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The Too Soft Kidnapper™

Chapter Text

Izuku stumbled along the grocery store with his mother. They were in a mall, and apparently were doing 'shopping', whatever that was. They were supposed to get 'greens', too. Apparently, they were food.

He didn't really like greens.

(Later in life, he would learn to love them)

So, with all the innocence of a child, with his mother's back turned, he…

Well, he walked away.

Huh. That was easier than he thought.


Izuku turned the corner, and he bumped into a wall- wait, that wasn't a wall... Izuku looked up. It was too soft.

It’s some man! (right?)

The guy looked so confused, but his eyes widened, and he leaned down tentatively (Izuku didn't like the fact that he had to do so.. maybe the man is an alien? That would be the coolest thing!)

"Hey... kid... do you know where your dad is?"

"He’s in 'Meri'a!!" Izuku replies cheerfully.

"Meri- America?" The man asked, puzzled.

The boy looked up, confused. "What's dat? I said 'Meri'a.”

“No, kid- I-” the man started, before pausing. With a sudden attitude change that even Izuku, a hopelessly oblivious child, noticed, the man beamed and stood up.

“Ah! I see your problem! Actually, I am a candy vendor, and I was wondering if you wanted to taste test some of my newer products before it goes into stock..?” The man trailed off, clearly expecting something of a reaction.

Izuku stares at him blankly.

Okay, looking back, Izuku really should not have done that. But give him a break. He was like, three (Isn’t it sad, that he can’t remember how old he was?), what was he supposed to do? Act like he knew the completely foreign language the man was speaking? This only added to his theory that the man is totally an alien! I mean, who the heck is so tall anyways?!

The man frowned, before his eyes lit up in understanding. “Oh, right! You’re a child. Uh...” He fumbled, before lighting up once more. “Eat this!” He said, holding out a piece of gummy, without the wrapper.

Thinking back on it, the guy was really creepy, and it was quite stupid of him to take candy from a stranger, but in his defense he was hungry, and this dude was nice! So to his little brain he couldn’t have been too evil!

God, he was such a naive idiot.

Little Izuku looked at the hand, tilting his head.

“Okay!” he finally responds.

The man beamed nervously.

Izuku picked up the gummy, with his grubby little toddler fingers, before glomping it with all the excitement of a four (?) year old.


He blinked.

He blinked again.

The man grinned nervously.

“... Hey mister, it tastes kinda like dirt.”

The man sweat dropped.

“W-what? B-but I tailored it to taste like co-”

Izuku blinks.
“H-hey mister… I don’t feel so good….” Izuku whimpered.

“Ah?!” The man startled, as Izuku slumped into him.

“Ah- Oh… right… I totally forgot that I spiked something in the gummy… but still! My gummies do not taste like dirt!” The man grumbled.

He hefted the child on his shoulders, before walking normally.

He heard multiple voices aw and coo at the child, and he even thinks he heard a woman mutter “What a cute scene, too cute… I need to get some ice cream…”

….and out of context, that sounds a bit odd.

Shrugging it off, but keeping a firm grip on the child, he walked calmly towards an alleyway.

As soon as he turned the corner, he sprinted quickly, legs pumping.

Meanwhile, in another section of the city, Midoriya Inko was Freaking. Out.

To be fair, if he had known, he probably would have been to. He would also probably have screamed and ran outside crying, so he supposes that his mom’s reaction was much tamer than his own.

After all, all she had done was go shopping with her son, and she only turned to look at the brands of hummus they had in stock for, like, ten seconds, but when she turned around to face her son…

He wasn’t there.

Now, a normal person would think, ‘Oh, he probably just wandered a few isles away, I doubt he is that far off-’

Well, anyone with common sense would be wrong. And they would be wrong no matter what excuses they tried to assure themselves with.

Maybe someone other than Midoriya Inko would have been correct, but not in this timeline.

While Inko was being a bit… quick to panic, without checking the rest of the store, she was completely right to panic.

As she slowly calmed down and came to the same consensus as you probably are having, she stood up, (when had she fallen? Inko doesn’t remember…) dusting herself and proceeded to check the entire store, between every crevice, no matter how impossible.



Izuku wasn’t in the store.

Her baby Izuku-wasn’t in the store.

Aaaaaand she’s panicking again.

‘Deeeeeeep breaths, Inko. Don’t panic, don’t panic-’ Inko thought, hands shaking as she clutched her chest.

She finally came to her senses when she noticed the worried glances of the other shoppers in the store.

Eyes wide, embarrassed, she focused on herself again, immediately chastising herself for being overwhelmed in such a time!

Her little boy was missing!

She rushed out the grocery store and into the mall, looking for the first security guard she saw, which happened to be this scruffy looking guy, with bloodshot eyes and a tired demeanor.

“S-sir?” She asked nervously, nearly on the brink of tears.

“What is it?” The security guard grumbled, looking tired and done.

“U-uh… I… My- my son… h-he-” Inko stammers.

She looked at the security guard again, promptly bursting into tears, blubbering inconsolably, hugging herself. The security guard stiffened, looking shocked.

“M-ma’am? Are you okay? Ah- please calm down! Deep breaths, deep breaths!” He stumbles, looking a bit off-balance at the sobbing woman who sniffed, looking up at the security guard, lips quivering.

“S-sir… my s-son, he’s missing! I looked away for just a moment but then when I looked back he was just g-gone! A-and I c-could- I couldn’t find him anywhere! I looked all a-around the s-store and he was just- just…gone! She wails, tears once more cascading down her face.

“Wha- Ma’am! Don’t worry, we will find your son. Let me contact the security crew and staff. Can you please give me his description, age, and clothing, as well as any other details you deem important?”

She sniffled.

“W-well… Izuku has green hair that looks b-black but under the s-sun you c-can clearly s-see that it’s g-green.. He- he, uh… he h-has freckles f-from h-his fath- father…” She looks even more wrecked at that statement, sniffing loudly and tears bubbling up again. “He has these big bright green eyes that no one can say no to, although at first s-sight he l-looks really pla-in.” She hiccups.

“He w-was wearing a ye-yellow All Might shirt-” At that Aizawa, the underground and currently undercover hero, almost rolls his eyes. “-A-and these red shoes, h-he loves them so much, I-I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear any other sho-shoes..” She hiccups again, before mumbling into a blob of incoherent sobbing.

The security guard looked alarmed.

“I- I think I got it! Do you happen to have a picture of your son? So that we can broadcast it, maybe turn on missing alert? Don’t worry, I’m sure he will be found soon-”

As the security guard attempts to comfort the poor mother, In another area, specifically the Bakugou’s family residence house, you can hear the screaming of a child and his mother, both cursing each other out, even though the child is only barely 4.




While the two were screaming, Masaru sweat dropped and slowly backed away. He stumbled into his office, called out "I'll be in the workshop, call me wh-"

They never found out what he was trying to tell them, as their yelling drowned him out.

In the middle of all this, they missed the subtle ringing of the phone.

Chapter Text

Inko rang the phone again, sniffling into her shirt, heartbroken.

It went to voicemail. Again.

She had already rang Rei, sobbing and explaining the news after the Bakugou’s didn’t pick up the phone. 

How had these hours gone so wrong? All she wanted to do was to go shopping…

...but now, Izuku… Izuku was gone...

Oh Izuku, her darling sunshine, her light...

She rang the phone again, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mitsuki would answer.

She stifled another sob threatening to break open, attempting to stop crying and actually do something instead of standing around sobbing herself dry.

She hung up.


Mitsuki paused yelling for a second, and it seemed her brat did too… perhaps it was fate for it to happen that way, she would think back, years later. But at that moment, all that crossed her mind, and probably Katsuki’s, was the ringing of the phone.

She made for the phone, and as that happened, he quieted for real.

Due to the jobs of his parents, he’d learned to be quiet during their "calls", which is what he assumed that was. They lived comfortably, but he knows their jobs are important, and the “calls” could very well change their lives.

Which is why it was such a surprise when it stopped ringing seconds away from Mitsuki.

The work calls don’t do that, and if it were an advertising call, it certainly would not have just stopped. Those people were pushy as hell.

So why did it stop?

The phone stayed quiet for some time, Mitsuki staring at it in shock, before recovering.

She turned to face Katsuki, when, again, the phone rang, once, twice, three times.

She pivoted back, a slight frown on her face, before she picked up the phone.

This time it didn’t stop ringing until she lifted it.

Dead silence was shown in the room, a tense unknown emotion choking the air.

Then a voice was heard.

Katsuki couldn’t make out a lot of what was being said, and it seemed Mitsuki couldn’t either, with her confused face. She seems to get something Katsuki was lacking in information though, based on her slightly horrified expression.

All he could really make out was…

“Izu- go- mi-ing- hel-!!!” It was said in a hurry, with the familiar voice of his mom’s friend, Ree or something like that.

Mitsuki quickly called Masuru over, the two exchanging quick words with rapid, hand gesturing and quiet words.

Not a minute later, the TV was flicked on and Mitsuki gestured Katsuki over frantically.

The three flicked the channel to news, eyes wide and breathes short.

The news broadcasts were pretty mundane, with the usual hero notices, until they flipped to the next news broadcast.

“-It seems a child has been taken from out of nowhere! The mother, Inko Midoriya is very distraught and police are on the lookout!” The TV displayed a picture of Deku, of Izuku .
“If you see a boy that looks like this, please inform officials…” The broadcaster’s voice fizzled out. Or maybe she was still speaking, but Katsuki couldn’t hear her.

He felt numb.

A few seconds later, he feels a hand touch his shoulder, before it hugs him. With his hazy eyes, he notices the TV’s screen is turned off.

The family hugged each other, no words exchanged.

And maybe, just maybe, if a few shirts were wet?

No one commented on it.

After a few moments of hugging, the family let go of each other, a quiet air of determination.

The first step?

Why, calling the one closest to the missing.

Inko. I’m sorry that I didn’t reply. Don’t worry... I won’t let it happen again.

The phone was dialed. The air felt like determination.


Hiroki Yaraka felts shivers go down his back.
He was still lugging the kid along, trying to be gentle as to not wake him, but alas, driving in a lousy old truck does make that a tad difficult.

He winced again as the truck went over another speed bump. Glancing at the kiddo, he sighed in relief.

After a split second of hesitation, he turns the radio on, and picked up his water bottle, keeping his eyes on the road. It’s never bad to be kept up to date on the news… right?

It’s even more important now that he’s up and done… this.

When Yaraka opened the radio, he expected maybe a side comment or two to be on the lookout for the green-haired kid, and to be careful with your children. Something small.

He took a swig of his water, swallowing as he stopped at a red light.

He tunes into the radio.

He did not expect for the greenette to be on the radio with people claiming a police search and all, sirens blaring in the background of the broadcast.

Just how close is the radio station to the police?

...or is that just how loud they are?

Was the greenette on the news?

That thought scared Yaraka.

When he signed up for this, all he wanted was to get some money. Make some easy cash.

He… This was too much.

Oh gosh. What did he get himself into?

He gave himself no answer.

How could he?

What does someone do this situation?

Yaraka had no idea.

(If he winces, and looks at the child with a faint smile on his face, and maybe if he did have an idea, well. That’s no one’s business but his own.)



Inko called the police.

(and they called 1-800-THE-LOST ( 800-843-5678) afterwards. They opened a case on it.  How could they not?)

Of course she called the police.

She was panicking still, a sobbing ball of anxiety.


The dispatcher she was talking with tried calming her down-

As if she was able to calm down.

As if she would calm down.

Now? She was empty, numb and cold as the police talked to her.

A warm and tense thing laid on her shoulders.

A shock blanket, she would realize later.

She doesn’t know why they think that would help.

She doesn’t think she’s in shock .

Maybe she was, when Hisashi left her.

Maybe she was, when her parents abandoned her, left her when they found out she was pregnant. Refused to listen to reason, to the fact that they left her when she was the most vulnerable- when she was most in need of their help.

No, she was not in shock.

Maybe she would have been, but the police were about two years too late.

Two years too late.

They don’t find everything in time, but she hoped they would find her son before two years passed.

And when they do, it doesn’t really matter anymore, because she is numb and cold and why isn’t she warm and where did the warmth go, whERE DID IT GO-

Inko was numb, and maybe she registered the confused and panicked words around her, maybe realized that she was flailing all about-

Maybe. It all came down to maybe.


Inko felt, the smallest of pinpricks pierce her neck and-

And suddenly, suddenly, she felt nothing at all.

And it was dark.

She felt so warm.

She didn’t register the hurried voices that bounces all around, she didn’t notice the frantic orders yelled at by the ambulance emergency medical technicians and paramedics.

No, she didn’t notice anything at all.


She didn’t notice the ringing of her light green phone, the one with a singing parrot and heart.

No, she didn’t notice anything at all.

She was warm.

Chapter Text

The truck slowed to a stop, the engine still growling like an angry wolf. With a slight pause and grumble, the engine stopped roaring. The door opened, and out came the man, and a small child with green hair. The child was limp, their hair mussed up.

They seemed to have a small smile on their faces. Perhaps a good dream? The man had a light brown bag that hung low on his hips. That man, Hiroki Yaraka, hopped a little, scooting the child onto his back with a careful and calculated push.

The man had a clean shaven face, though he was tall. His physical appearance seemed to be pretty strong, though it was clear he wasn’t the best in terms of muscles, more just overly tall and lanky.


Yaraka stood up, the child still limp.

In front of them, there was an old, creaky looking building. It looked like it was abandoned years ago, but if you listened, you could hear the audible voices and chatter, as well as the warm light that lit some windows.

Yaraka took a step towards the building.

And another, and another.

Soon, he was met face to face with a red door, to which he pulls a bronze key from his bag, carefully shifting the sleeping child in his arms.


The door opened, creaking slightly, aged like the rest of the building. Strangely enough, the apartment seemed not very lived in.

The man paid it no mind, shuffling in with the child. The apartment seemed small, empty, though there was a couch, a coat hanger, a closet with some clothing, and a small kitchen, the bathroom and bedroom not visible from the front door.

Creeping a little bit in, footsteps rather light for no reason other than habit, Yaraka padded over to the couch. The couch was lightly scratched up, lovingly worn down by age and use.

He laid the child on a couch nearby, messily tucking a pillow under his head, and grabbing his jacket from the coat hanger, he tucked the child in.

As the child snuggled closer to the coat, seeking warmth, a soft sigh escapes Yaraka.

He turns to face the kitchen, back to the couch.

He bits his lip, before pulling out a flip phone. It seemed new, with no scratches in sight.

There was a pause.

The distinctive sound of buttons being pressed was heard, and in a few moments, ringing would follow.

The phone is answered after the 2nd ring.




Inko wakes up with a groggy start, her eyes squinted against the harsh glare of the light.
“...hmmmmmm…” she whimpers, drowsy with sleep and the presumed drugs used on her.

As she bundles her disoriented mind together, she pieces what little she remembered.

She… was shopping. With her son. With Izuku.

Where is Izuku?

Where… is Izuku?


Where is Izuku?

Where is he- where is he- give him back- give him back give him back- she needs her baby -why is he gone where is-


Inko feels light.

Light before the dark.

Jokes before tragedy.

Laughter before the Anger.

Happiness before the sadness.

Before before before


Inko slumps into the darkness.


She might never see him again, and she hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.


She felt light.

there was light before the darkness, or after what is before? Is there a before? Is he back yet? He’s all grown up now, he should come to take care of her. She took care of him… right? Her baby? Was it a boy, or a girl? She hoped it would be born soon, she would name him Izuku and it was just a quick shopping trip, what if she hadn’t gone her baby is going to be a hero someday is he showing his grandkids pictures of her right now she hopes he is- safe? Not with her where is she where is he she needs him- please please when is now when isnow whenisnow -


and suddenly, the light wasn’t there, where was he-her light - give him back and she was falling, falling, falling-








Bakugou Katsuki stares down at his hands, c-a-l-l-u-s-e-d (as his father had told him) from his quirk that he received only days ago. The skin was not used to being so close to the big booms of fire and smoke (ex-plo-si-ons, his mother sounded out for him) and turning red, but he was confident that they would recover. His mom said so, afterall.

He was alone in the house, as his dad and mom went to visit Auntie Inko.

They said she fainted from stress and sadness but Katsuki was sure he saw the silver that pierced her neck.

...They weren’t telling him something.

He’s mother said that was just as bad as lying and-

Was she ever wrong? Katsuki wasn’t sure.

Surely not… right?

His mom also told him that Izuku would be found, but.. She didn’t sound as sure, as c-o-n-f-i-d-e-n-t when she said that.

She wouldn’t lie to him… right?

She told him liars were bad… was she a liar?

Katsuki doesn’t know.

He lifts his head, dragging his eyes from his rough hands and his eyes met the wooden doors of his house.

He wonders how far the grocery store is.


He really wants to see Izuku now.


Tsukauchi Naomasa stares at the lastest assignment that was given to him.

He was in charge of managing kidnappings, especially ones associated with children.

He had seen some pretty disturbing kidnapping cases in his time, and he was not proud to say that many of those resulted in many agony hours of pain only to result in… less than successful.

He wasn’t ashamed to say that more than a few tears were shed, whether for the children lost or the frustration and sadness in the lack of anything that really mattered , with the thinking that  if only they worked faster, if only they figured it out just a little quicker- well, it was safe to say that many grieved in the face of failure. 


Really, it’s no surprise that heroes are so popular. They don’t seem burdened by the weight of stress, but as soon as they make a single mishap… well, society was both an affectionate and lovely thing, but people were cold-hearted vultures that ripped at the first sign of failure and mishap, wailing about a single mistake that can result in a domino effect of chaos and disaster.

Society always had its eyes on them… it was like they lived in a 24/7 live surveillance camera.

Later, Naomasa would look at the case of Endeavor and laugh to himself.

24/7 live surveillance? Who are you kidding, Naomasa.


If only.


They had let a vile villain escape from their evil in the spotlight of Japan, even rewarded them for their deeds. Praising him and dancing along to his tune. Truely, they had made a grave error.

Naomasa couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again, but it surely won’t occur from lack of effort.

As Naomasa stared down at the case of Midoriya Izuku, a 4 year old with no registered quirk, he sighs and prays for a quick rescue. After all, how hard could it be to find a quirkless boy?

….If only he had known.

Chapter Text

Inko wakes up with a dizzy start, and feels an oncoming headache.

Where was she..

Where is she?

She feels the heavy drag of something warm… perhaps a blanket?

She breathes in the air, smelling a faint odor of iodoform, recognizable from back when she used to major in nursing.

She attempts to open her eyes, eyes unused to the light . She flinches, eyes closing again before she could see anything but the faint glow of the bulbs.

Funny enough, they reminded her of her baby’s nightlight, with it’s low watt lights to prevent eye damage.

But that couldn’t be right... why would she see her baby’s nightlight?

She was starting to think that a lot of this didn’t make sense.

Her eyes blurry, she attempts to remember what little she can, starting from what she remembered last.

She and Izuku were in the car, laughing and driving respectively, the driver with an indulgent smile on their face.

She mentioned something about greens, and how you get big and tough.

Izuku claps along and-



And then they walked out of the car…


And she was walking with him..


She was walking with him.

She was walking with him.

At some point, she walked just slightly ahead, trusting her baby to follow.

He always does.


And then they were at the store, she was looking at… some spices.

Some spice that no longer mattered enough for her to remember-


Because she could have sworn she heard the giggles of her baby-

And so she had smiled fondly and continued checking the bottles.

The bottles that didn’t matter at all because he was right there wheredidhego-

He Was Right There Where Did He Go.

Where did he go-


She remembered.

He was gone…


No he wasn’t, he was right there, but it’s odd, why would she cry?

She remembered tears streaming down her face, and that, that right there?

She does not recall why, why would she be worried Izuku was right there-

Which makes her finally snap back to reality (she shouldn’t be in her head that long, Hisashi had always said that over thinking things will make her go crazy one day), which brought up the question of why she was on some tough material that smelled of chemicals and sterilization.

… Was she at a hospital? If she remembered correctly, the beds were never too pleasant, and the smell of the air around her reminded her of the chemicals and intravenous therapy drips they’d use.

As she tried to recall more memories of what occurred, of where she is, she failed to notice the nurse that noticed her spike on heart rate, and noticed her vague twitching.

She failed to notice the frantic whispers that surrounded her, and much like last time, though she didn’t notice, a prick touched her skin.

She jerks this time, senses on overdrive, with her lacking one of her major senses.

It reminded her of alcohol from College, the sudden lack of awareness, the senses dulling without a cause-

And then she thought no more.

The whispers became louder, but she did not hear them, drifting back into a void that she will not remember in her wake.


She never remembered.


Or maybe she remembered too much, all the wrong things.


Aizawa Shota huffs as he sprints from one rooftop to another in the dark, chasing the recently made vigilante ‘Smile’. Much like the rescue hero Thirteen, the vigilante had androgyness features and no remarkable voice. They wore bright yellows and greens that seemed to gleam, with a mask that had a painted smile on it, all sharp edges and mocking white teeth.

It was noted that, like the name suggests, they would often laugh in strange situations. Perhaps a laughter quirk? He wonders what Ms. Joke would think about that.


Nevermind her! Why is it that I always get stuck with the annoying ones? First there was Nemuri, then Hizashi, and now Ms. Joke! What’s gonna happen next, a building collapses?


He notices his lagging behind- how is Smile so goddamn fast? - but he pushes on, feet digging into the tough concrete of the roofs.  


He notices Smile approaching a curve of the street, a building much taller than normal.



Smile turns their head around and giggles, a small sound that Shota only just barely caught with the wind whipping in his ears.


They turn the corner.

Shota pushes whatever energy he had left, turning the corner in a frenzy, expecting a flash of green, anything but-

The rooftops were empty.

So, it seemed was his stomach, an unknown weight resting on it- 

Because Smile was nowhere to be found, and surely enough, when Shouta checked the grounds, there was no trace.

Shouta curses in the dark of the night, eyes dry and limbs tired.


Another paper is flipped, and mild mumbling fills the room, nothing out of the norm.

Afterall, paper filing is a boring task, it would bore anyone.

It was only expected that total silence would not be achievable.

It was late in the night, at 3 AM, the station filled with faint buzzing noise, a light noise that seemed to fill the room with peace and contentedness. 

“Hey Ryo-chan, did ya’ ever finish up that paperwork on Eraserheads newest find? Smile, wasn’t it?” Himari, a sweet girl with light brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles, asked Ryosei, the recently recruited member with a fiery personality. “Sara-san asked me to look over it.” 

Sara was a clear-headed girl, and she was immaculate, with the sharp precision of atomic clocks. It was no wonder she was recently promoted.

Himari was head over heels, anyone with half a brain and a missing eye could tell.
She was too shy to ask Sara out though, even though it was crystal clear to anyone that they liked each other.


Sara thought it’d interfere with work, the silly girl.

Ryosei flushed. “A-ah.. no, Himi-chan, it completely slipped my mind! I will get to it right away!”

“Well, alright then. Tell me when you’re done, yeah?” With that, Himari skipped away, heading towards a blonde girl with pink highlights, Urusami.

Tsukauchi Naomasa observed this while flushing out the last details of the fight that occurred this morning, a faint smile on his face. While it’s true that many aspire to be a hero, only a few of them become heroes, and even less become popular. The ones who do don’t live long enough to brag about it.

The rest would have to settle for something else. Many come to the police, as if it’s a second hand option, a choice that they didn’t really want.

They missed out, in Naomasa’s opinion. They didn’t notice the friendly community, the family and friends made throughout the journey. Well, he is glad he pursued this career. Maybe he is not out and about, pulling flashy stunts and getting cameras pointed at him, but he thinks he prefers not having any. It’s safer, certainly.

Getting recorded, everyone filming your every move? That’s… not so appealing.

To some it might be, to an extent, he supposes, but really, even if he had wanted to be a hero, how would his quirk work?

He can imagine it already. The Truthful Hero: Lie Detective .

He laughs aloud quietly, in spite of himself trying to muffle it.


“Tsuki?” His friend, companion, and coworker of many years, Michi, asked. She was a blue-haired girl with the quirk called: Live Hair, allowing her to use her hair much like a second pair of hands. He focuses back on what she is saying. “-you okay? Not choking’ up on any of those BS files those ‘all bark, no bite’ heroes tryin’ to feed you?”

He wheezed out a denial, fighting an uphill battle with getting oxygen. 


Michi pats him on the back. “There there, cough it out- don’t mind, don’t mind!” She cuts into her statement, waving away some concerned members nearby. 

Naomasa gains his breathe back, hacking, and Michi hands him a bottle.

He huffs. “Cough it out? What did you want me to cough out, my lungs?” 


Michi laughs. He takes the bottle, and opens it, taking quick sips in between his coughing. Instead of the clean water he was expecting, he got this spicy sensation, a burn traveling down his throat.

He spits it out.

Mi-chan! What is this?!” Naomasa half screeches.

The station, used to the outbursts and pranks between the two, doesn’t react. Michi, in the meantime, laughs with abandon, hair moving with her, tendrils weaving like grass with a breeze. Once she calmed down, still cackling, she beamed at Naomasa.

“It was vodka!” She exclaims happily.

Two seconds later she doubles over as Naomasa’s hand met her stomach.

“...worth… it...” She wheezes.

Naomasa sighed, thumping his chest to try and dispel the taste. “You couldn’t even have gotten the good stuff? That tasted worse than moldy drywall, and you know we get paid enough for it.”

A hearty laugh from Michi sent them right back down the rabbit hole, but after a few minutes of them blabbing about, they finally, somehow , get to work.

Naomasa stares down at the soon familiar name.

Midoriya Izuku.


A day ago, he noticed that the family tree seemed very… incomplete, for one.

The father of Midoriya Izuku was not present, but with some digging, Naomasa found out the name of the father was a guy named Hisashi Midoriya née Akatani. Nothing seemed out of order, only the fact that Hisashi wasn’t present in the family tree, and maybe the fact that Hisashi took Midoriya Inko’s name, instead of vice versa, except…

When Naomasa tried to do more research on him, well…

He couldn’t. There wasn’t anything about “Hisashi Midoriya” or “Hisashi Akatani” anywhere. Any achievements that would be listed? Gone. Naomasa couldn’t find anything about him.

Who is he, and more importantly, why can’t Naomasa find anything about him?

A groan filled the room, and half the desks on the floor shake with the force with which he embedded his head into the table. And he hadn’t even gotten to the mother, yet. This case was going to drive him absolutely bonkers, he could already feel it.


In another place, while these all occur, a greenette wakes, eyes snapping open to take in the unfamiliar house.

Chapter Text

Rei Todoroki née Kimura, was, to put it bluntly, pissed.

Not only was her so called trusted trashy excuse of a ‘hero’ husband, Enji, acting more and more controlling of her life- of the life she could harbor- but her dear friend…


Dare she say, family… though her parents had made it easy- what were they thinking , giving her off like some present to Enji in the face of gold.

Perhaps they were not thinking.

She hopes they regret it.



Inko had a lot going on.

Her absent husband- ex husband, if she remembered right- left her for, pardon her language, bimbo hero.

Tropical Breeze- was that her name? Geeze. Even that sounded fake- like some kinda fantastical soda drink.

Inko… Inko was heartbroken. She had trusted him- loved him- anyone with eyes could see.

She was devoted. Which..

Is more then Hisashi could say.

Inko didn’t deserve any of what she was getting- she remembered clearly, the days where she comforted her sobbing friend while her son innocently played in the sand.


Those days.


Those days.

So it was only expected that Rei, Rei Todoroki née Kimura, the cold hearted fox of the crowd, whom only trusted and accepted few, whom protected those few like they were her lifeline…


Well, it was only expected that she would.. To put it bluntly… absolutely flip. 

She was listening to the news while knitting, a habit she picked up from Inko, half watching her youngest son, Shoto, and half watching her fingers as she knits.

She tunes in, humming slightly while she fondly watches Shoto curiously poke things with his hands- he was trying to activate his quirk- a mix of her and… that… that moldy pineapple’s quirk.

Fire and Ice. Half Cold, Half Hot. Split right in the middle. Left side Hot, Right side Cold. 

He was so, so different from the rotten egg, but yet Rei could not get it out of her head- 


He looked just like him.  


Rei tried- she tried so hard because really, Shouto has a lot of characteristics, facial features that resemble her but-


She couldn’t. She couldn’t get past the red hair- the quirk and those eyes.

It was all she could bare to not attack him.

So she told herself- told him -


“It’s okay, for you to become who you want to be.”

She hears herself say those words, a soft voice and a kind smile.

She sees Shouto, his eyes widening as he hears those words.

Her sweet Shouto..

How could she have been so blind? She wonders.

Shouto is nothing like that.. That deformed sponge.


That’s… not that far off.

He soaks up ego and acts tough but he is nothing but a shriveled hedge. 


Rei feels the tiniest prickle at her knuckles.

She looks down.

Her hands are white, tightly gripping on the needles.

Shouto was staring at her, confused.

“Mama?” He inquires.

Rei hesitantly smiles at him.

“Don’t worry, Mama’s just a little bit tired.” 


And then he looks determined.

“Mama tired? Mama sleep!” he demands, puffing his cheeks out.



How could she ever compare that greasy cracker to Shouto?

She does not know.

As she finishes reassuring her son , she looks at the TV, hands falling into the practiced motion of knitting once more.


“-There has been a report of a missing child in Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall! Please keep lookout for Midoriya Izuku, a green-headed child with freckles, reportedly 4-5 years of age, I repeat, please look out for a green-headed child with freckles, reportedly 4-5 years o-”

The clattering of metal needles fill the empty room.

Rei feels tears dripping from her face.

She had some phone calls to make..


Shouta crashes into the couch.

Hizashi stares are him.

“..A-are.. are you okay?” He wonders.

“I want to die.”

“Ah.. I see.”

Silence ensues. 


A frustrated groan erupts from Shouta.

“How do you do it?” He grumbles.


“Do what? Be stunning? Why honey I was born with it, I’m afraid you can’t earn it from not sleepin-”

Juggle three jobs.” Aizawa growls. “What, do you just not sleep?”



“Well…” Hizashi starts.

“Oh my god how are you alive?”

“Well.. I’ll tell you my secret!” Hizashi says happily, a slight smile on his face.

“Every morning, as I drink my 6th cup of coffee, I tell myself ‘everything is going to be okay’- but im lying.”  Hizashi’s eyes seem to pierce through Aizawa’s soul, as dark as his morning coffee. He still had a small smile on his face. “ And I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

And then Hizashi beams at him.
“Have a swell night, Shouta!” With that, he skips out of the room.

Shouta stares at his back.


“What the fuck?” He whispers to himself.


Inko Midoriya stares blankly at the bland wall in front of her.

She had woken merely hours ago, frantically struggling as the doctors and nurses tried to hold her down.


She was merely.. well.


She was, confused.

She remembered what happened- but..

Izuku wasn’t gone.

The nurses just won’t let him in.

Which, is reasonable. Inko feels.. too…




She feels different.

Not like the type where you dress up and feel like a different person- not like the type where you change how you act, whether online or not-



She feels she can never be the same anymore.


Izuku scared her so much…

She loved him- that is without doubt.

He will never leave her sight again- how could she ever trust him, if it proves he will simply run off?


She needs to find some way t-

She clutches her head.

A low moan tumbled out of her lips, eyes defocusing.

It hurt.

Her head..

Was- was she even her, when she felt so different?

She was still Inko Midoriya- right?

She was in the same body, the same place as the yesterday Inko, but she felt out of place, out of depth.

She feels different.

She sobs. 


Katsuki walks up to the reception with his parents.

His mother had been.. not herself.


She had been sad.. and unlike the angry and d-e-t-e-r-m-i-n-e-d woman- mother, he knew.

He mulled over that thought.

...Would she get better?

Speaking of getting better, he knew that Auntie Inko had something going on.

Was she sick? He hopes she gets better soon.


At that moment, they were both allowed though this white door.

They entered a hall of hallways, all splitting away from each other.

He noticed there were signs on each entrance of each hallway- but before he could read any of them, they became a blur.

His mother grasp his hand and they headed towards a hallway with a  sign that said ‘Wing 3’.

They stumbled through a haze of white hallways, waving numbly at doctors and nurses,  checking hallways inside of hallways, with rooms and retracing.


It seemed like ages before they finally made it to the room- ‘Room 234’


The door creaks as it is opened.

Inko blinks at them.

“Mitsuki?” She calls.

Mitsuki trembles next to Katsuki.


Katsuki perks up.

“Did they finally allow Izuku in? Izuku, come here, dear.”

His ruby red eyes- (not green never green not like him)   widen.

“A-auntie Inko?” He asks, roughly.


“Izuku dear? It’s me.. It’s me.. come..” Inko murmurs.

He looks at his mom.

His mom blinks fast, but he catches a sliver of tears before they are gone.

“G-go on.. Katsuki..”

Katsuki stumbles towards Auntie Inko.

“Izuku…” Inko’s eyes clear as Katsuki gets closer.

“Oh. Katsuki.. It’s you.”

She sounded so.. disappointed.

He made her disappointed.

Katsuki never cried. He wasn’t crying.

So why was his face wet?

Chapter Text

Yaraka calmly chops some leeks and carrots, the rhythmic thumping noise filling the small kitchen.





He wipes the stray bits off the board, sweeping them into a sizzling pan. He moves to the eggs- an omelet, as he was planning. Cracking the eggs one by one, he takes a whisk and beats it, stirring slower as the eggs are mixed up. 


But even the everyday activity, the monotony, can’t hide his worry or keep him distracted for long.

He glances behind him, at the lone couch swamped with blankets and pillows. A tiny lump, almost mistakable for a cat or a dog, is nestled underneath them. The boy shifts, clutching his pillow tighter. Yaraka looks away, and focuses on pouring the yolk into the pan, making sure it cooks all the way. 


He can’t afford to get attached.. 


Afterall, he won’t see the little boy next week. It would only hurt him. Yaraka’s hands tighten on the handle. 


Don’t get attached…


He flips the egg, cooking it on both sides.

You know what happens when you do..


Flashes of screams and those eyes- 


He slips the cooked egg onto a plate. 


...And it’s not pretty.

Unwillingly, he glances behind him again. The boy twitches, before calming and stilling once more. Yaraka can’t rid the feeling that the boy would be awake soon, even though the drug was meant to work for days at a time- the boy shouldn’t be waking up until long after he is out of his hands.




Another shift behind him. This time Yaraka doesn’t glance back, assuring himself that the boy was simply shifting once more. Until he heard a thump and a groan, and a small, small voice mumbling a confused “Wha…? Mama?”

Yaraka thinks he’ll have a heart attack, and he sneaks a peek behind him. The little boy meets his gaze with big viridian eyes.


Scratch that, Yaraka is having a heart attack. 




Katsuki stares at a de-spond-ent (His dad told him that one, when he asked why the lady on the news looked so sad but wouldn’t cry, or say anything.) boy at the park he was at. 

The boy had lilac purple hair, and half lidded eyes that seemed blank.


He was just… sitting there. 

Right there. On his bench.

Strangely enough, when Katsuki first came, there were crowds of children, screaming and laughing together, and he thought he recalled the boy in that crowd, with wide eyes and a small smile on his face... but now, they stay away from him with scared eyes, whisper things while staring at him, shriek and run if he looks at them.


The boy slumped down lower. It unsettled Katsuki. 


It reminded him of the days where his tim-id friend- his best best friend, Izuku- would cry, of the days where he’d grip Katsuki and just… cry. Izuku was strong, but he slipped sometimes.


And.. that was okay.

His mother told him there was nothing wrong about crying.


You can cry whenever. But you shouldn’t fake it. She reached out and pointed towards a fiery man on the T.V., who stood tall and silent even as water leaked from his eyes, softly repeating sorry into the microphone. You have no reason to, no reason you should ever trick someone like that. You shouldn’t do that, Katsuki. She’d say to him. That’s just as bad as lying. No one likes liars.


And his mother didn’t lie.


She wouldn’t.



Sometimes he hears her say things she says she doesn’t actually mean, but he notices that she sounds very g-u-i-l-t-y.  He remembers that word, it was what she used to describe the look on that man’s face when he was discovered as the bad guy on that news show his mother had been watching.


Hmm… what was it called?

He can’t quite recall.


Whatever, it’s probably not important. Anyways, where was he?

Ah. Right.

He was looking at the boy. 


He doesn’t know exactly why but he feels the strong need to go see the boy- to talk to him. Just… talk to him. So he did, because Katsuki is a million and one things but he is not a fucking coward. He walks up to him, refusing to feel shy.

“Hey,” He starts. “Play with me.”

The boy looks up, startled, but he doesn’t say anything.

“My name is Katsuki.” He tries. “And will you fucking play with me, or do I have to drag you off this bench?”

His mother said people naturally listen when you say “fucking” or “shit” and mother didn’t lie. The kid looked confused. It was then he noticed the rest of the playground had gone quiet.


He promptly ignored them. They were probably being idiots anyways.

“...So? What’s your answer?”

The kid speaks up. It was gravelly and rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while. Perhaps he hadn’t.

“Why?” He asks. So simple a question, yet Katsuki had no answer.


Why indeed. Why had he looked and noticed the boy, paid attention and said something to the boy? Why had he cared ? Upon later reflection, he realized why. He thinks they both needed a friend just then.


It was because of Izuku.

..was he trying to replace Izuku?

No. No.

He cared.

He really cared.

He couldn’t shake the guilt though, even years later.


The boy was looking at him, still confused.

“Well?” He prompts. Because of Izuku. Because you looked lonely. Is what Katsuki thinks. “Your name.” Is what Katsuki says, instead. 


“I-huh? Wha-” The boy replied back.

“Your name.” he repeats. “What is it, shithead?”

The boy doesn’t say anything.

“Well? What am I gonna call you? Eyebags?” Katsuki demands. “I told you mine, so it’s fair game!”

The boy, then, smiles.

“I never asked for your name- why should I pay for something I didn’t ask for?” he replies.

Katsuki gapes, but inside he’s grinning. Even Izuku didn’t have this kid’s guts, and if he’s going to make a friend, then damn, it’s going to be someone with a spine.

“It’s common curt-tesy!” he stumbles out loud. (His father told him that one, explaining softly why you shouldn’t steal. “You didn’t make it, so why take the efforts of someone else's labor without repayment?”)


The boy looks as if he was thinking of something.

“Well... alright then.” he rasped, with his still painfully croaky voice, making Katsuki’s own throat throb in sympathy. “My name is Shinso, Shinso Hitoshi.”

Katsuki smirks. “I think I liked eyebag fucker more.”

The boy- Shinso- stutters out a protest. Their laughter fills the park, and the other children slowly go back to playing, eyeing them all the while.


(At that moment?

Katsuki was age 4, still a little brat, that was slowly figuring out how to really act.

He was age 4, when he realized that life wasn’t fair.

That all men were not created equal.

But that’s a story for another time.

This was one of the first changes that differed from the universe where Izuku would have grown up ridiculed and hated, destroyed and built up again.)


Katsuki played with Shinso- no.



Katsuki played with Toshi, and really got to know him.

Katsuki found out about Toshi’s parents, of the disgust from one and of the love from the other, of the fact that the loving one would have to work and try their best and the bad one would hate Toshi. Of the fact that if Toshi tried to talk, he wouldn’t get any food, and would be locked in his room. (He had the type where the lock was on the outside, which sent up so many fucking red flags in his head that it wasn’t even funny.)

The kind one would try their best, but you can only do so much when you are bone tired just trying to survive.

(Was it really surviving?)

He found out the other kids at Toshi’s school would hurt and bully him, and ignore him for his recently discovered quirk- Brainwashing. Toshi flinched when he told him his quirk, as if Katsuki would hate him for it. And Katsuki saw the look in his eyes. Fear.

(Katsuki was age four, when he found out that all men were not created equal. Katsuki was age four when he realized he hated that.)


Katsuki felt rage, not for Toshi, but rather for those who dare treated Toshi like that. They had only met that day, but Toshi cried in front of him, and Katsuki hugged him.

(Katsuki swore he would help Toshi. And anyone else who suffered. This would be the second change from that world. Katsuki doesn’t- didn’t know that, though.)

The two promised to meet again, and they did. Again, and again.

Katsuki would protect his one and true friend from the masses. He swore by his heart.


The other kids called Toshi a freak, a villain, with his rabid dog, Katsuki. They gossiped in the halls, finding arrogance in the safety school provided, not even bothering to whisper. He’s a true villain, he’s evil, they said just loud enough to be heard, and Katsuki couldn’t help but growl back.


You think he’s brainwashed Bakugou to be his sidekick? They’re so perfect together, after all. The creepy mastermind and his savage servant, one girl laughed at him. He can’t do anything by himself. They’ll get arrested before they’re out of school.


He would do anything to protect Toshi. Because Toshi meant more to him then some stupid children, then idiots who don’t know any better. Toshi was his true friend- not one of those- those extras who’d hang around him and fawn over his quirk.


(He doesn’t think about Izuku- he couldn’t. His chest would ache and he’d feel something wet falling off his face and he is not crying- he isn’t. He won’t cry for someone who is okay, who’ll come back to him. He won’t cry for Izuku, but he won’t forget, either.


He told Toshi, about Izuku. He didn’t cry, he had to be the strong one, but Toshi only grinned softly. We’ll find him someday, he said, and then you can introduce me yourself. )

Chapter Text



Izuku blinks blearily. He felt tired, and frankly he just wants to sleep, even though he’s just woken up. He yawns, rubbing his eyes and turns to the side-


-promptly into nothing and falls off the couch.


Dizzily, he gets up, and meets himself face to face with-

Huh. It was the alien man.

“‘Ello? Where’s mama?” He mumbles. Did he forget something?

“Um..” the alien man whispers. He seemed nervous... does alien man even have a gender?

Izuku remembers Mama telling him about people who wasn’t quite the gender they were born with, that they felt like they were in the wrong body. She taught him of femininity and masculinity, agender, and of sexuality, albeit at a very small amount- not that Izuku could tell, it was just so much to take in all at once, and to be fair he was only a toddler.

Or maybe the man was just an alien. 

Do aliens have genders? They don’t, right? Or do they? Or do they not care? He likes the sound of being whatever you want to be. You could be anything, even a dinosaur or an astronaut or a dog! He could be a hero and save people!

So of course, his next words are-

“Hey, mister, are you an alien?” He was just so curious. Honestly, looking back, that wasn’t strategic or wise or-

He was a toddler, is what he was trying to get at. Look, he knows he is literally four here, but c’mon. Izuku has many regrets, but at least, out of the many lessons his mom had taught him, he remembered the importance of labels and sexuality, right up there with the best type of cat and how to correctly water a plant.

Anyways, the alien… person sputters.

So that’s a no. Dang it, aliens were cool. Izuku looks around, and finally notices the area around him.

“This isn’t my house.” It wasn’t a question. “Where am I?” That was a question, and the man hesitates. Izuku stares at him. “Where am I?” He repeats.

“I’m your... uncle on your dad’s side. Your mom let you stay with me.” Is what the man settles on, and even to Izuku’s little ears it sounds a bit forced.


“Unc’e?” He repeats curiously.

He didn’t remember having an uncle-


“What do you mean he doesn’t exist?” Naomasa asks- demands, really, but desperate times call for maybe pissing people off.

“He isn’t recorded on the database! Nothing! The only mention of his existence is on the Midoriya family tree, sir.” Ryosei responds heatedly. “I even had Himi-chan check it again for me, so stop giving me that look. He simply doesn’t exist! It’s like he disappeared as soon as he knocked Ms. Midoriya up- er, sorry, bad choice of words.”

Naomasa flicks his gaze to Himari.

“He’s right, there’s no other mention of him, just on the family tree...” Himari confirms nervously, picking at her shirt.

Naomasa’s eyes darken, and maybe he didn’t mean it, but this wasn’t the first unrecorded person to exist. A few years back, there was a group of people deleted from the databases, someone had hacked in, and they were just gone . Biggest headache of his career.

Out of many, the families- (if they existed, although most were deceased, or, as Naomasa thought darkly, quiet on purpose.)  -went to the police, and it was figured out that on the day of The Erasing, as the office called it, or the 2XXX Section 149 according to the government, the people deleted were also declared missing. As in completely untraceable, and boy, they tried.

This was only confirmed by the few families that came just on policy, leaving many completely unaware as to what had happened.


Days later, the few families were suddenly unwilling to testify. The case was declared cold from lack of information, and the witness endangerment form Naomasa put through was denied. A few years later, and only two people from those families were able to survive the series of freak accidents that took the lives of their loved ones, and only then because they left the country.

The case seemed so unlikely for this most recent case. The mother, last he checked, was admitted to a mental hospital with schizophrenia, and the father was pretty far out of the picture. Both parents out of reach, with no other living relatives; even if they existed, they weren’t speaking up.

In other words, Midoriya Izuku was in the perfect situation for a kidnapping, especially now that the mother is out of the scene, the only ones that can possibly do anything are friends and coworkers. Besides, just a random friend would hardly agree to take in a child (if they ever found him), so who would take Midoriya Izuku in? The mother was completely unfit to take care of the kid, and there wasn’t a will.


Naomasa growls in frustration. Another dead end, then. The case was full of holes, of severed ties and unanswered questions. It was looking more and more helpless, and the detective can only pray for the child to be found quickly. It wasn’t very likely, especially since the child was listed as quirkless, but he could try.


Unfortunately, Naomasa could not focus on this case forever, as there were only so many detectives with his ability, and none with his useful quirk. Crime had risen since this era of superpowers had come to be, and many people slipped through the cracks.

In the 21st century, the intentional homicide rate was 0.3 per 100,000 people in Japan, while America's rate was 4.7 per 100,000 people.


In the 21st century,  it was recorded that kidnapping composed less than 2 percent of all violent crimes against juveniles reported to police. You could walk in the streets at night all by yourself and be completely safe, at least within reason.


In this century, the international homicide rate is nearly 1.7 per 100,000 people in Japan, and has been slowly inching up throughout the years, not to mention the crimes never reported.

In this century, it was recorded that kidnapping composes close to 3 percent of all crimes against juveniles sans petty thievery and vandalism. It’s much higher than before. The streets at night are more dangerous than ever, and you shouldn’t wander alone by yourself even in the safest cities on this earth.

All these numbers danced in Naomasa’s head, taunting him. The percentage of kidnap victims found again was staggeringly low.

And that’s not even considering poverty and overpopulation, which did decrease once quirks arrived due to the mass killings of quirked people, as most governments made it legal to kill those with quirks or stalled the breaks on passing protection laws. Everyone thought those with quirks were abnormal- funny how the scales turned once 80% of the world got quirks.


Naomasa shudders, thinking of just how much the numbers for quirkless deaths, suicides, poverty, and murders had increased over the year. He’s seen some pretty bad cases, but the quirkless ones were always the most heartbreaking, even if they decreased more every year.

Naomasa pushes that thought into a dark little corner in his mind, where his nightmares poke their gruesome heads out of the shadows and wake him up screaming night after night. A little boy’s voice adds to the cacophony of sound.

Police officers are often overlooked, but they see some truly horrid things. They are the ones cleaning up and arresting the villains after the heroes beat them. They are the ones taking care of minor cases, the ones documenting and researching, the investigators, the first responders, the ones that see .

The fact was, police officers are important in the field, yet not many decide to pursue it, being looked down upon and seen as wannabe heroes (when the fact was police existed far before the idea of heroes became a reality) and were often scorned for doing their job.

The fact was that kidnappings, while rising, were still not as important as other missing cases, of murder and death and the blood-soaked drama that the public watched videos about or saw on the news.

Of genocide, which with the increasing villains and heroes to combat it, seemed to increase on both sides and yet was ignored. Of massacres, of innocent people who only wished to live peacefully. Of the decreasing quirkless population in the world, not due to the fact that quirks have become common, which is true, but because of how many didn’t survive past 18.

Naomasa was a detective. Naomasa was a police officer.

Naomasa had work to do.

The fact was, that with every aspiring hero, with every graduation, every expelled and ridiculed child with shattered dreams, there were just as many villains waiting in the wings for their turn in the public spotlight.

The fact was that villains are made, not created.

The fact was that people were judged for having a ‘villain’s’ quirk, or not having one at all, when the ones with ‘heroic’ quirks can wreak just as much havoc, if not more than most.

The fact was that Naomasa had a lot of work to do.

He takes a deep breath, and picks up his pen.


Aizawa, or Eraserhead, as he is known in the dark of the night, sneaks a peek from behind his wall, staring at the elusive vigilante, Smile, who was crackling madly as they tied the last villain on the lamppost.

The vigilante had strung them all together, tied closely with their feet, on a lamppost. The vigilante then took a piece of colorful paper with smiley faces on it- like all the other notes they’ve received- and unceremoniously slapped it on what appeared to be the ringleader of the group.

They repeated it on all the others, although they didn’t quite slap the note on like they did with the presumed ringleader.

They then whistled a cheerful tune, taking an object from their bag as well, and dropping it a few feet from the villains, and scaling up a roof.

As they left, he hears their plain, giggly, voice say;

“Gettin’ rusty, Eraser?”

Eraserhead feels his eye twitch.

Nevertheless, he fights the urge to chase after the vigilante, and instead walked over to the item Smile had dropped, not very worried about the villains strung up. What could they do? And Smile, as much as Eraserhead loathe to admit, was good at their job.


He glances vaguely at the note Smile had slapped on the villain.

AGE: 45

They all stated something of that degree, for each and every villain. A description of that villain’s quirk, their name, age, job, and charges.


Smile seemed erratic, random. But the fact was that every little detail was planned, up to where Eraserhead had stood.

Smile was unknown territory, Smile was dangerous.

Smile, was unexpected terrain.


Eraserhead doesn’t know whether he fears that, or respects that.


He groans. He wishes that for once , someone doesn’t overthink, and he can actually do his job. Instead. This vigilante, saving people outside of the law, (which is agreeable, Eraserhead often wishes the law was more malleable, but alas, he chose the side of the law.) was doing more than he was, all without the utter garbage that is paperwork.

Then again, he brought this upon himself. Whoever said hero work was easy?

Whoever said he couldn’t handle it? He could , but sometimes? When he fell half asleep, spending most of the night out active and catching villains, the other, paperwork, and the other , teaching stubborn, brash, unoriginal children with little to zero potential.

(You can’t survive on glam and glory, you need to work for it, these children all have images of impressive moves and gaping audiences. They need to save, not exaggerate moves and act out scenes like they are in some kind of movie. )

The faster they learnt that, the better, longer , they can survive.

Shota was a hero, but he sure as heck won’t spend time teaching children how to stop being brats .

(He doesn’t think about Shishikura, not him, not anymore.)

(He doesn’t think about the horror filled gazes, of screams that pleaded for help that never came..)


Shota was a hero, but sometimes he wishes he wasn’t.

Eraserhead doesn’t linger for wishes though, not when there were innocent people he could help, could save.


“Unc’e?” The boy repeats to him. The ‘L’ was kinda gummy, but that was to be suspected- Yaraka’s heart utterly melts at the adorably confused expression on his little chubby cheeks.

“Ah- Uh..” He can do this. He got this. “I’m your uncle, and your mom wanted me to take care of you..” Dammit. That wasn’t what he meant. Now the kid thought that he was staying with him- but he needed to go-. Those huge green eyes glittered up at him as tiny hands made itty-bitty fists as the boy patiently waited for his answer.


Those big eyes blank, the fluffy hair matted with dark red blood, that little smile twisted in horror - But… he just can’t do it. His heart clenches with the knowledge that he was defying her. Maybe he had doomed both of them, maybe this child would grow up in little fragmented pieces like a cracked vase, maybe this was all in vain.


He’s being selfish, but he can’t let go.


“Mama...” the boy repeats, “left?” He stares at Yaraka with wide eyes, too big, too curious, too innocent. What was Yaraka thinking? Did he really wish that harm upon this innocent child, who probably hadn’t even started school?

I am truly horrid. He muses to himself. Truly, honestly, horrid.


“..Uncle?” The boy says again.

He snaps back to reality, and blinks down at the child. So small, so tiny, so fragile..

He shouldn’t get attached, he knows, yet when the child looked at him so trustingly, so naive and innocent, Yaraka’s heart burns, and he aches. 


“Yes?” He responds, so gently, as if the boy would break. He knew that wouldn’t happen, of course, with the child being so strong and smart (sue him, he was already attached.).

“... Can I see Kacchan again, then? Where are we?”

And Yaraka felt so much for this tiny, green headed, dumpling.

“I’m sorry, we’re too far away,” Yaraka then tries to distract him, as a more panicky thought hit him, “...but if you want, we can go play some games!”

The boy complied happily. “Can we watch an All Might movie later? He’s my favorite!”


It was a risk, doing this. They would need papers, probably multiple sets, a place to stay, hair dye and contacts, new identities-

He knew this. He had made a deal with her already, the boy would- should - be gone in a few days time...

The two picked their way through the small apartment, the boy- who Yaraka needs to find the name for, he couldn’t call him by ‘boy’ forever- excitedly looking at awe in the small rooms.

The boy beamed at him, a stranger, barely worth his time.

But sometimes the effort is worth it.

His mother had told him that once, on one particularly late night. It was all the way back when he was just a child, eager to explore and learn about the world, about the stars that lived so brightly in the night, the moon that beamed when the sun set.

The emptiness of space, a vast nothing filled with little pinpricks of light and warmth and life, with tiny little Earth spinning forever through it. She had told him to find his own star, someone bright and full of life that would light up the dark emptiness of his world.

Yaraka never really understood what his mother had meant, but now..

He smiled softly back.

Chapter Text

Okay! I'm so sorry everyone, but I have decided to put this story on Hiatus as I redesign and create the plot and skeleton, bc sometimes I feel like i am stumbling in blind, and I don't want to disappoint anyone with my thoughtless logic! My beta and I have decided to focus on developing the story, and once I DO finish creating the plot, I will go back and rewrite what I have so far so that 1)it fits my current style of writing 2)because its really bad and 3) so that it fits more seamlessly with what will occur later.

I'm so sorry for the Hiatus, but I want my readers to have the best experience with my writing, and I don't think what I have offered is my best.

Thank you for reading everyone! Sorry about the inconvenience!!