run boy run
Kudou Shinichi was born on May 4th, 18:34 PM, in the delivery ward of Beika Hospital, to Kudou Yukiko and Kudou Yuusaku.
He was probably the baby with the biggest set of lungs his nurses have ever met— brought into the world kicking and screaming with eyes that glowed a brilliant blue. His mother giggled at his ferocity, while his father smiled like the dawning sun.
Ten minutes later, somebody screamed.
Aizawa Shouta was born on November 8th, 01:53 AM, in the Emergency Room of Musutafu Hospital, to Aizawa Reina and Aizawa Kazuki.
He was probably the quietest baby his nurses have ever met— he came into the world deathly silent, face set into a constipated expression with eyes that shouted WHY ME?! to anyone that bothered to look. His mother had passed out in exhausted sleep, arms curled around her son protectively. His father flitted around, fretting and full of worry.
Not even two minutes later, someone screamed.
—
Fate, thou art a bitch.
Aizawa Shouta, that's the name this baby body of Kudou Shinichi is called. Other than the slight change in hair color, his appearance was pretty much the same, which was probably the only redeeming quality of his entire situation.
From experience, Shinichi can confidently say that being a baby was probably the most boring job in existence.
He's been de-aged, took down the largest criminal empire within two years, solved over four thousand homicides before he hit eighteen, became Tokyo Division One's blue-eyed darling before he was out of kindergarten, and did a lot of other stuff that would send a lesser man straight to the psychiatric ward.
Shinichi thought he would be given a break before the universe threw his life through the grinder, AGAIN. But noooo— he somehow gets reborn without his motherfucking consent and now has to spend his life living in a world filled with ridiculous superpowers.
Shinichi wants a refund. He DEMANDS a refund.
He also wants compensation for emotional damages. You wanna know why?
He was conscious during his second birth.
Shinichi could handle bodies, blown-up pieces of flesh and the aftermath of torture. He's also delivered babies before, nothing new about seeing women's vaginas being stretched beyond comprehension.
But beING FULLY CONSCIOUS DURING HIS OWN BIRTH?!
He was traumatized, thank you.
As soon as he figures out how to get back home, he's telling Akako to contact the thing that's in charge of shit like this so that he could have a talk with them.
Speaking of home— does it still count as a long-distance relationship if you're in different universes? Shinichi isn't naive enough to think he'd be able to shake off his favorite magician now that Kaito managed to permanently-romantically attach himself to him.
(For clarification, yes, Shinichi has a husband, and yes, the wedding is as colorful and ridiculous as you thought it would be.)
His people must be freaking out. Scratch that, he knows his friends and family are freaking out. Mentally wincing, Shinichi sends out apologies to the government branch that handles all things Beika-related, because Rei-nii alone would bring the might of the Zeroth Division on to their heads. Shinichi can only hope Japan is still standing when the lot of them are through with their investigation.
Apologies, his-world-Japan, he can't offer you anything besides a promise that he'll figure out how to come home and stop his family's reign of terror on your lands.
…He'll do that eventually.
Besides the level of mental gymnastics required to handle the schematics of his spontaneous rebirth, this world's weird super-biology, and the boring life of a newly-born baby— Shinichi was fine, all things considered.
Apart from hearing the occasional screams of a murder victim, that is.
Good to know at least one thing remains constant.
—
There is a saying: “Man makes plans and God laughs.”
If that's true, Shinichi, henceforth referring to himself as Shouta just to get used to his new name, would like to march up to heaven and sucker punch the moron.
It's YOUR fault that I'm alive right now!! Leave. Me. Alone!!!
Looking at the fresh corpse that nearly caused his premature death because it fell from the sky— literally, what the fuck, Heiji isn't even here— Shouta grumpily pulled out the phone his now-parents had gotten him after seeing him stumble over three dead bodies on the first day of preschool.
“Musutafu Police Depart—”
“Hi, Azuka-san, it's me again. I need the 23rd forensics team and Division One. There's a dead body here at the 7th intersection on Shikuyo Street. Victim is male, bat mutation quirk, time of death: possibly two to four hours ago, livor mortis is starting to set in. Their skull is shattered due to the impact of the fall, I can see more than three protruding bones from here. Primary crime scene is probably on the twenty-fifth floor of the office building above us— there's an open window big enough for the vic to fit through. Definitely a murder— there's about nine stab wounds, I think there's a press-on nail in one of them— ah, found the wallet. Victim’s name is Takeyashi Susuba. There's a receipt here for a bar in District 8, called Creatures of The Night. Can you send a squad to check it out?”
“...Shou-kun, this is the fifth time you've called about a dead body today.”
“Before you ask, no, it's not my quirk, my fourth birthday is two weeks away and we've already gone to the quirk doctor yesterday. I have my gloves, white suit, face mask, shoe and hair coverings on. My forensics kit is filled out and the crime scene is already sectioned off with the yellow tape and everything. No, I did not steal it— Tsuji-keibu gave it to me last month. Also, can I have another roll later? Mine's running out.”
“...you know what kid, sure. Want me to write you a late notice for your school too?”
“Thanks, Azuka-san. I see the squad car now. See you later?”
“Sure kiddo. Bye, now.”
“Bai.”
The fact that the operators on M.P.D.'s emergency line didn't even bother with their usual tirade of ‘Are you okay?’s and ‘You speak very well for a three-year-old, Shouta-kun’s spoke volumes of how far they've come. It took the operators at his T.P.D. over two years to get used to it. Maybe living in a world filled with walking bioweapons conditioned people to have some Pavlovian response to seeing random three-year-olds solve murders like a war-worn veteran.
It was good to know homicides still decided to imprint on him like little baby ducks. They follow him around like ducklings too.
He's three. He shouldn't be dealing with this shit.
His now-parents are having enough heart attacks as it is. It was pretty weird to have his Mom and Dad dote and worry about him as they did, when Kaa-chan and Tou-san would be helping him terrorize his classmates like the overgrown pair of children they were.
But hey, Shouta's toddler ass is soaking up the affection like a sponge, so he's not complaining.
Ducking under the tape, he removed his gloves and mask with a long-suffering sigh, chucking them into a yellow hazmat bag he keeps in his backpack. The white forensic suit crinkled as Shouta opened a Crunky dark chocolate bar.
At least whatever unofficially reincarnated him (because you have to die for it to actually count as reincarnation) made sure the good snacks were still in stock. If chocolate went crazy like bananas did, Shouta doesn't think he would bother to live.
“Shouta-kun!”
Ah, time to put on his uncertified-child-genius act.
“Good day, Inspector!”
—
Shouta was very happy with his quirk.
He can erase other people’s quirks. Amazing. Great. Perfect quirk to chase criminals down.
Now… if only he had his shoes, watch, glasses and belt. Then he'd be set for life.
His parents were also amazed, and their little family spent a night out in celebration.
Privately, Shouta's been training his quirk non-stop. Sure, it resulted in some serious dry eye, but it's nothing some eye drops and on-command crying can't fix.
Besides that, nothing else of note happened in his life, currently.
His parents got him tested and certified, so Shouta was finally able to skip grades and attend college. The division problems were making him twitchy.
He failed Quirk History, though. It only took about two months of remedial lessons, but he made it through. Serves Shouta right for forgetting the day the Meta Liberation Army Disbanded.
He’s five now. His current accomplishments are: having Musutafu's Division One on speed dial, getting accepted into the University of Tokyo (which was child's play compared to Beika U.), getting an under-the-table part-time job in that dusty old bookshop that Akatani Mikumo-Oji ran and being officially registered with the government as a preschool-aged detective and given an honor badge to fully operate.
Shouta knew intimately the amount of paperwork that went in just to continuously register his statement at various crime scenes, having been the one to fill them out as soon as his thirteenth birthday passed.
Took them long enough. Poor Tsuji-keibu, having to fill out forty separate forms just to document all the evidence.
Ah… I miss my Division One. Megure-keibu and Takagi-keiji would be ripping their hair out by now.
As if on cue the tell-tale scream of a discovered body sounded.
It should be concerning that Shouta could tell the difference between different types of screams.
Sighing, he texted his mom, dialed Musu.’s D1 and pulled on his gloves.
Time to get to work.
—
He was six when tragedy struck.
Shouta was in his Criminal Law class (which was made interesting with quirks involved) when a harried administrator interrupted it, and discussed something with the professor in hushed tones. He paid her no mind, and continued to doodle in the margins of his notes, waiting for the professor to resume his lecture.
“Aizawa-san, you're excused for the rest of the day— please follow Yamada-san here, your other professors will be informed.”
Shouta has always liked Midoriya-sensei. The man's no-nonsense attitude and passion for his subject was something to be admired. Unlike most of his professors who tend to baby him, Midoriya-sensei addressed him like he would any other student.
Very logical. I like that.
Shouta gathered his supplies, and bounced his too-big backpack down the stairs like the little kid he was. It was fun playing up the preschool-child persona and maneuvering his classmates to treat him like their collective little brother. It was even more hilarious watching them get a mental whiplash whenever his name comes out on top of the rankings and announced at assemblies.
Innocently trailing after Yamada-san, who seemed reluctant to tell him what was happening, Shouta resorts to Contingency A: Big Blue Kitten Eyes.
“Yamada-san?” - He asked, voice pitched; tilting his face and widening his eyes, - “What's going on?”
The blonde woman seemed to steel herself at his question, only to crack into pieces as soon as she met his eyes. Yamada collapsed, tears spilling out uncontrollably. Shouta panicked, fluttering around her worriedly.
“Yamada-san? Are you okay? Should I call the school's office? What's wrong—”
“Sweetie.” - Her voice broke, hands gently cupping his cheeks, - “Your parents are dead.”
What?
Everything was a blur after that.
Shouta doesn’t remember the ride home. Doesn't remember hearing the officer's condolences when the other informed him that the Aizawas were casualties of a villain attack. Doesn't talk to anyone and doesn't respond to anything.
There was only one thing on his mind.
Aizawa Reina and Aizawa Kazuki were dead, his parents were dead.
The rational, adult-Shinichi side of his brain said that no, our parents are still alive and whole back in our world; while the very-much-a-six-year-old-child-Shouta side of his brain yelled back NO! OUR PARENTS ARE DEAD!!!
The worst part?
His child side wasn't wrong.
Shinichi's parents were his best friends, his companions. They weren't any sort of parental authorities in his mind— they were more like eccentric guardians that took care of him. They loved each other, the three of them— there was no doubt about that.
But it was a known fact that Yukiko and Yuusaku weren't really parent material, though they tried to be. Shinichi was an accident, a happy one that they would repeat with no regrets, but it doesn't change the fact that they weren't ready. They were so young back then— Kaa-chan was just twenty-one when she had him, and Tou-san was twenty-two.
Hell, one of his questionable father figures growing up was Uncle Kogoro. After his de-aging adventure as Conan, he also had a newly-added mother figure. Shinichi would rather give up on a case, stage his own murder and fuck off to Anartica before he ever willingly admit who that was.
(It was Rei-nii. Don't you dare judge him, the PSB's golden boy had an adoption problem, it wasn't Shinichi's fault that he was a casualty. Furuya Rei mothers anything and everything within his vicinity that looks remotely sad, ask literally anybody.)
As Shouta, he had actual parents. Both of them worked, but they always made sure to spend time with him and tell him about their day. Mom handles the finances since she's good with numbers, and would sometimes fix the plumbing or the car when the situation calls for it. Dad cooks, cleans and would patch up his clothes when he accidentally rips them from playing.
It's not the most traditional household, no, but his parents were good ones, and that’s more than most can say. They take turns with him for the other to catch a break, and have separate bonding activities with him. Dad teaches him how to make and prepare meals, while Mom shows him the inner mechanics of household appliances and how to fix them.
Dad's the one to take him out shopping, teaching him how the lining should look for this type of shirt, how this blend of fabric would clump together over time and wouldn't be a sustainable purchase, and how to find durable and comfortable clothing for everyday use. Mom's the one to bring him to the local dojo, going on runs with him in the afternoons and taking him out for ice cream.
Dad instructs him how to sew, Mom trains him in dick kicks and sucker punches. Dad steadies his hands as he makes his first stir-fry, Mom coaches him through soccer drills and endurance exercises. After school, both of his parents would be there to pick him up; and if one of them got off work early, Shouta and his other parent would find them curled up in front of the TV and calling out a sweet ‘Welcome home!’.
They were there. They were his parents. So, he could mourn them, right?
…right?
Logically, Shouta knew he could. The Aizawas were his parental figures, there's nothing wrong with having more than one pair. But emotionally, he felt the tiniest bit guilty for replacing Kaa-chan and Tou-san.
But then again, nobody said grief or feelings had to make sense.
With that thought, Shouta finally broke down sobbing.
—
He hated it here.
Shouta was now seven, and was ready to just go home already.
He's smart enough to know that for a kid in the foster system, he was very well off compared to others with similar prejudices against their quirks. His status as a certified child genius, black flag mark in the government’s registry, and active participation in the city's homicide department ensures his social worker would be under heavy scrutiny if he were to be mistreated.
That doesn't mean Shouta wasn't being put through the ringer. The stupid manager of his group home was utterly useless. She's drunk off her ass the entire time she's awake, neglects her basic duties as their primary caregiver and just keeps pushing off her responsibilities.
Shouta is seven-fucking-years-old, and he is being parentified to the fucking sun.
Who wakes the other children up, cooks them breakfast, makes their bentos and ensures they are presentable for school?
He did.
Who spends all of his money on basic hygiene products, groceries and clothing for the other children?
He did.
Who cooks, cleans, compliments the kids on their good work and asks them if they were having a good time at school?
He did.
Who has to stay up all night with three snot-nosed four-year-olds when the last flu season hits?
He did.
Who was the one to teach a fucking six-year-old about asexual reproduction, thelytokous parthenogenesis, menstration and childbirth because the poor kid had a caped honey-bee mutation and was confused when her biology teacher made an inappropriate comment?
He did, and he set the full wrath of his boss’ daughter onto the woman.
Shouta would've pitied that teacher, if she wasn't being such a discriminatory aluminum can and an annoyance. But alas, she was one, so he sees no problem in getting her fired.
Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that he loved his part-time job in the Akatani's dusty bookshop and the MD1 officers’ constant protective hovering, Shouta would've thrown in the towel and ran away a long time ago.
University was damn tiring, and he hasn't even hit puberty yet. Plus the fact that he's being parentified, his murder cases being plain extra extra, and now he has to deal with his surrogate siblings’ quirkist teachers…
The damn Oji-san and his daughter were too observant, sometimes. Inko-neechan would've been a damn good pediatric nurse with her experience handling him if she wasn't so dead set on being a lawyer.
Considering the amount of cases that needed it though… Shouta could sort of see the point.
Inko-neechan was smart, cunning. The world needs it, she likes doing it, and it makes obscene amounts of money if she can win her cases. She was like Auntie Eri in every way.
Maybe he should introduce Midoriya-sensei to her. The man was as sharp as a whip, if a bit behind when it comes to women-related problems.
They would get along like Rei-nii's sourdough and Chi-nii's curry. That is, a Black Organization warehouse rigged with explosives and gasoline.
The thought of his favorite big brother agents made him giggle, but it was a moot point compared to his entire situation right now.
Shouta was just so… tired.
He could feel himself slipping, his actions are getting more clumsy, his caution was being thrown out of the window, and everything he does feels lethargic and heavy.
This is dangerous. Very dangerous. Especially with his corpse-magnet tendencies.
And he was proven right.
His newest operation started off with witnessing a little girl's death. Homicide cases were always worse when children got involved.
It was a usual murder-suicide situation. Only the murder was of a seven-year-old girl named Hanako and the near-suicide was her father, who was also her pimp. The M.O was pretty standard— shit situation, in deep debt, and that pile of human feces sold Hanako to pedophiles for money. She got killed when one of his ‘clients’ with a knife quirk got too excited and speared her like a human shish-kebab.
Human nature is a curious thing, because no matter how much crap life throws at you, there is still something that wants you to survive.
Hanako managed to drag herself out to the bigger streets, in pain, and the crows above noticed.
(The strays that live in the back alleys of Musutafu were long used to the sight of him poking around their territories to handle dead bodies. Shouta had to keep himself stocked on treats once The 5th Lady (she was a dilute calico that governed the clan of stray cats on the 5th street) figured out that if a cat led him to the bodies, they'd get food. From there, the ravens and crows noticed, then the pigeons and owls, and the rest followed.
Shouta set up a system with the animals— the Corvids poke around in the slums, the cats and dogs handle the metropolitan area, and the pigeons and other wilder animals handle the parks and forests. Between the four conspiracies of ravens, three crow murders, five cat clowders, two dog packs, one flock of pigeons and a parliament of owls, he has his bases covered.
Shouta admits he had some fun naming the different groups. The conspiracies were named after playing suites: Club, Clover, Diamond and Hearts. The murders were christened after the Three Acts: One, Two and Three. The five clowders are titled the Five Rivers of Hades: Acheron, Phlegethon, Lethe, Cocytus, and Styx. The packs were called Yin and Yang, the flock was dubbed Cathedral and the parliament was now known as the Court of Owls.)
Hanako had caught the attention of the Act Two murder, which dragged him there immediately. Shouta wasn't fast enough to stop her from dying. He was fast enough to call the Division One officers, right before Hanako's sperm donor and ‘client’ found him beside her body.
What came next was a tense fourteen hour long hostage situation, and after all was said and done, he was beyond exhausted.
He just wanted to go home.
Shouta— Shinichi— could feel himself physically about to shut down, about to spiral into a non-verbal episode and knows he's about to feel like he's drowning for hours on end. Back there, back in Beika, back home— he had people he trusted to guide him through those, to make him feel like he's floating and safe.
But not here. There was no one here to help him, not in this world.
Stumbling out of the station, he kept walking mindlessly, vaguely aware of his surroundings. Hell, if a rando off the streets decided that he was easy pickings, he wouldn't even be able to properly kick them in the balls.
Dangerous… dangerous…
At least back home, Shinichi had people. He couldn't be M.I.A. for two hours before Ai would track his location to make sure he's safe. He can't pass the time in silence, instead, he's surrounded by constant text notifications from his family or gets stuck in the middle of a chaotic three-way hangout between the Teitans, the Ekodans and the Osakans. He wouldn't be able to solve a murder without seeing his favorite Division One officers or attend a KID heist without Division Two hot on his heels.
Shinichi could confidently strut into any hideout, any gang territory, any ominous warehouse feeling perfectly safe in knowing that Chi-nii was somehow always behind that sniper's scope that saved his life so many times. Shinichi could collapse onto his familiar table at Poirot after an exhausted, tiring day and feel completely rested after a fifteen-minute nap in the middle of rush hour. When he wakes up, he knows he'll see his favorite sandwich and a tall glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice placed in front of him. Shinichi could stroll into that park in the middle of Beika, soccer ball in hand and three of his favorite tag-alongs behind him trying (and failing) to convince Ai to play with them.
He could curl up at home, in his husband's arms with a Sherlock Holmes novel and spend his days reading. He could—
Point is, there were a million things Kudou Shinichi could do and couldn't do; and none of those things are even options for Aizawa Shouta because his home doesn't exist, and everyone he's ever loved doesn't exist.
The feelings and emotions were too much, and turns out, seven-year-olds couldn't handle so many emotions before they burst out in tears and curled up onto themselves in the middle of the street.
Shouta could practically see the edge, could feel his consciousness about to slip into a hurricane with no way out— because the people that could have led him out are dead, gone, and dusted.
As his vision blurs, his chest feels heavy.
His last thought before blacking out was a depressing, - ‘If I don't wake up again, that wouldn't be so bad.’