Chapter Text
Blood dripped down his face…eye…lip…temple…fingers…cuts…the other man who towered over him whose blood stained teeth bared at him…where wasn’t blood dripping from. The entire area around him was stained with it and not all of it was theirs.
It overwhelmed his senses and he couldn't shake feeling dirty. He could feel where it dried under his fingernails. He could taste the metallic flavor on his tongue. He could smell it so clearly because it was dripping out of his nose. He couldn't hear it over the screaming bidders and audience members, but seeing the blood drop from his wounds to the floor, he could almost hear it hit. He'd heard it enough times to fill in the drown out sound. No matter how hard he tried not to think about it the overwhelming feeling of disgust and dread never went away. It wasn't like he could wash it off anyway. He needed the little, probably contaminated, water he got to drink. It simply dried into his skin, the fiber of his very being, with a message. It masked who he was and told everyone everything.
Enough blood had spilled to save a life as theirs slowly dripped out. Time was running out. He couldn’t last much longer. He felt his strength leaving him. Five minutes tops. After that time was up he just needed to make sure one thing–
"You better win, you runt!"
"Kill him! I got money on him dying this time!"
The rattling of the cage walls scared him out of his stupor. With his mind back from his overwhelming urge to puke the bile in his stomach he heard the man growl at him. He felt so small and he made sure he knew his place.
“You better take him out boy. You know what happens if you fail.” he snarled.
He was well aware. The precisely aimed hits so he would feel all the pain, but still be able to stand in the cage. Bruises that took months to finally fade. Weak points that were exploited. Days without something to eat, drink, or given any medical supplies. Forced to tend to his own wounds and learned as he went. Broken bones that never healed correctly. Cuts big and gnarly and some small jagged. A tell when he finally learned and gained the courage to stitch himself up. As long as he didn't die. Period. He was useful for them in and out of the cage. At first a bargaining chip but turned into more because of a mistake.
A message that he and others needed to know, to make sure of one thing–
No matter what, he just needed to make sure he was the last one standing.
He would be the one leaving the cage covered in blood and taking that man's face with him. Well not really, but the audience sees it that way. They see the mask he wears to every fight based upon the man who he never knew for sure got up again.
He looked down to the bottle in his hand. A bottle that tied to him so tightly bound around his hands it left scars where the rope had dug in. Those bled too soaking the rope. That's all he was. A show animal with a new party trick every time that kept people crawling back for more. A bloody mess to create more of them.
Who was he really?
He knew his name. He knew their name for him too.
Tanuki. That was what they called him. Although he wasn’t what the beast looked like, he was their little trickster who brought them prosperity and business success.
He only remembered his given name because he kept tracing it into his arm every day so he wouldn’t forget it. He couldn’t forget as that was the only thing he was clinging to of who he was. The one who was hiding behind the mask of Tanuki until it was safe to remove it and show his face. However, who would be under it, wouldn’t be the same person who was there originally. Until he could trace it he repeated the name like a mantra in his head. That was his name. Not Tanuki.
Behind the echoes of the audience screaming bids and threats he could hear his mother's sweet voice telling him to find a hero and never lose his smile. He could hear his father's adoring tone that he was his own hero and he'd never rest to make sure he's safe. Use all his power to make sure he lived how he wanted with his mom as his biggest fan. He still believes them, even if one of them is among the blood stains of the world. He doesn't want to join them. He wants to hold on long enough for them to come. Until then he waves a hand over his face applying his mask before taking a swig from the broken bottle that cuts his lip. It burns going down, but he's getting used to it. He doesn't get used to seeing the green flames that blast out and adding this person he never knew to the bloody tally and might be the next mask he'll wear.
Who is he?
What is he?
A dark haired pro hero nursed his mug of police station coffee, if it could even be called that. It was caffeine and that’s what mattered to him. Even if it did taste like bitter water. He had been called in for a string of raids. He would be part of the team going to the main facility they had located. Underground Masquerade. Some sick person had brought it back after it was finally disbanded a few years ago. Several heroes were sent undercover as bidders and their partners. They were able to gather information on how many locations, some of their quirks, and some serious unspeakable business. They each heard rumors of quirk trafficking, which in this day of age, it’s just a nicer way to say human trafficking. They couldn’t completely get evidence for it because the fights were paid for up front to watch and bid on. The police and hero commission didn’t have that kind of money. Regardless, if they stormed the place at the right time it wouldn’t matter.
“Here babe.” a voice said and Shouta Aizawa looked up seeing an angel, a coffee cup from the local café.
“I love you.” Shouta said, accepting the cup.
Hizashi Yamada, his husband, snorted. “I hope you’re talking to me.”
“Of course.” Shouta said, taking a swig of actual coffee made just the way he liked it, black. He was totally talking to the cup he was holding onto for dear life.
“Sure.” Hizashi said not believing him before sitting down next to him. “Did I miss anything?”
“No. It hasn’t started yet.” Shouta said.
“Ahem.” a voice called, gathering everyone's attention. Several pro heroes and police officers looked toward the front where Detective Tsukauchi stood before them with several files in his hand. “Thank you for coming and agreeing to be a part of this. The more help the better. Roughly four years ago, several heroes, including All Might, aided in shutting the original Underground Masquerade. Since then new villains have brought it back.”
“How do we know they’re new?” an officer asked.
“The villain initially in charge of the masquerade was never caught, but All Might has been on his trail. Unfortunately this trail has gone cold and he hasn’t seen them in years. Our undercover pros have gotten visuals on the man running the show. All Might has confirmed they aren’t the same. The Number One Hero also thanks you for continuing this fight, but is unable to join us this evening.” Tsukauchi explained. “As we know there are three facilities and each of you has been assigned one. We are arresting everyone participating to be questioned, seizing any illegal substances, and rescuing anyone found to be part of the trafficking ring. Those are our main goals.”
Everyone nodded as the two pros looked at one another. Hizashi reached over to grab Shouta’s hand. Missions, raids made him antsy and holding his husband’s hand settled him. Shouta and Hizashi were part of the same team that would go after the main building where the fights occurred. The other two places were training and storage that wouldn’t require as much necessary force. Hizashi could daze and subdue large crowds with his quirk and Shouta’s was available in case anyone decided not to come quietly.
"Are you still holding out for hope you'll find that boy?" an officer said, breaking the small talk. Shouta couldn’t place it, but his tone sounded exasperated.
"Yes." Tsukauchi said seriously.
Shouta felt the hand clasped with his own tightening. Hizashi always had such a large soft spot for kids. Especially ones that were involved in frays of hero and villain business. Shouta agreed they shouldn’t have to deal with any of those experiences yet if they weren’t training to be heroes. One of the reasons he got a job at UA. Hizashi liked teenagers more than any. They were so full of life and spunk ready to take on the world. Shouta worked there too, but his priorities were that the next generation of heroes didn’t die within their first year from being dumbasses.
They talked about it scarcely throughout the past couple years about adopting, but it never really seemed like the time. They didn’t want a smaller child both agreeing that with their schedules an older one that could understand their jobs and be left alone at times was better.
“What about a child?” Hizashi asked.
Tsukauchi sighed. “Three years ago a young boy was kidnapped by these people and they murdered his mother. Despite our efforts we haven’t found anything related to him being brought home…or even if he’s alive. No one knows why they went after the child because the boy is registered quirkless and no other children have been targeted. I just can't help thinking about his father. His kid is all the man had left after his wife was killed. He followed us for updates for about a year before he said he'd do some investigating on his own. I haven't heard from him since. I just want to tell him something when he comes back."
"Did you have a name?" Shouta asked.
"Hisashi Midoriya. Age: 38. Businessman who tended to travel a lot out of the country until a few years ago when his son was nine. The boy should be thirteen now. Hisashi has a clean record although the neighbors say they suspected marital problems, but the way Hisashi talked about Inko anyone could tell he loved her. Fire breathing quirk. We looked into the idea he might have been after his son and killed his wife, but when questioned he didn't lie. He was visibly upset by the accusation saying he'd given up a lot to be with his family and just wanted to be with them."
Aizawa didn't want to say it, for he didn't want to be kicked off the case, but the detective seemed too close to this. While he didn't directly know the probably dead child, the father had made an impact on his judgment. He shouldn't allow that to happen because it was only going to make things harder. The man was smart and had been doing this gig for a while. He knew the statistics. The kid was most likely dead and Shota hated that he might sound quirkist, but the kid being quirkless was a death sentence.
"So, what's the kid's name?" Shota asked instead.
He'd humor the guy at least. Only because he loved his husband who looked so hopeful.
The raid began and ended before they knew it. Although she wasn’t at the meeting, Midnight was joining them and she already had a while ago. She had been working undercover with another pro as a business couple for the past couple weeks and was in position ready to strike. When the time was ready she’d release her quirk and they’d storm the building leaving quite a few outside to catch anyone trying to escape.
“You are clear Midnight.”
Inside the building standing at the center of the group of bidders trying to collect their winning. They stuck around trying to see the latest top tier fight which required a hefty fee. A fighter named Tanuki. Apparently Tanuki won and a few people complained about burning flesh, but were pleased with what they saw and couldn’t wait until next time. Midnight almost gagged hearing them, but the R-Rated Hero smirked as she licked her lips. There wouldn’t be a next time. Her short strapless dress was perfect for the occasion. Taking a breath she released a pink mist from her body and as those around her began to drop.
“Move out!”
.
.
.
“Heroes!” a thug screamed.
The man growled. He should have known heroes would have picked up on them by now if he hadn’t. No matter. He just needed to grab his most valuable assets and leave before it was too late. He’d let them have their win on this night. He could always start over. It wouldn’t be hard. Unlocking the room he just needed one thing. His money maker, Tanuki.
Who would have thought the runt they grabbed to make a statement would have actually been such a profit? Call it a security deposit on his business and so far it has been very effective. Apparently the runt had been quirkless. He wasn’t so quirkless after all and had quite the quirk too that the bidders loved to see. Always having something new to show off. Keep the people entertained, dangle it over their heads and they’ll certainly come crawling back for more. He was well aware how addiction worked. Even those bloodthirsty idiots paid good money to tell into the cage with Tanuki. It wasn’t often they stepped out alive, but at least he got their money either way up front. Grabbing the remote off the table he unlocked the mechanized chains and charged toward Tanuki.
“Let’s go.” he growled.
Tanuki’s dull and faded green eyes stared back up at him and narrowed. His lip snarled up and firmly kept his place on the ground.
“You brat. Get up and maybe I won’t beat the shit out of you until you're almost dead. You’re lucky you’re better to me alive then dead.” he leaned over to grab his arm. He’d pull him along half dead if he had too. He wasn’t leaving such a valuable asset behind or he’d be a dead man himself.
Eyes trailed his hand as he came toward him and just when he was about to grab on the kid's mouth opened as a green flame hissed out. The man screamed as he backhanded the child out of reflex and stepped away trying to put out the flames. It was too late as it burned his hand and traveled up his jacket and licked his face. As the intense heat clawed at him he tore off his jacket tossing it. His shirt was half gone and from what he could see of his skin was red and blistering.
“You fucking brat! You’re not worth it!” the man screamed, going to attack him.
The kid coughed as spurts of fires spit out igniting on the floor around him blocking the villain. With glassy eyes the boy looked at the man as he felt dizzy. He was about to run out of fuel which he hoped to be for the last time, but the effects would last a while.
“If you don’t die here I will find you. Burn in hell you son of a bitch.” the villain said as he took off to escape the flames and the heroes who were converging on the spot.
.
.
.
Shouta walked around as the police officers were cuffing people and bringing them out to the vans. Most of them screaming about this was injustice and they'd be hearing from their lawyers. Shouta only rolled his eyes. Yeah good luck with that. However, it irked him to know some of the people might be getting free or with barely any consequences because they had money.
"Fire!"
Shouta heard the hero's voice and raced toward where people were still being evacuated. A couple pushed out of the way while shoving criminals or just trying to save their own skins. However, he remembered looking at the schematics of the building and there was a store run near the back. This didn't seem to be random and no one working the raid had a fire quirk. This was deliberate and was probably still at large. They could burn up the entire building with people and evidence still inside if they got out of hand. Making the way back to the room he realized what these heroes were screaming about had flickered out into tiny embers of bright green fire. At least the current danger of a rampaging fire had been extinguished.
"This is Eraserhead." Shotua said in his com. "Fire seems to have been contained. I’m checking out the area for what might have started it."
A movement in the shadows caught his attention. More of a flinch than anything before he heard something collapse. The thud against the floor wasn’t too entirely loud, but he certainly heard something shuffling.
"Who's there? Under Pro Hero Eraserhead, come out! Come out quietly where I can see you!”
Nobody answered and nothing moved. However, he heard sniffling. If it were a villain or someone hiding they would have tried something already. Activating his quirk he took out his flashlight and saw the light switch on the wall. Pushing it the entire room lit up and was exactly what he thought. There were cages and shelves lining the walls that were either in use or once were. Scorch marks and burnt up pieces of cloth and other materials littered the floor. However, what caught Shouta’s attention was what was in the corner.
A child.
A young boy.
Couldn't be more than ten years old.
Shouta cursed. He didn’t put past these assholes to do such a thing. This kid looked too young to be the Midoriya kid and must have slipped by in the reports. Also they said he was quirkless and he was probably taken for his quirk which might explain the fire. They couldn't have used him for the fights. He wouldn’t be alive if so. Hell, they might have been training him to one day do so.
Taking a small step closer was enough to knock some life into the child as he freaked and scrambled back trying to helplessly grab at anything around him, which was nothing. This skittish kid made no implication of wanting the pro to come near him.
“I’m sorry.” Shouta said like he was talking to a kitten. “I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Eraserhead, I’m a pro hero. I just want to help you. Can you understand me?”
The kid’s dull green eyes were bloodshot and looked loose, but didn’t seem like he could focus on him. It was almost like the lights were on, but no one was home in his head. However, he swears he sees a shine to them as he squints at him. Almost like he recognizes him, before the look fades and he rubs his head into the wall. They must be drugging this kid to keep him complacent. That was the only other reason he could think of for this drunken state.
“Can I come closer?” Shouta asked. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll get you out of here and to a safe place.”
The boy looked at him and slightly nodded but still kept his eyes trained on his every move. His glassy eyes focused as well as they could. The child seemed very weak and it looked like the kid probably couldn’t stand on his own.
“Can you stand?” Shouta asked carefully.
A slight shake of the head.
“Okay, can I come get you?” Shouta asked before stepping closer when the child gave a small nod.
As he got closer his assumptions were correct. The child was skin and bones. He had bruises everywhere there was seeable skin and blood on what little clothes he was wearing. No doubt he was injured somewhere. He hated that he couldn't exactly see where at with all the blood and grime. He needed to be careful. Who knew what injuries he had or what this kid had been through. He didn’t want to set him off or scare him, but he needed to get him out of here.
“Can I pick you up?” Shouta asked. “I promise I’ll be careful.”
The boy looked him up and down slowly before giving a small nod.
Shouta carefully put his arms under his legs and picked him up bridal style. He held back a wince and reassured he was okay as the kid flinched and hissed. His heart broke hearing the kid whimper. Looking in his eyes he looked like he was about to cry. He needed to get him out of here and to a hospital.
“I know it hurts. I’m taking you to get help.” The boy shook his head. “No? I know you’re scared, but you need some help.”
Instead of answering, the boy weakly put his arms around Shouta’s neck in a light hug. Although very weak he felt a squeeze. Oh. Shouta couldn’t help a small smile. The boy was thanking him and these weren’t tears entirely of pain, but of relief and happiness that someone came for him. Shuota was glad he was able to save this kid. Whoever he was.
“You’re happy?” Shouta asked as placed a hand gently on his head. A head that he felt a small nod from and nuzzle into his neck. "What's your name, kid? I guess the better question is, do you know your name?"
The kid was light and awfully small. He could feel bones jabbing into him and he couldn't weigh more than 50 pounds. Under what could be considered clothes he could feel the kid's ribs. His hair was matted, a little long, tangled, and messy. He couldn't tell what color it was underneath it all. Black maybe with shades of…was that green? Everything about this kid was a mystery. He didn’t know how long he’d been with them and he was glad that one day he could be returned to his family.
The kid nodded against his chest. Good. He remembered what his name was. It’ll be easier to find his family.
"Can you tell me?" Shouta asked and waited for a reply. The kid hadn't spoken since he arrived. Looking down at him the kid was about to either pass out or fall asleep. Could he not speak? Too scared? He hated to know his reaction if they cut out his tongue. That certainly wouldn't be good for his mental–
Shouta felt something on his chest. Lines being drawn with an occasional loop.He then realized the kid was spelling out something.
"Sorry kiddo. One more time?"
Although very sluggish he could make out what the boy was telling him.
I
Z
U
K
U
Izuku. Shouta's stomach dropped. Izuku Midoriya was the name of the boy who was supposedly trafficked 3 years ago. The one Tsukauchi wanted to find. To be honest and he didn't want to say it to the man, Aizawa had walked into this raid with no hope of finding the kid alive. Most kidnapped kids were dead within days of capture. This wasn’t a stroke of luck that this kid was here and breathing. Regardless of why, he couldn't believe the boy was actually alive.