grip on his capture weapon as he flung himself into an open alleyway, smacking against a dumpster with a hard thunk. He dropped heavily, a surge of pain shocked through his knees as they hit the ground first, his hands stinging as they caught him from landing on his face.
“Fuck…” Shinsou groaned as he traced his hand along his thigh, his fingers coming away wet at the tear of his hero costume. Without wasting time, Shinsou unravelled a part of his capture weapon and hastily wrapped it around his leg. The wound was hot to the touch and felt deep. “Fuck. Okay. Breathe-.” Shinsou took a large breath. “Calm down. Get help.” Aizawa’s lessons sped through his mind, as shaky fingers reached into his belt, pressing the emergency button on his burner.
He pressed it again, some part of his mind thinking that if he didn’t, no one would come. He needed them to know he was in trouble. He needed help, and fast.
The sound of footsteps came from behind him.
He pushed himself onto his feet, the gravel slipping under his shoes. He flung his weapon up into the depths of the alley. The grey cloth almost disappeared in the dark, the alleyway unlit and pitch black. The weapon pulled, and Shinsou braced himself, bending at his knees as he sprung into the air.
His feet barely left the ground as a weight bulldozed into his back. He yelled, twisting, pulling the weapon free before it snapped his neck. The villain pressed down, all but pinning him to the ground. But Shinsou didn’t train under Eraserhead to be outdone by someone bigger than him. Shinsou turned with his arm pulled back and punched at the villain’s temple.
The villain yelled as they let go. Shinsou kicked out, shoe connecting with the villain’s chin, propelling Shinsou backwards as he scrambled away. The villain snarled; lips pulled back to reveal two rows of pointed silver teeth. Shinsou kicked at his face again, but the villain snatched his foot out of the air. There was an awful moment where Shinsou could only stare in shocked horror as the villain grinned triumphantly. And then they pulled. Shinsou yelled as he was dragged underneath the villain once more.
Shinsou bucked as the villain loomed over him. A fist collided with his jaw, sparking a thousand stars in his eyes. Blood sprang from his lips, a dribble of it dangling from his chin as he tried to right the spinning world above him. But another fist came, and then another, blowing hard into his face.
Shinsou snapped his hips up, dislodging the villain as they tried to find their balance. With a practised move, Shinsou wrapped his legs around the villain’s throat and yanked down, hard. The villain jerked backwards, letting out a surprised choking sound as their hands clawed at Shinsou’s shins.
“Who are you?” Shinsou panted, tightening his legs, locking his ankles around each other. His quirk buzzed inside his brain, but the villain only renewed their struggle. “Hey ugly, I’m talking to-.”
Shinsou screamed. Hot blood burst around the metal silver teeth lodged into his calf.
“You fucking bit me?” Shinsou shrieked, almost hysterically as he wrenched his leg away, screaming as muscle and flesh tore away into strips. A gust of light-headedness swooped over him as he watched a slab of his muscle slap onto the concrete. He was going to be sick. “Oh, fuck.”
Pushing down the nausea rolling in his stomach, Shinsou flipped onto his stomach and crawled forward. The gravel cut his fingers as his nails dug into the concrete. He just needed time to recover. Time to think.
But the leering shadow above him didn’t give him that.
A hand yanked at his hair, the strands stinging against his scalp. They tightened their hold, his hair ripped from its roots. Suddenly, the concrete grew closer. And then it went black, Shinsou’s mind vanishing for a second before consciousness snapped back to him. His head pounded. Wetness ran from his nose, the taste of blood slipping onto his lips and onto his teeth. His mask bit into his skin, the metal parts that controlled the sound had broken off and were hanging on, dangling from his face.
Shinsou groaned, his head lolling in the villain’s grip.
The villain pressed closer. Shinsou’s back was to their chest. His hands weakly fought against the fingers in his hair, but he couldn’t get them to coordinate properly. Lights and shapes floated in his vision. He blinked hard, trying to get the world back into focus.
Shinsou felt lips against his ear. He flinched, remembering sharp, pointed teeth.
“Don’t know why they asked me to catch a little mouse like you,” the villain said. Shinsou gagged as the villain pressed their nose into his hair and took a long, hard sniff. “An awful waste, but the doctor said he doesn’t need you alive, he just wants your quirk. So, shut up and stop struggling. I ain’t past killing a kid,” the villain said into his ear, the voice sending a chill down Shinsou’s spine. It gave him a sense of clarity through the fogginess in his head.
“What doctor?” He gasped as his hair was yanked again, bearing his throat. A pained wheeze broke past his grinding teeth as he fought against the tears pooling involuntary in his eyes.
The villain laughed. And then they began to walk out of the alley, Shinsou’s hair still in his grip. Shinsou’s feet stumbled underneath him, his right leg wobbling and almost refusing to hold any weight, but he had no choice against the sting on his scalp forcing him to walk forward.
“Wait! Stop! Fuck-! Stop! Hey!” Shinsou yelled, his hands fruitlessly tugging at the villain’s hands. The villain ignored him and yanked him forward, Shinsou’s long legs tripping over each other as he tried to keep up.
A purplish void bloomed at the end of the alleyway. It swirled and licked at the air, but all Shinsou could focus on was the black emptiness in its middle and the pair of golden slits watching him.
They were going to take him.
Shinsou stopped. His shoes skidding across the ground as the villain tugged him forward. He put all his weight into his feet and pushed back into his thighs. The pain forced a cry from him, but he’d take pain over vanishing into that portal. He wasn’t going anywhere near that void. He’d heard the stories of what waited on the other side of that portal; hands that would crumble him until he was nothing but dust.
“Stop fighting,” the villain snapped. Shinsou waited for it, his muscles bunched in his legs. The villain, impatient against Shinsou’s struggling, gave one more sharp tug against his hair. Shinsou pulled against it, yelping at the burning sensation as his hair ripped free from his scalp.
Leaping back, Shinsou pushed himself flush against the wall behind him, panting, terrified. The world was leaning to one side, seemingly slipping from underneath his feet. He had to stomp down to keep his balance, to re-right the world on its axis.
The villain stood in front of the portal, purple strands falling from their hands. They watched curiously as each purple lock fell. Once the last piece fell, the villain looked up with a sickening smile widening on their face.
“Okay, little mouse. Let’s end this.” The villain smirked.
They leapt forward. Shinsou bounced from the wall. He rolled. Ducking himself under the fist that flew over his head. Crouching onto his toes, Shinsou dived between the legs of the villain. He popped upright, and slung his weapon around the villain’s forehead, and then around his chin and shoulders, reining them into his control.
The villain roared as they pulled forward, but Shinsou jumped onto their back, pulling against his capture weapon like he was trying to break a wild horse.
“Did anyone tell you, you look like the dad from Sharktale?.” Shinsou threw out his quirk like a fishnet, hoping for the tiniest response.
But the villain ignored him, and instead reached back, grabbing a handful of Shinsou’s capture weapon, and yanked forward. Shinsou flipped over their shoulders and smacked hard against the floor, the wind knocked out of him.
Before he could catch his breath, the villain swung him up from the ground and into the wall. Shinsou cried out as something cracked, the sound loud in his ears. The villain didn’t let go. They flung Shinsou onto the ground, his body bouncing as he skidded across the concrete.
“Ow.” Shinsou felt blood on his lips as he coughed, droplets landing on his chin. It suddenly felt too hot inside his mask. He shakily pulled it down from his face, wincing as it felt like it was embedded into his skin.
The villain loomed over him, smirking.
Shinsou threw his chord device at their face. And laughed as it bounced from their shiny forehead.
The villain moved, dropping down onto Shinsou’s hips, crushing him under his weight.
“You think it’s funny mocking me?” The villain’s face was red, his eyes bulging.
Shinsou went to speak, but coughed instead, blood spraying from his mouth.
“Aw, did I hurt you?” The villain’s expression changed, and something dark grew in his eyes. “Do you know what I got sent to Tartarus for?”
Shinsou only wheezed as two thick hands wrapped around his neck.
“I used to follow kids on their way home from school. Little boys like you.” The villain pressed down harder.
Shinsou’s breath caught in his throat.
“I’d grab them and hold them like this.” The villain was smiling, their eyes wild and alight with desire. Shinsou gasped as the fingers tightened around his windpipe. He punched against the villain’s inner elbow, bucking his hips, trying to wrap his legs around his neck, every lesson he was ever taught being used all at once.
But the villain only laughed, squeezing until Shinsou couldn’t breathe.
“And then they start to cry, squirming like little worms on a hook.” The villain was almost salivating as he spoke. “Kids don’t really understand death. It scares them, but they don’t understand it as we do.”
Shinsou tried to scream, but it came out as a pained wheeze as he clawed against the villain’s hands, his nails pulling back skin in bloody strips.
“It hurts, and that’s all they understand. They cry for their mommies and daddies.”
Pain burned inside Shinsou’s chest, his lungs desperate for air, gasping, choking down anything he could get. Black spots clouded his vision.
The villain leaned down, their weight pressing further onto Shinsou’s neck, as they spoke into his ear.
“But no one comes for them. They die slowly, in pain, and I get to watch.”
Pressure built inside Shinsou’s head, like a balloon, growing and growing until he felt ready to pop.
‘I don’t want to die,’ he thought, but his hands slowed, his fingers tingling as they fell onto the villain’s, one last attempt to escape until he couldn’t feel them anymore.
“Wonderful,” the villain said past the ringing in his ear. “I’ll see you again when the doctor is don-.”
“GET AWAY FROM MY KID!”
Shinsou’s ears popped. And then the villain was gone, blown away by a gust of wind. Shinsou gasped, reaching for a hold that wasn’t around his throat any more. He still couldn’t breathe.
Two white blurs flew past his vision. And then something black and yellow swam into his vision.
“Hitoshi!” Someone grabbed him, pulling them close to him.
Shinsou pushed away, hands scrambling both against his struggling throat and whoever had him in their hold.
“It’s me, listener. It’s me. Just breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths.”
Instinctively, Shinsou listened, wheezing down air, squeezing it past his swollen windpipe. He knew this voice, but with the buzzing in his head, he couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.
“That’s it. Good boy. Now another one.”
He struggled through another breath. The pain pushed a whine from him.
“I know it hurts, but you can do it.” The person holding him moved, and Shinsou was sure he was in their arms, being carried away from the sounds of fighting all around him. He felt the world tilt and then vanish all at once.
“-shi? Come on, listener, wake up. Just let me know you’re okay.” He felt pressure rubbing on his chest like someone was coaxing air into his lungs. The sound of fighting was gone now, and instead, he could hear the honking on car horns and the pounding of someone’s heartbeat next to his ear.
He opened his eyes, blinking past the drunk feeling after fainting. A black and yellow shape floated above him before it sharpened into two worried, green eyes.
“Hitoshi?”
Shinsou tried to speak, but his throat contorted and twisted until he was coughing hard into a leather jacket. It was only when he wound his hand into the material did he realise he was trembling.
“I got you. Dad’s got you.”
It clicked into place. The familiar voice, the nickname, the leather jacket.
And in one huge crash of relief, a wailing sound ripped through Shinsou as he clung onto Yamada.
“Shh. It’s okay,” Yamada said into his hair, pulling him into his lap.
Shinsou would have been embarrassed if it didn’t hurt so much.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the sound of footprints had him flinching so hard, he almost knocked Mic over.
“It’s just Shouta,” Yamada cooed.
“Is he okay?” Aizawa’s rough voice made everything in Shinsou’s body melt back into easiness, as he leant heavily into Yamada’s chest.
“An ambulance is on its way.”
Aizawa made a noise Shinsou didn’t understand.
“Shou, your hand.”
“It’s just broken.” He heard Yamada tut.
“How bad?”
“The villain won’t be walking into jail, let’s say that much.”
“Shou.”
“He hurt my kid,” Aizawa grumbled.
And despite how much it hurt, how every breath was like swallowing a ball of glass, Shinsou laughed. His parents fell silent around him as he continued. Whether it was a sign that he was going in shock or hysterics, he didn’t know. But being close, having his Pa hold him while his Dad stood guard over them, was almost like pure dopamine being poured into his body.
“You okay, kid?” Aizawa’s voice was closer now, and when Shinsou opened his eyes, he saw Aizawa crouched in front of him.
Shinsou nodded and closed his eyes again.
“He’s still pretty out of it. The villain did a number on him. Look at his leg.” He felt a hand against his leg, moving his uniform to get a better look.
He heard Aizawa stand abruptly.
“Stay. You’ve already beat them senseless. Hitoshi needs you here.”
A second passed.
“Fine,” Aizawa sighed.
Aside from Shinsou’s laboured breathing, silence fell over the three of them. It only broke to the sound of sirens blasting down the street.
“About time.”
“Up we get,” Yamada said as he stood with Shinsou in his arms. His stomach turned with the sudden height difference, but he buried his face into Yamada’s jacket as the paramedic swarmed around him. He was jostled between them before he was placed onto the gurney. “I’ll meet you boys there,” Yamada said as Aizawa climbed into the ambulance. And then the doors closed as the paramedics got to work.
“D-dad?” Shinsou croaked, pitifully, as he felt something pinch in his arm, and the world suddenly slowed.
“It’s just something to help with the pain.” Aizawa’s slipped his hand into his and gave a comforting squeeze.
Shinsou made a noise at the back of his throat as he closed his eyes, hiding from the way the ambulance seemed to twist and turn.
Aizawa squeezed his hand again.
“It’s okay. The doctors are going to fix you up, and then we can all go home.”
Shinsou choked on his next breath. The paramedics slipped something cold over his nose and mouth.
Fighting against the drugs melting his body into a puddle of wooziness, Shinsou squeezed his eyes open and found two dark ones watching him. He needed to tell him.
“Hey,” Aizawa said softly when Shinsou realised he’d just been staring at him.
Shinsou’s tongue was too thick in his mouth as he struggled to get it under control.
“D-doctor.” The word felt too scratchy to be his own voice. “They-. Tried to kidnap me. S-some doctor. Quirk.”
All the colour faded from Aizawa’s face.
“Hitoshi, are you sure?” He heard the agency in Aizawa’s voice, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d never heard his dad sound so scared before.
“Hitoshi?” Aizawa’s eyes were round with fear like they were haunted by something.
But before he could answer, the drugs were pulling Shinsou under, his head lolling to the side as cool oxygen slipped down his throat. It felt nice. And he was safe now, right? Aizawa was there. Aizawa would look after him.
And he let himself slip into unconsciousness, leaving Aizawa and the ambulance behind.