Chapter Text
Izuku Yamazawa did not consider himself to be a trouble magnet. Sure, bad things happened to him a lot, but that was just luck. Or lack thereof. The universe is random, fate doesn’t exist, and people can’t be magnets for trouble because that makes no sense whatsoever.
Right? Well…
As Izuku was being chased through the streets of downtown Musutafu by two very angry and probably armed individuals at barely one in the morning, he was starting to reconsider his view of himself.
It started simply: they were out of milk.
Izuku bolted awake in his darkened room, chest heaving for air, eyes frantically searching for Aizawa’s injured form. They didn’t have much time to get out before Overhaul—
Glow in the dark star stickers flickered on the ceiling, a soft yellow gleam. Faded vintage posters of various heroes (mostly Present Mic and Eraserhead) lined the walls, colorful and well-kept, barely visible in the dim lighting. Crickets chirped quietly from outside the bedroom’s cracked window.
It was a dream. It was just a dream.
Rubbing his face tiredly, Izuku took a few deep breaths. He was safe. He was in his room, at home. He was safe. It was just a nightmare. He was safe. He repeated these words to himself for a few minutes, looking around his bedroom carefully as if trying to convince himself it was real.
Izuku sighed, looking at the digital clock on his bedside table. It was past midnight, which meant that Aizawa was still out on patrol. It also meant that Izuku had only been asleep for two hours. Great.
Normally, after a nightmare like that, Izuku would work on his analysis notebooks, or tinker with some unfinished inventions lying scattered around his room. But his heart was still racing and his eyes burned every time he blinked and if he stayed in his bedroom he’d be driven insane by morning, so he clambered out of bed and into the kitchen, looking for something to eat.
Settling on a bowl of cereal, Izuku rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, wincing at the brightness of the refrigerator’s light as he looked for milk—
And was met by a milk-less fridge.
He looked back at his bowl of cereal, dry and sad looking, before making the executive decision to do some early morning grocery shopping at the 24-hour convenience store nearby. He knew that his parents wouldn’t mind, as they trusted him enough to run errands by himself, but he made sure to leave a note for Hizashi just in case he woke up before Izuku was back.
Donning a sweatshirt and some sneakers atop his pajamas, Izuku headed to the store, happy to get some exercise to distract himself from the buzzing of his brain. The surrounding neighborhood wasn’t very busy at night, so Izuku could hear frogs singing happily around him, the sounds of the city a distant melody. He departed from the convenience store, milk in hand, within minutes of leaving the house, a content smile on his face. The night sky above shone brightly, the moon and stars dancing before him. It was a beautiful sight; he never truly got tired of being outside, especially after being held captive for so long.
Continuing his relaxed pace down the sidewalk, Izuku hummed a little tune to himself, a little song stuck in his head from Hizashi’s radio show the previous night. He was finally starting to relax, the tension in his shoulders bleeding away—
“What do you mean ‘got away’? ” A gruff voice demanded somewhere ahead of Izuku, hidden from view in the darkness. Izuku immediately slowed his pace, paying careful attention to his surroundings, as another voice responded.
“I mean, the kid ran! He must have slipped out of the rope or something ‘cause he’s not here now!”
That… didn’t sound good. At all. Izuku couldn’t see the two people talking– both adult men, from the sound of their voices, but Izuku never wanted to assume.
“Fucking hell, can you not do anything right? If we don’t show up with a kid tonight, boss is literally going to chop my dick off.”
Izuku couldn’t help himself. He snorted. The voices fell silent, as Izuku realized that he was much closer to the two individuals than he had previously thought.
Two tall, well-built men stepped out of the alleyway on his right, their eyes dark as they appraised him.
After years of running from bullies, and then running from villains, Izuku knew well enough to trust his instincts. And his instinct was telling him to run the fuck away. So that’s exactly what he did. Clutching the half-gallon of milk tightly in his hand, Izuku darted swiftly around the two figures and into the street, racing as fast as his legs could take him.
“Did we need that kid in particular, or just any kid?” Izuku heard one of the men say behind him.
“Boss doesn’t care. This one works just fine.” The once-quiet night was now filled with the sounds of a pursuit— heavy footsteps pounded against the concrete, muttered curses wheezed out in between breaths.
Izuku knew that he should call Aizawa, or even Hizashi. But Izuku was tired. He was tired and hungry and he wanted to go home and eat cereal with milk. His critical thinking skills were… limited at the moment, to say the least. So, he just focused on running. Sprinting in and out of various sideroads, Izuku blocked the path behind him whenever he could, throwing garbage cans or stray cats at his followers in between strides.
His heart pounding from the adrenaline, Izuku searched for more opportunities to lose his followers. It was darker in the alleyways than on the street, and he could barely make out the street ahead of him. The sound of the two men barreling towards him was loud in his ears, so loud and so, so familiar.
For just a moment, it was the Doctor running behind him, chasing after Izuku, closing in on him.
Distracted by the painful memory, Izuku didn’t see the discarded pile of wires on the ground ahead of him. Still running at full speed, his foot caught on the wires and he flew forward, his body hitting the pavement and tumbling harshly before stopping. The milk was thrown somewhere in the fall, but Izuku couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Head pounding and body stinging, Izuku staggered upwards, all too aware of the noises from his pursuers growing louder and louder behind him. He began to run away again when his right ankle locked up, throwing him onto his knees.
A surge of fear hit him like a punch to the gut. Izuku frantically tugged at his foot, trying to get the metal joint to unlock, to work with him , but he knew it was a losing battle. He didn’t have any tools with him, and had no way of fixing his foot in the time that he had. Gritting his teeth, Izuku turned his body in the direction of the approaching men, bracing himself on the concrete. In a swift and practiced movement, he reached behind him and drew the small dagger he kept clipped to his pajama bottoms (it’s not paranoia if someone’s actually out to get you).
Upon catching up to Izuku and seeing him on the ground, the two men slowed slightly, but not by much. The larger of the two, a broad-chested man with dark clothes and a bandana on his face, lunged forward, trying to pin Izuku down, not noticing the knife in the boy’s hand.
Without hesitation, Izuku twisted to the side, gripping his blade tightly and positioning it facing slightly downwards, close to his attacker but not pointed directly to him. As the man’s body soared past Izuku, the blade cut a shallow path through his exposed side without Izuku even moving his wrist. The man let out a pained growl, hitting the ground roughly, obviously not expecting Izuku to have a knife.
With widening eyes and a sinking heart, Izuku realized the position he was currently in.
He was cornered. Trapped in a narrow alleyway, with both exits blocked off by his attackers.
Izuku tried to think, to make something work. He looked at the man he had cut (he really had injured himself, Izuku just held the knife), trying to get a bearing of his surroundings, but the second man chose that moment to dart forward. Izuku whipped his head back, barely having enough time to brace himself before the man’s body slammed into his, knocking both of them to the ground. The air forced from his lungs, Izuku struggled to breathe, his chest aching. Rocks and broken glass from the ground dug into Izuku’s back, the side of his head stinging sharply; his knife was thrown somewhere behind him, but he couldn't reach to grab it even if he tried, too busy grappling with the second attacker.
Izuku slammed his knee into the man’s gut, momentarily stunning him for long enough to wrench himself out from underneath his weight, still trying to get his breath back. He tried to take a step forward but his ankle was still locked, and the first attacker was closer than before and Izuku just wanted a goddamn bowl of cereal with milk.
Assessing the situation he was in, Izuku knew it wasn’t looking good. The two men were quickly recovering from his attacks, and Izuku couldn’t run. His knife was on the ground a few feet away, but it was blocked by the taller of the men at the moment. Great.
Izuku’s eyes flickered to the alleyway's contents. Wire, trash, rocks. By his foot was an abandoned beer bottle. He would have to make it work.
With a resigned sigh, Izuku lifted his arms in the air, palms facing out. “Look, I can’t move. My foot hates me and I don’t have any more weapons. I’ll stop fighting, just… just don’t try and knock me out, please. I already have a headache and I really don’t need a concussion.”
The men stared at Izuku. Then at each other. Then at Izuku again. Izuku widened his eyes, trying to make himself look as pitiful as possible. He lowered himself to his knees again slowly, arms still raised. “See? Not fighting. I’m done. You win.”
The men seemed to overcome their stupor at his words. Approaching Izuku quickly, the second man grabbed his left arm and twisted it painfully behind Izuku’s back. Izuku stifled a wince, waiting for the first man to walk just a little bit-
There!
With his free hand, Izuku grabbed the empty beer bottle, rotating his body and swinging his arm out in the direction of the man holding his arm. He was worried that he wouldn’t hit his target because of how dark it was, but the shattering of glass and the cry of shock and pain behind him assured him that his aim was true. Wasting no time, Izuku shifted his body again, slamming his elbow directly backwards into the first man’s crotch, the perfect height for Izuku to reach on his knees (not as dirty as it sounds).
Within seconds the men were on the ground, groaning in pain, but Izuku wasn’t done. He grabbed the largest rock he could find and slammed it onto his ankle’s metallic joint hard enough to get the mechanism to unlock.
The ‘click’ that followed was like music to Izuku’s ears. He breathed a sigh of relief, the tension in his shoulders relaxing only slightly.
He looked to his left, where the men were still writhing on the ground. Then to the rock in his hand, a little bit bigger than the size of a baseball.
Yeah, he could make this work.
An hour later, the two men were whisked off by the closest police officer on duty sporting mild concussions, a stab wound, and a bruised taint. All in all, Izuku was proud of himself for his showcase of self-restraint. Aizawa, who had just finished his nightly patrol, was not as pleased with Izuku. Now back in the comfort of his own home (no milk in hand, sadly), Izuku had to face the wrath of his father.
“Let me get this straight. You leave the house at midnight to get milk.” Aizawa’s tired voice was stern, and his gaze was cold.
“Yes,” Izuku responded, unfazed by his dad’s judgment.
“You get attacked by human traffickers.”
“I mean, I think they were human traffickers. Maybe just normal kidnappers?” Izuku tilts his head. Aizawa scowls.
“You manage to fight them off and get them arrested.”
“Bingo.” Izuku flashes a pair of finger guns in Aizawa’s direction. Aizawa’s scowl deepens.
“And not once,” Aizawa activates Erasure now, and Izuku’s sarcastic attitude begins to slip. “Not once did you think to call me for backup?” Glaring at Izuku, Aizawa’s eye flashed scarlet, his hair floating threateningly around his face.
“I— I didn’t…” Izuku paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to his hands, still bloody and scratched from having fallen in the alleyway. He still could feel the terror in his veins; not of the men themselves, but of the possibility that he’d be taken away again. The crawling sensation of dread and anxiety and fear that had torn through Izuku when he realized that he was trapped —
A heavy hand on his shoulder pulled Izuku out of his head. Looking up, his gaze met his dad’s, no longer tinged with anger. All Izuku saw in Aizawa’s eye was sadness. Worry. Fear.
“Kid…” Aizawa’s voice broke. “Just, please, call me next time. Okay?”
Izuku didn’t realize he had been crying until strong arms pulled him into a warm embrace. They stood like that in the dark living room until Aizawa pulled back, examining Izuku as best he could in the dim lighting.
“Let’s get you checked up. Can’t have you bloody on your first day of school.” Aizawa sighed, patting Izuku once more on the shoulder before gently guiding him to the bathroom where they kept their first-aid kit.
Inwardly, Izuku groaned. He had forgotten that today was the first day of school. The clock in the hallway said it was barely four in the morning. If he were lucky, he’d get a solid hour of sleep in. As Aizawa helped him patch up a gash on his forehead and the skid marks on his hands and knees, Izuku made peace with drinking coffee instead. After all, he still had to pick up some milk from the store for breakfast.
Actually... maybe he’d let Hizashi do that. That seemed like a better idea.