Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fuck, you hate slow nights. Almost as much as you hate the ones where you actually gotta work, but that's different. Marking what you do as ‘work’ isn’t fair, to anyone really. Jumping from building to building, beating up low level thugs and getting hurt here or there isn’t fair. Not to you (since you aren’t getting paid), not to the thug (who was probably not looking forward to being taken down by a teenage vigilante) and especially not to the mysterious figure, who’s sleep you’ve been stealing for the past month. That's what they get for following you around on their own accord.
It's all worth it in the end though. You are kind of selfish for that, but crashing in the small apartment you call home, drenched in sweat and muscles aching has never felt so good, after saving someone.
You just wish your mom was still there, so she could hear the stories. Sometimes, when you stop a particularly nasty- looking pervert lurking in a dark alley, or prevent a drug exchange, you do feel like she would be proud.

'Today is especially lazy', you think. You watch over the city, your legs dangling over the edge of the concrete roof, eating your bucket of nuggets and fries. You just decided that a break was needed, after tying a villain up in the back of a McDonalds (he was trying to break into the store over the street). That way you made sure the ‘anonymous’ call you made to the police wasn’t ignored, and somebody was gonna pick the thug up. Good thing he had some cash on him, you didn't have any money for your late dinner/ early breakfast.

Just as you’re about to consume your last fry, you hear a scream from a few alleys down. The sigh that escapes your mouth just then would make anyone think you pay taxes, have a full time job and three part time jobs on the side. You did not sleep enough for this.
But at the end of the day, nobody asked you to do this, so you stop complaining, get up and make your way to the origin of the shriek.

As you get to where the sound came from, you merge with the shadows. You slow down on the roof, where the people in the alley aren’t aware of you yet and evaluate the situation.
There’s two guys- one in the van parked at the end of the street, and the other (very much shiningly bald) guiding three women, who appear to be in some sort of trance, in the said vehicle. You at first are confused, as to where the scream came from, when you notice the fourth woman, sitting on the floor and another man trying to shut her up. Aside from the former, who has a dragon shaped head (you’re really hoping he doesn’t have fire breath- that’s a bitch to deal with) no other quirks are visible.
You decide to just go for it, so you put your shoes and socks off and activate your quirk. The soles of your feet and the palms of your hands just start to itch slightly as you transform the texture of your skin into that of a spider. You gain momentum, and jump onto the wall of the building across the alley. Now you move like a lizard across the bricks and stay unseen until the very second you touch the ground. Then you make yourself known.

“Three of you, four of them. Can’t count, can ya?” you say loudly enough for all of them to hear.

The guy closest to you, the one trying to shut the woman up, startles and looks at you with wide, snake-shaped pupils. The guy who’s leading the women into the van, suddenly stiffens, but does not turn around to confront you. The control he has over them must be eye contact based then.
You got only a second longer to think, before dragon-face pulls out a throwing knife out of god knows where, throwing it and forcing you to move further away.
“Wow, didn’t know you could be bad at math and accuracy. Really hope you’re just having a rough night.”
He scoffs, now looking mildly entertained: “You practice those dramatic entrances in the mirror?”
Huh. It's your first time meeting someone who responds to your stupid bullshit.
Before you can say anything back, he throws the second knife. Now you’re on the move. You reverse your transformation from a spider and decide that you wanna go ahead with the Mirko approach. Suddenly, your feet grow longer, and you feel your muscles getting stronger. With rabbit legs you jump forward, and kick the fucker right in the face. You can see the sharp teeth flying out.
“Did no one tell you crime doesn’t come with dental insurance?” you say just before you feel the heat of the flames graze your left leg.
Fuck, he did have fire breathing. You can already feel your skin aching and itching from the burn.
Since you know better than to be over reliant on your quirk, you take one of the many knives stashed in your belt, just so the dragon-head didn’t see it and throw it while pretending to kick him again.
As expected, he did dodge the kick, but not the knife that embedded itself into his shoulder. It wasn’t lethal, at least that wasn’t its purpose, it was thrown just to slow him down.

You never kill. That would make you the same as the thugs and low lives you fight.

While the guy is still confused from the dagger, you pull it out when you get close enough to swipe the crying woman beside him. Now she is as safe as one can be in such a situation positioned behind you. As you stand between her and the kidnappers, you hand her a flip phone.
“Are you alright enough to call the police?” you say, just loud enough for her to hear. She takes the phone, so you take that as a yes.

Next thing you know, the bald dude slowly but surely got the women into the van. You gotta hurry. You jump over dragon-face, who is still sitting on the floor. Just in case, you take one of the longer blades and throw it hard enough so the thing went through the palm of his hand and also into the small piece of dirt, the cracked concrete just conveniently revealed. He won’t move.

You land on the bald guy just as he is about to make a run into the van for it. He stumbles and falls flat on his back with you still on him. He rolls around, so he looms over you, and you gotta give it to him- he packs a strong punch. You know that because he gave you around what…ten of them? Twenty? You’re not so sure anymore.
Look, he was heavy and you were trapped, it wasn’t your fault. Finally, you’ve had enough, so you catch his next punch, just barely, and twist his whole arm under an angle, just to dislocate it a little.
In the moment of confusion, you are now the one in control. It takes one punch to his neck and he’s out like a light. You stand up, bloodied nose, even a little woozy (there are some stars at the edge of your vision) and open the van. The women freed of the trance now quickly jumped out of the vehicle. Seems it was mind control of the bald guy’s quirk. You usher them to the woman who already called the police and tell them to wait there. You heard their quiet thanks to you, but you just shrug them off. Can't really focus on something else if you're trying to keep your balance.

You turn around and for what happens next you can only blame yourself. You were so caught up in the ‘freeing the victims’ thing you forgot there was another guy in the van.
He was able to get so close to you. Too close even.
You remember the first couple of nights you spent on the street. A lot of people got too close. You never liked it.
Next thing you feel is a long knife piercing you through your stomach. The pain is a lot. You didn’t get the chance to move. But you have it now.
Even though the knife was not only plunged in, but also pulled back out, you steady yourself, and aim right for the guys' crotch. After the kick lands he doubles over, so you give him another punch, just at the right spot for him to pass out. You tie him up immediately. Not forgetting the dragon-face, you tie him up all the same.

You wait just till you can make out the police car lights through your blurry vision, applying pressure on the wound. Then you move. On the rooftop, grabbing your shoes, and swaying more than walking in the direction of your apartment.

You are sure you are going to make it home. 90% sure. But then you step just a bit too wrong and almost plummet into the dumpster below.
Huh, that's weird…why didn’t you fall? You look down and see a cloth or a scarf of some sorts wrapped around your torso. You follow it till you find the source- it was the shadow that has been following you around for the past month. It takes you a while but then you realize who it is. The dark hair, the capture weapon, the first impression of a homeless person - it was mother. Fucking. Eraserhead.
You try to wriggle out of the scarf, but you just feel too weak. Slowly you feel your consciousness slipping and the last thing you feel is the strong warm, hands hoisting you over a shoulder.

Chapter Text

Shouta Aizawa is a tired man. He goes from waking up to the snores of his husband, to teaching the loudest class he’s had the misfortune of mentoring. After grading some of the stupidest answers he could’ve gotten on what he thought was the easiest test he ever handed out (Kaminari and Ashido are at it again), he takes his kid and husband home and crashes the bed till it’s time for his night patrol. Good thing both jobs are rewarding (and well paid), otherwise he would’ve been even grumpier than he already is.
So Shouta Aizawa is also a very busy man. So busy, in fact, that before he could’ve reached the teenage vigilante he’s been keeping an eye on for the last month, he had to break off another completely unnecessary fight going on three blocks away. It wasn’t something he couldn’t handle- it was really just annoying and time consuming. He tied the villains unconscious and then called the police all while making way to the block the kid went to.

When he arrived at the alley, he was met with a somewhat unsurprising scene. He knew the vigilante was efficient- they anonymously tipped the police about tied down, and half beaten thugs all the time. Even a drug bust here or there. Shouta did see some of the footage of them fighting, and for the gear the kid had, and the fact that they’re what-17, 18? It was quite impressive.
So when faced with the blue and red lights of the police car, three unconscious villains and four shaken up women, he wasn’t really surprised. Still, he kept an eye on the kid for a reason- no matter how skilled or brave, they were still rash, which was going to get them seriously hurt one day. That day might come sooner than both of them had thought it would.
He wasn’t following them only on his own accord- Tsukauchi had something to do with it too. The vigilante was as of recent getting quite some public attention, even making it on the news for a brief mention. They earned a nickname- Arachne.
Probably because of the way they move around, and climb walls, that much was obvious. But that was just the surface speculation of why they got the name they did.
It wasn’t the public that started it though. It was the criminals. Many of the ones brought into custody said it was like they were fighting someone with multiple limbs, because of how fast they moved around. It meant they had to have quite some years of training under their belt, and usually with similar cases, that wasn’t really a good thing.

So blame a hero for trying to help a kid out, before another, not as open minded as him (a certain number two) tries to lock them down.
Aizawa did see the potential. At first it was just that. Potential he wanted to put to use in a more legal way. But after tracking a person for as long as a month, you notice some stuff. The scruffy outfit, covering them just getting dirtier and dirtier, the way they fight, like they don’t have anything to lose. A lot of stuff caught his attention. He really didn’t want to admit it, but he kind of cared for the kid.

Shouta decided to just head home after the scene- his shift was ending, time nearing four in the morning, and he had to wake up in two hours.
Just as he pulled himself on the building and ran across the roof, he spotted a very unstable figure. They were favouring their left side, making it obvious they were injured.
After further inspection, he realized it was a kid. The kid he’s been following around specifically.
‘Well’ he thinks to himself ‘no sleep till further notice then’.
A sigh escapes his lips. He makes way to the vigilante in a pace that wouldn’t startle them, if he was noticed. They didn’t see him. They were acting sluggish, and just as they took a clumsy step, ankle bending in a way it shouldn't, Aizawa had to step in.
Catching them with his capture weapon just before they fell, he takes a good look at them. The mask they were wearing slipping a little, Shouta could see tired, hazy eyes staring back at him.
They widened in recognition, maybe even a bit of fear in them.
The vigilante started making a laughable attempt at wiggling out of the cloth. Shouta just pulled them from hanging off of the building (fuck, they were light) before checking for any injuries.
Immediately he caught sight of the growing red stain on their stomach. Quickly he wrapped his scarf around it, applying the pressure.
Besides the stab wound, the tired hero assumed a sprained ankle and a concussion (based on the blooming black eye, many bruises, split lip and a bleeding nose).
He really didn’t want to see the kid’s face without them knowing, but the injuries were too extensive for him to just ignore it. The first thing he noticed though, was how young they were. The eyebags that could’ve rivaled his own did age them up a bit, but the kid could be anywhere from 15-18.
He gently hoisted them over his shoulder and started making way to his agency. There they could get healed, no questions asked, since there was a hospital floor, and Aizawa could finally get some answers out of them.
When he made it to the agency, he explained the situation to one of the trustier doctors, and let her take care of them.
Then he called Tsukauchi. He answered after the second ring.
“Eraser? Why are you calling at this unholy hour?” Shouta rolls his eyes.
“Oh come on Tsukauchi we both know you aren’t sleeping. This is important. I caught Arachne by mistake.” he cuts straight to the point.
“...what? How do you catch someone by mistake? Didn’t we agree we’d approach them unofficially?” Tsukauchi seems more awake now.
“Listen, come to my agency. They needed medical attention, I never arrested them. They had some pretty serious wounds, I couldn’t just leave them to bleed out.” he explained, before the detective could’ve complained even more
After five long seconds of silence, the tired hero heard a tired sigh over the line and a:
“I’ll be there in 20.” before the call ended.
Now Aizawa had a bigger dragon to fight. His husband.
He called the number he could remember in his sleep and waited exactly three and a half rings before Hizashi picked up.
“Shouta? Why aren’t you home yet? Did something happen? Are you okay?” he could still hear the morning voice he loves to wake up to, smiling to himself.
“Hey Zashi, sorry for worrying you, but I won’t come home today. Don’t worry, I’m okay. Just had a run in with the kid. I’ll tell you about it later” he comforts his husband with a quiet murmur, to calm him down.
Of course, Hizashi is a huge part of Shouta’s life, so obviously he’s gonna know about everything going on on his patrols. Shouta told his husband about the kid, nearly as young, if not just as old as their kid, Toshi. When he heard about it, the voice hero nagged Shouta for not even trying to approach the kid. But at the end of the day, they both know how it is with stray cats- the trust doesn’t fall from the sky.

“Shouu, do you always have to scare me like this? I almost shat myself when I felt the phone ringing, I barely got the chance to put one hearing aid in, god damn it!” as always cranky in the morning. Still a morning person, to everyone’s surprise.
“Sorry, just didn’t want you to wake up in the empty bed in the morning and freaking you out. Could you bring me a fresh change of clothes in the morning? I feel like this will take a while.”
Shouta was still wearing his sweaty hero costume, now soaked in blood.
“Yeah, sure. But Toshi won’t appreciate being woken up before his usual time, so you better deal with that.”
They both whisper a quiet ‘I love you’ before hanging up.
Now it’s time for the most annoying part of all. Waiting. Asking a nurse where they’ll put the kid after the surgery, he makes way to their room, getting a coffee out of the machine on the way.

Tsukauchi arrived about 20 minutes later, as promised.
“Morning to you, Eraser.” he sits on the chair next to Shouta, giving him another coffee. God, he loved working with him.
“Morning.” he grumbled in return, suddenly aware of the early hour, eyes closing again.
After a minute of silence, the hero realized the detective was looking at him, waiting for him to explain.
With a sigh, he straightened his back and started talking.

“Well… that was…unexpected.” Tsukauchi said after a while.
“You got that right.” Aizawa comments, while tucking his chin into his ‘scarf’. It became a habit of his after spending many nights patrolling in the cold winter.
After that, they planned. They had to come up with the specifics, and find some loopholes in the legal system, to help the vigilante out. After a while, they couldn’t ignore what they were already aware of- they needed some help. In whatever shape or form. This time it came in the form of an obnoxious, white chimera.
With a sigh of resignation, Aizawa realized he’s going to have to ask for a favour. Not that he minded asking anyone for help, but when it came to the rodent, the mouse could be quite scary about payback, when he wanted to be.
Just as he was about to walk out of the room, to make the call, they wheeled the kid in.

Under the light of the hospital room, they looked even paler, younger. Their black eye already started to swell, not to mention all the other bruises.
“You really weren’t exaggerating, were you?” the other man asked. Aizawa just hummed in response. “Just how young is this kid?”
After the summary of their injuries, the doctor also warned them about other, older scars. Not that anyone was surprised, the kid was in this business for about two years now. Not that it made anything about the situation they were in okay.

“They should wake up in about two to four hours. When they do, please hand them this, it's for the second degree burn on their leg. They have to apply it every eight hours, to avoid itchiness. The nurse will later show them how. If you need anything, just press the button.” the doctor said, after closing the door on her way out of the room.
Five minutes later, Hizashi entered with Hitoshi. It was already seven in the morning, Shouta realized. He was responding to some work emails while waiting.
With a sigh, he got up to hug his husband and still half asleep kid.
“Thank you Zashi, it’s going to take a while. I was just about to call Nedzu anyway. Won’t be coming to work.” he explains.
“Thought so. Just remember to sleep, okay? Your eyebags already look like I could go on a shopping spree with them.” his husband teased.
“Yeah, yeah, just go and I’ll see you in the afternoon.”
“Also dad?” Hitoshi started, just before leaving.
“What's up?”
“You should really shower. You stink.” and just like that, before Shouta could say anything back, the purple haired kid he called his own was out the door. The quiet laughter that erupted from the detective still present in the room didn’t go undetected.
“Fucking kids” he said under his breath, before making his way to the door of the shower attached to the room.

Just when the clock hit ten, the kid stirred awake. Still on pain meds they looked around the room, not really noticing anything or anyone. None of the two men in the room dared to move.
Finally looking down at themself, a puzzled look crossed their face.
“...the fuck?” was barely audiable from the bed accross the room. Lifting themself slowly, with a pained look on their face they look at their arms.
A cough out on the hallway catching their attention, they spot the men sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chairs just beside the door. At last the realization hits them, a panicked look with the stiffened posture clearly stating how they feel.
“What the fuck?” they repeat, but louder.
“Hey, kid how are you fee-” before Shouta was able to finish his sentence the chair beside their bed flew over the room and hit the spot where Shouta was sitting just a second ago.
Tsukauchi also stood up, Aizawa positioning himself in front of him. On the floor next to the bed was now standing the teenage vigilante, clearly terrified and still on drugs. If they could move this fast still slowed down from the painkillers, how fast could they act normally? No time to think. They’re on the move. Clearly using the shock from the attack to distract the two men, they jump to the window, trying to break out.
Now here, they made a huge mistake- they used their quirk.
Not only were hundreds of different vlogs and internet pages wondering what Arachne’s quirk was. Everyone thought it was something to do with muscle enhancement- clearly not. Now they both know this, because the kids' feet literally grew, making them similar to Mirko’s. A transformation quirk then?
No time to think. Aizawa activated his quirk, wrapping them in his capture weapon, before they could shatter the window, tying them so they couldn't move. That really wasn’t the approach they were going to go with, but something something times and something something needs.
“Kid, you’re about to pull the stitches out-”
“Let me go!” Arachne said, ultimately breaking both of their hearts- the voice was too young and too desperate.
“Alright, wait what if we make a deal.” Tsukaichi started. “We’ll untie you, if you cooperate and don’t try to run.”
After a minute or two of their desperate wriggling the body on the floor went limp.
“Fine. But you ain’t arresting me.”
Slowly, Aizawa released them, revealing a fresh stain of red on their hospital gown.
“Fuck.” all three of them thought, but only one said it out loud.
This is going to be a long day for all of them.

Chapter Text

After opening your eyes, you really didn’t expect to see what you did. Usually, when you pass out after a bad fight, you wake up in the alley, sometimes robbed, but usually just left alone on the cold floor, since you never had anything of value on you.
When you do manage to make it all the way to your one bedroom apartment, you try to get to the bathroom, but that's not important. You can clean up afterwards.
One thing that's always been the same, was that you were alone. No one was there to wrap you up so you had to lick your wounds on your own, like a hurt cat. Call it pathetic, but it was better than anyone seeing your sad moment of failure. That's what you thought, at least till the moment you woke up in that hospital.
Usually, the rain wakes you up, or the shivers, but now, you woke up because of the beeping. That's supposed to be there, right? That's always been there… how come you never noticed it before? So weird. You decide to open your eyes. It’s very bright. Are you dead? No, you wouldn’t have made it into heaven. Next thing you do is smell- it was the smell of a hospital. That wakes up some uncomfortable feelings. You sluggishly blink, too tired to process any of it. You’re sooo tired, have you always been this tired?
Wait, no you need to focus. Right- bright.
You finally decide to look around the space you were in. You see a hospital room. Your eyes skim over the wall and the two men sitting on the chairs next to the door, finally getting to your body. You were wrapped up.
“...the fuck?” you hear someone say. Was that you? That's weird. You also don’t feel any pain remaining from the fight.
Someone is coughing. You look up to the door, catching a glimpse of the two men again.
Finally it catches up to you (what kind of powerful painkiller did they give you, that was able to slow your survival instincts this much?!), panic completely waking you up.
“What the fuck?” okay that was for sure you.
“Hey, kid we’re just he-” but you don’t hear any of it. You don’t care for any of it. You can’t, you have to run, they’ll have you locked up. Instincts kicking in before any reasonable solution appears, you do the stupidest thing you could’ve. You throw a fucking chair, at not just the very skilled and fast underground hero, it was at fucking Eraserhead of all people. But it did cause an initial shock, just enough, that you maybe had the chance to get out through the window.
If you thought about it for even a second longer, you would’ve realized the mistake you made next. God what is up with those god damn painkillers. You used your quirk, because your instincts were instincts of course, and they couldn’t give less of a fuck for how much faster Eraserhead is.
So obviously, just after transforming your legs (now they know what your quirk is you stupid fucking bimbo), you feel a block in it. The transformation is reversing and the plan to jump through a window, went (ironically) out the window.
Before you know it, you’re tied up in Eraserhead’s scarf, wiggling pathetically.
“Kid, you’re about to pull the stitches out-” you hear from somewhere around you (you can’t really tell, your balance and coordination just took a big hit, as well as your ego). You also couldn’t care less.
“Let me go!”...Now you really did try to sound tough, but instead of an intimidating scream, all that was heard was a pathetic whimper. Today really isn’t your day.
“Alright, wait what if we make a deal.” the other man started. Ain’t no fucking way. Who do they think you are? You won’t back down no matter what. Just because they had the upper hand, didn’t mean you would be their bitch. Streets taught you otherwise- always fight back.
“We’ll untie you, if you cooperate and don’t try to run.”
What do they want? What should you do? You make some more depressing attempts of escaping, until ultimately deciding that it wasn’t your day after all. You were drugged, tired and got the feeling you did pull your stitches out. What a mess.
Slowly, but steadily the wraps of the capture scarf weren’t as tight, letting you go.
You look down to investigate further, when you spot a growing red stain on your gown.
“Fuck.” you say out loud. You were too sober for this, even with the amount of painkillers in your system right now.
Suddenly you feel a dull pain piercing through you. Oh fuck the adrenaline wore off. Did you say that out loud? You feel sluggish again. Everything is spinning and you can feel the bile rising up your throat. What the fuck is going on? Your tank of a body isn’t as much of a tank anymore, but more of a tricycle.
Before you could even react, you feel the same hands that carried you to the hospital lift you up, leading you to the toilet. Oh my god, your first face to face interaction with THE Eraserhead will be accompanied by you throwing up. Not like you can do anything about it.
You hear someone call for a nurse, and before you know it, the underground hero is rubbing circles into your back while you’re throwing up the little McDonalds you ate before the fight.
That was NOT how your first interaction should’ve gone.
Then you black out, thank god. Did not want to remember any of it anyway. It still didn’t feel safe passing out around them though.

Next time you wake up, you can see the sunset. You hear muffled voices from the hallway, just outside the door. Your lips are dry and your throat is raspy. What did you even throw up after the nuggets and fries? You haven’t eaten enough to just be throwing up left and right. So annoying. You get up, swaying a bit before deciding that maybe sitting on the floor looked like the best idea.
You get just to the wall next to your bed and huddle in the corner. You need to think. Where was your stuff? What will they do to you? Do they want to arrest you? You have no way of getting out in this condition, so you might as well listen next time before throwing a chair at the person closest to you.
You hear the door opening. You look up, just to see Ereserhead (in his civilian clothes, you notice) gently saying his goodbyes to a tall blonde man, and a boy with lavender hair. He seems to be as old as you. You make eye contact for a second, before the door shuts. Now the tired hero is aiming his whole attention to you. Fuck.
He sighs “Why are you on the floor?”
“Tactical position. Very advanced. You wouldn’t understand." You snap back, already feeling his migraine forming. This will be entertaining. You’re scared as shit, but at least you could annoy others to death.
He hits you with a look. An ‘I’m-too-tired-for-your-bullshit’ kinda gaze. Oh crap he was looking at you like you just said the lamest dad joke.
He steps closer, which might have made you tense up a bit. He stops right there, just enough that you couldn’t ignore him and just enough for you not to feel too threatened yet.
“Will you listen now?” he says while crouching down to your level.
You pretend to think for a second and say: “Hmm I dunno, might rather throw up.”
“Look, I'm being serious here. Will you listen to what I have to say?”
Uh, he sounds serious. Don’t want to touch that really.
You let out a quiet:”...fine.” while not letting your eyes leave him. He seems somewhat relieved.
“Thank you. Now, you probably know me as Eraserhead. I’m gonna bring detective Tsukauchi in here, so you can answer some of his questions. If you don’t want to answer a question, we’ll find an alternative. Any objections?”
You stay quiet, but not because you have nothing to say (you may have too much to say), but because you were confused- he’s a hero. You’re a borderline criminal. Why is he so respectful of your space, when you’ve seen him take down villains much more violently?
You also didn’t say anything, just to spite him a little.

“Alright. Tsukauchi?” Eraser calls.The door opens. He’s been waiting. He takes a chair and pulls it in the middle of the room. Why are they acting like you might evaporate at any second? You just got stabbed for god sakes, you’re anything but fragile.
“Hello, my name is Tsukauchi Naomasa, as you already know. Just for the record, I have a lie detection quirk, so I’ll know if you’re lying.” he says. Crap. This isn’t good. What about half-truths? Would that still be a lie? Or would the detective just… explode on the spot?

“Can we begin?” You hesitantly nod. You’re still not completely on board with this gentleness. What on Earth are they hiding?.
“Alright. Arachne, how old are you?” he asks, while patiently looking at you.
You’re confused. You first look at Eraser, and back at the detective. You thought they wanted to know more about your criminal life, but whatever. The use of the nickname the public gave you also catches you off guard. Haven’t heard it in a while.
“On my fake ID or the real one?" you can feel the glare from Eraser. Right, serious.
You look at the floor and quietly say “I’m 16.”
You could see the worry lines on Tsukauchi’s face deepen. Was it because it causes him more work, or because he actually cares? You’ll never know.
“True. Could you tell us your name?” he says with a sigh.
“Wouldn’t you like to know weather boy” you whisper. You’re glad none of them heard it. No way any of these dinosaurs would get the reference anyway. You are not telling them tough. You could lose too much by just revealing it.
“What was that?”
“I said I’m not telling you.” you say, loud and clear.
“Listen, kid, we can't just keep calling you by your vigilante name while in public. You might get recognised. We don’t want to bring any enemies to you.” Eraserhead meddles.
He’s got a point there, you gotta give it to him. But after all, you're really not planning on staying anyway.
After about ten seconds of contemplating you still shake your head.
“You have no trouble calling me kid anyway.”
They gave each other a look.
“It’s not just about that, you know it.” ugh. Adults and their need to always complicate everything.
You roll your eyes and shrink a bit more into yourself.
“Let's just stick with ‘not dead,’ yeah?” you try to be sarcastic as your last way out. You just need them out of the room and you’d be free to go. Why do they have to be nagging you with these questions?
“Alright, we can get back to that one later.” the detective says. You scoff. If you didn’t want to answer before, you sure as hell won’t do it later.
“How’s your home life?” you had to fight a flinch back on that one.
“Isn’t that a bit intrusive? Personal, maybe?” you blurt out.
“Kid, you aren’t the one asking questions here. We’re doing it for your safety. As we already told you, we want to help you.” Eraser says calmly.
“Help me with what exactly?! I’ve been doing perfectly fine without you heroes. You’re just bored and feel like meddling.” you attack back.
“You know that’s not true. You don’t understand it, but we’re really not going to arrest you.” the detective steps in.
“Oh, yeah? Why tie me down then? Why keep me locked in a room?” you fight back. You were getting annoyed, and the remaining dizziness didn’t really help much.
“Listen kid, I've been following you around for a month. You do get rid of me every time you head ‘home’, but I don’t need to see where or who you go to, to know that you are not being taken care of as you should’ve been. The doctors said you were underweight and all the scarring isn’t there just because of yesterday’s fight. Your injuries are not taken care of as they should’ve been, which means the person taking care of you doesn’t care, or doesn’t exist. Am I wrong?”
You look at Eraserhead with wide eyes. You forgot about the doctors. You forgot that you’ve been watched. You are tired, and everything hurt to some degree, so you just decide to be petty and go non-verbal.
They did try to ask you some questions after that, but you just stubbornly observe the floor. You don’t remember when, but they did leave you alone at some point.
You’ve had enough. If it just wasn’t for all the sleepiness, you’d already be out the door.
Stupid heroes, thinking they’re better than everyone. They don’t know shit about you.
You feel tears of anger flowing down your face. Now you’re crying?! Great. Even more pathetic, proving their point of how you’re a ‘homeless orphan nobody cares for’.
Sleep comes to you very slowly- since you didn’t want to fall asleep, and also because you were just too angry. But no matter how ugly of a look you gave them, or how nasty the sentence, there was always one of them sitting in the uncomfortable chairs across the room.
‘So annoying’ you think to yourself, just as sleep takes you.

Chapter Text

The kid turned out to be quite troublesome to deal with. Of course, some resistance was expected, but for them to go completely non-verbal? Maybe Shouta shouldn’t have pushed as hard when it came to their name.
Running on his third cup of coffee, he made his way to the room. He just came back to the hospital. Him and Tsukauchi decided to watch the vigilante in shifts.
This will take longer than he thought. He just hopes his students aren’t being mean to the substitute. Iida should get them in order in that case. They are the loudest class in the school, so obviously he had to worry about them.

When the tired teacher finally decided to call his boss, the response wasn’t surprising. Nedzu of course did give him time off (he was probably happy to do it since Shouta is a bit of a workaholic), but the reason sparked the rodent’s interest.
“You’re dealing with a vigilante? That's not completely unexpected. What's the plan here?”
Of course he wanted to be involved. Aizawa knew it was going to happen, but the animal’s approaches weren’t usually suited for neglected teenage vigilantes.
He also really didn’t want to call in a favour. He knew that was the easiest way, and he knew that Nedzu loved having that power over him. But he was still going to try to avoid that approach.

Stepping into the dark room, he noticed Tsukauchi sleeping in the chair. That position didn't look particularly comfortable. The same went for the vigilante, still slouched in the corner across the room.
With a gentle shake, he woke the detective up.
“Tsukauchi. Go home. I’ll watch them now.” the tired man stirring awake, looking around all confused, finally noticed him.
“Oh is it 2 am already? Damn, I fell asleep.”
“That, you did.” Aizawa said with a quiet huff, slowly and quietly walking to Arachne. Gently, he lifts them up, his worry lines slightly deepening after being reminded of their weight, or the absence of it.
Putting them on the mattress, he turns around looking at Tsukauchi, who was already dressed in his coat, standing by the door.

“Anything new?” Shouta whispered.
“No, they just cussed me out a couple of times. They fell asleep around midnight. The nurse came in for a check up. That’s about it.” the detective replied.
“I see. Should we call Nedzu? It’d probably be easier than waiting. I do want to build trust, but it might take more time.”
By the look on his face, Tsukauchi didn’t really agree with the suggestion either.
“We might have to. This situation isn’t helping anyone right now.”
“Alright. I’ll call Nedzu then. But we both owe him. Don’t want to be the only one in debt.” Aizawa said with a heavy heart.
“Whatever. I’ll see you when they get discharged.”
With that said, the detective walked out the door.
Aizawa, slumping into his chair and pulling out his phone, sighed. What will they do with the kid?

Another two coffees and about a dozen work emails answered later, the kid was moving. Were they having a nightmare?
After a few turns in their bed, they stopped. Might be just a minor one then. Aizawa wasn’t going to interfere. Wasn’t that big of a deal.
But after a minute or two he heard quiet sobs. He wouldn’t have even noticed it, if he wasn’t listening. Great. Should he do something? How was it with Toshi already?
The first few days he spent in their house were tough, some similar situations did appear, but what did they do with Zashi again? His husband was better at this than him.Toshi was also much younger.
Before he could think of anything, the sobs quieted down.
They were probably awake right now. They must be hungry. Very hungry, since they slept through lunch, refused dinner and threw up a bit of the food they did manage to eat.
Good thing his husband was a sweetheart and packed him late dinner/ early breakfast. He wasn’t hungry anyway, and Arachne would definitely appreciate homemade food more than the hospital one.
“You hungry?” he asked just above a whisper.
The teenager tensed up a bit, and after a while turned their head.
The light was dim, which only deepened their eyebags.
“Why do you care?” they asked.
“You haven’t eaten in a while and I've got some soup to spare. Not to be disrespectful to the hospital, but their food isn’t ideal." The kid stays quiet. Silently observing the hero they say:
“No, not that. Why do you care?”
Ah, Shouta gets it.
“Because you’re a kid fighting criminals twice your size. I don’t think that comes out of being cared for.”
They huff. That sounded almost like a…laugh?
After another cynical look later and they ask:
“What do you have to offer then?”
Aizawa smiles to himself. Small steps.
He got up, took the tupperbowl from his bag and walked to their bed, turning the lights on in the meantime.
“Just some soup. It should still be warm.” he says while handing it out, along with the spoon.
They take it hesitantly.
He sits in the chair next to the bed. He’s not trying to be intrusive, so he just played it off by crossing his arms, and tucking his chin into his scarf. He didn’t dare to move for an inch. Eyes closed and ears sharp, he waits.
After a couple of seconds he finally heard the bowl opening. That's a relief.
For ten minutes they were both quiet. One because their mouth was full, and the other because his mind was.

They already discussed what happens to the vigilante after they release them from the hospital. The first option was the foster system, which everyone agreed wasn't on the table. It was no good, and they weren’t trying to give the kid more trauma.
Next was to put them in the UA dorms. That wasn’t such a bad suggestion, but they needed someone stable, someone to give them some limits and support.
So, not even considering the juvenile center, Aizawa talked with his husband and kid, and decided to use his emergency foster licence.
It’s going to be a ride, but if they were able to help Toshi as much as they did, they could do it for another kid.
“Shou, we’re collecting them like they’re stray cats!” Zashi joked.
He was such a pain sometimes. Loud blondes were something else to deal with, Aizawa came to realize, every day after day.

“It’s Makoto.” the kid says suddenly.
Aizawa looks at them, questioningly.
“My name is Makoto. That’s all you’re getting though.” they say, while looking at the empty bowl.
Shouta’s gaze softens unintentionally. They gave him their first name. Maybe both of them had to let their guard down in order for it to work.
“Hello Makoto. My name is Shouta Aizawa. How was the soup?”
They did seem a bit surprised by the revealed information- Shouta was after all a hero and they were a vigilante.
“It was nice. Haven’t eaten it in a while.”
Deciding not to read too much into the answer, Shouta took the bowl, and got up to the sink to wash it.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” they ask, while Aizawa is scrubbing.
Did they give up on running away already? No, it must be a distraction. Still, they deserve to know.
“Well, you’ll be discharged in about two days or so. We did have some discussions on where to put you next, but in the end, me and my husband decided to put our emergency foster licence to use. You still have to answer some of Tsukauchi’s questions though. We also have to get you into a school, so you’ll have to do some tests, so we can see in which grade you're at. If you’re where you should be by standards, I’ll probably teach you at UA."
When he turns around Makoto is looking at him with wide eyes.
“What?” is all they say.
“You heard me.” he answers.
“What about the consequences?” They seem confused. They don’t believe him.
“Well, we’re still talking about the details, since you are a criminal, to some extent. The principal at UA has quite a lot of power. He’d like to meet you. He’ll probably come up with some kind of rehabilitation program. You’ll be the first one. You’ll also have to do some mandatory therapy, and obviously there will be no vigilante activity. ”
They keep looking at him with those wide eyes, like they’re waiting for him to say he’s kidding. But since none of that happens, they just repeat themselves.
“What?!”
“Okay, listen kid. It’s late. We’re both tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
Arachne keeps looking at him with disbelief, until nodding and sinking into their bed.
“Cool, cool. Beauty naps for Eraser too, apparently.”
Still no change in character it seems. Their responses always just worsen his migraine, but he was too tired at that moment to care.
Maybe they feel more comfortable staying now? Aizawa thinks just as he sits in a semi-comfortable position and feels his nap taking him.

~***~

You need to leave. What the hell is wrong with you? Why in the hell would you give your actual name away? That stupid soup. Ugh, it was so good though.
And what the hell is up with Eraser’s plan? Who would buy any of that bullshit? Who would want to foster you? And why in the hell were there so little consequences? Also mandatory therapy? No vigilante activity? Who does he think he is? He’s probably lying to you.
You aren’t staying, that’s for sure.
You’ll leave in the morning. You ate, you’ll sleep and then you’ll be ready. You just have to wake up before Eraserhead. Nobody is going to force you into any of that bullshit.
You turn around and fall asleep. God, you’re going to miss the soft bed though.

After about four hours of sleep, you’re wide awake. You turn slowly and look at the hero, sitting next to the bed. You aren’t sure how you feel about him being so close, but it’s whatever. You’ll be going anyway.
He’s still asleep. Good. You move.
You gotta find some new clothes- the hospital gown will give you away in a second.
You don’t have any tubes tied to you anymore thanks to that nurse yesterday. As uncomfortable as it was, you knew it was necessary.
You get up from the bed as quietly as possible. Still a bit slowed down, but otherwise much better, you make way to the door.
You look back at Eraserhead again. Still asleep. Great. You open the door for just a bit, and slip out, just before closing it gently. That was that.
You hear voices coming from around the corner. It was that blonde man (Eraserhead’s husband?) chatting with a doctor. You went the opposite way, just as they both walked in the hallway. You jump behind the corner. You’ll go this way then.
You wander around for some time, finally finding the elevators. Not your usual style, but you don’t have many choices.
You call for the elevator and when the door opens, you freeze. In it is standing none other than what you guessed is Eraserhead’s son holding two cups of coffee. The lavender haired boy is looking back at you with the same shocked expression.
“For fucks sake.” you say out loud, running away from the elevator in a random direction, hoping the stairs were near.

Now they know you’re gone. Not that you thought they wouldn’t notice. It’d be nice if you had more time though. The universe seems to hate you these days.
“Hey, wait!” you hear him yell.
You can hear him running behind you. “Lay off, will you?”
You run around the next corner, looking at the kid behind you, not mindful of the ‘road ahead’.
You crash into something or rather someone in front of you. You fall flat on your ass.
Seems you aren’t on top of your game after all. What the fuck happenned to your instincts?
The kid catches up and slows down after seeing the scene in front of him.
“Dad, they just went to the elevator.”
“Fucking tattletale.” you say under your breath but really, everyone heard it.
You look up, already knowing who you’ll see.
In front of you was Eraserhead, as disheveled as ever. He looked relieved for a split second, before his face returned to his usual grumpy mode. Beside him was his husband, with a concerned look on his face. What's up with the emotions in these guys, jeez.

“Alright, lets go back.” he says, before lifting you up under your upper arm and not letting go, even when you’re stable on your feet.
“You hold all your superiority this tight?” you bite at him.
“We’ll talk about this when we get back.” he says, while quite literally dragging you behind.
“Let go, you homeless-looking bimbo.” What a pain.

Back in your room he closes the door before the husband and the snitch get in. Ugh, what does he want now?

“Listen to me kid, you can’t be just running off. Even if you do, I’ll find you. This is final.”
Now who in the hell does he think he is.
“A bit possessive, are we?”
He sighs, looking like he wants to be anywhere but in the room with you.
“Why are you running off, and rejecting my help, when you can see I mean no harm? I know you’re smarter than that.”
“Maybe because the fine print under your ‘help’s’ terms and conditions isn't really something anybody asked me about.” you snap back.
He looks at you, borderline bewildered.
“The three things I told you about and you decide to run? What was it? The school? The therapy? What did you not like about the agreement, that couldn’t just be talked out?”
“The vigilantism thing, maybe? Why are you setting up soo many restrictions? You just want control.” you complain, while falling back on the bed.
“I know you might think those are very restrictive limits, but they really are not. Asking you not to go out every night and get yourself killed is a really tame thing to ask. “ he explains in an even tone.
“You can do it though.” you murmur.
“I’m an adult. You are a child. I have a licence. You do not. It’s how things are.”
“Fuuuck lay off for Christ’s sake…Why are they here anyways?” you ask while looking at the door.
“You’re getting discharged. We’re taking you home.”he tells you firmly.
You jump up straight.
“What?”
“Yup. We meant to wait till noon, or maybe even tomorrow, but your stunt right now has shown that you’re more than healthy to do it right now. I’ll call a nurse so she can do the last check up and then we’ll leave.” he says all while packing his stuff up. Then he clicks the call button and leaves when the nurse arrives. All the while you’re looking at him with a wide open mouth and eyes.
Just what have you gotten yourself into?