On the Other End of the Line

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
This is a one- shot Midoriya whump with a sprinkle of dadzawa mixed in. I'm considering maybe making it a series, so let me know what you think!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Midoriya Izuku was a smart kid, smart enough to notice he was being followed and smart enough to deduce that, no, it wasn't Kacchan and his friends. Say what you will about violent bullying but it certainly improves one's situational awareness. No, it wasn't Kacchan. This person was too serious, too quiet. It scared him.

Tempering down his panic, Izuku increased his pace, hands secured tightly over his backpack straps and breath coming in shallow.

It was clear enough that whoever was on his tail was dangerous. They kept to the shadows, and remained almost unnoticed save for the weary feeling in Izuku's gut and the occasional crunch of gravel coming from behind. They moved with purpose, their steps were swift and sure, so unlike the rapid, stuttering jog that Izuku had now taken up. It was unnerving.

Izuku was almost to the main street, he was almost clear of the backalleys he took on his way to school, almost safe- shit. The man had finally caught up, his blurred reflection in a small shop window catching Izuku's eye.

"Whatcha up to, kiddo?" Rasped a cruel voice from behind him. The man placed his hand on Izuku's shoulder, his grip almost painful.

Izuku steeled himself. "N- nothing sir. I'm- I'm just on my way to school."

The man smiled at him, displaying a mouthful of far too many crooked, yellow teeth. "Seems an awful long walk just to get to school."

"I just, um, like the- the scenery."

The man scoffed. "Scenery, huh? Tell you what kid, never become a politician or a lawyer, you can't lie for shit." With that he swung his right arm above him, a length of metal in hand. Pipe? Crowbar? Katana maybe?

Though he'd certainly rescind his thanks later, Izuku couldn't help but be grateful in that moment for years of painfully learned lessons in instinct. The small boy ducked, managing to just dodge the weapon and land a swift kick to his assailant's shins. The man hissed, hands reaching down to grasp his leg, and Izuku took off. He ran down the rest of the alleyway, moving as fast as his weak legs could carry him. Almost there- almost...

A grunt heaved out from behind him, something long and heavy smacked into Izuku's head, and the last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was a blurry, purple mist.

~~~~~~

The first thing Izuku felt when he woke up was cold, cold and damp. Somewhere behind him a constant dripping sounded out, and the air smelled foul, almost like the butcher's dumpster that he often passed on his extra- long walk to school. Izuku hated passing the butcher for that reason- even with the lid closed, it always made him gag. But now, the smell was far worse then he had ever experienced before, and in only second he was leaned over, heaving desperately onto the stone floor.

Wiping his mouth, Izuku righted himself, trying to get a better grip on his surroundings. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he prayed that the smell would fade into his subconscious eventually, but that wasn't the most pressing matter at the moment.

The cell was small, both the floors and walls were made of old cement, both covered in mildew and mold. The only light source came from a tiny window near the ceiling, but from what Izuku could tell, it was barred, and too high up for him to reach anyway. The dripping noise had come from a leaking pipe, as there were several overhead. At best guess, Izuku surmised that he was in a storage room or basement, although that assumption was proven a difficult leap, as the wall in front of him was made entirely up of thick, iron bars.