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God, izuku was not feeling too hot right now. Honestly, he's having a really bad day. Even by vigilante definition. He pulls out his phone while walking and barely manages to type in the password correctly. The top headline reads: ‘vigilante ‘;catalyst’ seen fleeing from crime scene with life threatening wounds. Is this the last of musutafu’s safe streak?’.
He was currently hobbling up the stairs of the apartment complex housing the underground pro hero eraserhead, bleeding profusely. He had yet to remove the roughly two inch long knife from his abdomen in fear of bleeding out completely in the street. Izuku looks down at his hand, outstretched to grasp the doorknob to his teacher's apartment, then stops, realizing he broke that wrist escaping from his attacker. Choosing to ignore this, He puts his other hand on the frigid doorknob before belatedly remembering his mask was either dropped or destroyed while engaged in combat. Cursing to himself, he hikes up his ventilator a smidge before knocking. Politely, he waits until shouta opens the door to fall to his knees with a small groan and weak expression.
“what the fuck- catalyst?” is all the pro is able to get out before izuku lets out a heart-shattering whimper.
“shit, holy shit. Lay down.” shouta commands.
“Please, i'm sorry-” izuku tries, choking out a sob seconds later.
A flash of recognition blinds shouta momentarily, but it is easily forgotten while he turns his attention to opening his phone and calling recovery girl, putting pressure on his kid’s wound.
“Hey, breathe for me.”
Letting out another choked out sound, he seems lost in thought for a moment, before his face contorts into one of resignation and he takes off his hood and ventilator. His eyes roam to shouta’s, and a pang of guilt digs its way through his pain.
“...midoriya?” shouta takes a valuable second to think about what it means to have your student- a vigilante-, a vigilante you've been chasing for two years- your problem child- bleeding out on your living room floor, but regains some semblance of focus and coaxes the vulnerable child into holding onto his hand and waiting for help.
Shouta tries not to think about how shuzenji’s quirk could easily kill this boy if he passes out from blood loss before she gets to his apartment. He tries not to dwell on the way the sweet boy’s eyelids flutter from time to time and shouta has to refocus his eyes, waving a hand in front of his face in an attempt to keep his conscious. He doesn't even begin to wonder why the smell of blood in the air is so much more hopeless than the crime scenes he normally visits.
Shouta is a pro hero, he has dealt with worse and just because it is his one and only problem child staining the carpet red, he will make it out alive. He will. He has to.
...right?
Profanities and doubt are coursing through shouta’s mind along with any hope he still has for his kid.
“Aizawa i-im so sorry- i- i cant-”
“Stop talking.” the boy flinches at that so shouta reiterates: “You need to save your energy- whatever it is can wait.”
“No i- i dont- … i dont think im gonna make it, aizawa.” izuku finally spits out with a pained expression.
Shouta aizawa just stares at the boy.
“No, shuzenji is two minutes away, just hold on a little bit longer. Please izuku.”
“Aizawa-” izuku chokes, and promptly coughs out a mouthful of blood. ‘Fuck.’ izuku mutters after he notices the coppery taste in the back of his throat and coating his teeth.
“Thank y-you, for e-everything,” while a little morbid, shouta lets the boy go on in case these really are his last words, “i-i really am sorry for a-all the trouble i've c-caused you, a-and i'm sorry f-for keeping m-my identity hid- dden from you.”
“Kid that doesn't matter to me right now-”
“No i h-have to tell you. I-i have- i-” a whimper.
“I have all might’s quirk.”
Shouta freezes, and slowly repeats, “You have… all might’s- his quirk?”
A small nod from the boy, and a wave of pain from the jerky movement evident on his face.
“I got it the day of the entrance exam.” he answers with a sad smile.
“Hold on- what?”
“It can be t-transfered through DNA. i-i didn't have a quirk before.” with that final sentence, shouta finally understands izuku.
He understands why the child’s bones imploded when he used his quirk for what was the first time. he understands why the kid both had a ridiculously high pain tolerance and flinched whenever someone raised their voice at him. he finally, finally, understands every single starburst-shaped scar on his arms, understands why his eyes seem to dull whenever bakugo used his quirk, or went limp when anyone grabbed him. he knew. he saw the signs and chose to ignore it because how would a kid with such a devastatingly powerful quirk not have a good childhood? the doubt seeps back in. he definitely noticed the way izuku seemed to only speak when spoken to, and talk like he only had so much time before they became uninterested in what he was saying. he noticed the way izuku seemed to lessen his presence by curling in on himself, and his footsteps: carefully quiet, but loud enough to not spook anyone.
All because he was quirkless. and wow, shouta knows. he’s seen the suicide rate, how 96% of quirkless individuals were suicide baited regularly by peers. how others act around them, how they seem to avoid the topic of quirks at all times. and he didn’t want to even imagine his child going through something like that.
his- ...what?
his child? like he had possession over izuku.
Did he want it? questions for another time.
His attention fully back to izuku, he pulls his hand and bloody bandages away from the boy’s stomach, winning himself another cry that somehow managed to pull on his heartstrings the most that night.
god,- please. Now shouta is in no way a religious person, but his desperation was enough for even him to believe in a higher power.
“i- i- d-don't wanna die.”
“you- you’re not gonna die kid.” shouta responds, more reassurance for himself than the boy.
shouta presses his free hand to izuku’s face and feels his skin; so unbelievably hot shouta has to pull his hand away almost immediately. He curses every deity he can think of for living so far away from a hospital.
“you can- g-give it to whoever y-you want b-but don’t use it o-okay? it hurts.”
“what are you-” he’s cut off with the taste of blood as if the smell and sticky feeling assaulting his senses weren’t enough. he looks down to izuku and sees his hand outstretched near shouta’s mouth-
no. no no. DNA- oh fuck me.
shouta sits a little straighter while adjusting to the newfound ache in all of his body for reasons unknown. He notices the sheer power simmering under his skin, his bones, his heart. It makes him jittery, hyper even. Shouta is not hyper. Looking back at Izuku, he notices the kid visibly shudder, then relax as the power leaves him. The child looks calm, something shouta has never seen on his face. Shouta on the other hand, is trembling with the efforts of trying to contain the massive ball of energy trying to claw its way out of his chest. A tear falls from izuku’s eye and rolls down his cheek.
Izuku feels like he really wants to sleep. Izuku also knows that ‘sleep’ in this case isn't just a mid-afternoon nap. It's the very likely chance of not ever waking up. He uses everything in him to keep his eyes open until the help he needs gets to shouta’s apartment.
“I didn't want it to die with me.”
Shuuzenji was not expecting a call from aizawa shouta at eleven at night but here she is; the front door of her good friend and colleague. She wastes no time hastily opening the door and is met halfway to the living room floor with an uncharacteristically jittery and devastated aizawa shouta. She makes her way around him and immediately pales.
Shouta leaves izuku for twenty seconds to bring shuzenji to him and regrets it. Upon walking back into the room, he notices the blood on the floor is a lot more that that boy could ever hold in his body.
His quirk was keeping him alive. “Izuku.” shouta whispers.
Recovery girl all but runs to Izuku's side and falls to her knees, pressing a kiss to his head.
It didn't do anything.
his hands didn't go back to their rosy pink and instead still have a blue-purple tint. His body was still burning hot to the touch; but hands freezing cold and clammy. Shouta finally gains the confidence to look towards shuzenji and immediately regrets it. She is covered in his blood, never-ending tears falling from her eyes.
Just as she turns her head to look back at shouta just as izuku’s body crackles with green lightning.
Shouta can’t believe his eyes. The kid bolts upright and lets out a scream of agony as he collapses in on himself holding his wound.
Holy fuck the kid is floating. He watches as izuku faintly glows a golden yellow and hovers a couple feet from the ground. The scars littering his hands start to glow an even more brilliant yellow-orange. Shouta also sees thin, pale lines up and down his forearms and thighs glow, and wonders where he went wrong as a teacher and educator. The final few scars and the newest (from the stab wound) glow akin to the others and the boy chokes on his own breath and shrieks, likely waking the entire apartment complex.
Izuku’s quirk abruptly comes to a stop and he falls to the floor hard. Expecting the worse, his teachers rush to his limp body as he takes in a shaky breath. Izuku finally regains enough strength to sit up with the help of shuzenji and he says what everyone is thinking.
“What the actual fuck?”
“Language, problem child.” izuku looks at his teacher (who is now in tears) and shamelessly jumps into his arms. Izuku wails apologies and sobs into his teacher's shoulder.
Shouta is the most relieved he's been in years.