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Chapter Text

Sometimes, Dazai feels an indescribable emotion bubbling throughout his rib cage. It wasn't jittery like happiness, nor did it carry the shiver of fear or the pound of adrenaline. It settled over him like a cold blanket, slowly pulling him into the ground to relive his worst ideas. 

He had never known what to call it, never had the parentage nor comparative observation to decipher it. That is until the fateful day he stood in Mori’s office, sharp papers shoved into his hands as brown eyes frantically flitted across pages, soon resting on a singular photo.

“Dazai-kun, would you like to explain to me what you are doing in that photo?” Mori’s words cut through the tense air like a knife, jolting the brunette’s eyes upwards as his mentor’s shadow crept over his figure.

Regret. That must be what this is called.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Chuuya had always been a hard worker. Even when bread was a new commodity, the idea of hard work had seemingly been branded on his cursed soul since birth. This being said, he can only take so much!

Mission after mission after mission, it seemed Mori was trying to kill him with work. Kouyou had to practically beg him to let Chuuya go home for the evening before heading off to France for yet another tedious week of bashing heads in. Plus, most of the work had been so damn below his station, the redhead wondered if Mori just wanted him out of Yokohama?!

Nonetheless, Chuuya persisted. Even if unreasonable, it was still somewhat manageable. For the time being he was doing fine.. That is until his mentor found him slumped and retching over her new potted plant.

“Chuuya, dear, come here for a moment.” Kouyou approached carefully, her voice softer than usual. Chuuya had just gotten back from his most recent mission in America. He had come across the most annoying ability user who thought it was funny to poison PM representatives at supposedly peaceful banquets. Needless to say, the banquet did not stay peaceful for long. All of that being said, the redhead looked to be in pretty rough shape.

Kouyou swept the short boy off the ground, being met with a concerningly little complaint. He was lighter than she remembered, pale and shivering ever so slightly. It wasn't long before he lay across her office couch, half unconscious and heaving with a fever.

“Ane-san.. Mori.. I need to check in.” The executive swept orange hair aside resting a warm towel on his forehead as she coaxed medicine and tea down his throat.

“I sent one of your subordinates ahead. You can go debrief with Mori-san in a few hours.” No more complaints were made as the teen drifted to sleep. Kouyou watches her mentee closely as his breath puffs in and out. He looks so small like this, wrapped in a mountain of blankets and wincing from invisible foes. He’s just a kid after all, though, the executive isn't elitist enough not to admit that she too forgot it sometimes.

The peace lasts for a whole 90 minutes until a ruckus is heard from down the hall. Chuuya stares, only to be shushed back to sleep as Kouyou slowly makes her way towards the hallway. Stepping out onto a bright burgundy rug, it didn't take long to observe the problem himself marching toward her.

“Mori-san, to what do I owe the pleasure?” If she didn't value her life and job the executive might have punched him there and then. One look at that smug smile was all it took to boil her blood.

“Kouyou-san, how lovely it is to see you!” Mori’s voice lifts through the hall, mocking sweet. “Do you happen to know where I can find our dear Chuuya-kun? He was due for a debrief over an hour ago.”

The red woman’s jaw tightens. This isn't going to end well. “I ordered him to rest, as he seems to have come down with something. I believe I sent someone ahead to-”

“Pardon my rudeness ‘Kouyou-sama’, but when did your orders start overriding my own?” Silence fills the hallway as violet eyes turn cold. She should have seen this coming. Mori had been in a strangely sour mood lately. Maybe if she had Chuuya do the debrief before resting, maybe if she had asked Dazai to cover for him? Mori had always had a soft spot for his mentee, yet, looking back on the past month Dazai had become scarily sparse. It could be due to his own missions or maybe even Chuuya’s absence but she hadn’t seen the boy in-

“I expect Chuuya-kun to be in my office in thirty minutes.” His coat sweeps the floor as Mori pivots back down the hall. “Make sure this doesn't happen again.”

Not willing to dignify the boss with a response, Kouyou turned back to her office gently pushing the door open. Chuuya, who she was hoping would sleep a little longer, stood in front of a mirror attempting to smooth the creases in his jacket. He didn't look much better than he did an hour ago, yet he seemed to be more mentally coherent.

“Does he need me?” Kouyou grimaces and reaches for her hand steamer as she approaches the teen. She holds the fabric gently as steam curls through each fiber.

“Unfortunately.. You have thirty minutes.”

Chuuya slowly nods, his shoulder deflating with exhaustion as his outfit is restored to a semi-put-together state. “Everything’s been so busy lately. Even Dazai’s been scarce. Or maybe I just keep missing him, it's honestly hard to imagine the bastard doing any work.” He huffs a short-lived giggle, his heterochromatic eyes snapping up with an expectant gaze. The question was hardly concealed. Where is he?

Kouyou had never gotten along with Dazai. She knew he was “just a child” and a “victim of his circumstance”, but she too had once been a child. There was something fundamentally wrong with Dazai. The way his smile never reached his eyes, or how easily lies rolled from his tongue. It wasn't human, it was dangerous.

As his mentor, she had tried to guide Chuuya away from the prodigy’s reach. Warning after warning yet they seemed to gravitate to one another like magnets. Eventually she just had to accept it as a lost cause. We can’t always control who our heart aches for.

“It’s possible. With all the work coming out I get the impression that Mori’s gearing up for something big. He’s probably having Dazai head it. Plus with the whole Musutafu incident, people have been reeling.”

“Musutafu? Is there something wrong with the barrier?” Since the appearance of quirks Yokohama’s government had made the decision to seal its borders from the exterior conflict. That way it would be easier to protect the quirkless civilians within the city confines while also guarding the secret of ability users. Due to the isolation, Yokohama soon grew apart from the outside in culture, technology, fashion, and basically everything else. Even if outsiders assumed it was a lawless nation, the majority of Yokohama was better for it.

“For a little while. There was an incident where some clowns got in and caused a ruckus. It was resolved but we’re still dealing with the aftermath.” Kouyou lowers the steamer, straightening the jacket across Chuuya’s body. “I can tell you more later, but for now you should head up.”

Looking at the clock Chuuya had about 15 minutes left, yet the ache in his leg told him that he’d appreciate the extra time. “Thanks Ane-san, I’ll call you once I'm done.” With that, he departs.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Head and heart pounding with ailment and exhaustion, Chuuya gingerly pushed open the doors to Mori’s office. Like clicking into autopilot he takes seven steps forward before falling to his bruised knees. “Boss, I'm here to report.”

“Rise.” Chuuya robotically reads the mission report he wrote of the plane, his mind travelling elsewhere. Honestly, he’d kill to go to sleep in his own apartment. He’d kill to even see the place for christ sake.. Though, Chuuya kills for a living so that doesn’t really have much weight to it..

The point is he’s tired and in need of his own shower, sheets, and room.. And mackerel. .

Arahabaki had been screaming a lot lately. It was hard to concentrate, hold back, sleep. It seemed the only way he could really ignore the pain in his head was to focus on the pain in his body. But he was fine right? He’s the impenetrable Nakahara Chuuya, best martial artist and the arguably better half of Soukoku. He can handle anything..

“Chuuya-kun, are you listening?” Tired eyes flicker in recognition as he realizes Mori had been talking.

“Oh.. Sorry, I didn't catch that.” Mori sighs, motioning for the redhead to sit. On his desk rests a manilla folder, the corner marked with the letters UA . Another mission.. Looks like he isn’t going home for a while.

“As I was saying, I want to thank you for your diligence and hard work. Your loyalty to this organization is admirable and I can certainly sense a promotion in your future.” This caught Chuuya’s attention. It has been several months since Dazai was promoted to executive-ship, and to say he’s been rubbing it in would be an understatement.

“That being said, I'm sure you're wondering why we’ve been so swamped.. You have been running in and out for the past month so I doubt you’ve heard of it, but are you aware of the Musutafu incident?”

“Vaguely. Ane-san mentioned that some “heros” broke through the barrier.” Chuuya shifts in his chair, the seat cushion pushing into the prominent bruise on his side. Suppressing a wince, he straightens upwards in an attempt to look more put together. “Does my next mission have to do with Musutafu?”

A sly grin slithers across Mori’s face,”Indeed. This intrusion is a declaration of war whether the outsiders intended it to be or not. You, Chuuya-kun, will be our first counter attack.” The manilla folder slides across the counter. Chuuya understands he’s supposed to take it, yet part of him wishes he had never come. If he were to go home right now, honestly speaking, who would stop him? Nevermind.. He takes the folder opening to the cover-page.

“Everything you need to know is here. You have until tonight to review, memorize, and dispose of the documents. I trust you understand I want this done tonight.” Chuuya’s eyes widened as he skimmed the mission timeline. A year. A whole damn year!? Yet, it's not his place to complain. Exhausted and in immense pain, the mafia dog rose, gingerly bowing to his master.

“Yessir.”

“Good.” As Chuuya turns to leave he can't help but wonder if he's made some kind of mistake. Something feels wrong. He can't quite place his finger on it, but he's sure that he's missing something. Whatever, he was never one for chess. That was always Dazai’s thing.. god he missed Dazai.

Chapter Text

Flipping through the manilla folder, it quickly became apparent that this mission would be his death. Chuuya fucking Nakahara, port mafia official with a kill count he long stopped keeping track of going to hero school. No way in hell was this going to work out.

The first step of the plan was to lure the heroes in. During the initial incident, the buffoons somehow broke through the (previously thought to be) impenetrable barrier that surrounded Yokohama’s border. Even if none of them successfully made it back out, it was concerning that the mafia had yet to locate the weak point. Thus Chuuya was to act as both a trojan horse and lure, having the pro heroes yet again break through. This time, the mafia would allow them entry, the whole plan relying on them taking Chuuya hostage. Then, once they escape the mafia can seal and reinforce the barrier wherever necessary.

That part of the plan seemed sound, yet the next part had one too many “probablys” and “ifs” for his liking. He was to be detained by the peanut crew and hopefully make them pity him enough to take him under their charge. Honestly, the plan was so stupid that Chuuya wondered if Dazai wrote it. It was a pivotal moment that relied on luck and the teen’s acting skills. If they don't take him in, he’s essentially screwed.

Whatever.. Not like he has much of a say.

Next was the most grueling task. Gaining the love and affection of a bunch of snot nosed wannabe hero teens. He was to lay on the guilt, gain the enemies affection by the end of the year.. before massacring the lot of them. That’ll show em’ to mess with Yokohama. 

Then, Chuuya’s favorite part, he gets to come home for a whole week of vacation! Pure bliss.

.. That is after he completes this year long bullshit mission.

“God this is fucking stupid.” The redhead murmurs under his breath, flicking the folder into the fireplace. No point complaining, he has a job to do.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Chuuya had never liked entering the PM’s underbelly. Beneath the skyscrapers and glam of the Port Mafia’s main headquarters lay several floors worth of indescribable horrors. Prisoners, torture chambers, restricted areas, snarling mutts, his brother Verlaine.. It was the one place he actively avoided, letting Dazai interrogate their prisoners as he waited upstairs.

Yet here he was, watching the elevator slowly tick down into the negatives. It feels like he’s descending into hell.. No wonder Dazai always seemed so at home.

The doors slid open, revealing the negative 3rd floor where his prisoner was supposedly being held. Stepping through the quiet chamber, Chuuya couldn't help but shiver as tortured eyes traced him through the hall. He wasn’t alone. 

On both his sides prisoners peeked through slitted bars, silently watching his every breath like vultures waiting for meat. Some were more lively, reaching out for him in a silent plea. Others didn't have hands. How many of them did he capture? How long had they been down here in the dank, iron crusted halls?

They were so dirty and mangled he doubts he could recognize them if he tried. Who knows, maybe it's been so long they no longer recognize him.. He hopes so.

“Chuuya Nakahara, correct?” Chuuya snaps around, finally taking notice of the man quickly approaching behind him.

“Yes.. And you are?”

“Oh!” The man abruptly stops mere feet away, the cardboard box in his hands almost topping over. “M’names Reamen. Interrogation assistant! Pleasure to meet you!” Reamen quickly bows before speedily walking past Chuuya and down the hall. The redhead couldn’t help but notice how the prisoners flinched away from the bars. “Right this way! I'm almost done prepping the room!”

Matching Reamen’s pace, Chuuya quickly follows, trying his best to ignore the crowd of wandering eyes. The prisoners are none of his business. He has a job to do.

A good minute later the two of them arrive at a white door. The placard embedded on it read “Interview #5”, a sanitized description at best. Chuuya watched as Reamen struggled to retrieve a key from his pocket, the box teetering from side to side.

“How long has she been here?” A jingle flitters through the air as Reamen brings the key to the door, slowly inserting it.

“Well, she’s been here since the Musutafu incident. But she’s only been in this room for a few hours. Best to keep them moving, keep them from getting any ideas.” Reamen chuckles, pushing the door open to reveal the contents. The room was mostly empty. The walls were the same shade of white, and the lights were so bright it took Chuuya a second to adjust. Closest to the door stood a metal table, various silver tools strewn across it. He ignored those, they weren’t exactly his style anyway.

Walking in, the redhead laid eyes on the very reason he’d descended into the decrepit place: Pro Hero Mt. Lady, the only captured instigator from the Musutafu incident.

According to the report, she was the most famous of the group, most of the others being small minor heroes and sidekicks. While anyone could be a viable hostage, it’s easier to get an emotional reaction when more people recognize them.

The plan was simple. Record a “warning video”, executing the hostage while also looking pitiful enough to gain the hero’s attention. To Chuuya’s dismay, his exhaustion and sickness did not make the pitiful look that hard. He honestly looked like such a mess that part of him was ashamed to have it immortalized on camera.

Chuuya approached the woman, who had a gag, blindfold, and earplugs. She was looking to be in pretty rough shape, her hero suit in tatters and blood seeping from purposely visible injuries. He reached a hand forward, gently removing the blindfold and earplugs. The woman jolted to life, jerking every which way like a deer caught in a fence. Then, she froze, her swollen red eyes resting on Reamen who was setting up a camera rig. Ever so slowly, her eyes slid upward, resting on the teen who would soon be her end.

Chuuya grimaced, he didn’t like her looking at him like that. Despite her state, she still had a look of pity. As if he were the one strapped to the chair instead. Whatever..

“Hey Reamen, what happened to her quirk?” The assistant perked up, reaching into the cardboard box to retrieve the final part in the camera rig.

“Well, it’s actually quite fascinating! At first we were worried about detaining her underground because of her power, but executive Dazai stepped in and it was soon discovered that his ability has a lasting effect on quirk users. He stayed in contact for about ten minutes and she’s been powerless since! Real cool stuff huh!” Interesting, I guess it’s true that abilities are stronger than quirks. That also means that Dazai was here during her detainment..

“Chuuya-san! Everything’s set up! Are you ready to begin?” He heard shuffling from the prisoner, muffled tones pitifully escaping the gag. He walked forward, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s head.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.” The gesture felt kind yet the woman burst into tears, liquid running down her face as the camera flicked on. If he were human, Chuuya might have hesitated. Yet, as his finger pushed the trigger, he felt nothing.

Reamen stopped the recording. “That’s a wrap! I’ll make sure to put the videos through the proper channels. You have to go to the waiting point right?” Chuuya placed the gun on the table, wiping a splash of blood from his cheek.

“Ya.. thanks for your help.” Reamen beamed at the praise, grabbing the camera with childlike whimsy.

“Of course! Good luck on your mission Chuuya-san!” Reamen ran out, his giggles disappearing down the hall. Chuuya should leave too. No saying how quickly the heroes will respond. He takes a step out, before deciding otherwise and quickly turning back. With the grace of a mouse he approaches the now dead woman, reaching forward to gently close her eyelids.

“Rest in peace fool.”

Then without another word, he’s off.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Aizawa had seen a lot of things in his life, but a teenager killing his colleague and broadcasting it worldwide was a new one. The video hit the internet as quickly as it was taken down. Then it appeared again, and again, and again, until authorities shut down the entire video streaming platform. Even with the police’s quick response the views had already skyrocketed and it didn’t take long for the whole fiasco to make headlines.

The people demanded answers. Answers that quickly became too difficult to deduce. Then they demanded action. Thus, Aizawa arrived at UA at the prime time of 6am.

As the centerpiece of the hero capital of the world, UA held a lot of sway within government and police decisions. The teachers themselves were practically a strike force and almost every hero within the highest ranks were alumni. So Nezu arranged an urgent meeting to review the now classified video and set a plan going forward.

Most of the time, Aizawa would be much more annoyed to be woken up this early, but something about this put him on edge. Even Yamada, his lovely loud husband, seemed to be on the edge of his seat as the conference room slowly filled with Musutafu’s top heroes.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice! I know you must all be tired and grief stricken from the news, but as society's shield we must be quick to act.” Nezu stood at the head of the table, a projector sparking to life as the lights lowered. Despite his usual chipper voice he carried an air of discomfort. Even he for all his genius had not seen this coming. “For those of you not in the fold, Mt.Lady was recently in charge of leading a group of heroes into Yokohama where they were to gather intelligence and retrieve photos of the city. Despite Mt. Lady not specializing in covert operations, she was sent anyway in case things got messy. All this being said, the barrier itself sealed off all contact with the team, and when they did not return as planned they were reported as missing. It has been a week since with no sign of the team and we were starting to discuss sending in a secondary team of possibly more qualified heroes to retrieve them.” Nezu clears his voice, the projected flicking to the opening frame of the video. The room tensed, staring upon their colleague, wounded and scared.

“With more recent information, it seems more likely the team did not make it.” Nezu falls silent, lowering his head in preformative solace. Even if he attempted empathy, Aizawa knew the mouse-bear wasn’t capable of feeling much towards humans. Unwilling to marinate in the somber silence, Aizawa slowly raises his hand. “Yes, Erasure?”

“While we appreciate the explanation, I have a question.” Nezu blinked owlishly, his somber demeanor flipping as a smile stretched his face.

“Of course! Ask away!”

“Last I heard Yokohama is a quirkless city. I don't see how they could have taken down Mt. Lady and her team without any form of enhanced individual.”

“A great question!” Nezu clicked through the projector once again, this time landing on a zoomed in frame of the video. This time it only showed the murderer, who for some reason appears to be glowing red? “You see, Yokohama might be quirkless but it certainly isn't powerless. That’s just what we tell the public so they can sleep at night. Though it's still a small portion of the population, Yokohama has the densest population of ability users throughout the word.”

Endeavor perks up at this, approaching from the corner he had been mopping in. “I’ve heard about abilities before. Aren’t they supposed to be more powerful than quirks? I was almost certain it was a myth.” Nezu smirks, looking way too excited for the situation at hand.

“They’re no myth alright. Although incredibly rare, ability users are powerhouses with a few screws loose. Even if not much research has been done, I have met a few ability users myself, and from what they tell me the power is usually awakened due to childhood trauma and is bound to the user’s soul rather than genetics. It's really interesting stuff!” The surrounding heroes flinch, the implication of his statement seeping in as they stared at the red glowing teen on the screen. Looking at him again, the kid seemed to be in poor shape. His hair was a mess, skin pale with deep welts under his eyes. He was in a tank top, revealing bruises, scars, and the occasional bandage. When Aizawa had first seen the video he could overlook the shaky resolve of his voice, or the way the boy paused to cough. It was clear to anyone that something was wrong. 

Endevor clears his throat, “The public is demanding answers. Mt. Lady was a beloved figure and people are relying on us to do something about this. What's the plan?” Nezu smiles yet again and Aizawa can already tell he’s going to say something unexpected. Yet, for all his living years even the erasure hero could not predict what the principal would next propose.

“We’re going to take the boy in.”

Chapter Text

Although they weren’t exactly sure, the PM managed to locate the approximate location of the hero’s breach. By staging Chuuya on a warehouse nearby, he can easily claim to be on lookout without promoting suspicion. The perfect set up, yet Chuuya himself couldn't help but wish they’d chosen a warmer area.

The roof was cold, billowing wind beating the redhead side to side as he guarded his cigarette from the storm. He’d picked up smoking after the flags died. I always seemed to help when the tightening within his gut became too much to breathe. When Kouyou found out, she had given him this whole lecture about lung cancer. She gave up pretty quickly though. Even if she didn't explain, Chuuya knew why. He’d be lucky to live long enough for cancer to kill him.. With nothing else to do, Chuuya reached into his pocket, pulling out his battered flip phone. 

It had been in pretty good condition until Dazai decided to throw it off a farris wheel. At first he’d been furious, threatening to push the brunette out the cart while the mackerel cackled maniacly. He was so ready to punch the mother fucker.. 

That is until they reached the ground, the two of them hysterically delighted that the phone was merely scratched. Flipphones are really indestructible.. Should have sent the phone on this mission.

He scrolls until he clicks the contact he’s been looking for: “Makeral <3”. He used to have a fish emoji, yet hours of Dazai’s pestering lead to a replacement heart. The phone rings. 

And rings. And rings. Click! Straight to voicemail.

Chuuya tries again. Click! Please leave a message after the tone-

Again. Click! Please leave-

Again. Click! Click! Click!

The teen smashes the cigarette into the ground, hands shaking with what he hopes is rage. “Damnit Dazai, pick up your damn phone!” Huffing with annoyance, he plops down closer to the roof edge, resigned to watching cars as they pass. Where the hell did he go? Even Dazai isn't this evasive.

It’s not like they got into a fight or anything. In fact, they had been doing pretty well. There’s no reason he would be avoiding him.. No one else has seen him either. 

Chuuya’s hand grips around the flipphone, knuckle grown white as his breath shortens ever so slightly. He needs another cigarette. Fiddling through his pocket, he struggles to work the lighter. His hands are shaking. He’s just tired, he’ll get over it. Just a little sick, and a little tired, and about to go on a year long mission, and literally waiting to be attacked in the open, and Dazai’s missing, and he cant light his fucking cig-

The lighter slips through his fingers. He could have stopped it easily, yet he doesn't. Watching the lighter fall to the street below, Chuuya wonders if it took his soul with it. He feels so empty. Better. It feels better than before. See, nicotine and fire always solve his issues.

A small laugh escapes his chapped cold lips. This is such a crazy situation. Maybe he should just take a nap here, he’s going to let himself be captured anyway. No. That would look weak. Even if he feels half dead he can't let himself put on such a pathetic performance. 

Chuuya slowly rose to his feet, reaching his arms towards the stars as he carefully stretched his aching back. He resumes people watching. A man stumbling out a bar, a woman handing out concessions, a group of teens clearly sneaking around, and-

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots it. A flicker of movement in the alley below.

They’re here, and he’s surrounded. A smirk forms across his pale face.

“Well then. Let's get this party started.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Wait, wait, wait!” Mirko, the bunny hero, strode towards Nezu, her voice breaking through the surrounding chaos that Nezu proudly catalysed. “You want to take in the kid who murdered our colleague because you suspect him to be an ability user? Didn’t you just finish telling us about how they’re both powerful and volatile?!" 

She turns from Nezu, addressing the room as her foot taps the ground rhythmically. “Sure, we can all see that the kid’s in pretty rough shape but we can’t overlook how dangerous the situation is. We don't know what ability this kid has, in fact, we’re not even 100% sure he has one. Even if the kid himself isn’t a threat, clearly,” She thrusts a finger towards the projection, her shadow hitting Mt. Lady’s forehead, “There’s something in Yokohama that killed an entire team of heroes!”

Hums of agreement resonate throughout the room, Endeavor again stepping forward. “She’s right. There are too many unknowns, and coms don’t work through the barrier. There is no calling for backup. We’ll be going in blind. We don't even know where to look for the boy. It’s not worth risking more lives because you think it would be interesting. Furthermore, the likelihood of the kid changing as drastically as you rely on is minimal..” Endeavor pauses his face wrinkling as his voice lowers to a growl. 

“Trauma sticks.”

The room falls quiet again, silent murmur floating through the background as heroes discuss among themselves. The tension is palpable, yet Nezu says nothing. Aizawa turns to Yamada, who looked uncharacteristically serious.

“Hey,” Aizawa leans closer, murmuring in the blonde’s ear, “What are you thinking?” Present Mic sighed, turning to whisper back.

“He killed Mt. Lady. But.. Well.” He hesitates, eyes scrunching with worry, “He’s just a kid. He looks so tired.” His voice catches in his throat. He’d seen that face before. He’d seen it at Oboro’s funeral, in sleepless nights, in building wreckage and war. It wasn’t right. No kid should look like that.

Erasure takes the blonde’s hand beneath the table, ready to respond before being swiftly cut off.

“Present Mic!” Nezu turns towards them, the rest of the room ceasing their chatter. “I believe you have something important to say?” The man in question stares blankly for a moment, unsure if he should actually share. He had a feeling it would be controversial, but one look in Nezu’s eye said he didn't have much of a choice.

“I know he killed Mt.Lady. I know there’s more risk than reward. But.. Look at him.” Hizashi dropped Shota’s hand, standing up as he motions to the projection. “He looks so tired, so sad. No kid should look like that- It's our job to make sure no kid looks like that!” His voice rose through the room, passion leaking through the surrounding heroes. “Yes, It will be dangerous. And we might not even get anything out of this. But we’re heroes damnit! It’s our job to make sure that children are never put in a situation where they have no choice but to kill!”

At first, no one responded, glancing around the room to try and gauge everyone else’s reactions. Then, Endeavor stepped forward looking more annoyed than inspired. “I’ll come.” Present Mic let out a light breath of relief. That was about to be really awkward.

Next Aizawa partially raised his hand, “I’ll come.” His commitment inspired Midnight, Snipe, and Ectoplasm to also jump on the bandwagon. 

Then from the corner where no one had noticed him (no, the author did not forget that he existed until now), Allmight burst into the conversation, “I AM HERE! To join this very important mission!” Several less popular heroes agreed to help after Allmight joined, but there were still some heroes that remained unconvinced.

“I’m sorry, but I can't justify taking this risk. I understand a hero's duty, but the unfortunate truth is that there will always be people, even kids, in dangerous situations.” Mirko turned to exit the room. “If Yokohama decides to attack us then I will be there to support you. But right now, there are people here that are relying on me. Best of luck not getting killed.” And without another word she was gone. With her the less certain heroes left, leaving about half as many heroes as before.

“Well then,” Nezu sparks to life clicking forward through his slide deck, “Now that that’s taken care of, let’s review the plan!”

The remaining heroes gather closer around the table, watching as a photo of Yokohama’s border illuminates the screen. “Although he couldn’t make it today, pro hero Hawks was the one who discovered the weak point in Yokohama’s barrier. It seems that during an earthquake the ground in this particular area shifted, causing the barrier to thin out to the point of being an intangible screen. This discovery is what allowed us to carry out the first mission, and as long as it has remained this way we should have no issue breaching.” Nezu again flipped slides, now revealing a cartoon character half in and out of the supposed barrier. 

“Now, as you know, communication devices do not work across the border. So, we will have a small team remain next to the entrance to both pass messages to the other side and hop in as backup. The team that initially goes in to retrieve the boy should be small and combat focused. This team will be composed of Allmight, Endeavor, Midnight, Snipe, Erasure Head, and Ectoplasm. Present Mic will head the communication and backup team, preparing to receive the boy once he is detained.” With that Nezu strides down the table, plopping on the far end as the projector turns off. “Any questions?”

“Just one.” Midnight partially raised her hand before continuing, “When will this happen.”

Nezu smirked, “Well, considering the public’s reaction, we have to take action as soon as possible. The mission will happen tonight. Preparations are already being made!”

Aizawa cringes. He had secretly been hoping to slip away for a nap. Yet one look at the determined faces around him (except Endeavor who is failing to hide his annoyance) tells him he’ll be awake for quite a while. Guess he’ll just have to chug coffee. Hero work sleeps for no one.

Chapter Text

The drive from UA to Yokohama’s border was only 40 minutes. A city swallowed in silence and myth.. Even if Aizawa had seen it before, approaching the border now felt bizarre.

The area surrounding the barrier’s weak point was shockingly unguarded, though Aizawa supposes that’s the best way to avoid drawing attention. As soon as they arrive, the team jumps into action. Due to the mission’s secrecy, everyone was dressed in black. Even Allmight ditched his cape, cramming into a black body-suit (as much as Aizawa hated his usual hero suit, this certainly didn’t fit him).

The heroes move quickly, the lookout team setting up a makeshift barrier as the villain-transport truck pulls into the site. Meanwhile, the strike team gathers near the border, determined faces preparing for battle.

“Shota!” Erasure pivots, locking eyes with Yamada as he approaches. Gently taking the other’s hand he leans closer to murmur in his ear. “Be careful out there. I know I said it’s our job to put our lives on the line, but.. Don't get yourself killed.” There’s a certain tremble in his voice, the words “like Obero” going unspoken. Aizawa squeezes his hand, glancing around before placing a small peck on the blonde’s cheek.

“I’ll be back.” With a determined nod, the two parted.

“Everyone ready?” Midnight stood closest to the barrier, giving it an experimental poke. Sure enough, her finger breached without resistance.

A resounding confirmation swept through the crowd, as the strike team prepared to enter. Aizawa took a deep, trembled breath. There is no official record of Yokohama after the border went up. It could be a battlefield, a ruin. Yet as his foot breached the barrier, and the cold wind beyond hit his face, Aizawa was overcome by unease.

The city looked beautiful.

Glittering lights, bustling night-life, gigantic skyscrapers, old-timey fashion. It was something out of a movie, and boy did they look out of place.

“Well, I didn't expect it to be quite so.. Lively?” Midnight ducks behind a dumpster, whisper yelling through her ear piece.

Endeavor nodded gruffly, “You're right, we would stick out like sore thumbs in the crowd. Especially considering the lack of mutants..” Ectoplasm and Snipe flinch at this before pulling their hoods further down. Endeavor backed into the alley wall, avoiding the bright street lights like the plague. “We’ll have to stick to alleyways and search less populated areas.”

Allmight, looking slightly more uneasy than the rest, gestured down the alley. “This way.”

Running along the border and away from the crowd, they come across a large expanse of what look like warehouses and office buildings. It's dark and unpopulated, the only sound coming from nearby traffic and the occasional drunk straggler. 

Aizawa ducks behind a wall, nearly avoiding a couple stumbling by. “We’ll split up. It will we easier to search and stay undetected-”

“Damnit Dazai, pick up your damn phone!” They hear a shuffle from the rooftop, each hero instinctively jumping behind cover. Aizawa squints, staring up at the roof ledge. Then he sees him. The redheaded teen who murdered Mt.Lady. 

He looks more sickly in person as he plops himself on the roof ledge. For a moment Erasue flinches, overcome by the fear that he might fall, yet he held himself back. 

Endeavor’s voice sparks through the earpiece. “That’s him. Erasure, keep an eye on his location. Snipe, find a vantage point. The rest of us should surround the building and locate any civilians.” The team sparks to action as the teen seems to be fiddling with something. Aizawa cringes, it's a cigarette. That’s going to be a nasty habit to break.. He’s getting ahead of himself.

Seconds of fidgeting later, the lighter seemingly slips from the kid’s grasp, tumbling to the street below. The kid stares, eyes vacant as his body grows still. It’s our job to make sure no kid looks like that.  

Aizawa takes a deep breath. He’s again getting ahead of himself. They need to win the fight first. “In position, eyes on the target.” Snipe confirmation comes through as the boy seemingly shocks himself back into motion, roughly getting up as he stretches his back.

“We attack in three.” Aizawa crouches down, ready to spring up the building. If he can restrain the boy, there’s a chance to get him out of here unscathed. 

“Three.” Aizawa sees Midnight out of the corner of his eye slowly releasing her quirk. He quickly tightens his gas mask.

“Two.” The boy on the roof pauses, a slow smirk forming across his face as his shoulders relax.

“One.” Aizawa launches forward, his capture scarf whipping through the air only to be met with red.

“Well then. Let's get this party started.”

In a burst of red, all plans go out the window. Aizawa barrels into the building behind him, huffing for air that had evacuated his body. His vision blurs as he stares forward in shock. Bursts of light dance through his vision. Endeavor must be fighting. There's a series of gunshots before what looks like a boulder flies through the air, crumpling what Erasure Head assumes is Snipe’s vantage point.

The nullifier hunches over, reattaining his composure just in time to jump out of the way as Allmight flies through the crater he lay in. Steadying himself, Aizawa watches as the redhead simultaneously evades both Endeavor and Ectoplasm. He activates his quirk, yet the fighting doesn’t stop. Shit! He hadn’t considered that his quirk might not work on ability users.

Slightly more panicked then he’d like to admit, Aizawa looks around for Midnight. The kid wasn’t wearing a gas mask, even if he couldn’t nullify abilities a gas based quirk still could work. Glancing into the alley way he located the raven-haired woman, weakly trying to get her leg from under a piece of rubble.

He approaches with urgency, gripping the rock crushing her. She winces, pausing for a moment before helping him slowly move the rock. “I got hit in the head, my earpiece is broken.” Midnight trembles, blood hardening her hair. Aizawa cups the back of her head, gently pulling her out.

“I can carry you, can you still use your quirk?” Shivering in pain, she gives him a thumbs up, grasping his shirt as she studies herself. He reaches a hand to his ear, double-checking that his comm was still intact.

“My quirk doesn't work on him. I'll try and get Midnight to the roof. Endeavor, Ectoplasm, Allmight, can you hold him off until then? Do we know if Snipe’s ok?” Before anyone can respond another gunshot rings through the alley, a quick yelp following it before more rocks thrust themselves over the alleyway.

Allmight’s voice cracks over the earpiece sounding concerningly out of breath. “I found Snipe and am covering for him. He’s hurt but I believe he landed a shot or two on the kid.

“Shot or not he’s not going down!” Endeavor yells back. Suddenly, Ectoplasm blasts down for the now mostly destroyed roof, landing next to Erasure and Midnight. No time .

Aizawa skillfully jumps up to the roof, trying his best to not rattle the woman in his arms. Checking to ensure his mask was on correct, he landed mere feet from the fight. “Ok, are you ready?” Midnight nods, prepared to release sleeping gas as Endeavor jumps out of the way.

The boy stumbles, staring at Aizawa with a grimace creasing his face. Then, before Midnight’s fog can even reach him, the teen stumbles.

A scream rips from the boy as he clutches his head in a deathgrip. Frantically pulling at his own hair as blood spills from his eyes and ears. He stops the screaming for a moment only to seemingly choke on his own blood as it vomits from his mouth.

Just as the fog reaches the boy’s feet, he falls unconscious.

Endeavor is the closest, quickly stepping forward to check the kid’s pulse. “He’s alive, but losing a lot of blood.” Before Aizawa can respond, Allmight appears carrying an unconscious Snipe.

“Is everyone accounted for? Where’s Ectoplam?”

“Here.” Ectoplasm slowly climbs back onto the roof, limping but upright.

“Good.” Endeavor cuffs the teen, slinging him over his shoulder with ease. “Let's hurry before someone comes to check out the commotion.” Then, they were off.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

His phone buzzed, shifting across the table in small rhythmic motions. He couldn’t see the screen, but as this was the sixth call in a row, he had a feeling who it was.

He struggles trying to reach for it, weakened fingers stretching towards the device. It doesn't take long for him to give up. Why did he even try to begin with? If he currently had the ability to move, he would have left hours ago.

His head spins, yet he reaches out again.

This is pitiful. He should have prevented this from happening in the first place, yet here he is uselessly laying around. For someone so keen on death this certainly is not how he wanted to go out. Not at all.

The phone stops moving, sitting dejectedly on the table.

He failed. He failed again.

Only when a needle jabs into his neck does he realize he isn’t alone. He didn’t react. There’s nothing to do anyway. He’s useless and stupid. Holy shit, how could he have been that stupid?

Nevermind. He drifted to sleep, the phone buzzing like a lullaby through his head. He really did try to answer it.

Chapter Text

Getting back to the barrier was the easy part. Dealing with the aftermath.. Not so much.

Paramedics that had been on standby in nearby parking lots and alleys flooded in, quickly transporting both Snipe and Midnight to nearby hospitals. They had yet to gain consciousness to the surprise and horror of their hero colleagues. Honestly, even if they’d known the mission was dangerous seeing it in person was different than a screen.

Aizawa sighed, his shoulders slumping as the adrenaline started to wear off. His head hurt, like, really hurt. Guess that’s what being thrown into a concrete building will do to you.

“Where do you want the boy? He’s bleeding out and needs medical attention.” Endeavor’s gruff voice rumbles through the crowd, many stopping to observe the ginger slumped over his shoulder. Even if Endeavor’s black hero suit didn’t show crimson, a dripping dark spot had formed where the kid slept. With the amount of blood slowly exiting his body, it would take a miracle to get the teen back on his feet.

Despite the urgency, the remaining team of paramedics hesitated, slowly pulling forth a stretcher as they looked to one another for answers. They had clearly expected to be treating heroes.

Damnit, there’s no time for this, at this rate the boy will be dead before they can even question him. Without a moment to spare Aizawa rushed forward, grabbing the foot of the stretcher as he jerkily pulled it towards Endeavor. The EMTs flounder along, seemingly shocked by his quickened pace.

As Endeavor lowers the teen onto the platform, Erasure grabs one of the medics, his fingers digging into his arm. “If this boy dies, I’ll make sure Nezu knows it’s your fault.” 

Silently shaken— the team springs into action, quickly compressing his injuries as they begin moving to the ambulance.

“I’ll ride with them in case anything happens.” Endeavor stepped forward, attempting to hide a wince as he subtly stretched his back. Aizawa didn’t comment either way, bowing his head ever so slightly as they latch the door shut.

 “Hey! Wait!” Erasure pivots just in time to see Present Mic running through the crowd, waving the ambulance down with a phone clutched in his hand. “Just got off the phone with Nezu! He wants the boy at UA. No hospitals! Turn off your sirens as you approach.” 

The driver nods, sirens blaring as the car turns the corner.

“Are you ok?” A hand gently intertwines with his as Aizawa carefully turns to face Hizashi. Was he ok? No. He wasn’t. He got his ass kicked by a kid that looked one sneeze away from fainting, and his quirk has absolutely no effect on the kid.

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

Hizashi’s brow furrowed, “You sure that’s all-”

“The team’s packing up. Are you guys ready to leave?” One of Ectoplasm’s clones appeared in front of the two, causing Hizashi to jump. Looking around the mission site, the barrier had been packed up and significantly less people seemed to be there. Plus Allmight, who Aizawa could have sworn was here seconds ago, had seemingly evaporated into thin air.

“We’ll be there in a second.” Aizawa let go of the blonde’s hand, swiftly escaping the conversation. He’s too tired to talk about it right now. Maybe later, in the shelter of their bed. Right now, he just wants to get home. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere away from the sirens and panicked crowds. Somewhere where he didn't have to think about murderous teens with bullshit powers.

Most of all, he’s really fucking tired.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

No name. No record. Just blood, and too much of it. Recovery Girl jumped into action.

Cutting off his bloodied clothes, she found herself momentarily horrified at the mangled state the teen was in. Three gunshot wounds— two in the lower abdomen and out the back, the third still lodged in his shoulder. The rest of his body was a map of pain: purple bruises spread like butter across toast, jagged scars swirling unnaturally up his body, old bandages clinging to past abrasion still only half healed.

“I sterilized the room next door. Prepare for surgery. Get ready with haste.” Recovery Girl’s voice sparks the room to life, newly borrowed nurses and assistants running every which way. They had to remove the remaining bullet and suture the remaining injuries. Considering how weak the boy already was, Chiyo couldn’t use her quirk. They would just have to rely on antibiotics and the kid’s (hopefully) natural durability to keep him alive. Even then, Chiyo had her doubts.

“You!” She calls one of the nurses, a short girl standing in the corner looking a little lost. “Type O blood should be arriving at any moment, prepare a transfusion as soon as it gets here.” The girl doesn’t move, staring like a deer in headlights before finally giving a brief bow. With that Chiyo was off, speeding towards the operation room with the determination of a bull. 

This kid won’t die. Not today, and certainly not in her care. She will save him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was so loud, Chuuya wished he could rip his ears off.

Would that help? No. He’d long accepted that his ears weren’t the issue. Even with them covered the screaming never stopped. Nonetheless, he never stopped trying. He’d childishly clap his hands on either side of his head, desperately hoping that the god would go silent. He never did.

Dazai had always made it quiet. Dazai had always made him safe. Or maybe not? Chuuya couldn’t think right now. It had been a long time since he’d last lost this much blood. He must be getting weak..

It was so loud here Chuuya wished he were dead. Really? Is that what he wants? To die by the hand of some stupid clowns because he couldn’t handle Arahabaki’s protest? No, Dazai would never let him hear the end of it.

Light slowly poured through his aching vision as his eyelids cracked open. Why was the room so bright? Sure, he’s a prisoner, but they could at least be kind enough to not blind him upon arrival!

Chuuya attempts to look at his surroundings but his eyes are so unfocused that all he can see are colorful blobs. 

He can hear. Even as Arahabaki’s screams quiet ever so slightly, an equally painful ring soon takes its place. Damnit, his whole body hurts so much.

Delirious, he tried to sit up, quickly realizing the leather straps tightened across his body. Annoyed, he attempted to activate tainted sorrow only to find it doesn’t work. He can’t move. His ability isn’t working .

Chuuya thrashed, attempting to break through the strap as pain erupts through his body. 

He’ll be ok. It’s part of the plan. It’s all going to turn out just fine.

Though as the strap rubs deeper and deeper into his chest, Chuuya’s overcome by the urge to flee.

Vision adjusting, his eyes whip around the room. Hospital. He’s in a hospital room. 

Chuuya’s breath quickened as he tried to manipulate his hands. More leather comes into view, restraining him as the material slowly cuts into his skin.

At some point people were there, someone was yelling as the redhead slid downwards, taking one of the straps between his teeth.

Then there were hands. Everywhere. Hands holding him back, tugging on his hair. One hand yanked the leather from between his teeth, being quickly rewarded as Chuuya almost bit off his finger. Iron tangles through his teeth as the surrounding noise gets louder, the hands growing violent.

Someone grabs his foot and he screams. His voice grows raw as another person stuffs fabric down his throat. The attempt to hold it in, gripping his skull as several more hands try to keep him down. He shakes, forcing back against the hands with all his might as a resounding snap echoes through the room.

Suddenly, Chuuya’s on the ground, tile hitting his knees as he gasps for air. The hands are gone, yet feet surround him. What sounds like a woman’s voice echoes louder than the rest.

“Step away from the boy!” A pair of pink boots step forward, “You're making it worse.”

Feet shuffle around him, yet Chuuya doesn’t look up. Even as breathing becomes easier, and pain flickers through his body he simply can’t do anything.

It’s like his body is jello, brain rendered useless as he looks for somewhere less bright and exposed. Some distant voice in his head reminded him of how childishly pathetic it must look to hide under a bed, but he honestly couldn’t care less right now. Carefully, he curled underneath the bedframe, cheek pressed to the cold tile floor. This was “future Chuuya’s” problem.

He couldn’t deal with this right now. Maybe in a few minutes.. He just needs a few minutes to get himself together.

Vaguely aware of the people moving around his temporary shelter, he looks down to shaking hands. His gloves are gone, mechanical looking bracelets secured around each of his wrists. How weird.. He feels like he’s seen them somewhere before..

Dazai! That’s right, he’d seen them on Dazai’s desk. Damnit, only if he could remember what the brunette said about them!

Pain jolted through his head. A concussion? It’s possible.

Chuuya hadn’t gotten a concussion in a really long time. While he’d like to attribute it to him being a good fighter, the truth was much more annoying.

In the Sheep, Chuuya had almost never gotten hit with anything due to his ability, yet he had multiple mysterious concussions over the years due to a certain god’s incessant screaming rattling the fuck out his brain. Annoyingly enough, Dazai’s ability had proved useful against the onslaught, especially after the “Verlaine Incident” had amplified Arahabaki’s wrath.

Then again.. He hasn’t seen Dazai in months. Dazai, Dazai, Dazai..

Godammit, what did he say about the cuffs!?

Chuuya shifted uncomfortably. He knew it was important yet he just can’t remember. He cant remember, he cant think, he cant move, he cant use his fucking ability.

For the love of Arahabaki, this mission is going terribly!

Chapter Text

It had been three days since the mission to retrieve the still unnamed boy. While Nezu had held a press conference, he had masterfully given the public almost no useful information, satiating them with a few blurry body-cam photos of the old-timey city and the knowledge that Mt.Lady’s killer had been detained.

He didn’t, however, share that Midnight and Snipe had recently been discharged yet still remained out of commission. He didn’t share the boy’s ability, nor the damage he was capable of. He didn’t share that the boy was at UA, and would most likely remain there. He didn’t even confirm the heroes sent on the mission, simply calling it an "elite tactical force”.

Honestly, Aizawa understood. Information is bound to be twisted in the public eye, and the last thing they want is to start a panic. It was best to handle the situation covertly, yet, it still didn’t sit right with him.

Who knows.. Maybe the public should be afraid.

A phone rings, yanking Aizawa from his thoughts. Nezu is calling.

“Just what I need..” Erasure grumbled, sipping his coffee as he reached for the device. He had come to UA early today (he didn't go to sleep last night) to grade papers. He didn’t have time for whatever the principal had planned. 

He raises the speaker to his ear, Nezu’s cheery voice grating through his still half awake brain. “Morning Eraserhead! We require your assistance in the nurses office. Seems like our guest woke up earlier than expected!”

Aizawa stiffened. That’s not right, it’s only been three days and the kid was practically dead. Recovery Girl couldn’t even accelerate his healing! “Ill be there in a moment!”

He jumped up, abandoning his coffee along with his student’s papers in the teachers lounge as he trudged down the hall. As he rounded the corner he saw Yamada (who had driven in with him this morning) coming from the other end of the hall. They give one another a wordless nod before Aizawa pushed the door open, revealing a less than predictable sight.

The room was in utter disarray, security guards shuffling around as Chiyo quietly scolded them. One particular security guard sat in a rolly chair as Recovery Girl tightly bandaged his hand. On the other side of the room, Nezu sat on Chiyo’s desk looking happy as ever.

Finally noticing them, Nezu jumps up, arms waving them over excitedly. “Thank you for coming with such haste! I’ve sent an email out to all students and staff that school is officially cancelled for the day, so don't worry about preparing for class.”

Amazing , now his grading and his class are behind schedule. 

“Nezu?” Present Mic leans against the desk, furrowing his brow. “Where exactly did the boy go?”

Glancing around the room, Aizawa’s eyes landed on the empty bed. It’s previously white sheets had blots of red and the whole thing looks like it had been torn apart by a wild animal. Even the leather straps that had once secured the sleeping teen had been violently torn apart.

Nezu chuckles, “Ya, our little ability user was not happy about the restraints. Apparently he almost bit one of the security guard’s fingers off. Quite the fighter!”

“Everyone is ok though and that’s all that matters.” Recovery Girl walked over, her face tinged with annoyance as the security team huddled as far away as possible. “These buffoons scared him half to death, poor thing. He’s under the bed right now but he’ll come out sooner or later.”

Leaning over, Aizawa peers beneath the bed frame to see the ginger boy curled beneath. Other than the occasional tremble in his shoulders he was eerily still, every breath controlled and concealed.

“How long has he been down there?” Hizashi murmurs to Recovery Girl, as Aizawa turns back to the conversation.

“Only a few minutes. We haven't tried to get him out yet, which-”

“Which is where you come in!” Nezu cuts Chiyo off, clapping his hands together as he leans closer. “Since the boy is a minor he needs a guardian to accompany him throughout the legal process. But, this minor is from Yokohama and we don't plan on sending him to trial, which leaves us in a bit of a grey area. We can’t involve social workers as a lot of this is classified information, but if there were some registered foster parents who just happened to be pro heroes employed at this school, it stands to reason that they should become his temporary guardians.”

Aizawa stares in horror, frantically glancing at Hizashi, whose eyes were already starting to fill with that familiar glimmer he’d fallen in love with so many years ago. No. No. This can’t be happening.

“Wait.” He attempts to keep the panic out of his voice. He knows if Hizashi reaches the “puppy dog eyes” phase he’s through. “We aren’t registered to foster children. Only cats. Those are very different things.”

“Oh, but Shota-”

He doesn’t dare to look at the blonde’s way, “No, we foster cats. Not criminal children who would kill us in our sleep.”

Nezu smiles, looking maniacal as ever. “Criminals, cats.. Same difference. Judging by what he did to the bed he’d fit right in!” He strides across the desk, hopping on a chair before firmly hitting the ground. “Plus, I already signed you two up, so try and figure it out sooner than later. We need to get him ready for questioning in about an hour so best of luck!”

Without another word Nezu was running down the hall with speed Aizawa had never expected from the rat.

Breathe in, breathe out. Erasure turned to Yamada who was practically bouncing with excitement. Gazing into the blonde’s glittering eyes, the annoyance eased. Gently, Aizawa grabbed his hand.

“I know you're excited, but try not to get too ahead of yourself. We aren’t the kid’s parents. If anything, we're just mislabeled wardens.” He fails to hide the fondness in his voice as Yamada smirks.

“I know. But this means we have the opportunity to help him.” Gently releasing the other’s hand, Yamada pivots to Recovery Girl. “Now, we should try and get him out from under there.” 

With a collective nod, the three adults make their way to the bed.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Hey kid.” Hizashi stepped forward, carefully kneeling beside the bed while looking at the ceiling. He didn't want to make the boy feel boxed in, and cats- no.. kids felt threatened by eye contact?..

Maybe stray kids and cats really are the same? Yamada sure hopes so or he’s screwed.

Looking towards Shota and Chiyo for encouragement he continued. “I know you're probably scared right now, but we need you to come out-”

He stops, interrupted by.. The bed flying through the air?!

Hizashi jumps, practically barreling into Aizawa who was already in a fighting stance. A security guard shrieked as the bed knocked him over, the torn bedding pressing him into the ground.

“Im not fucking scared!?” A ginger boy stood where the bed once was— his hair a mess and his clothes dribbled with various blood stains, as a red hue spread across his freckled face. “Who the hell are you people anyway!?”

“We’re pro heroes.” Aizawa stepped towards the boy, the teens shoulders stiffening as his hands clenched into fists. “Now, why don't you tell me how you did that? I was told you wouldn’t be able to use your ability.”

For a moment the boy doesn't respond, simply glaring at Shota as if they were having a staring contest. Then, like a change in the wind the teen laughs.

“That thing’s light as fuck, I just pushed it upwards no ability required.” The boy glances around, seeming to catalog everyone in the room. “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?”

Yamada attempts to walk forward, only for Aizawa to grab his arm. “You’ll find out in the interrogation. Recovery Girl will help you find clothes. I wouldn’t recommend running.” 

The redhead’s heterochromatic eyes glared upwards at Erasure, jaw clenching as he bit out, “Or what?”.

Aizawa didn't back down, stepping forward until his shadow towered the boy. The teen stood his ground, even leaning forward momentarily as if to prove a point.  

“Or else we might have to reconsider your treatment.”

Before the boy can respond, Erasure turns to the door, pulling a minorly unwilling Yamada behind him. “Get ready soon, we’ll be waiting outside the door.” 

Exiting into the hallway, Yamada yanks his arms from Shota’s hold. “You don’t have to provoke the kid so much! Poor thing has no clue where he is or what’s going on! He must be scared out of his mind!”

“Scared, sure.” Aizawa lowers his voice, “But he’s still dangerous. Might I remind you that he killed Mt.Lady and hospitalized Midnight and Snipe. If he hadn’t collapsed when he did I'm not even sure Endeavor could have defeated him.”

Yamada flinched, his brow scrunching as he looked down at the floor. “I know that. I know, but provoking him like that isn’t the way to go. Sure, be firm, but if we ever want him to trust us we have to give him some trust of our own.”

Aizawa stares at him, eyes soft yet blank. “I want to help him as much as you do, but.. You didn't see him in Yokohama. You weren’t there for the fight. The kid got shot thrice and didn’t flinch. He threw Allmight through a building. He’s young, but he fights like he was born for it. And I think that that warrants a little more caution than you seem to be giving him.”

Hizashi frowns. He knows the teen is dangerous. But he also can’t stand around and treat the kid like a rabid animal.

A hand cups his cheek, drawing the blonde’s attention back to his partner. “All I’m asking is that you be careful.”

He sighs, the day had just begun, yet the excitement is a lot. “I will be. You don't have to worry about me.”

Chapter Text

The next time he woke, he didn't dare move.

Drugged and lethargic, the only thought playing through his head was to remain as still as possible. One hiccup in his breath, one out of place heartbeat, and they’d put him right back under.

As his thoughts slowly became more comprehensive, he listened to the room around him.

A heart monitor beeped numbingly slow. A white noise machine whaled through the room like a freight train. A.. a person breathed nearby, barely loud enough for the boy to hear.

At least they're smart enough to not leave him unattended.  

He felt bitter. On one hand the security measures he’d once proposed for “high stakes prisoners” were quite effective. On the other hand, he didn't account that he would one day find himself in this very situation.

How annoying.

Feeling returned to his fingertips as he contemplated his escape. Taking down the guard would be easy. He managed to glimpse the room last time he woke up, but there's always the possibility they rearranged things after he was put under.

Even so, he was still tied to the table, meaning he needed to draw the guard closer somehow..

Sedation! If they think he’s awake they’ll have no choice but to approach.

He'll act like he's just woken. The guard will take approximately seven seconds to prepare and inject him. Hopefully they'll take their time, assuming that the boy was still woozy and weak. 

Next is the lock securing his restraints.

The boy shifts his finger an unnoticeable incriminate, suppressing a smile as he feels a sharp pain shoot through his hand. It's still there .

A needle embedded within the side of his finger, easily torn out by the mere bend on his knuckle. Seems Mori still underestimates him. A pity on his part.

Four seconds. One for the needle to tear out, three to pick the lock holding his left hand.

Three seconds. Two for a guard to approach with the sedative, one for the boy to incapacitate him with his left hand.

Ten seconds. Five to unlock the remaining restraints and escape the room. Five to flee the hall.

The rest? Well.. he's just gonna have to improvise.

He's got one shot at this. Now or never.

Allowing his eyes to groggily flutter open, his plan is set into motion.

I'm coming Chibi. Just hang on a little longer.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Now in clean yet annoyingly oversized clothes, Chuuya allows himself to be handcuffed and led down the hall. He glanced through the obnoxiously large windows, gazing upon the vast expanse of greenery.

If he breaches the building, it would be easy to hide in the woods.

They walk through twisting corridors, turning to an even more obnoxiously large door. Seriously, he knew mutants were a thing but being that large seems impossible.

Chuuya eyed the room as they walked through. It was an empty classroom, curtains drawn creating a cramped and oppressive atmosphere. Some policemen crowded the corners while a very normal looking man sat in the middle. 

The homeless looking pain in the ass gently pushed the teen forward, motioning for him to sit across from the man in the center. He growled a muddled complaint before reluctantly plopping on the plastic desk chair. No point in fighting. His head hurts too much to care.

“Hello.” The plain guy sat up, setting a small black device on the table. It blinks red, making a small beep noise before going silent. “My name is detective Naomasa Tsukauchi. You can call me detective Tsukauchi. I've been assigned to your-”

Chuuya shifted his wrists in the cuffs, Arahabaki’s whale wracking though his head. The pain is dull, like a train rumbling through to block the world around. 

His body hurts. Despite the god granting him accelerated healing, it never seemed to weaken the crackling phantom pain. It was like the chaotic being was torturing him for its own pleasure, each scream a cackle at his suffering.

I won't let you die, but you will never feel peace.

Dazai brought him that peace..

Goddammit, what did Dazai say about the cuffs?!

“Kid? You listening?” Chuuya’s head snapped up, feral eyes again locking onto the man in front of him.

“What?” 

The detective sighs, glancing at the blonde haired hero who was now somehow by his side. “I was explaining that I am the detective assigned to your case. This interrogation will be recorded. My quirk allows me to tell if you are lying or not so it's in your best interest to tell the truth. As your current legal guardians Hizashi and Aizawa are here to support you if you need help or have any questions. Understood?”

The redhead stares, annoyance aching through his spine. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to punch the man. Maybe collapse the building on them. Something, anything to slow the gnawing itch in his gut.

He clenches his fists, nails digging into his palm. He’ll get through this. One year, and then he can rest. Just one year. One more year.

“Understood.”

“Great.” The detective shifts under Chuuya's gaze, an animal of prey desperately trying to convince himself he's a wolf. “Please state your name for the record.”

“Nakahara Chuuya.” The detective nods, writing something down. He fiddles with his pen, tapping the metal exterior rhythmically.

“That's correct.. Nakahara-”

“Call me Chuuya”

The man poorly hides his flinch as his eyes flicker up to Chuuya's. “Ok then, Chuuya. You are an ability user. What is your ability?”

A beat of silence. The red head can't help but notice the surrounding police officers growing tense.

The itching intensifies. He needs to hit something. He needs to. He needs to-

Chuuya bounces his knee instead.

“I think the better question is why I can't use my ability.” The detective doesn't respond, instead looking over the teens head. 

The man with the black rat’s nest and a shitty personality approaches, standing next to the blonde haired wuss. “We have found a means to disable your ability. That's all you need to know. Now answer the damn question.”

Chuuya glares up at the hobo before refocusing his attention to the detective. “I manipulate gravity.”

Chapter Text

“True.” Naomasa announced, writing in his notebook once more. It checks out. When Aizawa was almost flung through a wall it didn't feel like normal telekinesis.

In fact, it felt like the world had shifted. His guts pushed back towards his spine, his neck yanking backwards. He hadn’t thought about how odd it was at the time as he’d been focused on not dying.

A soft hand taps Aizawa’s back. Glancing sideways, he made eye contact with Hizashi. There was a crease in his brow as he gently motioned his head towards the teen. Chuuya hadn’t moved much since the interrogation started, yet looking closer the kid seemed to be unusually stiff.

His leg bounced at an unnaturally quick pace, his fists had curled into tight balls. Squinting, Aizawa could even make out a slight dash of red leaking beneath his fingertips. 

It makes sense for the kid to be stressed. Anyone would be in his situation. Yet, one look in Chuuya’s eyes confirmed that stress wasn't the whole story.

Rage. Barely restrained rage, like a bull ready to charge.

“How old are you?” Hizashi perked up at the question, quickly glancing between Aizawa and the kid.

“15.”

..The same age as some of the students. To think a kid so young could defeat some of the world’s best heroes. Terrifying..

Naomasa cleared his throat, flipping to the next page in his notepad. “Who are your parents and do you have a means to contact them?”

“I never met them.” Chuuya doesn’t sound sad when saying this. It’s cold, maybe a little bitter. Naomasa doesn’t bother confirming his answer. None of the heroes really expected the teen to have present parents anyway.

“Ok. Who currently takes care of you? Do you live with someone?” To this Chuuya’s brow furrowed in discomfort. He diverted his eyes to the table for a second before locking back on the detective.

“I take care of myself and whoever I live with is none of your business.” Again, Aizawa had already assumed the kid took care of himself. In the little time he’d known the boy he got the impression the kid didn’t like relying on others. Yet, his sudden defensiveness was strange. He was clearly living with someone. Not a guardian, nor a caretaker, but someone he felt was worth protecting. Interesting.

“That’s fine.” Naomasa didn’t press. The redhead was understandably defensive from the get-go and it would be best to avoid stressing over less pressing matters. “Since you’re able to support yourself I imagine you have a job. What do you do for a living?”

“I guard things.” Real specific. It made sense on a baseline level. When Aizawa had first arrived he’d been sitting on a roof for seemingly no reason. It would make complete sense for him to be guarding something below. That being said, being a simple security guard wouldn’t have led him to be Mt.Lady’s killer. Plus.. Aizawa had a feeling Yokohama would put someone with Chuuya’s power to better use.

“True, but there’s more to it. For example, I think you were paid to kill Mt.Lady.” Noamasa’s pen taped across his notepad for emphasis. Normally, interrogating kids was far easier. Teens especially get carried away, saying more than needed to try and justify their still developing brains. Yet, Chuuya was different. Careful, trained. He needs something to get him talking.

“So what, a paycheck is a paycheck.” Chuuya murmurs, bitterness creeping through his words. There was a shift as the redhead slid a little down his chair, gaze directed to his hands as he fiddled with the metal cuffs.

“That's a shame. I didn't think you were the kind of person to throw away your humanity for money.” Heterochromic eyes widen as Chuuya stares intensely at his hands. It seems Noamasa hit a nerve as the kid goes still.

Then, after a moment of tense silence, the dam breaks. The cuffs slam on the table as the kid stands, looming over the detective.

“How fucking dare you! You don't know me. You don't know what it's like to be hungry! You don't know what it's like to live in the slums! You sit here in your fancy fucking tie preaching your own set of mortals without a care in the fucking world. Well, guess what princess!? People– children –are starving!” Chuuya inhaled sharply, staring down at Noamasa as the surrounding onlookers grew tense. “Mt.Lady or whatever the fuck her name is, was stupid enough to break into Yokohama. Sure, I killed her, but she signed the death warrant."

Aizawa watched as the boy slumped back into the chair, bloody handprints left on the table from his seeping palms. No one moved or spoke, the kid staring at his own trembling knee.

“Why don't we leave it at that..” Hizashi spoke up, gently approaching the table. “It’s been a long day and I’m sure Chuuya is exhausted.”

“Ya. That’s ok. We can continue on a later date.” Noamasa stood, hands slightly shaking as he turned off the recorder. “Take care.”

The detective quickly left, his police officers following close behind. Soon only the two heroes and the teen remained.

Chuuya still remained unmoving, his hands resting palms up on his knees. “Im not a fucking monster..” he whispered under his breath. 

Aizawa gets the feeling he wasn’t talking to them, yet he responds anyway. “We know.”

Maybe this kid has something left to save afterall.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The walk to Chuuya’s new room wasn’t long. It was on the top floor in an extra room Nezu once used as his lab. 

Although Hizashi had never seen the place in person, he’d heard that it had be turned into a room for the teen, fueling his excited rambling as the trio made their way up the stairs.

“Are you excited to see your new room? It’ll probably be a bit bland but we can buy some posters and decorations to liven it up! Are you into any bands?”

Chuuya stared at the blonde with a blank look. “I don't know. Feel’s weird to decorate a cell.”

To this Hizashi sighs “Oh don't be like that. It’s not a cell unless you think of it as one.” Just then they approach a door with a huge padlock sealing the handle to the frame. Aizawa swiftly unlocks it, swinging the door open to reveal the horrid room.

Bars on the window, cameras on each corner. There was even a series of detectors around the bathroom door, a timer labeled “15 minute max” on the outside.

Chuuya looks at the blonde incredulously, “If it looks like a prison cell, chances are it’s a fucking prison cell.”

“You killed a pro hero.” Aizawa speaks gruffly, yet doesn’t sound as harsh as before. “It’ll take more than a tragic past to earn everyone’s trust. Just be grateful you're being given the opportunity to improve instead of being sent to an actual prison.”

“The opportunity to improve?” Chuuya glares, the cuffs clinking as he shifts to face the pro. “The fuck you talking about? I got kidnapped and questioned I-”

“Hey, hey, hey” Hizashi steps between the redhead and his partner “You’ll have a meeting with the principal tomorrow. He’ll explain everything then. For now, focus on resting.” He then pivots, coming face to face with Aizawa. “And you! Stop provoking the kid, he’s had a long and stressful day.”

“Im not a kid.” The redhead huffs, pushing roughly past the pro couple and into the room. He glanced around before plopping on the bed, again glaring towards the heroes with all his might.

Intimidation aside, Hizashi approaches. Bending in front of the kid, he gently unlocks the handcuffs. “I know you probably feel overwhelmed, but remember, we’re here to help you.” The cuff clink once more before falling to the ground. “Ill talk to Nezu about getting rid of some of the cameras. Then, I’ll see about getting you some posters!”

Smiling kindly, Hizashi leaves the room. With kids like Chuuya it’s best not to push it. Plus, he could have sworn he caught a hint of a smile tracing the redhead’s face.

Chapter Text

He shoved through halls, legs still annoyingly groggy as alarms blared through the usually silent port. It seems Mori made some unshared upgrades to the security system. That slimy little shit!

He needs to find her, needs to tell her. Even if he gets caught she'll know what to do.

Red flashed through his vision as the boy fell through a door, shoving it closed behind him. The blaring became a muffled whisper, a dull pain pounding at the back of his head.

“Dazai? Is that you? What's going on?” A red woman rushed towards him, her hatred for the boy barely concealed by a flicker of concern.

Good. He found her.

“Kouyou-san. Where’s Chuuya? Tell me he's here.” The woman grabs the boy's arm, practically dragging him to her desk.

“He's on a mission, lad. I think the better question is where you've been.”

“A mission?” The boy's eyes widened, fingers gripping the desk chair he’d been shoved in. “Please tell me you're joking. Where is he?”

Kouyou’s eyes narrow as she leans over the desk. “He's in Musutafu on a long term mission. What's going on?”

“We need to get Chuuya out of there! I made a mistake, Mori, he-”

The door shoots open, none other than the purple doctor standing in the frame. The boy darkly wonders if every demon is summoned by their name.

“Well this is an unexpected meeting, I was honestly pretty sure you two hated each other.” Mori approaches the desk, hand resting on the boy's shoulder. The alarm had gone silent, leaving only the chilling dread of Mori’s firm grip. “Kouyou-san, Dazai-kun. Tell me, what is this fascinating meeting about?”

Kouyou glances at the boy, her eyes full of rage for a moment before turning to the boss. “Nothing, the boy stumbled in here and has been spewing nonsense since. I think he's on drugs again.” Kouyou smiled, her voice sickly sweet. “You need to keep a better hand on him. He's dripping blood on my new carpet.”

Mori lets out a sarcastic chuckle, grabbing the boy's bleeding hand in a harsh chokehold. “My apologies, you know how he is.” With a harsh jerk the boy is back on his unsteady feet, teeth biting into the side of his cheek to force himself into silence. “It's hard to take care of such a temperamental child.”

Mori made for the door, the boy dragging behind him with little fight. “Fair well Kouyou-san, apologies for the rug.” The door slammed behind the two, leaving the executive alone.

Kouyou stared at the blood now streaking across her desk, the silence in her office heavier than any noise. This was going to get ugly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Chuuya woke up feeling just as unrested and in pain as when he fell asleep. Groggily, he becomes aware of the fact he hasn't eaten since the saltines at the doctor's office.

He shifts, slowly sitting up as his vision swims and the blood flows back to his feet. Whatever, at this point he's starting to forget what not feeling dizzy felt like.

The room looks the same as it did yesterday. Camera's, desk, barred window, timed bathroom. Yet, the unexplained light next to the door appeared to be.. blinking?

Chuuya pushes himself off the bed, standing for a moment before making his way over. He'd previously made note of the strange raised light but hadn't really questioned it. Looking closer, it almost resembled a button.

He presses on the surface, wincing and it admits a high pitched beep. A sharp click follows as a small panel in the wall slides open to reveal a lunch tray.

Even breakfast is served prison style..

Chuuya takes the tray and places it on his desk. Rice with grilled fish and miso soup. At least it looks better than prison food.

He picked up the bowl of miso soup. It reminded him of the mornings he’d spend in the kitchen, the quiet clatter of bowls and the low hum of the stove as he prepared breakfast for two. He’d always make miso soup– it was easy to get down for the bandage-wasting idiot who barely ate.

Chuuya hadn’t seen Dazai in so long it felt like a distant memory.. What did he say about the cuffs?

He’d entered the brunette’s office one day to see him staring at the dang things on his desk. He was so focused on the metal circlets that he didn’t notice the ginger approaching. At the time it didn't seem important.

In fact, Dazai had swept the wristlets into a desk drawer as if they were nothing but paper weights. Then they went about their day as usual. The topic hadn’t come up again until that night.. That night. They were both exhausted, seconds from sleep when Dazai mentioned the bracelets. Dear Arahabaki, if Dazai had just waited till morning the redhead might actually be able to decipher what he said.

Not everyone is a freak of nature like the bandaged freak! This is all his fault! He’ll have to spend his week off lecturing the fish to death.. No, that would be too merciful. He coul-

Someone knocks on the door, snapping Chuuya from his thoughts. Looking at the clock, it's been about an hour since he first sat down. Time really flies when you feel like shit.

The knocking persists, this time louder. “Coming.” Chuuya stalks to the door, the food not seeming to help his energy levels.

Right. It's time for his meeting with Nezu.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Head through that door right there. Our principal, Nezu, will be waiting for you. There are cameras in there and I’ll be right outside the door so no funny business.” Aizawa mumbled. He’d come to escort the ginger across the hall to Nezu’s office, and looked less than happy to be there. Chuuya understood the annoyance, if he had to get up this early to escort someone to the other side of a literal hall, he’d be grumpy too.

“Whatever.” Chuuya pushes through the door, entering what appeared to be an.. Empty office?

The door slams behind him, leaving Chuuya in the grandiose room. It was eerie in a sense, like a smile with too many teeth. The only light source was from the window, which remained partially blocked by the much too large main chair. The rest of the room was lined with bookshelves, each book too dusty and orderly to have been recently used.

A shiver ran down Chuuya’s back; Dazai would love this place.

“Welcome in! Take a seat! I’ve been dying to meet you.” The redhead’s heart skips a beat, his gaze flicking to an alcove on his right. Inside sat a small white rat? Mouse? Bear? He couldn’t tell you if he tried.

Despite his discomfort, Chuuya tries to hide his hesitation as he makes his way to the small table the animal had set up.

“That's right. It's me, Nezu, the one who could be a dog or a mouse or a bear, but more importantly... I'm the principal!” The.. thing  chipperly seemingly unaware of the opposing teens discomfort. Chuuya wasn’t one to doubt his intuition. There was something wrong.

“Tell me, Chuuya, that’s your name right? Do you play?” Chuuya looks at the table, realizing the chess game set between them.

“I know how.” Dazai had taught him, yet he’d never found it fun. He’ll admit that Dazai’s consistent winning and taunting weren’t too encouraging.

“Great! All the best conversations happen over a good game of chess!” Nezu smiles, his lips stretching uncomfortably wide as Chuuya reaches for the first piece.

White moves pawn to e4

“Whatever you say.”

Black moves pawn to e5

“How are you settling into your new room?” Chuuya stares at the board, mapping his next move. He should move his pawn to attack e5.. Maybe not a pawn, that sounds too predictable.

White moves knight to f3

“It’s a room. Could do with less cameras though. Know who I can talk to about that?” Nezu smiled, chuckling under his breath as he reached toward the board. Chuuya could already tell the animal would be of zero help.

Black moves knight to c6

“Afraid not. Though I assure you the facilities can be altered when the time is right.” Nezu leans forward, his paws cupping the sides of his unnaturally cone-like head. “Though, I do believe there are other, more pressing matters we should discuss.”

Numerous questions come to mind, yet he needs to be careful. One wrong question and the rat will know that he knows more than he should. One wrong question and the mission is over.

“Chuuya, it’s your move.” And they’re still playing this stupid chess game. Great. If he takes the pawn he’ll lose his knight.. He could use another pawn though.

White moves pawn to d4

“Where am I?” Better to start off simple. Honestly, the concussion and chess combo were not doing the redhead any favors.

Black captures pawn with knight on d4

“A good question indeed. You are in Musutafu at UA. Have you heard of UA before?” He could say that he heard of UA on the news.. Chuuya’s seen the sports festival before so it wouldn’t be a lie. First piece down, shit, he forgot the knight could reach there. Better to knock it out while he has the chance.

White captures knight with queen on d4

“I think it's been mentioned on TV before.” Nezu’s fingers wrap at the table momentarily, the sound causing the ginger to flinch. How the fuck is he supposed to focus on anything right now?!

“You shouldn’t leave your queen in so much danger. She might be the strongest, but alone even the most insignificant pawn can take her.” Nezu spoke matter-of-factly, staring into Chuuya’s soul as he reached for his next piece. “Dont worry, I’ll be nice this time.”

Black moves queen to g5

The redhead doesn’t dignify the rat’s teasing with a response. He feels nauseous.

There’s a moment of tense silence before Nezu returns to the topic at hand, “ I'm glad you’ve heard of us before. Do you perhaps know what our institution is famous for?” Chuuya glares at the board. 

White moves knight to c3

“You mass produce real-life clowns, I don't see how this has anything to do with me.” Chuuya’s headache was returning. Can’t this just be over?!

Black captures pawn with queen on g2

“Well you have quite a lot to do with it.” Nezu intertwines his fingers, replicating Mori’s signature pose with ease. “Even if you don’t understand it right now, a hero’s job is to help people, and you, Chuuya, are in need of help.”

Help? Chuuya stifles a laugh. He might not like Aizawa as a person, but at least the man wasn’t as naive as the rest of them seemed to be. Dazai said once that it’s good to get the pawns out of the way..

White moves pawn to a3

“I don’t need help, what I need is a ride back home and a fucking break.” Chuuya shifts back in his chair, legs crossing under the table. “Do you seriously think kidnapping me from my home and locking me in a prison cell is going to help me in any way?”

Nezu sighs,”I know that right now it seems unfathomable to you. But, believe me when I say..”

Black moves bishop to c5

“..You will learn to be grateful for this opportunity.” The piece clicks against the table. Shit, need to get rid of that knight..

“What opportunity?”

White moves pawn to a4

“Well..” Nezu reaches for a pawn, gently sliding it across the board.

Black moves pawn to f5

“You will be the first student in our villain rehabilitation course”...

Well that was way too easy. 

Chuuya feigns shock, gripping the table as he lowers his voice to a barely restrained whisper. “What.”

“If you’d like I could also just send you to a high security jail where you’ll spend the rest of your days immobilized and peeing through a catheter." Nezu motions to the board. “Your move.”

Chuuya stares at the board, his mind swarming for answers as his attention is again split. Whatever, I’ll move the king.

White moves king to d1

“Doesn’t sound like you're giving me much of a choice.”

“No, not really.”

Black captures bishop with queen on f1

“But do remember, things can always get worse.. Also, Check.” Nezu smiles as the redhead processes the move. Indeed, his king was in trouble..

White moves king to d2

Black captures queen with bishop on d4

Chuuya pauses, “I thought you said you’d leave my queen alone?”

“The queen is the strongest piece on the board. You can't possibly expect me to let it sit there forever.”

Chuuya grumbles under his breath. He’d honestly forgotten the queen was still there. He felt so disoriented.

White captures bishop with knight on d4

“Screw you. You're just another lying piece of shit trying to sound fancy in your huge impressive office.”

Nezu chuckles, “Quite a mouth you got. Sure, the office is big but..”

Black captures pawn with queen on f2

“..I always get results. Check again.”

Nezu’s queen sat just beyond Chuuya’s reach, threatening from afar. Damnit, why didn’t he just take it out before?!

White moves king to d3

Deep breaths, he can't let the rat get under his skin yet. What else does he need to ask?

“What does the program entail?”

“You will join one of the hero classes, assisting with training exercises and learning alongside the other students. You will also have additional classes and mandatory therapy sessions. While you will be under heavy surveillance, we will be more flexible if your behavior becomes more.. Agreeable.”

Chuuya bristled. Agreeable? “The fuck do you mean by-”

Black moves queen to f1

“Check!” Nezu cuts him off, watching as the ginger silently fumed.

White moves king to e3

Black moves queen to e1

“Check again!”

White moves king to f3

Black moves queen to f1

“Chec-”

“I get it, you don’t have to keep fucking saying it!” Chuuya gripped the sides of his chair. Something about losing against Nezu felt ten times worse than losing against Dazai. Though, Chuuya couldn’t quite place the reason. It almost felt like more was at stake, like a gun pointed to his head and every fallen piece was a round waiting to happen.

White moves king to g3

Black captures rook with queen on h1

“You become so focused on the king that you forget there are other pieces to utilize. Try and look at the whole board, you might get a better idea of what’s actually going on.” Chuuya’s eyes snapped to the mouse, nothing but murder on his mind. Don't punch him. Don't punch him.

“Sure whatever.” Chuuya grits his teeth. He thought rats were bad in Surabachi, but at least they taste good. He couldn’t imagine this mutated thing tasting like anything but chemicals and insufferability.

White moves bishop to h6

Black captures bishop with knight on h6

White moves king to f2

Black captures pawn with queen on h2

“Check!” Nezu picks up the pace, the redhead reluctantly following suit. He could tell the rat had some plan in mind, yet he was too tired and nauseous to think about it. He was being chased, the only move was to run. 

White moves king to f3

Black moves queen to h1

“Check!” run.

White moves king to g3

Black moves queen to g1

“Check!” Run. 

White moves king to h4

Black moves queen to h1

“Check!” Run. Run away.

White moves king to g5

Black moves queen to g2

Nezu snickers, cheshire smile gleaming at the teen. “Trying to get around the pawns? Your king is alone in enemy territory now, not even a queen there to support him. Check.”

“Can you just go a second without saying something insufferable?” Chuuya keeps his voice low. So what if the king drifted a little far, it’s not like he had a choice. It’s not his fault the king can only move one space. If he were half as strong as a queen there wouldn’t be an issue!

White moves king to h5

Black moves pawn to d6

White moves king to h4

Black moves pawn to f4

Chuuya reaches out, ready to make his move when he notices the wall of pawns. He’s trapped. The pawns formed a barrier, caging in the king as the queen suddenly became a warden. I need to get out of here.

White moves king to h5

“Oh, one last thing Chuuya.” Nezu reaches forward, picking his queen off from the board. “If you hurt any of the students or staff, I will not hesitate finding.. Other ways of disposal.” The queen hits the board, a short ‘thud’ ringing out.

Black moves queen to g4

“Checkmate”

Chapter Text

Reamen was different.

He’d discovered this at the age of ten.. No, maybe he’d known long before that. He’d known it from the look on his mother’s face as she tried to reason with him. He’d known it from the way his father yelled and the way his sister screamed.

At the age of ten, they simply got tired of him. Tired of the blood, tired of the tears, tired of his laugh. His mother became so scared of him that she couldn’t bear coming home. Then one day he woke up to a moving van outside, his father and sister gone without a word.

He’d stuck around the house for a few months, unsure of what else to do. Then, one day when the sun was high he departed for a new world.

The streets were ruthless, yet something about them felt like home.

At the age of twenty, Reamen found a new purpose.

Reamen took great pride in his work, fitting perfectly within the PM’s interrogation division. So when he heard the boss had asked for him by name, he was practically euphoric.

“Reamen. Thank you for coming all the way up here on such short notice.” Ougai Mori, head of the Port Mafia sat at his desk, kindly motioning for Reamen to sit.

Trying to hide his giddy excitement, he quickly bows before plopping into the chair. “It’s an honor Boss!”

“I’ve heard wonderful things about your work. There are about to be some shifts through the executives and upper management, and you seem to be next up for promotion within the interrogation department.” The Boss smiled, his face kind in a way that made Reamen’s heart flutter with pride. To think the Boss, THE BOSS, would notice a measly basement worker? Insane!

“I thank you for your kind words sir.” Reamen again bows his head, thinking back to the manners his mother once tried to drill into him.

“That being said” The Boss shifted his weight forward, voice lowering ever so slightly as his eyes grew dark. “Before any promotions can be processed there is one matter to be attended to.”

Reamen’s eyes snapped to meet the bosses, his voice lowering in an attempt to mirror his superior’s mood. “Anything Boss”

The Boss smiles.

“I have a mission, specifically for you. It is top secret. No paper trail and the only person you will be reporting to is me. You can think of it as a final test to prove your worth and loyalty to me.”

Reamen’s fists slam on the table, his excitement getting the better of him. “I’ll do anything for you Boss, anything!

“Good.” The Boss reaches beneath his desk, a sharp click sound resonating as blinds shut over the wall-sized windows. “Recently, an executive has taken to snooping where he shouldn’t. I need you to find out what he knows about the Soul Research Division and figure out where he hid the missing files.”

Reamen nods, the words barely registering in his head as he abruptly stands from his chair. “Of course! I’ll start as soon as you want me to.”

“Good. You’ll need all the time you can get.” The Boss’s regal smile returns. “He’s a tough cookie to crack.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The year had just begun and things were looking up for class 1-A. Sure, the world was in a less than pleasant sociopolitical position, but the dewy-eyed first year class remained excited nonetheless.

It was Wednesday when the class slowly trickled in to see Aizawa, their teacher, already sitting in the room. He seemed worried, clicking away at his computer without a murmur of acknowledgement to the curious teens. By the time everyone arrived there was still ten minutes before the bell. Despite this, the rowdiest kids remained silent as the class observed their teacher’s abnormal behavior.

Ten minutes passed in silence, the bell ringing through the room and Aizawa suddenly stood from his desk.

“Im sure you’re all wondering why you had Monday and Tuesday off.” Aizawa paced across the room, palms pushing down against the podium. His yellow sleeping bag was nowhere in sight. “There have been some more concerning developments that are unfortunately in direct relation to this class.”

The students murmur amongst each other as Aizawa remotely lowers the blinds. The projector blinks to life, the photo of an oddly familiar redhead flickering across the board.

Yaoyorozu, who was sitting in the back, gasped, the words falling from her mouth faster than she could remember to raise her hand. “Isn’t that the boy who killed Mt.Lady?!”

“It is.” The class erupted with questions, but Aizawa silenced them with a glare and a sharp motion of his hand.

“I will answer questions once I am done explaining. The next person to interrupt me will stay after school to clean.” The room recedes to silence one more as Erasure clears his throat.

“This is Nakahara Chuuya. He is from Yokohama, and yes, he is the one who shot Mt.Lady. I'm sure you’ve heard that a successful mission was carried out to retrieve the boy. Correct?” The class nods, eyes intensely locked on his every movement. “I can’t disclose much information about the mission itself, but the boy currently resides here as UA.”

Some kids open their mouths, ready to protest before Aizawa quickly continues, “He is being kept under heavy surveillance and his ability has, for the moment, been neutralized. He is not a danger to you, and I swear on my life that he never will be. That being said. Our principal has decided that he is the perfect candidate to instate the first ever villain rehabilitation program.”

Hands shoot up, some kids looking so jittery that Aizawa was worried they’d burst.

“Ojiro.”

“What do you mean by a "villain rehabilitation program”? Why isn’t he in jail?” Ojiro’s tail wrapped under the chair as about half the class lowered their hands.

“He will be joining your classes under close surveillance while also taking extra classes to help with his rehabilitation. As for why he’s being given a second chance, it has a lot to do with the fact that he is from Yokohama. We have reason to believe he was coerced into killing Mt.Lady.”

Ururaka raises her hand higher, trying to be seen over Iida’s head. “Uruaka.”

“Is that legal?”

Aizawa sighs. “I hoped it wasn’t, but the contract you had to sign before applying to UA clearly states that the school has the right to facilitate villain-students interactions. It also states that discrimination between students will lead to the student’s immediate dismissal. Since Chuuya will technically be considered a student, none of you have the right to complain.” Aizawa picked up a surprisingly thick pile of paper, slamming it on the podium. “The school’s policies are unreasonably long, but there’s a printed copy if you want to look. If you have any complaints or questions on the school’s policy, contact Nezu.”

Most of the class had lowered their hands, exchanging nervous glances between one another as they tried to conceal their panic. Only one hand remained raised.

“Midoriya”

Midoriya’s notebook slowly slid from his backpack as he opened his pen. “What is Nakahara-san’s quirk?”

“He doesn’t have one.” There’s a resounding gasp before Aizawa again held a palm out for silence. “I will explain more next class, when he will be joining us, but for now you have English with Yamada-sensei. Since this news is currently confidential you are not allowed to share it with anyone including your parents. This too, is somehow in the policy book, though Principal Nezu had arranged for free therapy in the health center.”

Aizawa pivoted, leaving the room. The questions were his husband's problem now.

Chapter Text

Grey with green stripes and a bright red tie, a uniform more suited for a circus than a school. This confirms it; Quirks seem to be directly linked to the gene that kills both shame and a fashion sense.

Chuuya sighs, attempting to let his dignity go as the horrid fabric slipped over his shoulder. This is all for the plan. Just one year and I can burn the outfit to soot.

Chuuya had woken this morning rather abruptly, a cold sweat dripping down his back as he fought for air he had seemingly lost. The redhead's attempts to remind himself that he did, in fact, not dream, seemed futile as he pushed his aching nicotine-depleted body off the bed.

It was still dark, the only light source in the room being the unsettling tick of every camera pointed his way. Yet, his eyes adjusted fast as he found his way to the barred window. Dazai had always loved the stars. Chuuya remembers the cold nights on the roof of his apartment complex, listening to the brunette ramble for hours as he stifled a yawn. Chuuya had never really cared about the stars, but something about how they glittered in his partner’s face kept him on that roof until the sun rose and they were both delirious from the cold.

“And that one's called Corvus!” Dazai’s voice rings through the back of his mind.

Chuuya laughs, “After a crow? It's literally just a box with a tail; it could be anything.”

The brunette’s face then would wrinkle in a familiar pout, “I should have known that the slug has no imagination. Such a tiny brain can only comprehend so mu-” 

Chuuya rammed a fist into Dazai’s arm,”Oh shut it, you'd have to be schizophrenic to see shit. Every constellation is just a box with a fucking line.”

“You're a box with a line.”

“What?”

“What?”

.. ..

Chuuya shifted on the pavement, staring at the now silent brunette. It's strange how quickly jovial banter gives way to contemplative silence.

“What's wrong?” Chuuya reached out a hand, slowly poking a finger into Dazai's cheek.

Dazai stayed silent, staring at the sky with a blank expression before narrowing his eyes shut. “Mori’s acting weird.”

“Well that isn't exactly new”, Chuuya scoffed in an attempt to clear the atmosphere. Yet Dazai didn't laugh back. Instead he opens his eyes, parrying Chuuya with a dark yet sad look.

“I mean it. Something’s happening.”

Chuuya sighs. Dazai isn't usually the type to worry. “Ok. What do you think is happening?”

The brunette pauses, staring intensely at the stars yet again. “I don't know..”

Well that's a first. The know-it-all of the century not knowing something? Hilarious. Yet Chuuya didn't make fun of him. It didn't feel right. Not here, not now, not on the roof top when such a sad look painted the other’s face.

Instead, Chuuya allows himself to scoot closer, bumping his shoulder against Dazai’s. He didn't look up, instead pushing his head to the side. He can see it now, the starred crow dancing through Dazai’s dark pooling eyes.

The subject was then forgotten. Never to be discussed again, as the very idea of Dazai not knowing something seemed to frighten both of them.

Nevermind that. Where Dazai’s intellect fails, Chuuya’s power prevails. It’ll be ok. As long as they have each other, it will be ok-

Chuuya had been snapped from his daydream when Aizawa banged on his door, shuffling in with his breakfast and the insult of a uniform.

It had been at least an hour since Aizawa left him to get ready, yet the memory of stargazing was still stuck in the ginger’s mind like a barbed needle.

Dressed in hideous fashion and having shoved half a bagel successfully down his throat, Chuuya stands at the mirror. He still looks like a mess, pale and sickly as his hair shoots out at awkward angles. He shakily wonders if this is how Dazai feels getting ready every morning before shaking the thought.

He needs to stay focused. Today is pivotal to the mission. Today, he meets the class that he's destined to ruin.

Yet another knock resonates from the door, quickly followed by Aizawa’s tired voice. “Ready kid?”

Breathe in, breathe out. Chuuya swallows the bile creeping through his throat as he approaches the door. “Ya, I'm ready.”

The door swings open, Erasure barely motioning for Chuuya before marching down the hall. Time to see who he’s up against.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Aizawa glanced over his shoulder, checking to see the ginger teen stalking behind him. He looked somewhat distracted, yet the glimmer of caution never seemed to leave his eyes. It almost seemed like Chuuya was waiting. Waiting for something bad to happen. Waiting to be attacked. Waiting for the very floor to open under their feet.

Class had already started, leaving the halls completely empty. That being said, it was hard to ignore the hundreds of eyes subtly peeking through windows as teachers tried to get their students back on track. It made sense, yet Aizawa couldn't help but grimace at how Chuuya tensed behind him.

“It's around the corner.” Chuuya flinches, wide eyes flicking over to the pro. He looked as sickly as the day he got here, minus the blood. Maybe even worse, as it wasn't hard to see the slight tremble in his pale hands as the bruises beneath the kid’s eyes grew darker. Maybe Aizawa should take him to Recovery Girl again.

He'll ask later. As they approach the towering door of class 1-A  Aizawa can't ignore the sense of dread bubbling in his stomach. He's a hero and this child needs help, no matter how dangerous he feels the situation is. But.. somehow this feels more like leading a lamb to slaughter.

He brushes the idea aside. No time to this semantics. If there was a way out of this, he would have found it already.

Aizawa pushes the door open, the hinges creaking ever so slightly as he walks into the silent class. Every one of his students sits silently in their seats, rigid and upright as intense eyes follow their new classmates' movements. 

Chuuya, on the other hand, doesn't look at them at all, electing to bore holes in the side of Aizawa’s head. He doesn't mind. Erasure has a feeling that a glare so intense would send half of his students to the nurses office for a new pair of pants.

“This is your new classmate Chuuya Nakahara. As I said previously, he is here to trial the school’s villain rehabilitation program. Any questions?” The class stayed put, a few kids tensing before Midoriya cautiously raised a hand.

“You said that Nakahara-san doesn't have a quirk last class. What did you mean by that?” Midoriya’s voice doesn't tremble, yet anxiety riddles his face.

Aizawa can see Chuuya shift out of the corner of his eye,”Chuuya, would you like to answer that?”

There's a tense as the redhead stares blankly at the floor. Aizawa wasn't going to lie and say that he himself wasn't curious what the teen would say.

“I have an ability. Not a quirk. They're different.” Chuuya responds rather quietly, his eyes still refusing to meet the rest of the class. “There are no quirk users in Yokohama.”

His answer seems to peak Midoriya’s interest enough to temporarily override his fear. “Really!? That's so cool! What does your ability do? How does it work? What distinguishes it from a quirk? Are you born with it?”

To this Chuuya raises an eyebrow, heterochromic eyes drawing to meet Midoriya's glittery green. For a moment he just stares, but then something unexpected happens. The ginger laughs.

“Jeez kid, how much caffeine do they have you on?” The rest of the students seem to relax ever so slightly. “My ability allows me to manipulate gravity. It works though touch. Abilities aren't genetic. I've had as long as I can remember.”

Aizawa stares. He hasn't known Chuuya for long, but he's never seen the kid so.. forthcoming? What is he planning..

As Midoriya scribbled in his note book, a few cautious hands peaked from the crowd. “Uruaka.”

“Well.. um, my quirk has to do with gravity too but I get motion sick when I overuse it. I was wondering if you have something similar? Or.. did you get over it?” Ururaka seemed hesitant, yet not fearful. Aizawa couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

Chuuya hesitated. Erasure wasn't sure if the kid had any weaknesses based on when they fought, but then again it seemed like Chuuya imploded near the end. Thinking back, it was a rather strange turn of events that the pro hadn't had time to think much on..

“My ability is a part of me. Using it is like breathing.” That didn't really answer her question, but Ururaka seemed more than pleased to leave it at that.

Aizawa scanned the room. He should probably only take one or two more questions. They've already lost enough class time as it is. “Bakugo.”

Bakugo sat back in his chair, his face traced with its usual angry glow.

 “Why'd you kill Mt.Lady?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Well fuck. Chuuya had been prepared for an array of stupid questions, but this one? To think they have the guts.

The electrocuted pomeranian head of a boy glared up at Chuuya, seemingly uncaring of the tense atmosphere he’d created. Chuuya glared back, various responses flooding through his concussed brain.

He’d been trying to gain their trust, be the nice guy they can befriend, yet playing the ‘poor boy forced to kill at gunpoint’ just seemed pathetic. He could just tell the brat to fuck off, but even that would undo the progress he’d made. What did Dazai always say? If you don't want to answer a question then just answer with a question.

“Why did Mt.Lady break into Yokohama?” Chuuya stiffens his posture, wrapping his arms tighter around his body as he diverts his glare to the floor.

The blonde scoffs, standing up at his desk before Aizawa steps forward. “Enough. Back in your seat, question time is over.” It’s for the best. As much as Arahabaki screamed for a fight, Chuuya felt perpetually motion sick. Perhaps he and the gravity girl have more in common than he’d like to admit..

“Chuuya, sit there.” Aizawa motions to an empty desk in front of the front row. What else says ‘welcome’ like having your own fucking row in the front of the class.

Chuuya reluctantly takes his seat, trying his best to ignore the prying eyes on the back of his skull as he stares blankly at the wall. Perhaps this mission will be harder than he thought..