Hello Hello! So, here is the long awaited chapter 15. It has been a journey. Due to this book, I have made some amazing, irraplaceable friends who I rely on more than I do my actual family. Hence the title, actually, which is a reference to the saying 'The blood of the Covenant is thicker than the waters of the womb."
I dedicate this chapter to The Forgotten Gods, my family. Thank you, guys. I love you.
The Universe Lies Docile in Your Eyes now has a Discord! Please message me if you'd like like to join!
Now on with the story!
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Hisashi couldn’t believe it. They had let the little shit go, despite making such a big fuss when he had tried to kill it. He was chasing after a villain who had screwed him over when selling him his drugs when a familiar inky portal pooped in front of him. He was giddy at its appearance, assuming that the league had finally realized how big of a pain in the ass the little imp was and wanted him back to finally kill the shit. Imagine his surprise when Tomura had told him that Sensei had instructed him to let the kid go!
The thought enraged him. They had fucked him over and tossed him out, and then proceeded to fuck him over once again and let the kid go! He lit the coals in his throat, ready to attack Shigaraki in anger. He lunged, only to be caught mid-air by Kurogiri’s warp gate and flung against the wall. He sat on the disgusting ground and chuckled, wiping away the trickle of blood as it leaked from his mouth, a streak of crimson drying on his cheek.
“Gentlemen, can we please act civilized? For once?” Kurogiri snapped. He had been in a bad mood since Izuku left, though only Sensei seemed to notice the attitude change, and had written it off as annoyance from dealing with a childish Tomura, who had become oddly obsessed with Izuku after letting him go.
Tomura glared at Kurogiri before creeping over to the bar and taking a seat. He patted the seat of the stool next to him, gesturing Hisashi over. He stood and stalked over to the stool and sat, tapping the bar for a drink. Kurogiri obliged, glaring daggers at the ground as he poured the abusive fuck a glass of his preferred bourbon. He set it down in front of him and walked into the back, needing a break before he snapped and accidentally killed someone.
“So, why’d you guys bring me back?” Hisashi asked as he took a gulp of his drink.
Shigaraki shrugged. “We have a proposition.” Hisashi laughed and took another swig.
“What kind of proposition?” His voice held a sarcastic note.
“We’ve been keeping tabs on your son, per Sensei’s request. He’s apparently been taken in by a pair of heroes, Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi. Also known as Eraserhead and Present Mic. From what we’ve learned from our informants, they have been assigned to a case concerning some of our dealings. Sensei wants you to deal with them.”
Hisashi tsked. “What would I get out of the deal?”
Shigaraki’s fists clenched in jealousy and suppressed rage. “You can do whatever you’d like to the boy, and you’ll have the protection of the league once again.” He practically snarled out the words, clearly not agreeing with Sensei’s plan. He still didn’t understand why he couldn’t just go and take care of the situation, but he trusted his teacher’s judgement.
A hungry smile spread across Hisashi’s face; a dangerous flame flicked out of his mouth and he licked his lips. “Sounds good to me. What’s the address?” Hisashi said, excited to get the mission started.
Shigaraki reached into his pocket and pulled out a messily folded, slightly crumpled slip of paper. “All your info’s on the paper.” He grumbled. He stood up and walked behind the bar, crouching down to grab something from behind the counter.“We’ve also got a little something to help you out.” Shigaraki stood up and placed a syringe filled with a metallic liquid down on the counter with that unique glass tink.
“The fuck is that?” he said, crossing his arms.
“That is Trigger. I assume you’ve heard of it.” Hisashi stared at the vial, shocked. He couldn’t believe that they had gotten their hands on the drug. Trigger was an experimental drug used to enhance a quirk’s strength or potency, though it had become scarce and hard to find after the police had begun to really crack down on distributors and dealers after the drug became popular amongst big-time villains. It was crazy that they had gotten their hands on a whole vial.
“How the hell did you get your hands on that?!” He exclaimed, slamming down his glass in excitement. This was gonna be fun.
Shigaraki chuckled. “We have our resources. You should know that.”
Hisashi slung his arm around Tomura’s neck, feeling adventurous. “You know, you’re a real bro, as the kids would say.” His eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I’m going to call you Shigahomie.” He cackled lively. Shigaraki had to restrain himself from reaching up and grabbing Hisashi’s face to let it dissolve away and reveal the piece of shit’s skull, which he would tear into to pull apart the idiot’s brain so he could figure out how a human being could be so impossibly stupid. He grinned to himself at the image of Hisashi’s eyes melting away from his skull, leaving him blind like his precious little Izuku. He licked his lips at the thought of the boy. He couldn’t wait to get this over with, he missed playing with his little Izuku.
Hisashi spotted his hungry grin and mistook it as something else. “See! You like it too! I got your back, Shigahomie.” Shigaraki was pulled out of his fantasies at the sound of the older man’s voice. His sickening smile disappeared, replaced by disdain. He picked up the man’s arm with 4 out of his 5 fingers and set it back down on its owner’s lap. God, how he wished he could destroy his arm, to watch it wither away into dust and hear the lovely blood-curdling screams he would produce. He couldn’t, though. Not yet. He would have to wait.
“...Yeah. Thanks. Oh, I forgot to mention that you’ll be joined by the Mistress.” he smiled at him. Hisashi whipped his head around to stare disbelieving at Shigaraki. His eyes bulged and he swallowed hard. That was bad. Very, very bad. He chuckled nervously. “Are you sure? The Mistress isn’t too big of a fan of me, remember?”
Soft clicks of heels entered the room. Hisashi gulped, feeling the fear swell in his throat. The stool next to him slowly pulled out. He couldn’t look, fear gripping his muscles, freezing him in place. She sat elegantly and her long gold nails began tapping on the counter. “I may despise you and your kind, you disgusting pedophile, but I love my little birdie. I truly do miss playing with him.” Her words were soft and eloquent, her french lilt adding a sense of perfection to her words. Hisashi slowly turned to face her, keeping his eyes low. He knew not to meet her gaze, as she did not take kindly to it and saw it as an invitation to attack. He wanted to lash out against her, but he knew to hold his tongue.
She was wearing her signature attire. She had black dagger pumps with a golden heel, a long fitted black dress with a slit traveling up to her upper thigh to where a golden garter could be seen holding three black-tipped throwing knives. A sleek black belt rested on her hips and held a long golden whip, and a necklace was tied around her long, unblemished neck. Her blonde hair was curled and resting on her shoulders while the rest was pulled into a braided crown. She was stunning.
Hisashi opened his mouth to greet her, but was swiftly cut off. “Tomura, my dear! It has been too long!” She said as she reached across Hisashi and grabbed Shigaraki’s hand carefully with both of hers. He nodded and smiled pleasantly, a face that was reserved explicitly for the Mistress. He shook her hands and met her eye, waiting to see if he had lost his respect and readying himself to gain it back if need be. The woman was unpredictable, and he had to prepare himself to deal with her sudden mood swings and changes. Luckily, it seemed as though her opinion of him had yet to change.
She retracted her hand after a few moments and sat back in her chair. “So, Hisashi, mind sharing the information?” She slid her hand across the counter and picked up the slip, not waiting for an answer. She carefully unfolded the messy paper and read through the chicken scratch. She made an angry little noise. “So my little birdie is living with heroes now? I cannot believe it. No doubt they took him in for publicity, people love a disabled child, and it would break anyone’s heart to hear about birdie’s sad tale.” Shigaraki nodded, ignoring the angry pang in his chest at the sound of her calling Izuku hers. She would get her punishment later, along with Hisashi. They would both get what they deserved for harming his Izu.
Shigaraki couldn’t stop thinking of the boy after he let him go. His every thought and dream was connected to Izuku. He didn’t really understand why he missed the boy as much as he did. At first, he just missed training with the boy. He was so smart and adapted well to almost anything thrown at him. It was fun to watch how he would react to the changes, and he always looked forward to trying to kill the boy. Soon, he began to miss just seeing Izuku. He was so cute and skittish, something Tomura didn’t really notice until he was gone. Izuku was the only one to ever escape his grasp, and that made him want the boy even more. He soon became the only thing on his mind, which made him a distraction that Shigaraki couldn’t afford to have. He figured the best way to rid himself of these thoughts was to get his little Izuku back home with him, where he belonged.
He ignored the Mistress’s scheming, focusing more on how he would treat the boy. He was too harsh before, which made Izuku want to leave. Shigaraki didn’t want that. He needed to show him how wonderful life was with the villains, how much better it was than with the heroes. The league was a family to him, and he wanted to show Izuku that the league could be his family too. He would be his family.
— — —
Izuku had a bad feeling in his gut. He and Yamada sat in the living room, watching another crappy sitcom while Aizawa was away on a call. He promised Izuku he’d be back by the morning, patted him on the head, and left. Yamada wanted to go do something, like go on a walk or get some new toys for Salem, but Izuku didn’t feel up to leaving the house. He felt ...off. Like there was something wrong, but he couldn’t place why. It might’ve just been Aizawa not being with him for the first time since he was saved, but he wasn’t sure. It was like a dark shadow hovered behind him, tucked just out of sight. He knew it was there, but he didn't know what it was. It left him nervous.
He sat next to Yamada, absentmindedly stroking Salem’s soft fur, listening to her soft purrs. The longer he sat there the more the melancholy feeling bothered him, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to get his mind off of it, and so he needed to entertain himself. When he was in the bar, he spent his time making mental notes on the villains and their quirks and would run through them when he felt like everything was too much. He decided that adding Aizawa and Yamada to his notes would suffice as a good distraction. He started with Aizawa, starting with his quirk, moving to his occupations and aliases, and then moving on to what he thought Aizawa would look like. He imagined him to be middle-aged, and a bit lean, considering his movements. He imagined his hair to be a little below his shoulders, and a light shade of brown in color. Next, he moved onto Yamada. He admittedly didn’t know a lot about him, except his quirk. Strange.
“Hey, Yamada, sir?” his voice was small, timid.
Yamada yawned before replying. “Yeah? What’s up, kiddo?” He shifted to face the boy, who had been pretty quiet since Aizawa left. It was obvious Izuku preferred him over himself, but that was to be expected. Aizawa had saved him, so it made sense.
“Um, so… I was just thinking, and I don’t really know… anything? About you? I know some things like your quirk and your occupations but that’s pretty much it. I know a lot more about Aizawa and I’m making my notes but I don’t have a lot on your page and I’d like to add more, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask you more things about yourself. You know, for my notes.” He finished lamely. Yamada didn’t reply at first, making Izuku nervous. Did he say something wrong? Did Yamada not want to tell him about himself? Did-
His thoughts were interrupted by soft sniffles and Yamada exclaiming “OF COURSE I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT MYSELF LITTLE LISTENER!” which made Izuku jump and laugh, surprised at Yamada’s sudden burst of noise.
“But I do have to ask,” Yamada started, voice dropping back down to a normal volume, “what do you mean by your ‘notes’?” Izuku looked at him in confusion, not understanding his question. What about his notes? Oh. Oh! He hadn’t explained what his notes were. He’d only told one other person about them, and that was Dabi. He used to take notes of his favorite heroes when he was little, with his mother’s help of course, but that was a lifetime ago.
“Well you see, sir, I have a… a hobby? I guess that’s how you’d describe it. I like to learn about quirks and people, and I keep all the stuff I learn in my head, kind of in a safe? In my head. If that makes sense.” He was looking straight forward, his expression scrunched as he tried to explain his information box. It was hard to put into words, but he did his best.
Yamada nodded, trying to understand. “So… you take the information you learn and, organize it in your head?” He asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept. Yamada thought he would have a hard time thinking like that; he had always been a very visual person. He had to see something in order to remember it, unlike his husband. It seemed that Izuku and Aizawa were even more alike than he thought.
Izuku nodded. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” Yamada hummed.
“So, what do you wanna know?”
“I guess, everything?” Izuku looked down at his lap in contemplation. There was so much to ponder, so he started with the most obvious one. “Um, what’s your first name? I know Aizawa’s but not yours.”
Yamada chuckled. “Really? Huh, I thought I told you my full name. Well, it’s Hizashi.” Izuku froze. Hizashi. The name echoed in his head. Hizashi. Hizashi. Hisashi. Hisashi. HisashiHisashiHisashiHisashiHis-
He felt a familiar hand press against his back, causing him to flinch, but he was pulled from his thought nonetheless. He heard Hiz- Yamada say something, but it was muddled. He couldn’t hear it through the fog of anxiety that swelled in his mind. His breathing was fast, and he tried to slow it down by taking long, deep breaths. Yamada wasn’t Hisashi, he was safe. Yamada wasn’t Hisashi, he was safe. He repeated the mantra over and over, slowly convincing himself he was safe. The fog faded, revealing a concerned Yamada asking about his well being. This further solidified the fact that Yamada wasn’t even close to being like his father. Like he would ever show any concern, the bastard.
He breathed out real deep. “I’m okay, I’m, um… really sorry for worrying you.” His voice was shaking and unconvincing, and the shaky smile he offered to Yamada did not help his case either.
Yamada obviously didn’t buy it but placated him anyway. “Okay, Izuku, I believe you.” He said, clearly not believing him, but he tried his best to sound convincing nonetheless. “Can you tell me what upset you? That way we can avoid doing it or saying it.” Yamada spoke softly but kept it upbeat.
Izuku opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out on the first try. He was scared of how Yamada would react to him not liking his name. He closed his mouth and swallowed hard. His voice shook slightly and his stutter began to act up. “Your nuh-name is the same as mm-muh-my fa.… there's.” He struggled to force the words out, the fear of Yamada lashing out or kicking him out of the house making it hard for him to communicate, making him worry even more.
Yamada gently placed his hand on his shoulder, making the boy jump. “It’s okay, Izuku. I’m sorry for scaring you so much. How about we don’t use my first name, then.” Izuku just nodded, too focussed on slowing down his breath and calming down. “How about this! You can call me...uh… Mickey!” Izuku looked over towards the man, a little confused. Mickey? What kind of name was that? He chuckled at the absurd name. Yamada seemed to deflate. “Y’know, like the American cartoon? I thought it was cute.” He whined, making Izuku laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah, I’m hilarious. Now! What else do ya want to know?” He exclaimed, eager to change the subject.
Izuku looked down in his lap, thinking hard. “What do you look like? Better yet, what do both you and Aizawa look like? I know he has long hair, but that’s… like.. pretty much it.”
“Um, well,” Yamada looked down at himself, trying to figure out the best way to describe his look. “I have long hair, just a few inches past my chest. It’s a really yellow blond and straight. Uh… I have a mustache!” Izuku slowly compiled the details and began to string them together to make an image of what he thought Yamada would look like. He added little notes on how Yamada explained some things quieter, like a little scar on his neck and another on his forearm, signaling he was… embarrassed? No, ashamed. He was ashamed of his scars, probably because they reminded him of a fight or a villain that he had gotten wounded by. Izuku could relate to him, though he was ashamed of his scars for different reasons. Yamada finished describing himself, wacky clothing and all, and moved onto Aizawa’s profile.
“As I said earlier, Aizawa has long black hair, just a little bit past his shoulders. It’s really soft, actually, despite it looking ratty. He’s got some scratchy stubble and dark eyes with dark circles surrounding them from his lack of sleep. He’s the same height as me and has really soft skin. He’s just… really soft. Like a cat, almost,” he chuckled at that thought. “He usually has a blank, almost thinking expression when we’re out with others, but he has the softest, nicest grin when we’re home…” Yamada’s voice trailed off, a happy little sigh escaping him.
Izuku was a little confused. “Hey, Yamada, sir, what exactly is your and Aizawa’s relationship? Are you roommates?” Yamada almost choked, the boy’s question shocking him out of his happy memories of his husband. Oh god, this was not a conversation he wanted to have without Aizawa, but so be it. He just hoped Izuku wasn’t introduced to homophobia while with the villains.
“Um, you see, Izuku, we’re married. Well, in America we’re married. Japan isn’t as forward as them in that aspect.” Izuku was once again confused. How were they married only in America?
“What do you mean ‘you’re only married in America?’ That doesn’t make sense.” His face was scrunched up, thinking. Yamada wasn’t expecting that to be the first question he asked, expecting something more align the lines of ‘But you’re both boys!’, but he was perfectly fine with this instead.
“Welp, the U.S. made a law that let us marry, but Japan has yet to pass a law like that,” he said, a bitter edge at the end of his sentence. Izuku was still confused but nodded anyway. It was clear that the topic was a little sensitive, so it was best to not press on. He honestly should have realized that they were in a relationship. He was kind of upset with himself for not picking up the atmosphere they had definitely produced. He had really begun to let himself slide; he needed to start paying more attention.
He yawned, feeling pretty worn out. Yamada must have noticed, as he mumbled a silent curse. “Ah, sorry, buddy. I let you stay up pretty late.”
Izuku let his head roll around to Yamada. “How late?”
Yamada chuckled nervously. “A little past eleven. Can we keep this late night powwow to ourselves? I don’t think Aizawa would be too happy with me for letting you stay up so late.” He said, murmuring something about Aizawa being a hypocrite. Izuku nodded, stifling a giggle.
Yamada breathed out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, Greenbean. Now! Let’s get you to bed!” Izuku appreciated the nickname, it made him think of Dabi’s stupid names. The thought of Dabi still made his heart clench and ache, but that pain would soon dissipate. Just as soon as he was able to ensure the Todoroki’s safety from the organization. Soon, he promised himself. Soon.
— — —
The Mistress watched as her little bird climbed up the stairs of the hero’s home, silently cursing and fiddling with the syringe she held in her hand. She and that child molester sat in a tree, watching, waiting. They would attack soon, very soon. She very much wanted to attack right now, but they were explicitly told to wait until everyone in the house was asleep. And so she sat, ignoring the urge to turn to her left and stab the disgusting pig at her side as he breathed heavily on her shoulder. The sooner the mission was complete, the sooner she could kill him and blame it on the heroes or Birdie’s terrifying quirks.
Oh, how she loved her little plaything. She remembered the first time she laid eyes on the battered little boy, knowing it was love at first sight. She took him under her wing as soon as she could, feeling like a proud mama bird every time her hatchling managed to keep his whimpers silent as they trained. He was a strong birdie, and she loved to see how far he could be pushed before breaking. Of course, all the pain was essential for him to blossom into her perfect son. He would be her perfect child, surpassing all the others who had come before. Sure, she loved all her chicks, even if most of them had left her oh-so-selfishly, but none held as much promise as he did.
She watched as the hero went around turning off the lights of the home. She smiled and stood, her black dress falling gracefully around her legs. “Hey, Mistress, did you see Eraser Head in there? I couldn’t see him.” her smile melted away and revealed an annoyed grimace.
“No, I didn’t.” She ground out, turning to glare at Hisashi. He looked down as soon as her eyes met his face, fear appearing in his eyes. She smiled at the scared look and patted his head, enjoying the dominance. “Don’t worry, pig, I don’t think he’ll be an issue.” She smiled once more at him, noting the beads of sweat that began to appear on his forehead. She grimaced in disgust and wiped her hand on his shoulder. Nasty swine.
She turned back to the house. It seemed that the they had all fallen asleep. It was time to strike. “C’mon, it’s time.”
— — —
Izuku ran down the halls of the bar, the wall behind slowly decaying and turning to dust. Shigaraki’s cackle followed close behind, impossible to escape. He ran down the endless corridor of doors, not once daring to look behind him or to open a door, knowing either action would have dire consequences. The hallway was dark, but he could see it all. Each door and worn piece of the wooden floor beneath his feet, just how he imagined them all to look. The ground soon became like thick, dense mud. He tried to keep moving forward but the floor kept him stuck. Shigaraki laughed as he moved closer and closer. Izuku could almost feel the man’s breath on the back of his neck, he opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
He was picked up by his neck and watched as Shigaraki opened a door and threw him in the room, entering after him and closing the door. Izuku looked around, knowing what this room was. He was picked up by an unseen figure and strapped down to the large chair in the center of the room. He was surrounded by medical tools, the most notable item being a syringe filled with a clear liquid. Izuku didn’t know what was in that syringe, but he knew the effects that it caused. He was soon surrounded by doctors and nurses. He tried to scream, to struggle and get away from the terrible people, but it was pointless. He found his voice and began to yell and plead. “No! No, not again! Don’t take them away, don’t take my eyes! No! No! Nonononononononon-” his voice cracked and ended abruptly at the sight of his father standing next to Dabi, softly patting his shoulder while Dabi just smiled at him. Dabi had betrayed him. He whimpered, the image of Dabi being the last thing he saw before he began to scratch his eyes out. He screamed.
Izuku shot up, breathing heavily and sweating. That nightmare was by far the worst so far. He breathed in, and out, calming himself down. He soon felt drowsiness begin to fill his head once again and laid back down. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he heard a familiar soft laugh, one that haunted his dreams and hidden memories. It was Mistress’s. He sat up again, a cold chill settling into his bones. He knew it was probably just an after effect of the dream, but it still scared him. He tried to lay back down and fall asleep, but his mind was too awake. He sighed, cursed, and sat up. He kicked off his blankets, stood, and made his way to the door. He decided a drink of water might help. He felt his way down the hall and stairs and headed to the kitchen. He felt the cold tile under his bare feet, shuddering slightly. The entire house was chillier than usual, come to think of it. He listened silently and heard the faint whisper of wind. Huh, did Yamada leave a window open? He would close it in a sec after he got a drink. He dusted his fingers over the countertops, counting his steps before reaching up and opening a cupboard door. He stood on the tips of his toes and reached up as far as he could, softly patting shelf, searching for a glass. His fingertips soon found one and he grabbed hold of it, quietly slinking back down on his heels. He spun around and began heading towards the sink. He found the faucet and turned it on and began to fill the glass.
After a week of living with the heroes, he had learned how difficult everyday tasks really were, especially when it came to things in the kitchen. The first time he tried to get himself a glass of milk was a mess. Not only did he manage to waste an entire gallon of milk, but he also managed to break the cup. It was terrible and, dare he say, almost traumatic. It was almost comical; he could function just fine while fighting, or at least better than most seeing people, but he couldn’t perform simple tasks that most kids his age could do in their sleep.
A soft creak echoed through his head and he whipped around, feeling the presence of another person. They were too far away for him to figure out who it was, but he assumed it was Yamada. Oh no, did he wake him? “Yamada? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to get a drink.” No response. Another gust of wind blew in, and Izuku felt a chill run down his spine. “Yamada?” he was once again met with silence. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
He readied himself, knowing whoever was in the living room wasn’t anyone who belonged here. “Hello?” He began to walk forward, acutely aware of his surroundings as he had just passed them once before a few minutes ago. God, he wish he had a weapon. He had no idea who this was or what advantages they had with their quirk, and a knife could possibly give him a better chance against them. The person in front of him didn’t move, they just stood idly and silent. “What do you want?” he asked quietly, proud of how steady he managed to keep his voice. Honestly, he was pretty tired of the eerie silence.
It seemed the stranger was tired of it too, as he released a low, guttural chuckle. Izuku felt a wisp of heat meet his face, and Izuku automatically figured that the person had some type of heat or fire quirk. His stomach filled with lead at the thought. Fire quirks were the worst. A treacherous thought betrayed his courage and fear took hold of him. “D-d-dad?”
Another chuckle. The man ran forward, making Izuku jump away. More heat greeted his face. Oh, god. It was him. It was him. Fear boiled into a rage. This man had already taken so much from him, and here he was now. Threatening his newly built home and happiness. The rage boiled and boiled, soon overwhelming him. His thoughts were muddy and distant, only one thought clear. He would not let this man destroy the first true family he’s had in a long time.
Izuku steadied himself, took a deep breath, and slid the band off his wrist. It passed his palm, then his knuckles, and then the joints of his fingers, until finally, the bracelet fell from his fingertips. His quirks seemed to scream joyfully at the loosening of the wristlet and the prospect of being free. Sensations, his sensitivity quirk, clawed at his mind and senses, slowly overtaking everything. He pushed down the overstimulation, refusing to let it control him. He needed to stay in control in order to save his family, and he would not let his own quirk destroy his life again.
He struggled against his quirk, slowly pushing it into the background. While focusing on his quirk, Hisashi lunged at him, tackling him and burning his arm severely. The pain was unbearable, his quirk infusing his nerves with heightened awareness and sensibility. ‘Push it away, push it away’ he thought. He muttered the mantra under his breath and slid out from under the villain. He only needed Agony and Control. That was all he needed. Unfortunately, Sensations made it impossible to use his other quirks, slowly eating away at the strength of Agony’s natural defense mechanism that surrounded him constantly. He was a mess.
Hisashi continued to attack, burning Izuku over and over. Sensations had melted far enough into the back that he was able to function almost normally, or at least enough to dodge Hisashi’s attacks. After a few more burns and scrapes, Izuku finally was able to land a decent hit to his jaw. Hisashi yelled in anger and fear slowly began to pool in Izuku’s stomach once again.
He heard soft footsteps from upstairs, and he prayed he hadn’t woken up Yamada. He could possibly help, but his quirk wasn’t suited for battling with Hisashi. Plus, Yamada’s quirk would most likely drive Sensations back into the frontlines, which would disable him for a while. The entire situation would be a bomb just waiting to go off. Despite this, Izuku still yearned for help. His entire body was running on autopilot, dodging attacks and rebuffing while Hisashi pummeled him. He did a wellness check, assessing what damage had been done so far. He had multiple new burns, the worst one being on his left forearm. It seemed that the rest of his body was still okay, but he was so pumped on adrenaline that he couldn’t be sure.
More sounds came from upstairs, making Izuku jump. While he was distracted, Hisashi landed a hit to the left side of his head, disorienting him and making him trip. Sensations began to slip out from his grasp, the pain increasing into something worse. Much, much worse.
He gripped the side of his head, his thoughts scrambled. There was so much pain. It pinned him to the floor while Hisashi laughed hysterically. “Aww, look at the little baby. You fucking waste of space, you thought these heroes would save you? Keep you away from the mean old villains?” Hisashi mocked, laughing sharply. “You’re an idiot, you little shit. They don’t even care that we’re here!” Hisashi leaned down and grabbed Izuku by the neck, slowly reaching down and picking him up. Izuku struggled against his grip, kicking and twisting, Hisashi laughing all the while. He tried to scream, his throat constricted by the tight grip. It was too much, it was all too much. He was trapped.
He heard more steps, this time they slowly began to descend the stairs. A loud yawn echoed down the stairwell. “Izuku?” Yamada’s sleepy voice asked, and Izuku began to struggle more. He kicked at Hisashi’s chest as his grip tightened around his neck. Izuku’s thoughts mushed together and twisted into something incomprehensible. He started to truly fade away. ‘I’m dying.’ The thought was terrifying, but it somehow comforted him as well. He wouldn’t hurt anymore. He wouldn’t worry Yamada and Aizawa anymore.
More footsteps. Izuku tried to alert the hero, making grunts and wet gurgles while swinging his legs in an attempt to maybe kick a wall or something else. Finally, he hit something. Thank god. Hisashi was pissed, but it didn’t matter. Yamada had heard him. The steps were more frantic, Yamada was running towards him. “IZUKU!” He roared, quirk activated. Izuku’s head rattled, but it didn’t matter. He was done for, anyway. As long as Hisashi would get his ass kicked, it didn’t matter.
Hisashi’s grip loosened and he was thrown on the ground, his burn splitting against the hard floor. He groaned in pain. More shouting, more pain, more more more. He finally drifted away. He just hoped Yamada would be okay.
A blood-curdling scream erupted from Yamada, sending Izuku from his stupor. A familiar click, click, click of heels whispered by him. Oh god. Oh god. Shit. Nonononononononononono
Nononononononononononononononononononononononono-
She was here. Oh, Jesus fuck she was here. The Mistress’s soprano chuckle filled the room along with Yamada’s agonized screams. “Pig, did you do this to my birdie?” she asked, the toe of her heel poking at his stomach. Hisashi didn’t verbally respond, but Izuku knew he must have nodded or something as the Mistress made an angry little huff. “How dare you harm my little bird?!” a loud crack echoed through the room, followed by another scream. Yamada’s wails had quieted into whimpers while Hisashi’s filled the space. “How dare you?!” She screamed, sounding absolutely terrifying.
Izuku had never heard her sound so upset, not even when Dabi had burnt his neck. He was scared of what that anger would result in. Another snap was heard, though this one silenced Hisashi. Izuku couldn’t hear a breath coming from him. Mistress had finally cracked. She stood panting while Izuku and Yamada laid on the floor, awaiting what would come next. Yamada writhed in pain, and Izuku was scared of the Mistress seeing this as an act of weakness. She was going to kill them. She was unstable, and frankly insane. He needed to get Yamada out of here, or she would murder him. Izuku didn’t want Aizawa to come home to his dead husband.
He began to struggle to his feet, slowly pulling himself up using the wall he had kicked. He stood, wavering slightly. “M-mistress?”
She whipped around to face him, a smile in her voice as she spoke. “Oh, hello Birdie. I’m sorry for doing all that in front of you, but that pig was just awful!” Izuku had not missed the Mistress’s perception of people at all, in all honesty. She saw everyone as an animal, only seeing herself as human. She was a step above, and thus ruled them all. Izuku couldn’t stand it.
He just nodded, readying himself for her attack. Attack she did not, however. She clicked over to him and pulled him into an embrace with her thin arms, giggling at the pain that Agony caused. “Oh, how I missed your silly quirks! My dear, it’s time to come home.” Izuku’s blood ran cold. No. He didn’t want to go back, not at all. He finally had a real home for the first time in a while, and he refused to give that up. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, reaching with feather soft fingers for the black-tipped knives. They were coated with a tranquilizer, one that caused severe hallucinations. He knew from experience how terrible it was to be sliced with one, and he thought that it was her turn to experience what it was like to be on the receiving end. He found a handle of one of the blades, and he sighed internally. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he took hold of the handle and carefully, but swiftly pulled the knife into his grip and stabbed it into the Mistress’s waist. A cruel scream tore from her lips and he pulled away and ran to Yamada.
“Where are you injured?” Izuku whispered frantically, shaking his arm in case he had passed out. “Chest.” was all he responded, his voice low and shaky. Izuku didn’t want to imagine what he looked like. Yamada was a friend, and he had almost died because of him. He seemed to bring pain everywhere. God, coming to live with the heroes was a mistake.
Izuku began to help him stand up and they began to shuffle out of the room as fast as they could. Izuku had never been more happy to have his strength quirk in his entire life. They struggled towards the door, speeding up at the sound of the Mistress’s stomps heading towards them, her insane chuckles spiking Izuku’s blood pressure. They finally reached the door and Yamada fell to the ground, his legs giving out from under him. Izuku cursed and lifted him back to his feet, struggling with his own exhaustion. He smacked his shaky hand across the wooden door, searching for the knob. He became frantic as the steps got too close for his liking. The handle was nowhere to be found and Yamada was growing heavier at his side. He felt like a caged animal waiting to be put down, desperately trying to escape cruel fate as it crept closer. They were trapped. He finally let Yamada sit on the floor, dropping him with a groan. He searched with both hands, the Mistress shouting shrilly from just the other room. They were almost out of time.
“Birdie!! Here, Biirdiiiiiee!” Her voice was rough and scratchy as she yelled endlessly. She was close. Izuku made a split second decision. Either he could keep struggling with the godforsaken door, or he could go upstairs and try to break a window. The ones downstairs were barred, Aizawa had told him as much when he had had a panic attack, as he was worried they weren’t safe with him there. It looked like his fears were reasonable. He was a danger. He decided the latter option would have to do as the Mistress entered the room next to them, only a few yards away. He picked up his guardian once again and began to drag him up the stairs with him.
Each step was a mile long and two high, almost impossible for Izuku to climb while carrying Yamada, who seemed like he was trying to stay awake. They made it three steps before Izuku slipped and Yamada stumbled down the stairs, crying in agony when he hit the floor. Izuku scrambled down to him, his heart thumping in his ears. The clicks of heels tapped against his skull and Yamada’s sticky blood made him sick to his stomach. Sensations ingrained everything about the terrible scene into his head, and he wanted to throw up. He began to pick up Yamada again when the Mistress had finally found them. Time was up.
She grabbed hold of Izuku, screaming about him being a bad bird. She threw him into the other room, doing it so easily, as if he was nothing but a ragdoll. The carpeted flooring was hard and scratchy against his chest and cheek. He tried to scramble away, to get back to Yamada, who had most definitely gone into shock, but the Mistress just cackled like an old hag and stomped on his burned arm. Izuku let out a surprised and pained gasp, but he refused to scream. To give her the satisfaction. She sighed at the lack of noise. “Little Bird, why’d you try and run from me?” She asked in a sickly sweet voice, making Izuku’s skin crawl.
He was so, so tired, but he couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet. He needed to save Yamada. He needed to get rid of the Mistress. She threatened and attacked his family, and that couldn’t stand. He listened to her monologue about him being ungrateful, deciding that if he didn’t act now, he would lose his chance to attack.
He took a deep breath, and whispered a confident ‘stop talking’. The Mistress’ mouth flew shut, almost like a puppet’s. “Move your foot off me.” He said, louder. She did just that, and Izuku breathed out a tired sigh. Control was draining, and if he didn’t end this soon he would lose control. He stood up and held his battered arm, feeling for any new wounds. It seemed that it was fine. “Sit down.” He said, voice sounding almost casual. He was in control. Yamada and Aizawa were safe. His family was safe.
Until he felt his control slip. He heard Mistress’s voice speed up, and he knew something was wrong. He hadn’t noticed his control elude at first, but felt it all but disappear. It was then that she lunged at him, seemingly going feral. It was ironic; the woman who had deemed all others an animal had lunged at him on all fours, acting like a deranged little creature. He struggled under her iron grip, despite it doing very little. “I’ve had enough of your shit, Birdie.” Her voice was an angry snarl. He felt a cold shiver spread through him at the words. She was going to kill him. Truly, she was going to kill him.
He felt a sharp pain spike in his shoulder, the pain growing unbearable. He refused to let the scream in his throat escape his lips. He wouldn’t let her hear him. His mind began to dull as the familiar fog of the hallucinogen filled his mind. Fearful images filled his brain, soft and angry whispers banging around in his head. Sensations doubled the effect of the drug, making everything so, so much worse. Yamada’s scream echoed in his brain, breaking down all comprehensible thoughts as images of his mother and Dabi dying filled all his senses. The smells of blood came with his mom, ash and cinnamon with Dabi. He cried senselessly. The images were replaced with those of Yamada being sliced open by the Mistress and Aizawa being destroyed by a zombie-like Shigaraki. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘No. I won’t let that happen.’ He faded into sleep before dragging himself out, a flicker of indescribable pain stabbing behind his eyelids.
He struggled against the images and voices and the growing pain in his head, taking a deep breath and sitting up. He stood up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and the bombardment of noises and flashing images that reigned free in his brain. He listened for any noises, only to discover silence in the room he was in. It seemed that the Mistress had left him alone. That made his blood run cold. What had she gone away to do?
He began running, limping slightly at a stabbing pain in his leg. The pain in his head bubbled, feeling almost as though something beneath it was struggling to be released. Izuku felt a shiver run down his spine and he pushed the gruesome thought away. He struggled out of his current room and back over to the stairs. He searched violently, spinning around with his hands shot out at his sides. He called for Yamada, but got no response from him, and instead received a shrill giggle. The chuckle echoed in his head, bouncing off the cavern walls of his mind. It was too much, and he shrank down to his knees. The noises were coming from everywhere, Izuku unable to find the true source. He couldn't tell. He was trapped and Yamada was going to die if he didn’t find him. ‘If only I could see.’ he thought, the pain in his skull growing. The thought repeated itself over and over, the headache intensifying along with it until he was lying on the floor sobbing in pain. He tried to will the thought away, tried to make it go silent, but that only seemed to make it worse. The word ‘See’ echoed in his brain until it felt like someone was screeching it into his ears. He felt a slow trickle of liquid begin to escape from his left socket. ‘Tears?’ he thought. It wasn’t, though. It was blood. His other eye began to bleed too, the pain from inside escaping out and pooling into his empty eyes. The bloody tears began to stream up into the holes, rapidly circling. Izuku screamed, fear and pain overtaking him, and he passed out. The blood didn’t stop, however. It spun and spun before slowing and finally… it calmed.
Gone were the empty flesh filled sockets, now replaced with a pair of black, crimson pools. The new eyes were a dark black, only the reflection revealed a dark red undertone. They were speckled with little white dots, adding an almost starry effect to his eyes. Small wisps of purples, blues, and pinks seemed to dance within the eyes themselves. There was no pupil, no iris, only the dark black and stars with dancing colors blanketing on top of them. They were beautiful.
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Aizawa swiftly walked towards his porch, ready to be home. The case had been boring and uneventful, pissing him off beyond belief. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. He let out a loud yawn before replacing the keys back in his pocket and opening the door with a satisfying click. “Mic, I’m back!” He shouted, knowing Mic had most likely stayed up to greet him like usual. There was no reply, but that didn’t worry him. Yamada often fell asleep while waiting for him. He kicked off his shoes and headed for the living room, only to find nothing. Aizawa wasn’t deterred and began heading for the kitchen, the thought of finding Mic asleep on top of the table making him smile. That smile was soon gone, however, when Aizawa came upon the sight of a mangled corpse. His arms had been broken awkwardly and his neck had been snapped. He frantically looked around the kitchen, searching for more evidence. There was none, and he sprinted out into the hallway, screaming Izuku and Hizashi’s names. He ran towards the stairs when he couldn’t find either one of them, before finding an unconscious...Izuku?
The boy looked the same, albeit a tad burned, but his injuries weren’t the only thing that caught his attention; it was the stunning eyes. Aizawa shook himself out of his staring, he could worry about that later. He carefully picked up Izuku and moved him to the couch before throwing a blanket over him. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so he hoped, because whoever had done this probably wanted Izuku. He needed to keep him out of trouble. He ran up the stairs silently searching for his husband, only to come upon a gruesome scene that made bile begin to rise up his throat. Mic lay gasping in front of another body, this one seemingly still alive despite the damage done to her body. Her intestines were dangling idly around her neck, wrapped around to make a disgusting necklace of gore. She held a knife in one hand, a needle in the other, her arms coated in blood. Her abdomen seemed to have exploded, and her guts lay around her in a gory display. Aizawa maneuvered around the breathing corpse and picked up his husband carefully. He carried him down the stairs slowly, trying not to jostle him around. Yamada was clearly in a lot of pain and Aizawa didn’t want to make it worse.
He brought him to the living room and set him down on the loveseat as gently as he could. He removed the blanket off Izuku. It seemed that there weren’t any villains still around, except for the two bodies left in their house. There was no point in leaving Izuku under the blanket. He moved to the lights and flicked them on so he could properly assess the damage done to his family. It then dawned on him that he should most likely dial the police, especially since they had one and a half corpses lying in their home. He grabbed the home phone from the floor, where it had apparently been knocked over, and dialed 110.
He told the operator who he was, what the situation was, and his address. He hung up after a fast goodbye and an explanation of needing to call an ambulance. It was at times like this he cursed the emergency contacts separation his country had. He dialed in 119 and once again gave the operator all the information. He soon hung up and set down the phone, taking a breath. His nerves were shot and he was shaking. He wasn’t there to help his family when they needed him. He checked over Hisashi first, as he seemed to be in worse shape. He had multiple slashes on his face and arms, but that was the least of his worries. The left side of his chest and side was a dark, sickly periwinkle and violet, the shades fading more red near his back. Best case scenario, he had a few broken ribs and such. Worst case, he had internal bleeding. He sighed and kissed his forehead before propping his head up with a throw pillow.
He turned to Izuku next. The worst injuries he had seemed to be a burned arm, though it very well could have been fractured as well, but that was nothing compared to his shoulder on the same arm. He had a knife protruding from the upper part, just below the acromion and above the rotator cuff. If the knife had managed to damage either one, Izuku very well could have permanent damage. He let the knife be, not wanting to cause more harm. Everything else seemed to be okay, aside from a few bruises. What really intrigued Aizawa was his eyes. They were an eerie kind of beautiful, but Aizawa wasn’t too trusting of them. Were they a product of whatever was in that syringe that the villain upstairs had been holding, or something else?
He couldn’t focus on that right now. He needed to keep his family safe, and to do that, he needed answers. Now.