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Consciousness came to him slowly, grogginess ebbing away like the sunrise diminishing a black night. He brought a hand to the back of his throbbing head, why did he feel like he was just hit full force with a baseball bat? Oh, it’s because that’s what happened, his mind helpfully provided, memories of being attacked coming back to him in flashes of loud noise and the pungent smell of iron.
Through the blinking fluorescent light that dimly lit the room, he saw nothing but blank walls, a tall ceiling, and a cold metal floor.
Izuku stood shakily, trying to regain some semblance of control over his aching body. He scanned the room for exits, eyes quickly settling on the door centered in the wall to his left. He treaded to it, keeping his steps light and silent. A habit gained from similar situations over the years, though never had he been the hostage.
His hand slid to where there should have been a handle, but his fingers continued to graze over the cold metal. There was no handle, great. Kicking it in? No response other than the echo that sounded through the room mocking his attempts to escape. There were no hinges, no glass, nothing to pick, nothing to break, no way out there. Got it.
He turned back to the room, empty. Or, not so empty? There was something above him, a sort of cloud-like mist had settled through the room like an early morning fog. Upon further inspection, he realized there was a vent. The ceiling was too high to be able to jump to it and,
Kami , he couldn’t breathe . Oh. The gas. He couldn’t breathe.
Shit.
He took a step back, away from the growing could of vapor. Skin hit cold metal as he backed into a wall. He took a shallow breath, attempting to calm himself. A loud crackle pulled him from his stupor; he whipped his head up, scanning the source.
The noise came back, this time with a voice accompanying it. The hum of noise was overpowered by the nasal, almost annoyed voice that he knew well as the leader of a drug ring he had been trying to bust for the past few weeks.
“I’m tired of your constant disruptions of my work. So! I’ve come up with the perfect solution for your misbehaviors. Carbon monoxide is filling this room at a rate of 15 cubic meters per hour. Best of luck, little hero .” The sound was abruptly cut off leaving the room deafeningly silent.
Izuku slumped against the wall, back sliding down until he hit the floor. Well.. that's fun.
He had a decent life, he got to save people, met people whom he actually considered family , he learned how to live. Now, he had to learn how to let himself die.
How long did he have? 15 cubic meters per hour in a room this big should give him what? 10? 15? Minutes. That wasn’t a lot. Maybe enough to contemplate life, come to terms with it a little bit. He began to bounce his leg, the soft tapping of his leather soles grounding him.
Wait... Leather soles? He was still wearing his boots? They didn’t take them? Wow. How much did they underestimate him?
He pulled off his shoe, reaching into it and pulling up the lining until he grabbed a small device. A tracker that doubled as a burner phone. Thankfully, Toshi had made him put one in ‘just in case.’
He dialed on autopilot, the digits sharply ingrained in his mind like they were etched into concrete.
The rings were practically deafening as he waited for his mentor to pick up. Though maybe he was busy, frankly, Izuku had no idea what time it was. “Aizawa,” said the tired hero on the other end of the line, his monotone voice washing over Izuku like a wave of calm in an ocean of panic .
He felt a twist in his gut, did he really want to tell the one adult who ever cared for him? Would it only cause more pain in the end? Should he just hang up and let the hero believe that he would be there next patrol, that his kid would be okay?
“I woke you didn’t I?” He asked instead, keeping his voice soft so that the other wouldn’t notice the roughness in his voice.
“What’s wrong kid?” The man asked in return, voice unusually soft, the kind of tone that most people would never be able to pull from the grump of a hero.
He didn’t want to tell him, if only for one more moment that his dad wouldn’t have to grieve. “I’m sorry,” he said, because he really was. “Tonight's just been,” he took a shallow breath, his lungs contracting as the toxins soaked into them, “hard.” Which was true, tonight had been the hardest he had had since his mom died in that fire, but this was a different kind of hard, one that he couldn’t push through with a blade to his thigh or pushing himself harder on patrols.
“I thought we came to an agreement about your patrolling, kid.” His dry disappointment forced out a sharp exhale from Izuku which quickly in turn triggered a cough that he attempted to play off as a laugh, gotta keep it cool in all.
His lips quirked into a small smirk at the image he had of Eraser in his head; eyebrows raised in vague annoyance that they both knew was really just worry (though the hero was probably still in denial about that), a frown ingrained in tired his face from thinking about how many gray hairs Izuku had given him.
“My facial recognition got a ping so I had to go track down a lead,” Izuku said, half-truth slipping from his lips with an ease that left a bitter taste on his tongue. While he had gotten a ping on his recognition, it had been minor and he had mostly just wanted to blow off some steam from an argument he had gotten into with Toshi about his recklessness, huh, ironic. Shit, will he ever forgive me for this? Will he ever forgive himself for this?
“Well, what happened?” Oh, there it was. He couldn’t skim around this one, he had to tell Eraser, he had to tell- oh kami . Noise from the other end of the line pulled him from his thoughts. “Kid? Rabbit?” And oh how that name hurt, it was probably the last time he would hear someone use that nickname again. He sat with it for a moment, looking around the blurry room, he had what? 2? 3? Minutes, probably less.
“I got,” He took a breath, shuddering as he thought of his ever-looming mortality, “ trapped.” Yeah, trapped wasn’t too bad, he could get out of trapped, it wasn’t too bad, it wasn’t so final. This wasn’t so final.
Silence stretched over the line, precious seconds of his fleeting time being taken up until Eraser filled the space, voice sharp and precise, “Where are you?”
“I’m fine,” he reassured, “I’m fine.” His world tilted on its axis, spinning around, or… maybe not so fine, he leaned his head against the wall and did his best to ignore the dizzy spell he was going through as he contemplated. “It just got me thinking-”
“Kid. Where. Are. You.” Eraser repeated, desperation showing in his voice, he heard a shuffling from the other line. It hurt to ignore the desperation in Eraser’s voice but he continued nonetheless; he needed this moment, needed to say this
“I’m okay Zawa,” He said, struggling with his words slightly as he felt a wave of fatigue flow over him, he shook his head, ignoring the nausea that came with the action. He needed to stay awake.
“Kid…”
He took another breath, head starting to bob up and down. He considered his last year as a vigilante, how Eraser kept pushing for him to go into the rehabilitation course so that he could become a real hero (or as Eraser always said, a “legal” hero).
“I just wanted you to know that I would’ve accepted your offer,” he said, needing Eraser to understand. “I was going to tomorrow when we met up for patrol,” he said almost frantically. Then he whispered quietly, so much so that he didn’t think the other even heard him. “I’m sorry I was too scared before."
“Was? You’re still going to, aren’t you? Just tell me where you are!” Eraser pleaded with an amount of desperation that Izuku had never heard nor ever wanted to hear in his voice.
“The world’s gonna be the same tomorrow as it was today,” he said because it was the truth, no one would care if a single quirkless boy died, no one would even notice. “I’d like to think I made a difference but we both know that nothing much will change.” His voice grew emotionless as if he were stating an undeniable fact.
“Izuku!” Eraser snapped, voice breaking. There was more shuffling from the other end. “Where are you?”
No. Aizawa couldn’t be the one. That would make it so much worse, he couldn’t be the one. His voice barely was a whisper as he tried to keep himself upright. “The second they got me it was too late.”
He heard two sets of breathing from the other end, Zashi must have been with him, good; someone would be there to comfort him.
“It’s okay Zawa. I’m,” he couldn’t breathe, “I’m okay with it. I just.. just wanted you to know.” Was he okay with it? After all this time wanting to die and just when he finally starts to live this happens? The universe really did hate him.
There was a breath from the other line, shaking in a similar rhythm to the tremors going through Izuku’s body. “Tell me where you are, kid. I’ll come get you. You’ll be fine-”
“-I don’t want you to have to be the one to find me-”
“-Everything will be fine kid. I don’t care as long as you’re alright. That’s all that matters-” Oh didn’t it hurt to be loved.
“-I’ll be alright. I’ve already lived much longer than I should’ve-”
“-I am going to go get you and you are going to come home ” –home, home, home, what a wonderful word, a word he would never get to experience– “You’re fifteen. You’re my kid. You’re my kid . You have a life to live, okay? A long life. You’re going to be fine. It’ll be okay.”
His fingertips began to numb but he continued to clutch his phone like a vice as he listened. He spoke but failed to make any sound other than a barely audible choked sob. Tears rolled big and fat down his cheeks, he didn’t want to die .
“You’re okay. I’ll find you-”
“I love you,” he managed, the world floating around him as his mind pulled in and out of focus like he was bobbing in and out of water, his ears ringing like when he would swim to the bottom of the pool as a kid.
“Iz-ku y-u-re n-t dyi-ng.” Dying? No, it couldn’t be. He still needed to tell Toshi that he loved him, that he appreciated everything, how would he know if Izuku didn’t tell him? Did he show it enough? He hoped the people he couldn’t save got rescued by someone else, he hoped he didn’t hurt any of the good people. He didn’t want to die.
“Dad..” He called out, voice scared like a child calling out for their father. Scared like a child wishing they had a little longer. Scared like a child who knew they were going to die.
A clatter echoed through the hollow room like bricks dropped on the milky tiles of a cathedral as his hand finally lost the strength to hold onto his phone. His eyes shifted uncomfortably in their sockets.
The world went dark.