Chapter Text
Running.
That’s all he’s been doing for God knows how long.
Every heavy step sent a bolt of pain up his body.
He’s been running for so long now that he’s sure he’s leaving a bloody trail. He barely had enough cloth on his body to even pass as clothing let alone shoes. But that didn’t matter, as long as he got away far away, he couldn’t care less. He hoped it would rain soon to wash away the damning evidence of his escape. He would rather freeze than be dragged back. Though the sky may be dark with nightfall, it was clear enough to see the stars even with the city’s light pollution.
It is only so far that adrenaline and an undying will to survive can take you. After hours of running his feet raw, the young boy reluctantly stops to catch his breath against a café window, lightly resting on the ledge of the windowsill. His chin drooped to his chest when the weight of his head became too much. He knows he cannot stop here it isn’t safe, but the sight of the window box garden beside him calms his racing heart. Growing peacefully in the box are beautiful flowers with three bluish-purple petals, marked with strips of yellow that sprout from the middle. A Japanese Iris, a sign of good news to come and loyalty.
Having calmed down considerably at the sight of the flower the young boy dug his little fingers into the earth surrounding the smallest plant (the only plant not to have any flowers yet) and gently dug it up, cupping his hands together to keep as much of the soil as he could. The young boy stared at the plant in his hands with wide eyes for longer than he could afford, he lightly shook his heavy head and took small pain-filled steps to continue forward, plant still in hand.
It was just two streets from the café when the little boy noticed a used discarded coffee cup, the remnants of which had long since dried up. The boy squats in front of the cup before transferring the plant to free one of his hands, once the cup is upright small shaky hands gently deposit the plant safely into the coffee cup. After wiping his hands on the dirtied rags he used as clothes, the little boy picked up the cup and continued forward at a faster pace.
To an outsider, it may have seemed pointless for a child running away from certain danger to stop and dig up a plant to re-pot it in an old coffee cup, but for this little boy, it was the first time he had seen any source of nature in years having been forcefully deprived of its contact.
After jogging another couple of blocks, faster than walking but better paced than a flat-out sprint, a breeze blew up from behind rustling the leaves of a nearby tree alerting the boy to the unwanted eyes watching him from atop a roof across the street. A pang of fear shot through his body as he surged on, debating the risks of using the maze of alleys in hopes of losing the eyes that had begun to follow him. Not having the time to think too deeply he takes the risk and turns into the next alley on his right, weaving between trash cans and making fast sharp turns his luck soon runs out when the young boy makes a wrong turn and ends up at a dead end.
Fear reeks through his body trembling so much that his legs give out from beneath him collapsing against the damn dead-end wall, the coffee cup is clutched in both hands and held tightly to his chest, thighs close protecting the plant from the unknown dangers.
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Trembles wrecked the small curled-up body of the little boy Shouta had been following out of concern. It was 4 am and he was making his way home at the end of his patrol when he spotted the little shadow making his way swiftly down the quiet streets of Musutafu. His concern for the young boy's welfare skyrocketed when he unexpectedly took a sudden turn down a dark alley, a place regularly used by less favourable people to gather or simply to travel along without drawing attention. Not a place for a scared, injured little boy who seemed to have no destination in mind other than away. And didn’t that make Shouta feel uneasy? But that feeling is pushed aside by the sheer magnitude of a different feeling, one that demands that Shouta help and protect this scared boy getting him to safety (and if there is a deeper part of his mind that wishes that he could just scoop him up and take him home, than Shouta doesn’t acknowledge it).
Right now, Shouta is mentally kicking himself as he realises that he unintentionally cornered the scared boy into a dead-end alley, where his small form trembles curled up against the back wall. Not willing to leave the boy so vulnerable in a dangerous place Shouta takes carefully audible steps forward and steps to the side to lean up against a wall perpendicular to the boy.
The tired Hero puffs out a breath of relief when he sits down on the dirty alley floor, legs crossed under him to hopefully show the boy that he had no sinister intentions. Now that he is closer, he can see the colour of the boy's eyes that have been locked on his every movement since he entered the alley, bright emerald, green despite the underlying fear the Hero sees mixed in as well. It is also now that he can get a clearer look at the plant the boy is carrying in a takeout coffee cup. It’s a strange sight but Shouta figures there must be meaning behind the plant, as he suspects that this little boy is running away from something or maybe someone. To not frighten the boy further he softens his voice.
“Hello.” Pausing hoping for a response. He gets nothing. The only change is the slight dilation of his pupils. “Do you need any help?” Silence. A blink. “I’m a Pro Hero, Eraserhead, I can help you or if you don’t need me, I can find someone else who can.”
Another blink. Then his bright eyes widened— in, was that awe? The boy's trembling reduces to nothing more than a shiver as the boy rocks forward onto his knees crawling with one hand still holding the cup towards Shouta’s seated form. He comes to a stop about a foot away from Shouta’s own knee as the Hero just watches on as this previously scared boy suddenly all too trusting gets surprisingly close. The kid sits back on his legs the souls of his feet pointed to the sky, both hands back holding the cup close to his chest.
Not sure why this kid is suddenly so trusting, hopefully, it wasn’t because he called himself a Hero if so, he was going to need to have another conversation with the boy at a later date, but not looking a gift horse in its mouth he continues.
“Do you need help?” A small nod. “Are you running away from something?” A shake. “Someone?” Another small nod. “Do you know who they are?” A nod. A slightly shaky hand comes forward, index finger pointed to the ground as the boy writes basic shaky kanji into the dirt on the alley floor. What Shouta reads further cements the feeling of unease and a surge in his determination to protect this quiet little boy. ‘BAD MAN’.
The boy is once again trembling, hugging his plant tightly, breaths becoming short and panicked.
Shouta spoke soft kind words to the near hyperventilating boy. “Hey, hey it’s ok. I can help you. Remember that I told you I was a Hero. I can help you get away from the ‘Bad Man’. Look you are safe; I will protect you. Don’t worry I’ll help you.” The boy is slowly coming down from his minor panic attack having been de-escalated by the Hero’s words. Now entirely exhausted after having run his feet raw and suffering a minor panic attack the young, tired boy slumped forward and was caught by strong gentle arms that pulled him close letting him rest against his Hero’s warm chest in his lap.
“I’ve got you, Problem child.” Hugging the boy close as big silent tears ran down the boy’s cheeks that are round with youth. “You can rest now. You did so well. I’ll protect you now.” Shouta adjusted the child’s body so that they were chest to chest, the boy's arm (the other was occupied with pressing his cup plant into his side with the plants' leaf tickling the Hero’s stubble) and legs automatically coming to wrap around his neck and waist. With practised ease, Shouta stood easily with the additional weight and started his journey to the nearest hospital. “Hey, kid?” The boy gave a tired hum of acknowledgement. “Can you tell me your name?” The young boy pulled away from his neck so that Shouta could see his hands and messily finger spells ‘I-Z-U-K-U’ “Izuku?” A cute nod. “Well, Izuku you are very brave and so smart, are you learning sign language?” The Hero tries to keep a conversation with the tried, mute child in the hope of keeping him awake until they get to the hospital. Hums an affirmative bouncing slightly in the Hero’s arms. “Well, I know sign language, my friend is deaf so I learnt so that I could communicate with him.” Izuku’s face is the expression of awe, but it is quickly replaced by a big yawn that the child tries to muffle behind a hand. “You’re ok Izuku. Rest now.” Izuku’s heavy head comes to rest on Shouta’s shoulder and his eyes slip closed. On instinct, the Hero’s hand comes to gently card through the sleeping child’s curly hair easing out any knots he comes across.
The kid was out like a light, not a moment later and remained asleep as they both sat in the emergency waiting room, the child cradled close to Hero’s chest head still resting on the older man's shoulders as they waited to be called forward and get the kids bloody feet treated.
He hadn’t known this child for long but by God, he would protect him from whatever monster decided to hurt his child. (His?).