Chapter Text
Hisashi sighed as he noticed the telltale mark. They weren't even back to the hideout and already he had shit to deal with. Some capricious little brat had learned to read too early, and scrawled some wobbly concerned nonsense on his son's forearm. Well, better late than never, he supposed. He sat his son down in an alley not too far from his destination, but far enough from that old house that he wasn't too concerned about getting caught. His son, still sobbing with fat tears rolling down plump cheeks hadn't noticed it yet. Hisashi softly ran his fingers through curled hair, whispering softly until Izuku's tears ran dry.
"Izuku? Look at me," he spoke quietly. Izuku unburied his face from his chest and looked at him with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. "Everything is okay now, my boy. You're with me now. I won't ever let you be taken away from me again, alright?" Izuku sniffed and gave a hesitant nod. "But I need you to understand now, okay? Do you see this mark on your arm? This is made by someone else. Someone who thinks they have a right to your body. They'll write on you. They'll promise you comfort and hope but they'll lie. Do you know what a lie is? It's when someone tells you a story that they know is wrong, but they want you to believe it anyway. They'll make you hurt too." He paused and softened his eyes as he saw the tears well up again. "And my boy I am so sorry, but the pain they give you is the only pain I won't be able to protect you from. But for everything else, for everything I'll be here to watch over you."
Izuku nodded again, his wide eyes beginning to droop with exhaustion. Hisashi scooped him up, tucked his little head back towards his chest, and began walking again. Everything was going to be okay, and nobody was going to lure away what was rightfully his.
---
When Izuku was almost five, his curiosity overcame him and he pulled back the long black sleeves that always covered his forearms. He recognized the marks now. Dad always helped him with letters and numbers during the day if he wasn't too busy. They were words, multiple lines written down his skin in a conversation. Two different inks talking to each other. One asked about another's pain, the other said something about training, and the other wrote back something angry, something possessive, and Izuku shuddered and pulled the sleeve over again.
His own training hurt enough as it was. After numbers and letters was sparring and combat where all he could do was try to dodge and keep up with people so much bigger than him. Even with his little knife gripped in small hands, he never had a chance. in the early hours of morning, he felt much the same sort of punishments, hits that never bruised, scrapes that never bled, reminding him of his failures. Maybe if he got better, maybe if he fought back more, he wouldn't have to take twice the pain for each lesson.
---
Izuku was six when he first held a man at his mercy. Slashed Achilles tendons and a knife pressed against the kidney, he finally won some genuine praise from his dad. His pride swelled in his chest and he beamed at the man. Maybe now, a dark voice thought through the warm glow, maybe now he won't be punished again in the morning. Maybe he's done enough.
As if to ridicule him, it's at that very moment that his face alights with fire. He screams, clutching his hands over his left eye. He thinks his dad is breathing fire on him again, scalding the the skin in blinding, searing pain worse than ever before. He turns to run, no room to think, blindly finding his way to his own little space under the stairs. His dad finds him, of course he did, though Izuku is barely aware beyond the heavy approaching footsteps. He wimpers and turns away, trying desperately to calm the breath hitching in his chest. He doesn't know if he could survive more right now, and flinches when he feels a hand on his shoulder.
"My boy, it's okay, I'm here. They did this to you, didn't they? They hurt you again?"
Izuku brushes shaking fingers against his cheek and finds no blisters, no marks that reflected the agony he had felt. He uncurls, still shaking, and meets his dad's eyes.
"I- I'm sorry," he sobs. His dad looks at him with just a touch of confusion and he continues, rushing through the words. "It hurt- it hurt and it burned and I thought it was you and I ran but- but it wasn't you and I should have trusted you cuz you never would hurt me this bad."
His dad ruffles his hair "You know I wouldn't hurt you without reason. I know I gotta teach you some hard lessons sometimes, but that's just so you'll be safe when you're out there for real. You made me so proud today and I could never punish you for that."
Izuku nods, looking down from those overwhelming eyes. "May I- can I be done for today? Please?"
His dad gives a gentle noise of agreement, letting him know he's done more than enough, and leaves him to his thoughts.
Izuku wipes the last of the tears from his eyes on his sleeve. His sleeve. His stupid horrible sleeve that he always has to wear so that he doesn't have to read the lies of the people who hurt him. A sudden rage fills him. How dare they do this to him! It could have been the best day of his life and they had to go and ruin it again like they always do! He ripped off his shirt, then tugged off his sleeves to glare angrily at his skin. Red ink was already carving in new lines. Words and concern and questions that marred his skin. Writing on him, his body and he was never able to wash it off on his own. On impulse, he grabbed a pen. He just wanted to make a mark, something HE could control, that HE chose to put there. He jabbed the pen into his skin, and scrawled his anger.
'FUCK YOU HOW DARE YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU YOU PIECES OF SHIT LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE'
He sniffed again, clearing his eyes to look at his arm. Finally, something his, scratched roughly over unwanted text. But more movement caught his attention. More lines, and, he noticed curiously, they seemed to be writing *around* his own.
'I'm sorry' and 'Oh shit this one is finally talking to us' appeared at the same time, above and below his marks.
Could they- could they actually see his writing, they same way he could see theirs? Was it not as one sided as he thought? The one in red seemed concerned, Izuku had thought, hoped, that maybe he was just regretting going overboard, but the questions didn't align right. If they could see the ink, and the ink was shared... The puzzle pieces slammed into place. He had to confirm, he had to know but it felt right. He lifted the pen again.
'Am I feeling your pain?'
He waits a beat, then new text appears in that same blue ink as the apology earlier.
'Did you not know?'
He feels a flash of embarrassment, tinged with anger.
'Know what?' he writes back.
'We're you're soulmates' Blue writes evenly. 'You've always felt our pain just as we felt yours.'
'That's how we knew you were there, even though you never bothered to talk to us,' hastily appears in red.
Izuku is speechless. He stares in bewilderment at this new information. This was never just one sided? They knew, they felt, just as much as he did. Tears prick his eyes, blurring the words as relief mingled with sorrow. All this time. All this time he thought the words would hurt him just as much as everything else. He know his dad warned him about the pretty lies, but right now he can't bring himself to care. He holds his arm like a treasure, and weeps.
He doesn't hear his dad coming until it's too late.
"What the hell is this?" He growls, as Izuku scrambles to cover his arms. "You wrote BACK??" He shouts, grabbing Izuku's write and pulling his arm out. The writing might as well be in blood for how much it convicts him.
Through terror, Izuku catches the implication. "You knew?! All this time you knew I could write back and you never said anything!"
"That's because you're mine, Izuku. And this filth that marks up your skin thinks you belong to them. You're my flesh and blood and they think they can claim you, well I won't have it!" His voice raises to a shout by the end, drawing the attention of some of the lackeys who quickly look away. "Don't you ever do this again. I'll be watching you."
His dad drops his arm and roughly slams down the bowl of food that he had brought. "Eat. But if I ever catch you doing this again, you'll regret it." He takes the pen from Izuku and storms off, ordering one of the larger men to keep a close eye on his boy. Izuki curls around his arm, watching the writing appear until the dim glow of twilight is no longer enough to read them.
---
Izuku is twelve when he takes his first life. He doesn't mean to, he always tried to stay out of the way when Hisashi dragged him on his missions. But this time the line was broken. Some rival gang member slipped past the leading force and zeroed in on the easy target. Izuku had frantically jabbed with his knife, hoping to just get away, but a stray attack to the man's back caused him to stumble forward, deeper into the blade. His eyes filled with red as his own blood rushed by his ears, even as the fight wore down and Hisashi gave him an approving pat on the back.
It had been six years since he had written on his arms. Six years since he scribbled a hasty explanation of 'can't write, dad will hurt me. Hurt you' and paid dearly for it with weeks of confinement and starvation until even the rats looked appealing. He still watched them write. Day in and day out those lines appeared. Usually they talked to each other, with occasional questions thrown his way, but without responses those had become much less frequent. Tonight, as the din of celebration above wafted down to his little nook, he watched Red and Blue scrawl across his skin.
'Father says that I shouldn't be involved in this soulmate business. That being a pro hero comes with too many risks to have a partner to exploit'
'Well tell him he's a piece of shit cuz when I go pro I'm gonna want you right by side.'
Heroes. He's always heard of them. Hisashi fights them when he goes out. He makes Izuku fight them too, though not as much. He doesn't want Izuku to be taken away. I mean too much as a possession to him, Izuku grumbles internally. He's flicking his picket knife around absentmindedly when an idea comes to him. If he wants to escape, he needs help. Heroes are supposed to help people, and if these people on his skin want to be heroes, maybe he could be one too. Maybe he can save more lives than he takes. He adjusts his hold on his knife, and deliberately pokes his skin just enough to hurt, but not enough to draw blood over the words.
I. want. to. be. a. hero. too.
The writing on his arms speeds up. 'I felt that. Was that you, Third?' comes in red, and below it appears a 'yes' and a 'no' in blue.
Izuku smiles, then pokes /Yes/
He's careful this time. He has his sleeves ready and an ear tuned for company. Red writes question after question, mostly concerning his health, if he's okay, and where has he been for so many years. Blue writes a helpful alphabet as well as simple common words he can select quickly. Izuku taps answers out as quickly as he can, making sure to give enough time for them to pick out the individual letters.
/i am okay for now. dad checks arms every night. pls wash completely so he does not see./
'What's your name?' appears in blue, with emphatic red underlines joining it soon. Izuku chuckles, but hesitates. If Hisashi found out, after all this time. He couldn't imagine what he would do. But these are his people. His partners through everything. As much as he doesn't want to see them hurt, he wants to share this one more piece of his soul.
/never use it/ he responds, then repeats /never/ more forcefully. He waits for both of them to agree, then-
/izuku/
He can hear the noise if the party upstairs shift, and frantically stabs out /go/ with enough force to draw a prick of blood, then pulls on his sleeves. Withing a few minutes, Hisashi appears, but Izuku's expression betrays nothing.
"My boy, come eat with us! Everyone's talking about how you finally gave those assholes what they deserve! You really held your own, didn't ya!"
He gives Izuku a hearty slap on the back as he emerges, faking a smile with crinkling eyes. He can smell the booze on him from here, but follows him dutifully up the stairs. They both returned to the main room of their hideout - a large tv glows in the corner, illuminating dusty couches and littered bottles. It used to be some old business, Izuku supposed. There wasn't much in the way of living space or kitchen, but they made do with plenty of outlets. The top floor, though only at ground level, was a front of a laundromat squished between two other dilapidated businesses. This floor, one down from the top floor, was where the gang conducted business and crashed after a good day.
"Here he is, the man of the hour!" Hisashi boomed, shoving Izuku forward. Cheers and encouragement rang out from the crew.
"Give him some booze!"
"Give him some women!"
"Sic 'em on some cops next time!"
It was all Izuku could do to keep his head straight beneath the cacophony. He had always tried to justify his actions, saying that in his position it was all he could do to protect his family. But now? At the cost of another life? How could he have the gall to say he wanted to be a hero, to save people, when he already had blood on his hands. Even if he saved a thousand, even a million lives, would that pay his debt? Could a life be valued in numbers? Did it even matter?
He was ushered forcefully to one of the more comfortable couches and a beer pressed into his hand. He sat, ungracefully. Hoping he wasn't too noticeable, he gripped is own wrist, and dug his fingernails into skin for just a tiny spark of pain. A moment passed, and the feeling was mirrored on his other wrist. The message was clear.
We're thinking of you.
We're here for you.
We're sorry.
Izuku smiled, genuine. Even if they didn't know he caused the pain intentionally, they still made their presence known, an anchor in the chaos. And maybe, if they could be heroes and still care for him, he could be a hero too.
---
Izuku was 15 when everything went to shit.
Red and Blue, or Bakugou and Todoroki as he had come to know, had just been accepted into UA, the most prestigious hero academy in the country. They spoke to each other, though clearly for Izuku's benefit, about how they could finally get the attention of some pro heroes to help out with their "situation" without being brushed off. They were careful with their wording now, even if Hisashi tended to be too busy nowadays to check his arms regularly. Izuku still pricked his skin to respond, rather than risk even the slightest chance of being caught with his own ink, but the hypervigilance was exhausting.
It had been a night on the tail end of a long stakeout, followed by a raid. Izuku had been the primary lookout, tasked with finding exactly the right time to storm the building. If he was waiting for a moment that he hoped would cause the fewest casualties, nobody mentioned noticing. The raid had been a bust though. The stash of drugs they were hoping to find had already been moved, and the few valuables weren't worth the shed blood. Hisashi had been in a fearsome mood afterwards. Izuku's frayed nerves and lack of sleep caused him to jump at every sound he made as he stomped back through the hideout. Burned faces and bruised eyes trailed in his wake, and Izuku could only hope to hide long enough for the storm to blow over. He had just tucked himself under the stairs when Hisashi hurled one of the crew members down to the cement floor
"You!!" Hisashi roared. "Absolute!" He landed a kick in the man's ribs. "Imbecile!"
Izuku froze. Hisashi landed blow after blow on the man. No matter how he cried out or curled against the onslaught, Hisashi continued. He laid into him with every failure, shouldering all the blame on this one man, though Izuku knew he just wanted an excuse to blow off steam. But when the man coughed up blood, Izuku couldn't take it.
His feet moved before he had a chance to think, and his wiry arms wrapped around Hisashi's infinitely larger ones. "Stop! Stop! It's not his fault, leave him alone! He didn't do anything wrong, it was my fault"
Hisashi backhanded his son without even looking.
"That ain't for you to decide, boy. Don't try to be a fucking hero for this piece of shit."
Izuku saw red.
"You can't tell me what to do! I'll be a hero if it's the last thing I ever do!"
Hisashi whirled around faster than Izuku could blink, close enough for his hot breath to scald his face before slamming him into the wall.
"The fuck did you just say to me, boy? You wanna be a hero? Newsflash kid, I fucking own you. I say jump you say how fucking high? I say launch a raid, you launch. A motherfucking. RAID. And you wanna wait so long next time that I don't get what I want, forget being a hero, I'll make you shank one of these losers yourself. Where in the hell did you even get such a dumbass idea-"
Understanding and hot fury twist Hisashi's face in an instant. He rips Izuku's shirt off, ripping it roughly against his skin. Izuku tries to choke out a protest but his vision is already going dim from the hand on his throat. There, on his arms, is not the worst sort of evidence. They still knew to act as if he didn't exist, but some smudged mention of a hero is still there, and it's enough. Izuku barely sees the fist before it cracks into his skull.
Izuku wakes to the ache in his shoulders. He blinks his eyes, trying to shake off the dizziness. He tries to move to feel his head, but his hands stop short. They're tied, cuffed with something he can't see to the banister above his head. His wrists burn against the weight of his body tugging at them, and when he tries to aleviate it, he finds that his toes can only barely brush the floor. Those are bound too, he realizes with dread. Worst of all, his chest and arms are bare, nothing to hide his marks or protect his chilled skin from the damp air.
He struggles in his bonds, but a gruff growl from the shadows stops him.
"Took you long enough to wake up" Hisashi says quietly, looming over him. "I had half a mind to make sure you never did."
Izuku licks his lips nervously. Hisashi is quiet. Cold. Hisashi has never been cold. His rage runs hot and wild, his comforting cool and firm. Never cold. He can't even begin- no, he doesn't even WANT to imagine what's going through his mind right now. He wants to twist and pull at his restraints, anything to get away, but the unwavering gaze fixes him in place.
Hisashi draws gentle knuckles along his forearms, sending shivers to the base of his spine. "I've tried teaching you." Hisashi whispers. Even his breath is cold now, no stray flames dripping forth. "I've tried pushing you in the right direction. I've tried rewarding good behavior. But this-" Hisashi thumbs a rough finger over gentle handwriting. Izuku's breath comes out in a whine, and he flinches away. "This can't continue. You know that, don't you? But they don't." Izukus eyes snap open, wide and wary. "So I'm going to have to teach them too."
Hisashi pulls out a pen. Without breaking eye contact with Izuku, he writes. The pen digs into his arm, nearly breaking the skin, the pain guaranteeing that the words are noticed immediately.
'Do not touch my son again'
The responses come almost instantly.
'Who are you!?'
'What are you doing with Izuku??'
Hisashi drops the pen, and pulls out a razor-sharp blade. With a quick motion, he slips the knife under the skin, and whips off a perfect filet of flesh. Izuku bites back a cry as his flesh sears hot and white.
"I told you didn't I?" Hisashi says, dangling the skin with 'Izuku' in front of his face. "You belong to me. And I am going to free you of these pests once and for all."
---
Aizawa's first indication that something is wrong is a muffled grunt from Bakugou, followed by a mumbled curse, which, in all fairness, isn't much of a warning at all. He's about to tell him to stop writing love notes on his arms when both he and Todoroki react to... something. Bakugou snarls and slams a hand onto his left wrist. Todoroki jolts back in his chair and sucks air in through clenched teeth. For the highest pain tolerant students he's seen in year, this display is frankly alarming.
"Bakugou, Todoroki, are you quite alright?"
"We're fine," Bakugou growls. "But this," he gestures to his arm, "it's our third, it's Izuku. That fucker-"
"Language!" Iida interrupts haughtily.
Bakugou glares straight at him, though is still hunched defensively over his arm as he spits out "That cocksucking motherfucker is doing something to Izuku and- Augh, FUCK what the hell is this??"
"Todoroki, you're feeling this too?" Aizawa asks.
Todoroki squints, as if he can hardly bear to keep his eyes open, and gives a stiff nod.
Aizawa runs his hands through his tangled mane if hair. "Alright, we'll get you two to the nurse's office." He speaks into an intercom "Get me a sub for class 1-A. Something's come up." He looks back at his students, " You two, come with me. We'll figure this out as we go."
He trails after the two boys - if they didn't know the way to the nurse by now, Aizawa would have to check them for brain damage - and notes the continued tension and flinches from both of them. After a particularly noticeable twinge, Todoroki stops. He turns a fierce, icy glare to his arm, and speak with barely restrained fury.
"That bastard is cutting off every piece of skin we've ever marked."
Aizawa and Bakugou both turn to him in alarm. Bakugou released firecracker pops from his palms in frustration. "Why the hell- fucking OUCH why the fuck can't we go to him?" He growls with a stutter.
Aizawa grabs their shoulders. The amount of agony these boys must be in to react even this much twists his stomach, but in the face of their bravery he doesnt show it. "Do you have any idea where he is? Has he ever given you a name? Have you felt a recurring quirk through him? What do you know of his situation?"
Todoroki responds coolly but Aizawa can see his hands flexing stiffly. "His name is Izuku. He hardly ever speaks to us, and based on... things..."
"One time we could feel him starving for like a month, like he got just enough food to make his stomach try to eat itself."
"He mentioned his father would hurt him. I don't-" he winces, then continues "I don't know why, but he can't speak to us freely. We... have no idea where he his."
"You asked about a quirk, right? I've felt him get burned more times than I can count. I bet my gauntlets his dad has a fire quirk."
Aizawa takes a deep breath and let's it out slowly. One name. Probably a first name, and one of the most common types of quirk in existence. In terms of leads it's nothing, but he's had worse. "Get yourselves to the nurse. Record whatever you feel and keep Recovery Girl informed. I don't think I need to tell you that you are NOT to contact him through your soul mark again. I'll handle it from here."
With that, he turns, and marches straight to the principals office to demand some emergency leave, among other things. It's time to call in some favors.
---
When they're alone, they finally break.
"What are we going to do?" Bakugou whispers. He's leaning his head in his hands, and Todoroki can see his forearms twitching in time with the searing heat alighting on his own. He's never seen Bakugou so distraught, and for once he feels the same.
"We'll have to contact him. I don't know how but we need something, anything. If- if he can just send us an address we can-"
"Are you fucking listening to yourself right n- OW FUCK! The elbow? Really?!"
Todoroki resists the urge to rub his own arm after that particularly vicious one. It seems unfair to give himself any sort of soothing or comfort when he doubts Izuku has that same privilege.
After a moment, Bakugou leans his head back and speaks softly to the ceiling. "We're doing this to him, you know. If it weren't for us, his dad wouldn't be doing this. He didn't even write anything that time. That was all us." Todoroki thumbs away a frustrated tear from Bakugou's check. "This is all our fault. Some fucking heroes we are, huh."
"This isn't our fault. The blame lies solely with the one hurting him right now. That's not you. It's not me. It's him. We'll figure something out. And when we find him, that bastard will suffer tenfold."
Bakugou snorts out a cynical laugh. "I don't think I've ever seen you so pissed, Half-n-Half." He stops himself from his next laugh, which sounded suspiciously like a sob, but Todoroki won't mention it. "He wanted to be a hero."
Todoroki lays a hand on his shoulder. Grief coils in his gut and squeezes his lungs, but he doesn't let it show. The words hang heavy in the still air. What else can be said? The comfort they give each other feels superficial, when they know there is someone else who needs it more. But in the silence, questions whirl through his mind unbidded.
How much longer will this go on?
How much more can he take?
What must he think of us now?
"How much skin do you think he has left?"
Todoroki whips around in horror as Bakugou slaps a hand over his mouth, seeming equally appalled to have let that question slip out. Before he can reel in his shock to arrange a semblance of response, the world goes white with agony.
---
It would have been easier, Izuku thought, if he could have been alone. If his pain had been his own, maybe he could have simply drifted away and let it happen to his body. But every ounce of flesh peeled away is shared, and his partners can't even prepare by watching as the knife approaches. But nothing could have prepared him for this. His skinless flesh bubbles and hisses with a messy, amateur cauterization. He couldn't have held back his scream even if he wanted to. More tears come unbidden. His heart is rabbitting in his chest. He feels lightheaded and lost. He can't make sense of what he sees, though he's been looking at the same gruff face for an eternity. The face that whispers sweet condolences and thorny comfort. That says "I'm helping you." And "you'll feel better when this is all over" and "Now you won't forget you're mine."
Mine
Mine
The word ricochets through his skull, rattling through his empty carcass. The word appears again and again, black ink dug into his collarbone. His chest. His bicep. The knuckles of one hand. The palm of the other. Under his right eye. Above his left. Everywhere this man can reach, he marks his claim. Izuku will never forget.
---
It's been two weeks since the nightmare, and his arms are still tender and raw. Hisashi had assigned a permanent guard, so he wouldn't have been able to read new messages even if the others were brazen enough to try again. He had been isolated, kept to his book under the stairs, huddled under that constant reminder. The isolation from the crew isn't so bad. And even if he misses the sun, nothing quite compares to the loneliness of missing his partners.
He wondered idly if they hated him. It was his fault that they had been hurt. If it hadn't been for him, if he had just been born normal and let them be a pair without him, they wouldn't have had to suffer. Their whole lives, he had probably made them feel ignored, adding to their hurts while giving nothing back, and now this. There's no going back from this.
But as the days wear on, his confinement becomes suffocating. He can't do this anymore. He has to get out. And there's only two people he can turn to.
He remembers a certain pattern. One that Hisashi taught him long ago to use in absolute emergencies. Laying a thumb on his wrist, he can already feel a flare up as the charred skin reacts to the touch. He braces himself, and then-
*press press press. Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. Press press press*
---
Bakugou and Todoroki exchange a look. They both felt it. That constant burning ache had flaired up in odd rhythm that didnt quite match a heartbeat. It was intentional. Somewhere in the world there was someone who needed their help, and had found a way to send out an SOS.
---
When Aizawa glanced up from his work to the sound of two students crashing in through his door, he was not expecting to hear "Morse code!" shouted louder than Yamada on a good day. And yet, here he was, trying to rub the ringing out of his ears while his students clamoured out an explanation.
"His dad can't see his pain, just the words!"
"Even if he shows signs of pain in front of his father, he is unlikely to catch on to the true nature of it."
"It fucking sucks that this bastard is going to make us hurt Izuku more, but this could work!"
"We can be discreet, and even if he doesn't know Morse code now, he knows the order of the alphabet at least so we can teach him"
"And he can talk back to us to! He can tell us where he is! It's foolproof"
Aizawa held up his hands, stopping the tirade while internally cringing at the word "foolproof" No hero to earn his salt ever called a plan fool proof, since there were a great many fools in the world, but he couldn't help but feel in agreement. It wouldn't be easy, but the plan was logical and had a significant chance of success with low risk.
"How do you know he is even aware of Morse code? It hasn't been used in hundreds of years."
"He sent us an SOS."
Aizawa's eyes widened just a fraction. "Did he, now? Then I think you're right. This could work. Don't overdo it, but let me know as soon as you've made progress. I have a few leads to follow in the meantime."
His tone made it clear that they were dismissed, but the relief on their faces was palpable as they left, already muttering plans. Aizawa turned back to his notes, and continued piecing the clues together. A picture was finally coming into view.
---
Two hours after his SOS, Izuku felt a pinch on his shoulder. Then another. A rhythm formed, then repeated. Izuku cried messy, silent tears with his back turned to his captor. They responded to him! After everything they were still here for him. Being excruciatingly aware of the risk of getting caught, he made sure all of his movements were natural and hidden as best he could. Then, he pinched his other arm in response. He mimicked the same short pattern, but only once, and waited.
A new pattern pricked his arm this time. A different series of shorts and longs, and Izuku felt warmth blooming in chest. An ember of hope he had long since forgotten.
He didn't know what message they were to send. He didn't know how to tell them that SOS was all he knew of Morse code. He would just have to figure it out along the way. And maybe, just maybe, he could finally be free.
---
It was several more days before they had anything substantial to report. Communicating through Morse was far more difficult than they could have expected. Izuku could only respond for short windows of time, and both sides felt the frustration of not being understood. Finally, they seemed to be on the same page, and even though the messages were short and prone to errors, they were generally recognizable.
Aizawa had narrowed down the targets - Hisashi and Izuku Midoriya who had appeared to be part of a large and fairly influential gang, though the latter hadn't been spotted since the whole... incident. Hisashi, known as Dragon on the streets, was adept at covering his tracks. He or his henchmen had been consistently slipping away from underground heroes during the last few days of surveillance. Whether Dragon knew he was being followed, or was simply always this cautious, it was clear that their time was running out.
And then, finally, they had a location. Izuku had just transmitted a street name and building number earlier that day, and Aizawa already had a team ready to go. If nothing else, the surveillance and background research had at least given them a decent idea of the forces they would be going against. Now, all they had to do was act.
---
Once Izuku had figured out that they were just going through the alphabet, and man did he ever want to slam his head against the wall for overlooking such a simple explanation, he had to somehow get them to start over at the beginning since he had completely lost count of how many they had done, all while still not knowing any morse. At one point he felt a distinctive flick on the forehead and all he could think was 'yeah, I deserve that.'
But now, finally, he was able to give them solid information covertly. As long as he wasn't seen in the actual act, there was no evidence to his betrayal. It was still clumsy. He knew he had messed up somewhere, but he hoped they could piece it together eventually. A few more days? Weeks? At least the longer he had to wait, the better he would get at conveying information.
He certainly hadn't expected a horde of heroes the same night.
From his place under the stairs, he could hear a quiet scuffle, somehow more intense yet more subdued that the usual rowdy crew. The noise quickly escalated, bodies dropping to the floor one by one until someone shouted and raised the alarm. He was instantly drowned out by something like a voice or a jet engine, Izuku couldn't tell much from his bleeding ears, and then all he heard was chaos.
His guard looked around frantically, then gave a wolfish grin. He yanked Izuku out by the hair, ignoring his flailing protests, and pressed a blade to his throat.
"You or me kid, and I ain't ready to die."
A hero leapt down the stairs, eyes flashing red and a scarf of some sort hovering about his shoulders. "Let me out of here alive or the kid gets it!" the guard shouted immediately.
Izuku meets the man's eyes. Everything is happening in him, his hope of rescue, his lingering fear of being associated with the villains, his worry about the knife yet his fierce resolve to be free. He doesn't know how much of it shows; how much he can communicate with just his eyes, but something like understanding flickers in the man's furious scowl.
Another pro hero makes her appearance and wow he has never seen so many gaudy colors on one person before. He hardly has time to register that she's saying something because he's pretty sure his eyes are burning, but the man behind him starts laughing. It sets his teeth on edge all at once because this is not how someone should be laughing right now. But then the grip on his neck loosens, and the man collapses in a heaving fit below him.
Izuku is stunned, but before he can move, the scarf snaps around his captor, binding him. The man with red eyes steps up to him in three long strides.
"Izuku? Come with me. We're getting you out of here once and for all."
The dam breaks, and Izuku can see nothing more beyond the tears.
---
Aizawa never leaves his side. From the moment he wrapped his arm around this kid, he seemed to just melt into the hold. Aizawa guided him up the stairs, past the rubble and the cleanup of villains. Present Mic gave him a quick thumbs up while he was holding out the final seconds of a sleeper hold, and Aizawa gave him a nod in acknowledgement. He steered Izuku out the door and to the waiting paramedics. The kid didn't even flinch at the light shined in his eyes, not did he seem to notice the blanket draped over his shoulders. When an EMT hoisted him onto a stretcher, Aizawa would have thought he was asleep if not for his eyes being open. He joined the kid in the back of the ambulance, flashing his hero license to an apprehensive aide.
The ride was as quiet as an ambulance ride could be. The kid wasn't in any immediate mortal danger but those burns were long overdue for proper treatment. He answered questions to the nurses as best he could, especially about the injuries in the arms. Somehow he doubted that even Present Mic could bring the kid out of his daze to answer himself. Speaking of, Aizawa shot off a text to the man himself with a quick update before they reached the hospital.
The too-clean air felt icy as he followed behind the gurney. A quick check-in and an open room later,and Aizawa found himself alone with the kid who had miraculously dozed off at some point during the transfer. With time to spare, he texted an update to the principal as well, just glad that the worst was over.
---
Izuku awoke to white lights and white ceiling tiles and white walls on a white bed with white sheets. For a moment, he could swear the air he breathed was white too, and absolutely none of it felt real.
"Good to have you back, Midoriya"
Izuku jumped at the gruff voice, bolting upright and nearly launching himself for the bed before he saw the source.
It's not Hisashi. He's not here, it's okay.
He tried to slow his breathing, but too much was unkown. Where even was this place? Who was this frumpy old man watching him sleep?? Is he actually safe? Is this another prison? Is someone else here to hurt him? Trap him?
The man held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Easy there, kid. You're safe now. I'm pro hero Eraserhead. Nice to finally meet you face to face."
One word stood out. Izuku squinted. "Finally?"
"I suppose they never got a chance to tell you, did they? I'm Bakugou and Todoroki's homeroom teacher at UA." He paused for a beat, then smirked. "Would you like to 'finally' meet them too?"
For once in his life, Izuku found himself speechless. His partners. His red and blue ink on his skin. His skin flayed off and burned. Hasty messages. Comfort, betrayal, secrets in the lonely dark. It was so much. Too much. He almost shook his head 'no'. But hadn't it been long enough?
Before he could change his mind, he gave a small nod. Eraserhead's smirk spread to a genuine smile. He had the phone to his ear before he could blink, and barely a heartbeat later they burst through the door.
The striking blond haired one threw the door open first, followed closely by a tall boy with red and white hair. For a moment there is silence and the three of them soak in the moment. Eraserhead shuffles past them, muttering "I'll be out in the hall if you need anything" and then they are alone.
Alone together.
Izuku feels the moisture gathering behind his eyes and sniffs. The sound shatters the silence. Both of the others rush forward, clasping one of his hands in each of theirs. His swimming eyes meet theirs - red and blue.
"B- Bakugou? Todoroki?"
The blonde - Bakugou - breathes out a relieved laugh as Todoroki says "Yes, Izuku. It's us. We're here."
Izuku let's the tears flow. "I'm so sorry! All this time I've just been hurting you and never talking to you and doing nothing in return. You're hurt because of me and it's my fault you can't even use your soul marks with each other and I couldn't do anything and I made you f- feel all of that and it wasn't fair to you and I'm so sorry!"
Bakugou and Todoroki share a glance, and they laugh. Izuku looks at them, utterly bewildered.
"I think you've just said more to us in that one breath than you have in our whole lives," Todoroki says. Izuku feels like he's twisting a knife in the guilt he already feels, but the tone is gentle, kind.
"Hah! Who knew our third would be such a chatterbox in person?" Bakugou grins.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could have talked to you more. I just-"
"It's okay. Please don't be hard on yourself for circumstances outside of your control. You have nothing to apologize for."
"What he means to say is 'Fuck your dad but you're cool though'."
Izuku laughs at that. He can feel relief washing away some of that constant tension in his shoulders, like he can finally relax under those red and blue eyes. There's so much he wants to tell them. So much he wants to ask them. But everything is all tangled and swirling and he can't even begin to unravel it.
There's just one thing. A tiny simple thing outside of the weight of everything else, that still piqued his curiosity. He wonders if it should be normal, and if he's just the odd one out, but it's still not something he could have expected, so he asks:
"Why are you both wearing gloves?"
Todoroki gives his hands a gentle squeeze, but it's Bakugou who answers, "We don't want to touch you yet."
Izuku recoils, pulling his hands from theirs. Is he disgusting to them? Do they know there was blood on these hands? Do they really not want him after all?
"Why?" He manages, shakily.
"We want to feel you in case-" he shoots a glance at Todoroki, who stiffens. Something passes between them, he can see that much, but he's still drowning in too much already to make it out. Bakugou averts his eyes from both of them and shrugs. "In case anything happens. You know, just as a backup if it comes to that."
"I don't- What do you mean, you want to... to *feel* me but you don't want to touch me?"
It's Todoroki who realizes. "Of course. He never told you about this either. Once we touch, we lose the ability to feel each other's pain."
"If anything happens to you, we want to know about it. So we can't touch you just yet."
Oh. So that was it. There was just so much he didn't know. So much Hisashi had kept from him. His partners were already enrolled in the best high school in the country and he hadn't even gone to elementary. He was so far behind before he even had the chance to get to the starting line.
"What happens now?" He asked weakly.
"For now, we need to wait till you heal up so the doctor can discharge you. Aizawa-sensei seems to have something planned for you after that, but we're not sure exactly what."
Doctor? So this is a doctor's office? Or maybe a hospital? Izuku glances around the room. So this is what they look like from the inside. Huh. He always thought they would be busier, louder. But the room is quiet save for a low whirring hum.
"How long do you think I'll be-" he doesn't say 'trapped here' but his stomach still sinks from the realization. He's not allowed to leave until someone else says so.
Bakugou and Todoroki don't seem to know either. Todoroki goes to grab Eraserhead - Izuku belatedly figures that he's Aizawa - to see if he knows anything more, while Bakugou reaches back out for his hand. Izuku hesitates, not wanting to risk brushing against his skin, but ultimately settles into the comforting grip. When Todoroki comes back, he's followed closely by Aizawa. Izuku reaches hesitantly for his partner, and he slips his gloves hand into Izuku's outstretched one before Aizawa addresses him.
"Won't be too much longer, kid. I pulled some strings to get Recovery Girl in here - she has a healing quirk - so you should be ready to go tonight or in the morning."
He scratches his head. "I won't make promises I can't keep, but I'm putting something together for you after that. I'll let you know once it's confirmed."
Izuku looks away. He doesn't want to complain, but here again is yet another adult keeping secrets from him. He fiercely decides it doesn't matter. No matter how many people hold him back, he's going to fight back and catch up no matter what it takes. He grips the hands in his, and feels two equally strong squeezes back. He can do this. As long as he's not alone, he can do anything.