Chapter Text
Aizawa Shouta was tired. Not the bone-weary exhaustion that had him holed up in his sleeping bag for days on end -- but, tired.
Today had been the first full day of proctoring the UA entrance exams. They would continue throughout the week to accommodate both the number of applicants, as well as the different departments the potential students could test into. So far, the top-performing examinee for the Heroics course got in on a bad attitude and villain points alone.
So, yes. Aizawa Shouta was tired.
Crouched on the edge of the roof as he was, he observed the streets below him silently. He was coming to the end of his patrol, and if everything remained as it was, he'd be able to catch a decent nap before having to report in to the school for another round of proctoring.
Which, of course, is when he saw the kid being chased down the alley.
***
Holy shit, Izuku panicked. What are these people?!
Izuku's back and shoulder stung from when he'd had to grapple with one of the thugs in his escape. His lungs burned with adrenaline as he lunged down yet another unfamiliar alleyway. Gravel and bits of trash dug into his bare feet -- bare after his shoes and socks had been stripped from him for god knows what reason.
He didn't have the breath to spare for a startled cry when his legs were swept out from under him. He landed hard on his stomach and arms, his chin bouncing off the concrete. He attempted to kick back hard to free himself, only to find that whatever had tripped him up was still on him and constricting and dragging him back down the alley oh god --
Izuku twisted until he was on his back, getting a full view of the man attacking him. Average height and muscular. Denim jeans, a plain shirt and jacket. No truly distinguishable features, except for the arm he had wrapped around Izuku's legs from the opposite end of the alley what the actual fuck?!
His attacker's other arm suddenly shot out and Izuku tried to grapple for it in his panic. Quickly losing control, the man's forearm slammed into Izuku's throat and pinned him bodily to the ground.
Izuku gagged for air, hands scrabbling at the arm and chin digging downwards, hoping and failing to put a barrier between his neck and his attacker.
"You fucking shitty brat," the man spat, coming up to Izuku's struggling form. "I'll fucking break your legs for that stunt, hah? Fucking run off on us again, just fucking try. "
Izuku's eyes were wide and wild, both from lack of oxygen and fear. What did these people even want from him? They already had his stuff! And his shoes!
The arm pressed down further on his throat and Izuku scratched at it in desperation.
"Just fucking pass out already. I'm not --"
Izuku never got to find out what the man wasn't.
The crunch of bone and startled cry ripped angrily from his assailant's mouth. The arm pressing down on Izuku's throat was suddenly ripped away and Izuku gulped in one greedy breath of air after another.
"Fucking shit! My nose! You broke my fucking nose!"
"That was a warning."
Still gasping in air, hands gripping the shirt at his chest, Izuku looked up at the hard, even voice that saved him.
A man, dressed in black from head to toe, stood between Izuku and his assailant. One hand was tucked into his pants pocket, the other Izuku couldn't see as it was blocked by his body.
"Let go of the kid."
The ' fuck you' he got in answer was slightly garbled from the broken nose Izuku could now see but didn't lack in animosity. In retaliation, the arm still wrapped around Izuku's legs tightened and attempted to drag him back down the alley and away from the man in black. A panicked cry escaped his mouth as Izuku sat up and desperately tried to unlock the hold the arm had on him.
The man in black brought his boot down hard on the extended limb.
Another cry of pain and suddenly the freakish limb was unwound and retracting. Finally freed, Izuku scrambled to his feet and took an unsteady step back.
"You're making this difficult," the man in black grumbled, shifting forward and bringing his hand from his pocket.
As if the angry shriek he got in answer was some sort of starting bell, the man in black lunged forward, hair floating straight up and white strips of -- rope? Maybe? -- flew outward from his body as he charged down the alley.
Nope. Izuku was not sticking around for this, thank you very much.
Turning sharply on his heel, Izuku flew back down the alley and escaped into the night.
***
Panting in lungfuls of air, crouched down behind a dumpster who-knows-where, Izuku desperately tried to get a hold of himself.
Bringing his hands up over his mouth to stifle at least some of the noise he was making, Izuku eased around the dumpster to check if he'd been followed.
Seeing nothing stirring in the alley, Izuku leaned back into his hiding spot, head thumping back against the metal. He attempted to take stock of the state he was in, brain still addled by adrenaline and fear.
His back, shoulder, and now his throat were probably bruised to hell, but his feet, by far, were the worst off. He couldn't feel it, but now that he had stopped, he could definitely see it. Caked in dirt up to his ankles, he could still make out the blood pooling around the soles of his feet. He must have ripped up the bottoms in his mad dash to escape.
Okay, Izuku, think! He tried sternly to gather his thoughts. No phone and no idea where I am. What's the next step?
Well, the next step would ideally be to get his sorry butt back home. But since that seemed a little beyond him right now … the police? Help? But to get to any help he'd have to leave his hiding spot and who knows how many others were out there looking for him?
But if I don't even try, Izuku thought, leaning back around to peek again down the alley, am I just going to stay here forever?
He could wait for morning to come. Morning meant more people and witnesses. And probably help? If he made a break for a busy street, he could have someone point him to the nearest police station. Maybe even call the police for him. Or his mom!
So wrapped up in his thoughts and still turned to peer down the alley, he didn't hear the muffled thud of boots hitting the floor.
"Oi, kid."
Izuku shot to his feet at the voice, trying to back up to put distance between them, just to smack the back of his head against the metal dumpster for his efforts.
Fists flying up to defend his face, Izuku squinted through the sting of tears as he no longer found himself alone in the alley.
The man in black stood before him, shoulders slouched and hands in his pockets. His white rope-weapon-thing was looped around his shoulders and his hair was no longer defying gravity.
But how was he here ? How had he found Izuku so fast?
"I-I've called the police," Izuku bluffed, wincing slightly at the stutter.
He only got the raise of an eyebrow in response.
"Leave me alone," he managed more sternly, settling squarely into his stance.
That got him a roll of the eyes. "The paramedics are on their way to our location," he informed Izuku, rummaging in his pocket for his wallet. Plucking out an ID card, he held it out to Izuku. "My hero license. You can relax, kid."
Izuku blinked, glancing at the card held out to him but making no moves for it. "... hero?"
The man kept the card held out to him with a steady hand. "Your assailant has been detained and is in police custody. Want to tell me why he was after you?"
Izuku's eyes narrowed, bouncing between the license and the man. "This isn't funny," he spat, taking a step to the side and successfully backing up this time. "Whatever game you're playing I don't want to be a part of it anymore."
Dark eyes regarded him calmly.
A siren approached from behind. Izuku stiffened at the sound. Could it be…?
"They're here," the man -- the hero? -- observed, pocketing his license as the paramedics pulled up to the entrance of the alley.
Izuku stole a glance over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the man, still not relaxing his stance. Cautiously, Izuku asked, "Who are you?"
"Eraserhead," he answered, approaching Izuku slowly, and no that wasn't an answer.
"I meant a real name!" Izuku snapped, tensing as he drew near.
Broadcasting his movements, Eraserhead ignored the defensive stance and placed his hand on Izuku's shoulder, firmly turning him towards the paramedics who were now waiting beside the ambulance. Without removing his grip, he began to walk Izuku out of the alley.
It didn't take long for the paramedics to take over, ushering Izuku inside to sit on a gurney. Izuku had dropped his defensive posture but remained tense as he was checked over. His eyes darted over the paramedics, who appeared normal enough. And it’s not like someone could fake an ambulance, right? He was safe here.
Right?
One paramedic tsked over the state of his feet while the second helped Izuku out of his shirt to get a look at his back. Izuku’s attention was drawn outside as police cruisers began to pull up alongside the ambulance. The man, Eraserhead, went over to meet them.
Finished with wrapping his wounded feet, the paramedic rose and called back his attention. Checking his pupils for a concussion, the paramedic went over the basic questions. Izuku rattled off his answers -- name, birthday, today’s date -- and went back to keeping an eye outside of the ambulance, not noticing the concerned looks the paramedics exchanged over his shoulder.
Izuku froze as Eraserhead approached the ambulance with an officer, because … was that …?
“Kid,” Eraserhead acknowledged, gesturing to the officer at his side. “This is Officer Tamakawa Sansa. You can give him your statement.”
“Hello!” Officer Tamakawa greeted, furred ears pricked forward and feline eyes glowing softly in the dark.
It was still happening. He wasn’t safe at all.
Hands were suddenly on his shoulders, voices garbled and drowned out over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. Izuku couldn’t breathe.
With the image of the cat head on a man’s body, Izuku passed out.