Chapter Text
August 6th, Shie Hassaikai Compound;
“Izuku, wake up.” A hand jostles his hand from the side, forcing him to wake up with a groan and duck his head. Stubbornly, Izuku tries not to move. The drive had lulled him into a dreamless sleep, leaving him half collapsed onto a shoulder that presses into his forehead uncomfortably.
With one hand, he makes a quick sign, ‘No.’ Pointedly ignoring the fond huff of air that jostles his hair from above.
Not quite a flick, but more a light push with a single finger to the forehead is the only real scolding he receives. “Unless you want to be left in the car, I suggest that you change your answer. Setsuno is in the medical bay and should be conscious.”
The idea of seeing Setsuno awake, alive, has him stirring slightly, releasing the light hold his fingers had unconsciously been making on the jacket. Blearily blinking them open to see his vision full of a dark green, broken up by the brush of feathers on his neck. God, he really did just collapse the moment Kurono started driving, didn't he? He needs to wake up, deal with what comes next, and make sure that Setsuno is really breathing.
Yeah, but sleep…
“I’m standing up, Izuku.” The shoulder he was resting on shifts again, causing him to slide down with a half-whine in complaint.
A hand braces itself on the seat as Izuku peels himself away, looking up to see his Dad side eyeing him with a both vaguely annoyed or overly fond twitch of a smile. He’s honestly not sure which, and being too tired to care, he pulls himself out of the car. The quilt he snagged from the second safe house is wrapped around his shoulders, blocking out the cold air in the underground garage. Times like this have him really disliking the lack of above-ground parking at the compound, at least during the winter; they have heaters down here. Until then, though, he has to deal with the cold in any way he can.
Slumping forward on the door when it closes, only moving when everyone else does. With his gear piled high in both hands, he tries to ignore the cotton-mouth feel from snoring. Izuku takes his position behind his Dad and Kashiwagi, squinting his eyes on the ground like he can glare the exhaustion away. From the other side of the garage, there is a group of Lower Ranks standing guard, bowing and acting far more formal than he’d like them to. All of them here to welcome them back from the separate missions that had transpired, both to see who didn’t make it and who did. Rappa warned him about it, something about away missions like this one being a weight that is more commonly met with a death than everyone coming back. Izuku moves past them following his Dad into the underground tunnels, a few of the Lower Ranks murmur something he hardly hears when he passes.
I should have gotten more sleep last night.
When they are out of sight of the people in the garage, he pulls out his phone again, checking the messages he sent to both Shoto and Momo for the hundredth time. Neither of them has replied, and Rappa didn’t pick up the phone last night either. All things considered, it’s like the compound has been put on a blackout order for communication through any personal lines.
Maybe they were? Was there someone with a technology quirk in the mercenaries that the Matsumoto family hired? If there were unknown quirks on the scene, if they were to follow the updated safety protocols, a blackout order was in line with it. Damn… Izuku really wrote his own downfall in the new rules that he helped establish for additional security for times when a head or lieutenant isn't around.
All that he had been told was the bare minimum after they’d moved to the second safe house. His Dad had practically locked him in a crappy motel room that smelled like stale cigarettes the moment they arrived, ordering him to rest. One of the twins was on watch outside the window to make sure he didn’t try to sneak into the meeting that was going on. So texting Shoto, Momo, and attempting to call anyone from the compound had been the only entertainment he had until all of those went unanswered. He knew they were safe; Kurono wouldn’t have lied to him about that. If the Yaoyorozu family weren’t safe, Izuku doesn’t think they would have stayed at the other safehouses, more than likely heading straight back while Nemoto broke a dozen or so speeding laws.
There were a few hours during the night when, due to sheer nerves, Izuku had been staring down at Dabi’s contact for longer than necessary. Fingers hovering over the unblock button like it was a nuclear release instead of a simple toggle to allow his text to be sent. In the end, he hadn’t, which was both a blessing and a curse when he’d been shuffled into a car half awake at the crack of dawn.
Kurono breaks off from them with Nemoto and Yuri, leaving Izuku and Yuki to walk down towards the medical bay. The moment the door is slid open, he can see that a curtain is pulled around one of the beds, two more set up the opposite side. Perching himself on top of one, the stitches tug, for a second he fears them popping open until he allows himself to collapse onto the stiff bedding. He does what he can to forget the sterile smell, closes his eyes to block off the fluorescent lights. A hand wraps around his forearm when his breathing shallows out, two fingers setting a pace for him to follow like they always do. Allowing Izuku to ignore the creep of fear that eats away at him.
The curtain on the other side slides open with a sharp grate of the hooks over the rod. Okazaki’s voice breaks the silence in the room, “So I heard we had two injuries? What happened?”
Opening his eyes, he glances over towards her. “Stab wound, four inches in length from a sword. Stitches have been done, but may need to be repaired due to strain.”
“Why am I not surprised?” She sighs, and while he can’t see it, the expression is obvious from tone alone. He can picture the way her head likely looks towards the medical tray when she closes her eyes like she’s praying for something to give her strength to deal with his constant flow of injuries.
“Okazaki, we just need to make sure his levels are stable to allow for any healing to be done.” His Dad’s voice cuts in, sounding equally tense to the medic’s tone.
“Fine, fine. Just use me as a blood pressure cuff, I get it.” Out of anyone in the compound, Izuku finds it hilarious that she can get away with the level of sass she always directs towards Chisaki. No one else does it other than himself, and at times, Kurono. It’s nice to see his Dad be that relaxed around someone outside of the Upper Ranks if he’s honest.
Faintly, Izuku asks a question that’s more important than the way his Dad clearly tries to argue with her. “How’s Sets doing?”
“Still asleep, I’m afraid. After the blood transfusion and some pain medication, he became stable, but he has been unconscious since he collapsed. If it wasn’t for your two friends, I’m not sure they would have made it to the impound garage at all.” Okazaki steps closer, soft violet eyes meet his own with a hesitant smile. “He’ll be fine, Izuku. Maybe another day of sleep should get him up and moving again, knowing him. Now you, on the other hand…”
Her hand shimmers as it slides over his arm, a dim blue light emanating from her fingertips pressing against his elbow. Izuku looks away, feeling the tap on his other arm grounding him back down from the knee-jerk reaction to turn away like a petulant child. Okazaki clicks her tongue with a shake of her head. “Not yet, his nutrient levels are still too low. Have you been eating properly since the injury?”
“Yes…” Grumbling, he does what he can to avoid how both adults look at him rather knowingly. “Not really…” He concedes after a second.
“That’s what I thought.” A pen taps against his forehead with a light laugh from the woman. “You should know better than to lie to me about that at this point.” A clipboard is pulled off the wall beside the bed as his shirt is lifted to check over the stitches. “These seem to be fine, bandaged well, too. Once he gets his protein, iron, electrolytes, and vitamins back in order, I can clear him for healing. Until then, he’s on strict bed rest. Is that clear?”
“What about a transfusion?” His Dad asks, helping Izuku sit up on the bed.
“If he lost more blood than yes, but unless he tears the stitches open severely. It shouldn’t be necessary.” He could almost sigh in relief over that; the less time he has to spend down here, the better.
She moves over to Yuki and actually does have to clean up the stitches on the Scout, leaving Izuku to get down off the bed and move towards the curtain. Pulling it back to reveal an overly pale Setsuno. The man is lying in the stiff blankets unconscious, as she said, hooked up to far too many machines to bring real comfort, but most of all breathing. Not lifeless, not dead and gone, alive. It means more than Izuku can put into words at just the visual confirmation that dissolves the disquiet in his mind.
He nearly collapses at the sight due to relief if he ignores the bandages covering the man’s chest, then it's like they are back in the annex instead of the medical rooms. Bandages and medical devices mean the man is just sleeping, which means that he’ll wake up eventually. Tattoos Izuku never once got to see before now are visible, blue koi dragons on the bicep wind up towards the left shoulder. Water pooling around them with lotus blossoms breaking up the mass of black spiraling waves. The Shie Hassaikai symbol over the man’s chest, on the right instead of over the heart, is partially covered by a bloody gauze. Knowing the symbolism behind the lines has him smiling lightly; he wishes he had seen them under different circumstances.
A quiet beeping signifies a resting pulse rate has him sitting beside the bed. For a long moment, he is stuck looking between the monitor and Setsuno like one of them may be lying to him. The man’s face is far too calm for it to be anything but sleep. Eyes don’t hang open like they do on the dead, staring listlessly outward, unseeing, unknowing of the world that passes them by. The mouth is closed too, not sewn shut like hers was after the mortician was done, and he had to identify his mom’s body. Izuku’s hands tense on his pants, fingers dig into the meat of his thighs. He knew Setsuno would be okay; his Dad wouldn’t have lied about it, but watching the chest rise and fall has him fighting back the sting of tears.
“Idiot,” Izuku mutters, poking the man’s hand with a finger, silently hoping it will do anything more than what happens. It doesn’t so much as twitch, but it’s warm to the touch, so it’s another reassurance that one of his favorite people is still a part of the world.
Owlet?
Sighing, he rests his chin on a hand, acting like he is just staring at the wall when his Dad comes to stand behind him.
What?
He’ll wake up, you know that.
What if…
He will. Hold faith. This isn’t like the train accident; he’s injured but not gone.
A small noise breaks from his throat, and he’s pulled into a small partial embrace. “Wake up, dumbass.” Instead of a reply, the heart rate monitor only continues beeping, eyes move under the lids rapidly, never opening but still reacting. “Eri’s gonna be pissed at you for missing movie night.”
From above, a faint huff of a laugh has him glancing up to see his Dad watching the scene with a half-hearted smile. “Knowing her, she’ll kick him the moment she sees him again. From what I’ve come to understand, she’s taken after you in the sneak attacks.”
“Not my fault.” A more genuine smile breaks free from the slow build of grief. His eyes keep tracking up to the sleeping form of Setsuno, as if the man will wake up with a laugh and play this all off like a joke. It doesn’t happen, and Izuku hates each passing second more when it doesn’t.
“Do you wish to see your friends?”
“Maybe… They’re going to have a lot of questions.” Acknowledging the fact that Momo and Shoto both likely know now is a heavy weight. It was always a possibility, once Dabi got back to his family, Shoto was going to have more questions, but Momo… well, she wants to be a hero. That won’t be easy to separate from once she does learn what they do. He doesn’t want to be the reason she can’t pursue her dream; living with that additional dose of shame would be worse than no longer being friends with either of them.
“Lady Yaoyorozu should have already explained it to her daughter.” That doesn’t bring the comfort his Dad likely thinks it does.
With a glance up, he nods, shifting himself to stand with a final look over his shoulder to see Setsuno’s hand twitch in sleep. “I fought Hawks, you’ll probably hear about it when you wake up. I didn’t win, but I didn’t lose either.”
He goes to step out of the curtained off portion of the room, feeling his hair being tousled with a familiar hand. “You did more than merely survive the fight, Izuku, remember that.”
There’s a hint of pride in it that overtakes the more painful twist of emotion. Leaving the medical bay, he waves off Yuki while he currently glares at Okazaki, who is redoing the stitches, with the fury of a thousand suns. Clearly hating every moment despite the painkillers that were injected to numb the site. A hand lifts to shoo him out the door; the man’s smile is mostly a grimace instead of a kind one. Izuku turns to follow after his Dad, who is paused in the hall a ways down, the Songbird gear passed off to a Scout member to take it in for repairs.
Slowly, they work their way up to the main levels of the compound, pushing past one of the hidden entrances onto the veranda. The sun is blindingly bright, forcing him to rub his eyes. It was hardly up when they left Toyohashi City; now it’s high in the sky, verging on midmorning like a curse. Following the length of the path towards the main resident’s guest quarters, Izuku hears Shoto before he sees him.
“Tell me where I am! I have a right to know.” The other boy’s voice is a far cry from the more neutral tone it commonly sits within, verging close to shouting the closer they get.
Izuku meets his Dad's eyes and the nod that allows him to act instead of spectate on the current chaos. Stepping aside while walking a little faster towards where the safe room had been set up. When he rounds the corner, one second, Tabe is opening the door, the next, the poor man is shoved back into one of the bushes lining the gardens by a massive block of ice. Izuku’s attention slides over to the door, seeing a form that side steps the new glacier that’s been added to the home decor by familiar white and red hair.
“I should be able to contact my family. You can’t just keep me here.” Words spoken from clenched teeth. More reminiscent of Dabi than he’s ever seen in another face, steam billows from Shoto like a wrathful fog.
“Shoto, they already told you no one is looking to do that. Can you stop this? The family head should be back soon to talk to us.” Momo comes out of the room just as quickly, one arm attempting to drag the other boy back.
Wow… okay… should have expected that.
This is why her mother should have listened to the warnings.
It’s also why I warned Shoto. Are you done sulking?
Are you still mad at us?
I’m calming down. We still need to discuss you almost getting both of us killed.
We will.
Really? Or are you going to act as if nothing happened?
You should assist your friends before they set something on fire.
Rolling his eyes, Izuku lets out a whistle from where he stands on the far end of the veranda. Stopping Tabe from eating a hunk of ice mid-jaw unhinging and Shoto from releasing the steady build of flames that have wrapped around his fingers. “While I understand why you’re upset, Shoto. Please don’t set my uncle on fire. He was ordered to keep you three safe.”
Wisps of messy red and white hair catch in the light made by the ice, creating a strange momentary halo in the haze of mist around it. The other boy whips in his direction, mouth slightly open and staring at him like he’s seeing a ghost. “Izu?” The flame peters out into nothing but distant wafts of smoke, the shock shifting to confusion just as rapidly when the distance is made smaller with two steps that fall short after a few paces.
He blinks twice with a shy smile of his own, taking in the scene of both of the closest people to real friends he’s had since he was four. “That’s me.” A hand gestures towards his chest in a brief wave. From behind, he can tell the moment his Dad rounds the corner when Shoto stills, dual-toned eyes snapping back to behind him.
“Wait… Shoto, you know Izuku?” Momo’s looking between the two of them in a spare yukata he’d prepared for both her and her mother to make them comfortable should this exact situation occur. He’s glad they wore them; it was either that or sending someone to buy clothes he wasn’t sure either of them would actually like. “How do you two know one another?”
Instinctively, he reaches up to adjust the mask on his face, in any vague attempt to cover the awkwardness he feels building. God, he knew this would be hard, but here and now, he’d rather be anywhere else. There’s no running from it; they’ll know, and maybe by some miracle, they won’t hate him. Dabi took it while not well; he was willing to accept it in the end, in his own way at least. With these two, though, things might be very different.
Prepare for the worst, that’s all I can do.
What about hoping for the best?
When has that ever worked for us in the past, Eostrix?
“Izuku, take your friends to the annex; it’ll be easier to have a discussion with them there.” His father steps past, only glancing down briefly with a knowing look. Shoto is left watching with a confusing mix of emotions that he can’t place. It’s not like Chisaki is wearing out of the ordinary, well, other than the crow mask. All in all, though, both of them are in far more casual clothes than normal, so it should be less visually imposing.
So, why is Shoto acting like he’s watching the devil enter a room?
“Yes, Sir.” With the best bow he can manage that doesn’t tear his stitches, he walks up to his two friends. “We should go, my Dad needs to discuss what happened with your mother. The damage was more than we expected from what I’ve managed to hear.”
“Izu?” Glancing over at Shoto’s quiet question, he tilts his head to the side. “Who is that man?”
A dumb question, Izuku’s pretty sure he just said who Chisaki was pretty clearly. Regardless, it seems his friend is going through a state of shock, so he answers a second time more slowly. “That would be my adoptive father. Now, we should leave. I need to get changed and see Eri; she’s likely very upset at me for coming back later than expected.”
Momo nods, a faint smile on her face; it’s more distant than the last time he saw her, but it’s there. From below his own mask, he returns it the best he can as a dull thrum of pain echoes through his side. Turning to lead them down the veranda, a hand on his wrist stalls the walk, “Izuku… Momo called you Izuku. Who- What is going on? Where are we?”
The smile drops, “We are at my home, Shoto. That man you just flung with your ice is my family. You wanted to know more about me, didn’t you?” He doesn’t turn around; he can’t right now. The idea of seeing the expression of hurt or betrayal on Shoto’s face that he can feel is likely there. It has Izuku boring holes into a nearby pillar.
The tension in his friend's voice has him closing his eyes, ready to rip his hand away and bolt if he has to. “Yes, bu-”
A familiar mask is slipped into place, cold, distant, and authoritative in a way he didn’t want to be right now. “Then let me answer your questions in a space where I can no longer feel like I’ve been dragged through the dirt for the past twenty-four hours.”
Dropping into a tone he recently used with Dabi feels needlessly cruel, but right now, he’s been asked to lead them away. By the sounds of it, the conversation has already started. Lady Yaoyorozu is crying while Dad’s monotone explains the situation they now have to face. Tabe is standing guard, less than silently complaining about getting hit in the face. He doesn’t want to have a potential argument here, of all places, not where everyone can see.
“Who are you? Truly.” A question with a million answers that lead to places that would do no one any good right now. So he picks the easiest one.
Closing his eyes, he takes a long inhale, only to exhale it out in a heavy sigh. Turning to face Shoto with a cold slide of his eyes. “Chisaki Izuku, or as your brother knew me, Midoriya Izuku.” Shoto’s face drops, blue and grey eyes snap between Izuku’s own like he’s waiting for a punchline to a bad joke. “Can we go now? I’ll answer more questions when we are not in earshot of a private conversation concerning my family's business.”
The questions end there for now. The hand doesn’t leave his wrist, but instead holds tighter like Shoto knows Izuku wants to run from this. It’s warm, blissfully so, since he’s still overly cold from the lower levels of the compound. It has him remembering Dabi and how that conversation went. All he can do now is hope that after today, he isn’t despised by his maybe-friends. That after the conversation, they don’t turn into another violent reminder of keeping peers at arm's length. Slowly, the other boy nods in a barely visible way. Izuku’s eyes drop again when he turns back down the veranda.
He thought Momo would be the most temperamental, and pinned her for the one who would be demanding answers. Instead, it seems Shoto was finally done with the partial truths Izuku’s been giving for the past month. All things considered, it’s fair, between Dabi and himself, he can imagine the other boy is rather exhausted in dealing with liars. Taking a step, he doesn’t pull away the hand but leads the three of them around the way he came, following the verandas in a tense silence under the sympathetic look cast from Momo. It’s not a long walk to the annex, but it is more than he’d like it to be.
With his free hand, he unlocks the door and pushes it open to see that the annex is both thankfully and unwelcomingly empty. There are some coloring books haphazardly littering the table by the couches, his ariel silk has been put up where Eri can’t reach it like he asked Rappa to do, and a few mugs sit on the counter. Looseleaf tea is scattered over the surface that he needs to clean up before Nemoto comes back and loses it on the culprit. Finally, Shoto numbly removes his tight grip over Izuku’s wrist allowing him to close the main doors and toe off his shoes using the wall as an aid to stabilize him. Both of them are looking around, not leaving his vicinity but clearly inspecting the main living area.
Stepping into his slippers, Izuku walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and pulls out some leftovers from the dinner Nemoto made before they left. With a click, the microwave starts heating the curry. Allowing him to sit with his thoughts for a moment, he can hear two distinctly foreign footfalls around him, paces that feel so out of place in the home he’s come to adore. He leans against the counter, head thrown back, one finger tugging off the mask and stuffing it in his pocket.
When the food is done, he stands at the island, watching as Shoto pulls down a photo of him on Rappa’s shoulders from when he first started training. The boy looks distraught, staring down at it and then slowly back up to Izuku. “Your Izuku, I-”
“I thought you already put it together, if I’m honest.” Blandly, he replies, taking a bite.
“As in the boy that Touya was looking for? Shoto, are you sure?” Momo speaks up from where she is standing awkwardly by the couches, like she isn’t sure if she can sit down.
“You can sit down, Momo. No one in this annex ever has proper manners. I’m too tired to care anyways.” A hand waves at her before turning back to Shoto. “And yes, that would be me. I met Touya back when I was on my own, shortly after I was taken in by Chisaki over a year ago.”
“I had a guess… You never confirmed it, though.” Shoto seems bitter over it, looking back down at the photo again, “He said… Touya said you were kidnapped, not adopted.”
Kidnapped… god will he ever stop throwing that around?
The spoon points towards the photos and around the annex at large. “Does this look like a cage? Do I look like a tortured child in any of those? Trust me, if I were kidnapped or being held against my will, I’d probably have broken out by now.”
The other boy’s mouth opens, a glare cast in his direction like he’s being ridiculous. “But they-”
“They what Shoto?” Exhaustedly, he sets the spoon down, sliding the curry away, unable to stomach it right now. “Sure, how they picked me up wasn’t the best. Hell, how I got here probably was kidnapping to some extent, and I say that very loosely. But it was my choice to stay. Fire Bug knows that, or well he knows that now. And if you were brought here, then my Dad is actually fine with us being in contact, which is a relief because I was admittedly worried about that.”
“Would he have stopped you from talking to him?” Momo looks gobsmacked by the possibility.
Shrugging while he rubs the back of his head, he’s not sure how to word the explanation entirely. “Maybe? I don’t know… Things kinda changed after Kashiwagi came back. Dad got calmer about a lot of little things. The Todoroki family apparently being one of them.” Izuku moves from the kitchen island towards the bookshelves where Shoto is, plucking the photo out of the boy’s hands as he looks it over. “This is me and Rappa back last August, I think. I finally got a hit on Sets in sword training that day.”
A finger points to another photo of him during another sword practice session. “That was one that Nemoto took during a different training session. I think that was September.” His eyes scan over a few of them to see one of him and his Dad playing Shogi in the gardens. “That’s Dad and me, do any of these look like some terrified captive?”
Sliding his attention over to Shoto, who is looking over the photos contemplatively, the crease in his brows is back. He never noticed before, but both of them are red instead of matching the dual color split of hair. It takes more than Izuku would like to admit to not try to smooth it out, like the action might replace the questions with a calm he isn't capable of offering. The mouth twitches in the frown, lowering it further towards the pouts he does recognize. Shoto, both times they’ve met each other have been far more tactile than anyone else Izuku knows, other than Eri. Grabbing onto him, hovering, part of him wonders if back home it’s the same for the other boy. Dabi was more touchy than the last time, too; maybe all of them are like that.
So, taking a half leap of faith, Izuku hesitantly taps their wrists together, avoiding the eyes that slide down to him. “No…” Izuku nods at the distant reply from Shoto, setting the photo down, he turns towards Momo, who is strangely quiet while watching them.
Cleaning his throat lightly to hide the way his face heats up. Both hands clap together with an uptick of a possible smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So… I assume you both have questions. I’ll answer what I can, where I can, but there are topics I may not be able to discuss with outsiders. I’m going to change into cleaner clothes. Just stay here, ‘kay?” Shooting off a pair of finger guns, he takes a cautious step back towards his room before practically bolting into it and shutting the door. The back of his head taps against the wood with a light thud.
Why am I like this? God, I could have had them set up in a different safe house instead of this.
But you didn’t.
No… I didn’t. Also doesn’t help that Shoto didn’t listen to me when I told him to stay home if his brother was out on a mission.
He is his own person, Owlete. You wouldn’t have listened to something like that either.
I have a reason for not listening to things like that! I have weapons and experience in combat. Who leaves when their only security is out of reach in a different prefecture?
Are you going to discredit him that easily? Remember what the medic said; without them, Setsuno may not have made it.
Bitterly, he acknowledges that Eostrix may have a decent point. Shoto and Momo are both likely capable when it comes to at least defense using their quirks; if they weren’t, things at the mansion probably would have been worse, or they would have been turned into hostages. It’s just… Well, the first time Shoto did something like this, he nearly got himself kidnapped. He has a right to be vaguely upset over the lack of self preservation, even if it is highly hypocritical. Thirty seconds is all it would take for Izuku to open this door, and take one of them hostage if he was an enemy. Their guards are down out there, both of them waiting for him to come back patiently. If this was a situation where he had to do something similar against an enemy, they wouldn’t even expect him to walk out with a weapon.
You wouldn’t do that.
Eostrix chastises lightly, whistling quietly to Izuku with a rustle of feathers. Acting as a buffer against plans that shouldn’t be so easy to come by, like they are. His attention drifts towards the door handle, then slowly up to where he keeps his weapons hidden in a false panel on the wall with a glare, another separation between him and his, maybe friends.
Of course not. But I have a point with thinking that way.
So tell them the concerns, don’t play villain to make them understand.
You’re quite talkative for someone who did the same thing yesterday.
We had our reasoning.
Did you? Could have fooled me.
Kicking his foot on the floor like it will remove the twist of the knife his own thoughts make. Izuku takes off his shirt, exchanging it for a fresher tank top, ending it with a light flannel to cover his tattoos. Because even if he is explaining things, those are not being discussed today if he can help it. With a glance in the mirror, he looks like hell, better after the shower in the motel, certainly. But still looks like death half-thawed over. Running a hand does little to fix his hair or make him look any better, so he gives up, no use in trying if it’s just going to be like this until he can sleep properly. Before he goes to leave, his hand on the doorknob freezes as the low whispers of voices filter through now that he’s paying attention to them.
“-Shoto, I don’t think he meant to hide all this from you. A lot is going on right now.” By the sounds of it, Momo is far closer to the bedroom door. Then the light shifts under the door, a shadow of a foot blocking it from a harsher step father back. He can almost make out the tap of a hand on the frame from the bracelet she was wearing.
“I still want to know why. Touya deserves that too, do you know how long he was looking for him?” Izuku sighs, letting his forehead tap against the wood at Shoto’s words.
“A year. You already told me this half a dozen times. I know you’re upset, Shoto, but now is not the time to be picking a fight over that. Let’s try to hear him out.” It’s hardly audible; if he wasn’t directly listening, he’s not even sure he’d hear it. “I have to stay here because of my father's business with them, but unlike me, you can leave whenever you want.”
Something has his eyes widening, an emotion he can’t quite explain makes it feels like he’s been dropped into ice-cold water. Punching out the air in his lungs at what feels like a confirmation of another thing he didn’t want to come back to after the raid. Izuku lifts his attention to the door. He swears he can almost look through it and see the furious anger on Shoto, even picturing the resigned apathy or pity in Momo. She doesn’t have to be here. He shouldn’t have brought her, shouldn’t have dragged either of them into any of this mess if it was avoidable. Set them up at a different safe house, hid away, kept himself separated in any way that he could. The idea that after this things could carry on like normal dissipates into fleeting ash.
Who was he kidding anymore? Dabi only understood because he was there from the beginning. If not for that, the Fire Bug likely would have moved on long ago, never once considering all that happened. He shouldn’t have expected the same out of people he’s only met once before. The idea of friends was nice, but he needs to be realistic about how they likely feel about him.
Expression kept carefully neutral, he ends their conversation by sliding open the door. Momo whips around, eyes wide, and Shoto… he looks how Izuku expected he would. Brows furrowed in a sharp glare that doesn’t soften in the slightest when he steps out of the room. “The doors aren’t made of steel, ya’ know. If you want to leave, I’ll arrange for it, but don’t pretend like this argument is for anyone but yourself.”
“What?” It sounds just as Izuku feels right now, strangled, shaky, pinched, and terrifyingly close to crying or screaming.
“I already spoke to your brother. He accepted what had happened.” Taking a moment to swallow down the knot in his throat, his eyes drop to the floor. “Will you?”
“You… you spoke to Touya?” God, how many things is he going to have to repeat today?
Pointedly, he rolls his eyes, ignoring the temptation to be bitterly sarcastic instead of straightforward. “Yes, I did. He actually helped me out a lot when I was out on my most recent assignment.”
“Wait, assignment? You were at the raid where his brother was? Wasn’t that classified?” Momo looks a tragic mix of confused and horrified when he glances towards her.
“Yeah… classified isn’t something I have an issue with usually. Now, am I setting up a car for you, Shoto? I won’t lie, the risk of having you out in public right now is high, but I’m sure I can create a few false cars to throw off a tail.” His fingers knot the edges of the sleeves, suddenly wishing he wasn’t here at all. “I shouldn’t have dragged either of you here. We had safe houses that would have been less secure, but kept you away from… directly interacting with us.”
“Izu-” He’s not even sure who it is who speaks, only that he doesn’t want to listen to it when it’s not a simple yes or no reply.
Abruptly, he offers a thin smile when he lifts his head, cutting off whoever was speaking, “It’s fine.” He steps past them towards the kitchen. “I don’t need you to placate me. If you want to go, that’s fine. I get it, honestly, I do.”
“We never said we wanted to leave.” Shoto hisses as Momo smacks him when she interjects into the conversation. “That isn’t what I meant to say earlier.”
He doesn’t need this. It’s fine if they don’t want to be here; they don’t have to be. Arrangements can be made if it makes them more comfortable. His body feels like it’s levitating, stuck on a high of frustration and anger. Clenching his hands, the nails dig in, stabilizing him enough not to scream. “Neither of you want to be here, do you?”
“Well…” She drifts off, and he has to stop himself from turning around to yell at them. They don’t deserve it. He knows that, but right now they aren’t giving him straight answers, and it makes him want to rip his hair out. The outcomes he prepared for, all of the sidelong phrasings he’d attempted to find a way to build walls around, make it difficult to focus on the situation at hand.
It’s Shoto who replies, voice far more level than it was earlier, and despite the way he doesn’t want it to, it settles something in his chest like a cool balm over aching muscles. “I lost my phone in the fight. I just want to contact my family.”
That’s something he can manage, a simple task with only one clear answer. Perfect, easy, and with a clear-cut set of steps. Just have to stop thinking about everything else that’s being dodged with that statement. No big deal.
He hadn’t even realized his shoulders were raised until they lowered in a disbelieving laugh. “Oh… yeah. Um, here.” Digging his phone out of his pocket, he tosses it over to Shoto after inputting the passcode. “I have your mother’s number saved under your last name. Dab- Touya’s is under Fire Bug, but you’ll have to unblock him.”
The device almost falls to the floor as the other boy tilts his head to the side, making his hair get jostled. An emotion that looks far better than the ones before it, like they are talking over the phone again and not in the middle of an argument. Leaving Izuku to awkwardly watch someone else hold his phone. Scrolling through it while looking for a contact, his pocket seems far too empty without the device's weight. Momo approaches, tapping her elbow into his with a sentiment that has a smile returning bit by bit. Has the immediate lash out completely settling back down to a whisper in comparison to the screaming thoughts.
A calm that’s immediately broken by Shoto finding something that he forgot was in his phone to begin with. “Why do you have Fuyumi and Natsuo’s numbers?” Izuku chokes slightly, bending over to hold himself as his side feels like it’s been ripped open again.
Struggling to breathe properly, he glues his attention down onto the drawings Eri made earlier. “Um… no reason.”
“Were you spying on us?” Why does Shoto sound like that? Izuku thought he’d be upset if that ever came out, but instead, the other boy sounds so painfully curious like a puppy. Maybe slightly worried, but nothing like before.
“No!” Still coughing, he presses a hand to his injured side and tries to stop the feeling of his organs falling out. It half works if he’s honest, more like it, at least presses the stitches together to give the illusion that he hasn't started both metaphorically and literally outpouring his most vital secrets and less-than-legal tendencies.
“How?” From under an arm, he looks up to see something far more complicated in Shoto's expression.
Like on cue, the sound of crows echoes over the annex, and Izuku just points up like it answers the question. It’s the actual one in many ways; the crows do give him a lot of spying capabilities on Dabi or anyone else he’s looking into. Just ignore him using the government database and the detectives' phone records, but who is checking? All they need to know is that Nyx was really good at her job.
“Birds?” Thank goodness Momo puts it together. Practically draping himself over the couch in relief, he points back with a thumbs up. “How do you spy with birds?”
“Whistling.” Now it’s Shoto’s turn for a thumbs up. Look at them go, he would almost be proud if he wasn’t still trying to catch his breath.
In his own reply, once he forces himself to stand, Izuku lightly whistles a call into the room. Holding up a hand, he counts to five on his fingers, then gestures the exact moment the response is echoed over the rooftop. The scattered clicks of talons over the tiles followed by loud caws or taps of beaks. To add a little show, Izuku waves his hands in front of him with a halfhearted smile. By the window in the kitchen, a sharp tap comes, turning around two dark eyes bore into him when the familiar bird leans her head back haughtily.
She’s mad.
You left for two days.
Yeah, only two days.
“Technically crows.” Izuku fills in while he walks backwards to the kitchen, pulling out some nuts and opening the window to pass them out towards Nyx. Snapping her beak, he replies twice with his own mimicry of the gesture. “It was two days, you had Eri for company.” Whispering down to her as she brushes his fingers with the edge of her beak, dark eyes slide shut before she shifts to start eating.
“Touya mentioned you did that.” Nearly leaping out of his skin, he turns to see Shoto standing close behind with Momo peeking over his shoulder. Both of them watch with the same level of attentiveness at the interaction between Izuku and Nyx, like it’s a mystery to be unraveled.
“How? Are they trained? I heard Crows were intelligent, but to be that responsive is unheard of unless you have an animal control quirk.” Her voice is hardly a whisper during the rapid questions as she rounds in front of Shoto, staring in awe at Nyx, who merely looks at her while pecking at the apology treats. “Is she domesticated?”
Chuckling, he passes over a few more, holding out his hand, and Nyx backsteps onto it. “No, but we’re friends. Her murder lives around here. I’ve trained them with certain things, but some of them are better at it than others.” A finger brushes down some messed-up feathers, laying them back down into the mass of black. “They have hobbies, actually. Some are better at hunting, while others are better at pranks or mimicking calls. I’ve even seen them singing to one another sometimes.”
A faint breath has him drawing a broken-off feather from the wings, rolling it between two fingers. “She’s the leader of them with her mate. I haven’t named them all, but this is Nyx. A little cliche for a name, but I think she likes it. Out of all of them, she can mimic my whistles the best to give directions and orders to the rest of them. But she’s picky about payment or treats.” Losing himself lightly in the recall, he doesn’t look away from the window pane where his hand rests.
From beside him, a voice cuts over his verbal stream of thoughts. “I want to stay.” Izuku blinks, officially snapped out of his fond information dump as he glances towards Shoto.
“What?” Eloquently, he asks as Shoto reaches out a finger before he can stop him. Tapping some of the food, made apology towards Nyx, who shockingly doesn’t try to bite him. In fact, the normally intolerant of others bird seems to preen at the action with a rustle of wings.
“You asked if I wanted to stay. I do, or I will. I don’t want my family to be at risk, and…” The other boy pauses, looking at Momo for a second. “I want to say thank you to the man who helped us get out.”
The mood drops considerably as he moves Nyx to his shoulder, pushing himself up on the counter with both hands while she adjusts to his head. “He’s still unconscious… Should be awake tomorrow if Okazaki’s quirk is accurate.” His hands mess with the hem of his light jacket while he ignores how Momo’s eyes snap wide in shock. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it, though, the idiot has a soft spot for that kind of thing.”
“He never told us his name.” Glancing up, it’s Momo who is speaking, carefully asking the indirect question while she shifts on her feet.
“Setsuno. He’s… Well, he’s kinda like an older brother or obnoxious cousin, I guess. I don't have a good measure for that sort of thing, though.” The hairs on his head are plucked at by Nyx, who seems intent on cleaning anything she can find. Shifting on her talons and preening rather painfully through the mess of curls he never bothered to detangle last night.
“I’ll call my mother, let her know what’s going on.” Shoto replies, hand still hovering over the phone's call button. “Do you know when Touya will be back?”
Humming lightly, he sways on the counter, absentmindedly trying to piece together what he knows about Nezu’s current plans. “Today or tomorrow. He’ll be at a UA press conference first, from what the news was saying. After that, he’ll have to handle the paperwork post-raid, and then head home after that’s been filed. So… probably tonight if he’s quick and the servers function properly for the submission.” Izuku can't stop the faint chuckle at the idea of the HPSC servers actually playing nice for once; usually, they take forever to process anything due to the increase in security eating away at the database's speed, but that's not his fault. They needed a solid update to keep people like him out, not that it actually did much good.
“Izuku?” A hand reaches across the space to grab his own. Momo’s fingers wrap around the back of his. “Thank you, I don’t… I’m not sure what would have happened if your family hadn’t been there to act as guards. While I can’t stand by what you likely do, I am grateful for all your group has done for my own family.”
“Yeah…” The word falls out, and he’s not sure why, but the tightness in his throat is back. Judging by how Momo reacted to Shoto and the information about who he is. They both know he’s quirkless now. Why are they so calm about it? Is it because he has power in this situation?
Voicing the concerns happens with only enough time for him to try to cover it with a faint shell of confidence. Like what they’ll say won’t hurt, because it’s happened before, dozens of times in fact over the years. Getting it over with as quickly as possible would be for the best. “I-I’m quirkless you know. I do-You don’t need to treat me any better because of my family… I wouldn’t be offended.”
Don’t lie, Owlet.
Being offended and being upset are different things. I wouldn’t be offended, but… I would be upset. See, there’s the distinction.
Now you’re lying to yourself.
Shut it…
The fingers tense over the back of his hand, cautiously, he looks up to see something he didn’t expect to. Momo looks actually put off by the comment, like she couldn’t imagine it as an option at all. Her hand retreats from his to her chest in offense. Shoto has paused his dialing of the number, left to stare between the two of them like he’s preparing for some kind of explosion.
“Why would that matter? Your family saved my mother and me. I wouldn’t bother thanking you if it wasn’t deserved.” Izuku’s hand slides off his jacket zipper, hearing the sheer disbelief in her voice. Because he had to have misheard her.
Right?
In what universe are Yaoyorozu Momo or Todoroki Shoto actually accepting of him being quirkless? It shouldn’t exist, isn’t a possibility he ever considered. After everything, no, out of everyone other than Shie Hassaikai and Dabi, he has yet to come across someone this casual about his socially perceived disability. It has two separate conversations replaying in the back of his mind, remembering the promises both people told him. Two different points in his life when they swore about a time when he wouldn’t be viewed as something unwanted or ugly in a society where, from the age of four, those labels followed him almost everywhere.
“One day, Izuku, the world will understand that not having a quirk isn’t a loss of power. If anything, it should grant more respect, remember that in everything you do here.”
“Izuku, baby. It won’t last forever, I know it won’t. Kids are mean, but you’ll always have me right beside you. Keep your head up for me, okay, little bunny?”
Two different times people said it, and both times he never allowed himself to believe it. Outside of Shie Hassaikai, the world wasn’t kind or patient with people like him. So to hear it from someone beyond the walls or the memories of his mother say it so plainly. It has him blinking, staring down at the ground to avoid the tears that threaten for the second time that day.
“No reason, just… thanks.” He mutters towards the ground.
Friends… maybe it would be okay to try to have them for once. Not everyone is like Kacchan, even if in the past it felt like that’s all the world was made up of.