Chapter Text
Now
Izuku opened his eyes. He wasn’t in pain, not exactly, but he felt too full and too heavy, and his ribs felt compressed. It was also too bright and too white. He closed his eyes. There were noises, and movements around him, but it wasn’t too loud, so he ignored it.
Weirdly, he remembered what had happened with a shocking clarity. The fight, All for One, Chizome, Shigaraki, Chizome . The image of the man walking away into the darkness was burned in his brain. He’ll never forget it. He’ll never forget him.
He swallowed, and his throat was so dry he almost choked, his eyes opening again, trying to breathe. And ouch , his right side hurt.
“Okay, wow. Morning, sunshine. Stop moving, you'll hurt yourself.”
Izuku turned his head to the left and blinked. Dabi was there, sitting on a chair next to the bed. He was wearing ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. Something was weird about him though. He still had his scars, and the staples - although they seemed to be medical ones not the old ones he used to have, and his eyes were still their clear turquoise. Izuku frowned and squinted. What- Oh.
“White hair?” The beginning of his sentence didn’t come out and only two words were comprehensible, if rough and breathy.
Dabi let out a short laugh. “Of course the first thing you say is about my hair.”
He reached out at the side table, white as well, like everything in the room, and took a glass that had a straw in it.
“Want some water?”
With some help and some spilled water, Izuku drank a few sips, and God did the fresh water soothe his throat. He leaned back on his pillow, the whole ordeal having drained him of the little energy he had. He wanted to fall back asleep, but the pain and the memories and the questions made him unable to.
“Is everyone okay?” He choked out.
“Yeah, more or less. No death on the Hero side, and that’s a fucking miracle. Your friends are alright, so’s your teacher.”
Izuku hummed, relieved. That… was good. It was good . That’s what he had wanted, what he’d worried about.
He felt Dabi hesitate. “But… no traces of Stain.”
Izuku didn’t let himself react, didn’t let himself show any emotions. He had left, then. He had escaped. He was safe. Or maybe he had bled out and died in a abandoned building and he’d never be found and -
Izuku shuddered. He couldn’t think about that. He stared at the ceiling, too tired to talk, the painkillers making everything fuzzy, or maybe it was his exhaustion. Because he was tired .
“I ringed the nurses, by the way, they’ll soon be here.”
Izuku’s fingers twitched, as if trying to… he didn’t know what he was trying to do. He never liked hospitals. When he was a kid - or when he was younger, he always avoided them, because he was Quirkless and therefore worthless of any medical attention. And then during his time under Chizome, it was the man that took care of him. And then…
Izuku swallowed, trying to get rid of the stupid lump in his throat.
He hated hospitals.
Dabi was still talking, but Izuku didn’t listen, and then there were some more movements and some more noises, and he was answering questions, he was being moved around, but he wasn’t really there . He didn’t try very hard to be there, though. Because being there meant pain, and tiredness, and no Chizome, so he preferred being… gone, sort of. Not there.
He didn’t know how long everything took, and he noticed people going in and out of his room. He didn’t fall back asleep, though. He came back at some point, Dabi still in the room and on his phone.
“My knife?” He asked, voice still weak.
Dabi raised his head, relief apparent on his face. “Your knife?”
Izuku swallowed. “My butterfly knife? Where, where is it?” He didn’t lose it, right? He had taken it with him, and then - he didn’t remember, but he had it, with him , he had it.
“Izuku. Hey. You need to breathe.”
He took a big inspiration, making his side ache, but the pain sharpened his mind, and he calmed down, even if his heartbeat was fast - and he could hear it because of the bip bip of the heart monitor.
Dabi had gotten closer, still sitting in his chair, but his knees were touching the side of the bed and he was leaning forward.
“All your weapons and stuff have been retrieved. I don’t know exactly where they are, but they’re kept safe and sound, okay? You’ll get them back soon.” Dabi glanced at the door, and added. “Probably.”
Okay. He still had it then. It hadn’t broken, or been lost. It was one of the blades Chizome had gifted him and - stop thinking about him . Izuku turned his head to the right, hiding his face from Dabi’s concerned gaze.
“Hey, I need you to stay with me. You gotta be present for the next part. Aizawa and company want to talk with you.”
Izuku wanted to complain. But he wasn’t a child, and he knew there had to be a lot of questions he'd have to answer. So he’ll answer. And this time… he’ll be honest. Or more honest than he’d ever be. So… he’d stay there, for now.
---
He might not have stayed as present as Dabi would’ve liked though, because soon - or not soon he didn’t know - the door opened and someone slipped in. He felt Dabi stood up, someone talked and someone left the room.
“Kid?”
Izuku inhaled sharply and turned his head, the word making him jump out of his torpor. Aizawa had taken Dabi’s seat. He wasn’t in his Hero Costume, which was a rare sight, but wore black loose baggy clothes. He still had his capture weapon around his neck, and his hair was in a bun.
“You alright?”
Izuku nodded. Was that a lie? Maybe. Who cared.
“Okay, good. You’re mostly all healed up. They struggled with your right side though, but in a couple days it should stop hurting. There’s going to be scar tissue left, but I don't think it’s going to be a problem for you.”
That was a lot of words. Izuku was tired. He hummed. New scars. Okay. That was fine.
“... I’m not sure you’re alright enough to be interrogated.”
Izuku blinked, then frowned. He was a bit slow, yes, but he was okay enough to answer questions.
“I’m fine.”
“If you say so, kid.”
“Don’t.” Izuku’s voice was loud and harsher than he thought it’d be.
Aizawa stilled and arched an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”
Izuku swallowed and lowered his gaze. “Don’t call me that. Please.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Okay, Problem Child. Thanks for telling me.”
Izuku scrunched his nose and brought a hand to his face, hiding his eyes and closing them. He took a few measured breaths. It was fine. He was fine. And he was very lucid now.
He lowered his hand and met his teacher’s gaze, who looked back at him calmly.
“You want to interrogate me.” His voice was back to normal, steady.
Aizawa nodded, leaning back on the chair. “Yes, but I’ll tell you a few things first, information I think you’d like to know.”
“Dabi already told me that Hitoshi and Kyouka were okay.”
Aizawa huffed. “They are, yes. And they’re desperate to see you. It’s not visitor hours now, unfortunately.”
Izuku straightened up a bit, changing his position. “You’re here, though.”
Aizawa arched both of his eyebrows. “Perks of being a Pro Hero. Good to see you still have your cheek, Problem Child.”
Izuku let his head rest on his pillow. He shrugged. Aizawa sighed and said :
“It’s not what I wanted to say, but yes, your friends are alright. Before I continue, I want to tell you ; don’t panic. Everything is fine, and so are you. I’m with you. Understood?”
Izuku stared at his teacher with wide eyes. That was not something he had wanted to hear. There were only a couple things that could make him panic. Izuku searched Aizawa’s expression. He knows . But he nodded, sharply, deciding to trust the man. What else could he do anyway?
“Alright. First. Both Shigaraki and All for One are dead. We think Stain killed Shigaraki. All for One was defeated by All Might, although that’s what we’re saying to the public. I believe you’ll have more information about that.” He interrupted himself, sent a questioning look to Izuku, who nodded hesitantly.
“Hmm. Almost all the members of the League of Villains have been arrested if they were present during the raid, and the few that weren’t are being hunted as we speak, and that’s thanks to your little friend, Touya.”
Izuku blinked. Touya? …Oh, right. Dabi. Touya Todoroki. Same person. He knew that. So he nodded, again.
“Still following? Good.” Aizawa took a few seconds and continued. “I went to see your mother.”
Oh. Aizawa knew more than Izuku thought he did. That was… Izuku slowly forced himself to relax, unlocking each of his muscles one by one, because being tense right now hurt. His teacher had just told him not to panic. He could follow orders now, it was easy, he could do that. Not panic. Easy. It’s not like every secrets he’d ever kept were known by Aizawa and probably other Heroes and the police.
He wasn’t in handcuffs. That was probably a good sign.
“Izuku?”
He blinked, trying really hard to stay there and not panic.
“Sorry. I’m here. How… how was she?” He hoped his absence had at least made her happier, made her less worried. Because that’s why she had wanted him to leave, wasn’t it?
Aizawa crossed his legs. “She was fine, as far as I could tell. But that’s not what I’m concerned about. You don't live with her.” And that wasn’t a question.
Izuku glanced quickly at his teacher and looked away, the white door in front of him suddenly fascinating to observe.
“I don’t. She made me leave after… It was right after the USJ trip. She left a letter.”
There was a moment of silence, and he could practically feel the anger emanate from his teacher. It probably wasn’t directed towards him… right?
“Please tell me you weren’t living on the streets.” Aizawa’s voice was almost pleading, and he had never heard that tone from him. So he quickly shook his head.
“No. We - I found a studio. It’s small but it does the job. It’s fine.”
Izuku looked back at Aizawa and the man had a hand rubbing his forehead, and he looked older than his years at that moment.
“It's not fine , but it’s better than nothing, yes. Alright. Since you’re not going back to this studio - no you’re not, don't even try - and you’ll definitely not be moving back with your mother, we need to find you somewhere else to stay.”
Izuku didn’t say anything, but his heartbeat was increasing, making him notice that the heart monitor had been disconnected. Aizawa continued, straightening on his chair.
“We talked about you becoming a ward of U.A. before… before the camp. I have a few propositions. They - the Principal Nedzu and the Board - have decided to build dormitories on campus for the security of the students. So either you move there permanently, there’ll always be teachers, Heroes and staff around, so you’ll be fine.”
It took a couple of seconds for Izuku to wrap his head around all the information. Right, he’d become a ward, and dormitories were being built? Okay.
“Or, and I insist that you have all the rights to choose, you stay with me.”
Izuku blinked. He… what?
“Whatever you decide, I am fine with it, remember. If you choose that, you’ll still go to the dorms during school time, but for weekends and holidays it’ll allow you a change of scenery.”
Aizawa was still sitting there, on his chair, looking comfortable and relaxed, and his position made Izuku think about Chizome, and his heart ached. He gripped his blankets between his fingers, playing with the fabric.
“You… you’d be okay with me living with you?”
At that, Aizawa’s entire face softened. “Yes, Problem Child. I’d be more than okay. I’m offering it.”
Izuku swallowed, a lump in his throat, an emotion so huge it made it hard to think and he couldn’t describe what he was feeling exactly, other than it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t negative. He just didn’t know what to make of all that. Of people helping him.
Of Chizome, willing to give away his Quirk for Izuku, to kill Shigaraki for Izuku.
Of Dabi, or Touya now, to betray the League and go to the Heroes for them to find Izuku.
Of Hitoshi and Kyouka, participating in the raid and fighting alongside him against All for One.
Of Aizawa, offering him a place to stay. A home.
He rubbed a hand on his face. That was too much. Too much to feel and to think. He was tired.
“Can I… think about it?” He asked, his voice less steady than he would've liked.
“Of course.”
“...Thanks.”
They stayed a moment in silence, Aizawa kindly letting Izuku recover from their overwhelming conversation. And Izuku took this time to roll on his left side, carefully. He bent his legs, his knees almost touching his chest, and brought both of his arms in front of him after putting his blanket over his shoulder.
He could see his wrists, both wrapped in bandages. He could almost still feel the cold metal cuffs against the raw skin. He couldn’t stand the silence anymore, so he broke it.
“What else did you want to talk about?”
Aizawa seemed to hesitate, trying to evaluate if he deemed Izuku well enough to continue the discussion. Apparently he did.
“Hmm. Again, try to stay calm. Like I said, you’re fine. Hitoshi went to talk to me after your kidnapping, and he only talked because he wanted to help you. He told us about your connection with Stain.”
Izuku didn’t even react. He had known. He had thought about the possibility of Hitoshi telling Aizawa, and at the start of their conversation, Aizawa’s warning had been enough. His teacher knew, but he kept saying he was fine, and he had even offered Izuku to live with him, so surely it was okay.
It was weird, to not feel fear or stress right now about his secret being revealed. Maybe because Chizome wasn’t in danger of being captured. Maybe because Izuku was tired. He had spent so many sleepless nights worrying about that. It felt a bit unreal.
“What did he tell you?”
Aizawa was also a bit taken aback from his lack of reaction, but still answered.
“He didn’t know much, since I don’t think you’ve told him a lot. But enough to understand better what happened in Hosu and how you became skilled with blades.”
Izuku nodded, his cheek rubbing on his pillow.
“He taught me.”
Aizawa acquiesced. “That's what I thought, yes.”
Izuku hummed, then closed his eyes. He was tired, and he didn’t want to be there anymore. He didn’t know for how long he had his eyelids closed, but he felt his teacher move and then a hand ruffled his hair.
“Rest, Problem Child. We’ll talk more later.”
Izuku fell asleep.
---
The next time he woke up, he was still in this hazy state and let himself be for a while. He knew Aizawa was still there, a dark presence at his side, and he knew a nurse had come in to change his bandages, and tried to make him eat a bit. And he did, but he hadn’t eaten much.
He had fallen back asleep, although his sleep had been very light and agitated, dreams and nightmares and pain keeping him conscient. So he woke up again, and Aizawa brought him tea - no you can’t have an energy drink Problem Child how on earth are you still alive -, and they talked some more.
Well, his teacher talked, he merely listened. About how the raid went into more details, about what was going to happen with his mother and how Aizawa was handling it all and he shouldn’t worry about it too much. About Izuku’s new scars and his blades that were kept safe, and about Nedzu that wanted to talk with him and about Tsukauchi that would soon come to interrogate him and for him to give his statement.
And the only complete sentence Izuku had uttered was that he wanted to live with Aizawa, and the man had only smiled and answered softly : “Alright. We’ll do that.”
---
And then, Hitoshi and Kyouka visited. There was an awkward silence, then they started to talk at the same time.
“Sorry, I-”
“We just -”
“I wanted -”
And the three of them stopped talking as abruptly as they had started, looking at each other. Then Kyouka let out a giggle. She slapped her hand across her mouth.
“Sorry, it’s not funny. It’s just -”
Another giggle slipped out, then Hitoshi snorted. Izuku smiled. And the three of them started laughing. Hitoshi had to lean against the wall, Kyouka was holding her sides and Izuku was hiding his face behind his hands.
He had missed them, and he was so glad to be friends with them. Although laughing was a bit uncomfortable because of his right side. It was all healed up, but the scar tissue was sort of tight on his skin and his ribs were still weaker than they should be.
It had taken them a couple of minutes to calm down - and the intervention of a nurse asking them to be more quiet - but they finally settled down. Izuku was sitting in his bed, leaning on some upright pillows, and the two others had taken the chairs.
There was quiet apologies, then soft explanations and some wet eyes and wobbly voices, and some more apologies and thank you’s.
When Aizawa came back to tell them visitor hours were over, the sight he was welcome with was Izuku sandwiched between Hitoshi and Kyouka who had squeezed themselves on either side of him on the bed, shoulders and heads squished together, eyes closed, sleeping soundly.
---
Izuku looked down at his shoes. He was dressed in his clothes - clean and comfy clothes - for the first time in forever. Black cargo pants, black boots, red t-shirt hidden underneath a large sweatshirt that was Miruko’s merch. There was a thin yellow crescent moon on the back and two rabbit ears on the front, small and where Izuku’s heart was.
His hands were in his pockets. He would’ve toyed with his butterfly knife if he had it, but it hadn’t been given back to him yet. Nor his phone, which had been destroyed by Touya before he had “kidnapped” him. He had asked Hitoshi and Kyouka to tell the Class 1-A group chat that he was alright. So he kept his hands warm in his pockets.
His hands, and feet, were always cold now. He didn’t know if it was the hospital, or nerve damage, or something else, but it seemed to stay. He clenched his fists, then let them relax.
He was currently waiting for Aizawa, he was filling the last documents needed for his release from the hospital, and there seemed to be some complications because it was starting to take a long time. So he just… sat there, in a corridor, on a plastic chair. Nurses walking by him, some patients, or families and their kids, and Izuku observed them, noticing their Quirks.
One woman had blue hair and blue eyes, which reminded him of a patrol he had done with Chizome a few years ago, when he had come across an entirely blue person, and he had a gun and Chizome had saved him and - Okay. Stop thinking about him .
He focused on the noises around him, the footsteps and the conversations and the cries and the beep of the machineries and the TV on his right which was passing the news. He frowned, his ears picking up on a familiar voice.
Izuku looked up at the screen and was startled. There was All Might on a rediffusion of some conference. Except the man wasn’t in his huge usual shape. He was small, thin, sick looking, but still with his blond hair. Izuku tilted his head to the side and listened.
“He was called All for One, yes. He was my enemy and had been for a long time. He injured me in a fight years ago, and I had thought I had defeated him. I was wrong. He came back, but I know for sure now that he will no longer be a problem.”
A journalist had almost interrupted him, asking in a rush : “What about your shape? What happened?”
All Might coughed, then answered. “Yes, yes. Well you see, to explain shortly, there used to be two brothers…”
Izuku listened to All Might retelling the tales he had heard from All for One with a slight grimace on his face. He tuned back in when there was more interesting information.
“And so, I have One for All, he had All for One. But this rivalry, those two Quirks… they brought too much pain and destruction. While I am proud of what I have accomplished as a Hero, as the Symbol of Peace, I think it is time for me to retire and leave the place to the new generation of Heroes. My Quirk has done its purpose and now, it will end with me, but I hope that my time as a Hero will inspire the young people -”
Izuku stopped listening. He heard enough. It was great that All Might had not sought a successor, because being passed on this Quirk would be such a burden. It was good to let it die. His speech was inspirational, for sure. Izuku only hoped he had been told this instead of “ You can’t be a Hero. ” But, whatever. What was done was done.
“Problem Child.”
Izuku lifted his head. Aizawa was standing next to him, a duffle bag on his shoulder.
“Ready to go?”
He nodded and stood up. He was ready, he had been ready days ago. They walked out, Aizawa going slower than he probably needed, but Izuku appreciated it anyway. They walked to his car, his teacher putting the bag in the trunk, then both of them sat in the front of the car.
“You think you can tell me how to go to your studio?”
Izuku nodded, then they started the car and drove for less than an hour. There was some traffic, it was the end of the day and people were going home after work or school. Aizawa had put on the radio at some point, Present Mic’s show had filled the car. And Izuku sometimes told his teacher to turn right, or left, or keep going straight, and finally, they turned on a street and Aizawa parked the car in front of the apartment building where Izuku had lived for months now.
It was weird to be here with his teacher of all people.
They climbed the stairs, walked into his studio. Aizawa didn’t say anything about the state of the place but Izuku knew what he was thinking, anyway. It was messy, but not dirty, because Izuku didn’t like it when it wasn’t clean, but messy, he could deal with. He knew what everything was, even if it was his phone charger that was under a pile of clothes on the left of his futon.
So they stayed here for around an hour, taking what he wanted to keep, mainly clothes, school stuff, his laptop and notebooks, a few other things. Sometimes, Aizawa would say that he didn’t need to bring a thing, because he already had it in his apartment or that he would buy a new one for Izuku. Everytime it made Izuku’s heart warm up.
And then, they were going back down the stairs, back to the car, with Izuku’s entire life in two bags. Which seemed a lot and not enough at the same time.
As Aizawa started the car, Izuku found himself interrupting him.
“Can we go… somewhere else? There’s something I need to take.”
His teacher looked at him for a while, hands on the keys, ready to turn them.
“Is this “somewhere” safe?”
Izuku nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced to the side and added. “Usually.”
Aizawa rolled his eyes and started the car. “Tell me the way, then.”
---
Izuku stepped out of the car, eyes driven on the old building. He didn’t remember when he had started calling it the barn, and why Chizome had rolled with it, because honestly it didn’t look like a barn. An old wooden house, maybe, but that was it. He stared at it, trying to burn its image into his mind, because he didn’t think he’d come back there soon. Or at all.
Aizawa got out of the car, closed the door behind him and the noise was almost too loud for the abandoned neighborhood. He leaned against the door, brows furrowed as he looked at the barn.
Izuku gestured with his hand. “I just have to quickly go in. That’s all. It’ll take a second.”
His teacher crossed his arms and nodded. “I’ll be right here.”
Izuku smiled at him, and it was a bit weak, but he appreciated it. He hadn’t wanted Aizawa to come with him. It was Chizome’s and Izuku’s place. No one else’s. And so he walked, steadily on the little path that led to the front door, through the tall and dried grass, up the wobbly wooden steps and put his hand on the doorknob.
He opened the door, walked in. It was dark inside, like usual. Dusty and bare. Just the old sofa and coffee table. He stayed frozen on the threshold for a moment, as if taking one more step was suddenly physically impossible. The last time he came here was just after Chizome had been taken by the League. His gaze fell on the sofa.
He entered the barn, the floor creaking, and walked over the couch. He pushed it away, crouched down and removed a plank from the ground. Underneath it, at the same place he’d put it, was Chizome’s scarf, still as red as fresh blood.
Izuku slowly took it in his hands, fingers cold on the soft fabric. He felt his heart clench and he swallowed with difficulty. He put back the plank, pushed the sofa in its place and turned away. He had come here for that, nothing else. He walked out, closing the door behind him, squinting a bit at the gold setting sun outside, hand clenched around Chizome’s scarf.
Aizawa was still there, leaning on his car. As he got closer to his teacher, he noticed that the man looked curiously at the cloth, but he didn’t say anything, and Izuku appreciated it. If he had to talk or explain something right now, he’d probably cry. So he sat back inside the car, Aizawa doing the same, starting the engine.
Izuku looked at the rearview mirror, and at the barn becoming smaller and smaller as they drove away, until Aizawa took a turn, and there was nothing left to look at.
---
“It’s a bit bare, but you’ll have time to furnish it. Make it yours.”
Izuku took a hesitant step forward, into his new room. He had slept there before, during the internship, with Hitoshi, both of them on the floor and on some futon.
But now the room had a bed, a desk with its chair, a dresser and a shelf. There was a large window allowing light in the room. It was bright, spacious and clean. It was Izuku’s. He put down his bags, turned around and looked at the room, his bedroom.
On the bed, a familiar case, where he knew all his blades were in. His butterfly knife and katana were next to it, and so was a phone - a new one.
His eyes fell on Aizawa, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. Izuku wanted to say something. Thank you , maybe, or, it’s too much . But nothing came out when he opened his mouth. His teacher seemed to understand anyway, and the man smiled, nodded.
“I’m going to make us something to eat. Put away your stuff, if you want.”
Then he left, leaving Izuku in his room. But he didn’t feel alone, for once.
He carefully put Chizome’s scarf on his new desk, the red contrasting against the white painted wood. He breathed in, once, twice, settling his throbbing heart and trembling hands.
He brought his fingers to his right side, to his ribs and he could almost feel his new scarred skin under his sweatshirt. He cleared his throat, took back the scarf and went to sit on his bed. He opened the case, took out one of his knives and started to cut part of the scarf. Carefully, just a few threads.
With some in hand, he started to braid them, and made a knot at both ends to prevent the braid from undoing itself. That done, he took his katana, keeping it in its sheath because he only needed the tsuka. He passed the thread around the handle, made a knot.
A red braided thread was now decorating his katana. A reminder. A tribute.
It was going to be alright.
---
Talking to Tsukauchi had been put off for too long, and Izuku knew it. But he hadn’t really said anything, it was Aizawa that kept saying later or another day, and Izuku rolled with it, not bothered to wait. But it had to be done, and Aizawa took Izuku to a police station, then they met with Detective Tsukauchi, but in his office, and he had made tea - coffee for Aizawa.
“It’s going to be like last time. I'll ask questions, you answer the best you can. We can take breaks, and if there’s anything making you uncomfortable, we’ll try to make it better, okay?”
Izuku nodded, cuddling on his chair, legs drawn to his chest, hands around the warm cup. While the detective and his teacher were talking about the more formal things, Izuku had let his eyes wander around the office, the bare walls except for a few pictures and hanging diplomas and a whole shelf with books and piled up papers. The desk was dark wood, the carpet was brown. Izuku didn’t want to be here.
“So. Ready?” Tsukauchi asked, hands clasped in front of him.
Izuku nodded, then used his voice, remembering he had to answer vocally because the discussion - the interrogation - was recorded. “I guess so.”
“When was the first time you came in contact with the Hero Killer Stain?”
Izuku clenched his hands. “Chizome.” He raised his eyes to look into Tsukauchi’s. “His name is… was. Akaguro Chizome.” He took a deep breath. “I was ten. And I was at Takoba Municipal Beach. I was… It had been a bad day and I had wanted to. Swim.”
Tsukauchi interrupted him. “I picked that up as a lie. Last time, I noticed a few white lies, but right now, I need you to be as honest as possible.”
Izuku felt Aizawa shift next to him, and he looked down at his tea, at the steam whirling in the air. They wanted honesty? Fine.
“I’d been given a red spider lily that day. So I came to the beach, and I wanted to go in the ocean and never come out. I wanted to drown.”
Silence. He continued.
“But Chizome was there. Still don’t know why. He told me not to swim there, that it wasn’t a good idea, and we talked and… He offered to train me.” Izuku snorted. “I couldn’t believe it. Train me? Quirkless, useless me? By a Villain?” He leaned back on his chair, looking at the detective, who watched him back with a carefully controlled expression, but Izuku could see the disbelief hidden there.
“I said yes. We made a deal. He’d make me into a Hero, a worthy one. But if I failed, he’d kill me, like the rest of the unworthy Heroes he murdered.” He shrugged. “It had seemed like a good deal at the time. A win-win situation.”
Izuku sighed. It was such a crazy thing, saying it out loud. Ten year old him was something else. But he had also been suicidal, hopeless, bullied and disparate, for any kind of help, of hope, of something .
“So that’s what he did, he taught me how to use katanas, throwing daggers, daikunai, and honestly any kind of blades we had on hand, but also combat with no weapons.”
He then told them about the training, and the patrols, and their relationship during his time at U.A., how Chizome had helped him find a studio and that he gave him all his gear, and how Izuku wanted him to stop being the Hero Killer and how he had known about Hosu, and so many other things, answering all the questions they had about Stain.
He then, he told them about Kamino. How Chizome had killed Shigaraki, for him , and how they’d fought All for One together , and how Chizome had finally used his Quirk against the Villain and that it had allowed All Might to end him.
“We didn’t find Stain’s body.” It wasn’t a question, but it led Izuku to answer the whys and the hows and the wheres.
He looked at Tsukauchi straight in the eyes and said : “Stain is dead. He died that night. When I walked back to Aizawa-sensei, he had been gone for a while.”
And that wasn't a lie. Stain was dead. That’s what Tsukauchi had wondered. But Chizome? As far as Izuku knew, the man was alive and far, far away. But that hadn’t been the question.
The interrogation continued for a while, long enough that they'd all refilled their drinks three times and that the night had started to fall, and Izuku had almost lost his voice. He talked more about his interaction with Shigaraki and All for One, and then about Dabi, and then about Inko, and by the end of it, he was drained, absolutely exhausted.
Tsukauchi wrote something down, then ended the recording with a sigh.
As much as Izuku had sort of felt calm and confident during the interrogation, he didn’t anymore. He fidgeted with his empty tea cup.
“What now? What’s going to happen to me?” He looked up at Aizawa. His teacher’s face was half hidden in his capture weapon.
It was the detective that answered. “Well. It seemed that you were coerced into this… relation with Stain, and he threatened to kill you if you ever spoke about it. As far as I know you were protecting yourself.” He raised an eyebrow at Izuku, his tone was light, as if it was a suggestion.
Izuku blinked. It kinda was the truth, but a bit stretched and exaggerated. He turned to Aizawa. His teacher shrugged, then said. “Yeah. That’s what happened. You didn’t have a choice, also…”
The man straightened up. “That’s all that needs to be known. Stain is dead, all that happened while you were and are a child. You’re also one of my best students, and I’d be damned to let go of such potential.” He then grimaced. “And you picked Nedzu’s curiosity, so you have his support as well as mine. So.”
He looked back at Tsukauchi. The detective was already gazing back, and he nodded, as if confirming a silent agreement.
“Alright, good. Well, we’re done here, I think. I have everything I need, I’ll handle the rest. If there's any questions from you both, don’t hesitate to contact me, and the same goes for me, I hope?”
Aizawa nodded and stood up. Izuku looked at him, then at Tsukauchi, back and forth between the two men. What. That was it? Just… he was let go, like that? There were no… consequences?
He must have mumbled that last question out loud, because Aizawa huffed and answered. “You always were a special case, Problem Child. Luck and support are on your side for once, just accept it okay? C’mon, it’s late.”
And so, Izuku walked out of the police station, free. As free, and as light as he had ever been. All the weight, and the lies, and the secrets, gone. Well. Not all of it, of course, he’d kept some parts to himself. Like the late night eating take out on the roof of tall buildings, or the long talks about Heroes and Villains or Quirks, or their sparring sessions that had turned from lessons at the start to simply sparring and almost playing. Like how Chizome had apologized to Izuku before being taken by the Nomu, like how he’d been ready to give up his Quirk for him, like he had told him he’d never kill him.
How he had told him he’d love him, and he was proud of him.
That, Izuku had kept for himself.
---
In the car, after a minute or two of silence, Aizawa talked.
“You’re going to therapy, by the way. I’m not negotiating that anymore.”
Izuku grimaced. Okay, fair .
---
They had the rest of the summer vacation before the start of the school, but it didn’t mean it was all rest.
Izuku had now constant access to Aizawa training place, where he had been during the internship, and he took the chance to invite Hitoshi and Kyouka to hang out there, to spar or just talk. Sometimes he’d invite Touya and Shouto too, but they weren’t present today.
Right now, they were sprawled on a training mat, staring at the ceiling.
“What about… the Wonder Trio.”
Izuku startled at hearing that out of Hitoshi’s mouth and kicked him in the leg, making his friends laugh.
“I’m kidding! I’m kidding.”
Izuku had told them about his childhood friendship with Bakugou and how they had wanted to become Heroes together and form the Wonder Duo. And now Hitoshi was teasing him.
Kyouka snorted and said. “Nah. It needs to be something that represents us. What we do, what we believe in.”
Hitoshi groaned. “I don’t know, my brain is blank . I have no ideas. Also, I’m hungry, how do you expect me to think , while I’m hungry?”
Izuku sat up. “We have all the time to think about the future name of our agency, anyway. We still have more than two years of school ahead of us.”
Who would’ve thought that Izuku would talk about creating a Hero Agency with his two best friends one day. Not him, but here he was. And what a wonderful thing it was.
“Okay. Food. Should we order take out?”
---
Wherever Chizome was, Izuku hoped he was watching him. Seeing him become a good Hero, all thanks to him. He hoped he was proud of him.
Maybe one day he’ll tell the world - or rather Hitoshi, Kyouka, Aizawa - about Chizome in more detail. And who the man really had been to him. Maybe one day. But not yet.
Because saying that he became a Hero thanks to a Villain was… well not funny, but certainly ironic.
FIN