Fire Extinguishers
They chose to leave on a Monday.
It was the first day back to school, so the rest of the kids in the home would be running around getting ready for school, sleep-deprived, and not focused on each other. Sato-sama also left early on Monday mornings after breakfast to make her rounds to potential foster homes and families that wanted to adopt, so if they implanted a memory of the two of them being taken to a foster family it would fit nicely in her daily life, no need for her to question it.
Their bags were packed and tucked under Izuku’s bed, snacks are given to a new, young foster kid that was placed in the long-term room a week ago, and a list in Izuku’s new journal of things they would need to buy.
Izuku lay in his bed with his hands intertwined behind his head, softly tapping a rhythm with his foot on the underside of Hitoshi’s mattress.
“Stop,” Hitoshi hissed under his breath, “I know you can hear my music and your rhythm doesn’t match the song I’m listening to,”.
Izuku had to stifle his giggles but stopped tapping his foot to annoy the other boy. “Sorry,” he laughed and rolled over so he could run his hands along with the last poster he would need to take down. It was a braille interpretation of a Peach Pit tour poster, one Hitoshi had taken the time to make for him. He had even made the poster designs legible to Izuku, he could feel out the designs and pictures to understand what they looked like. Hitoshi had an honest talent for re-creating art for blind individuals, something Izuku had mentioned and Hitoshi had immediately thrown a pillow at his head in embarrassment for.
Just as Izuku finished reading the tour dates again, the morning alarm chimed throughout the home and the lights began to flicker on. It was time to enact their plan.
He listened as Hitoshi dropped down from his bed with his usual thump, not acting any different than any other morning. He took his school uniform and walked out of the room to the bathroom. Izuku rolled out of bed a few minutes later, sticking to their routine. He gathered his school uniform as well and followed Hitoshi to the bathroom.
After brushing their teeth, washing their faces, and changing, the two lazily made their way back to the long-term room. They curled up together on Izuku’s bottom bunk, pulling out Hitoshi’s notes like they were going over schoolwork, backpacks with all of their things packed inside at their feet.
As soon as the last person left the room, Izuku and Hitoshi were bolting for their bags, throwing the last of their things into a trash bag together, and checking their stashes around their bunk to make sure they hadn’t missed anything.
Izuku had prepped the paperwork and set it on Sato-sama’s desk for later, including a fake foster family that was two hours away by train. Sato-sama didn’t typically check on long-term fosters, they always ended up back at the group home in her opinion anyway, so she didn’t bother.
The two boys made their way downstairs quickly, hoping to catch Sato-sama just as she was walking out of her office.
Their timing was perfect.
“Sato-sama?” Shinsou asked quietly, his quirk reverberating in Izuku’s lungs as he prepared to hook the woman’s mind in his perfectly placed trap.
“Shinsou! You’re not supposed to-” Sato-sama’s eyes glazed over until they were white, her staring going blank and her body going lax where she stood.
“It’s still creepy to me, I don’t see how you think it’s so cool,” Hitoshi muttered before nudging Izuku to set their papers on her desk while he worked on implanting a memory.
Izuku shrugged, “Your quirk will always be cool to me,” and slipped inside the office. It was a mess, as per usual at this time of the week. It would be clean by Friday when Sato-sama typically did foster and adoption interviews, but the weekend was her time to sort through files after interviews.
He crept toward her filing cabinet and searched for his and Hitoshi’s files. Hitoshi's file was heavy, full of papers and reports from years of being in the foster system. Izuku’s was thin, with barely any papers to fill his.
“Hurry, Izukkun, I can only hold her for so long!” Hitoshi whisper-shouted over Sato-sama’s shoulder.
Izuku quickly slipped their forms into the correct places and threw the files on top of Sato-sama’s desk.
“Ok, the forms are in, let’s go!” Izuku vaulted over Sato-sama’s desk and slipped around the woman, snagging Hitoshi’s wrist and sprinting for the door.
The two burst through the front doors of the group home, cackling and running down the sidewalk through the pedestrians on their way to work. Izuku let Hitoshi take the lead, cane trailing behind him as he bumped into people, muttering apologies through bouts of laughter and joy.
The two finally slowed down enough to lean against the corner of an alley, bent over and clutching their stitched sides as they basked in the elation of being free.
“We’re out, we did it!” Izuku panted, reaching out a hand to shake Hitoshi’s shoulder.
“We really did, holy shit,” Hitoshi replied just as out of breath.
“Now let’s go get that apartment,” Izuku patted the shoulder he had been shaking and started off towards the complex they had picked out.
Hitoshi slipped an arm into Izuku’s as the two walked, still giggling every once in a while as they got closer to their new home.
Once they had reached the building they separated, Hitoshi moving to the front as if to guide Izuku around a new place. He held the door for him as they both walked into the landlord’s flat.
“Hello, our parents came by earlier to get a copy of the key and forgot to get us a copy too. Think we can get a key to 107?” Hitoshi asked casually, hands in his pockets and smiling kindly at the landlord.
“Sure, let me just-” the landlord started to answer, but fell under Hitoshi’s quirk, just like Sato-sama had.
“Bring me the lease for apartment 107 in building 2,” Hitoshi commanded, grimacing at having to use his quirk so much in a short period of time.
The landlord walked slowly to a filing cabinet to their left, rummaging through a few files before handing a copy of the paper lease. His eyes were blank, lifeless, as he stared directly ahead and stopped moving after giving Hitoshi what he had asked for. Hitoshi averted his eyes and shoved the papers into Izuku’s hands.
“Here, ‘Zukkun. Do the thing while I influence his memories,” Hitoshi muttered.
Izuku gave his brother a quick side hug for reassurance, practically feeling the reluctance the boy held for using his quirk. They’d have to work on that in their training, but they’d only been seriously training Hitoshi’s quirk for a few weeks now and Hitoshi had grown leaps and bounds ahead of what Izuku could have ever expected of him. But, a couple of weeks wouldn’t undo years of being forced to hate and suppress his quirk.
After parting from Hitoshi’s side, Izuku moved to lean on the landlord’s desk. Izuku had used some underground contacts he’d made while hacking on the dark web. They’d been able to pull identities of an older couple that had passed in a villain attack, reconfiguring their living status to say that they had been out of the country and had been mistakenly identified. Using their identities, Izuku and Hitoshi would be able to say that they had adults at home and avoid any serious questions from legal entities for now. While the people around them may notice that there were never adults around, Hitoshi and Izuku had decided it would be best to just say they liked to work and travel and because the two boys were older it was easier for them to just stay home. The lie would have to be enough for now.
Filling in the necessary information, Izuku quickly added the signatures of the two adults they were using as a cover and covered the lease in a stack of other new renters.
“Done!” Izuku called softly and started to search for a copy of the mailbox and house key.
“...we’re here with two adults. Their faces were plain so you have a hard time remembering what they looked like. The adults signed the lease, took the keys, and moved into 107. They said they had no need to check on them and would contact you if they needed anything,”. Hitoshi murmured as he influenced the landlord’s mind. “Good,” he called over the man’s shoulder, “I can only hold him for a little bit longer before this headache turns into a migraine,”.
Izuku nodded and skipped back over to Hitoshi, patting his shoulder and turning to leave the room. “Hold him until we’re out of sight and then let go. I have sunglasses and acetaminophen for you in the side pocket of my bag and a water bottle on the other side,”.
Hitoshi hooked an arm around Izuku’s shoulders and squeezed him in thanks, already using his free hand to dig out the sunglasses and shove them over his eyes. “Ah, sweet relief,” he laughed.
The two walked quickly to the new apartment, hoping that Hitoshi’s altered memory would be enough to occupy their landlord.
“Here we go,” Izuku mumbled and unlocked the door.
The apartment was just as small as stated online, but it was fairly clean and well maintained. It wasn’t as modern as the one advertised, the walls needing a fresh coat of paint and the color of the floor a little dated, but it was perfect for the two of them for now.
“It’s ours,” Hitoshi breathed.
“It is,” Izuku confirmed.
Hitoshi turned to Izuku, placing both of his hands on the other boy’s shoulders, bouncing slightly in his excitement.
“We really did it! We’re out!” Hitoshi grinned excitedly.
Izuku knocked his head into his taller friend’s shoulder, laughing at how Hitoshi was bouncing like a little kid.
“Yeah, we really did it,”.
---
After spending the afternoon shopping, Izuku and Hitoshi came home with groceries for the week, the futon they had picked out from the second-hand store, and a refurbished laptop for Hitoshi to use for his youtube channel since his phone wasn’t really cutting it anymore. They also picked up burner phones to use for each other since they didn’t have real phone plans and couldn’t use their smartphones off of wifi.
Once everything was unpacked and put away, Izuku flopped on the small couch provided by the apartment complex.
“Hitocchi, I don’t wanna cook dinner,” he whined, “I’m so tired,”.
“I’m tired too, you big baby,” Hitoshi laughed and plopped down on Izuku’s stomach.
Izuku grunted at the sudden weight on his middle and reflexively curled around it. “I think you’ve put on muscle, Hitocchi, your butt is less boney,”.
“Hey! My butt is not boney,”.
“Not anymore!”
“You’re cooking dinner, just for that comment,”.
“No!”
---
Izuku crouched on the corner of the roof, leaning out over his city, listening to the music that Musutafu created at night.
A cacophony of sound that somehow intertwined into beautiful harmonies, Musutafu spun songs of gold in the late morning hours. Somehow, the city was alive, even at this hour. Motorcycles and street races filled the empty streets, small, family-owned restaurants were open to serve those few night owls, and people shambled down the street after a night out drinking. All were familiar sounds to Izuku as he picked through the sea of melodies for a hint of trouble.
Instead of a scream or the sound of a crime, a soft thump on the rooftop behind him interrupted his search.
“Eraserhead,” he greeted, tensing his muscles in preparation at the soft footfalls of the pro hero.
“Relax, kid, I’m not here to fight or bring you in,” Eraserhead said quietly. He didn’t move any closer, staying about halfway across the roof from where Izuku was perched.
“Really? Because you lied to me the last time we talked and I don’t do lying,”.
“I’m not lying. I don’t know what I have to do to convince you, but that’s not my intent tonight,”.
“Tonight?” Izuku asked, steering away from the conversation about trust Eraserhead was trying to get him to have.
“Tonight,” the hero echoed, “I’m actually looking to see if you have any information on a case I’m working on. Last time we met you had just beat up three local drug runners for a big-time chain that I’m trying to shut down. Did you get anything from them?”
“No,” Izuku answered honestly, “I was trying to. I had heard whispers about them and a larger player in the game is in charge, but they didn’t know where the drugs came from or who to contact outside of the person who drops them off. I found out that the person who drops them off is different every time after following them for a few nights. The person comes in a taxi, hands off a red backpack, and then get right back in. The only details I noticed is that the taxi company is a common one here in Musutafu and that all of the delivery people are blind,”.
“That’s the same information we have,” Eraserhead sighed and plopped down onto the roof.
“Who’s we?” Izuku asked.
“The Mustafu Police Department. We’ve been trying to track this drug ring for ages, but every time we get someone into custody or think we’re getting somewhere, the lead dies. Literally . The person dies and we’re not sure if it’s a quirk or other circumstances,”.
“If it’s a quirk, it’s probably an activation specific or delayed time one. Probably pretty powerful if it can literally kill someone. Maybe a delayed poison? Did the bodies have any sort of marking on them?”
“Not that we could find, not even a needle mark,”.
Izuku stayed silent, running through the possibilities of this new information. Whoever ran this drug ring was smart, tactical, and had a powerful quirk. Its activations must not be correct under the quirk registry, like many others who registered their quirks when they were four, or it would have been found or well known in the underground.
“There have to be more people than this drug ring. They wouldn’t be able to hide for this long without some sort of help. There would be something that attracted your attention. This has to be bigger than just the ring, I have a gut feeling. Have you found a lead through the taxi service that is being used?” Izuku finally responded.
“So far, no. The service that is used is a common one and is clean outside of a couple of instances of using convicted felons as drivers. Nothing that could tie them back to a drug operation,”.
Izuku hummed in reply and stayed quiet. Slowly, he turned from his station overlooking the city and slid down so that he was leaning against the inner brick wall of the building ledge.
“What are you really doing here?” He asked.
“What do you mean?” Eraser intoned.
“You know I’m a kid, you wouldn’t be asking me for information on a drug case. You have more resources at your disposal and a lot more knowledge of the underground. There isn’t anything that I would know that you don’t. So, you’re not here for that. It’s just your ploy to get me to talk. Why are you here? And do not lie to me,”.
The hero sighed and shifted where he was sitting, the smell of coffee and detergent picked up on the slight breeze from being up so high. There was also that hint of a familiar cologne, one that Izuku couldn’t put his finger on just yet, but he’s sure he would smell it somewhere soon if it was so familiar.
“I don’t know, kid, you interest me. I’ve never had a vigilante escape me, much less a child. I’m supposed to bring you in and arrest you for assault and illegal quirk use, but no person, no kid , decides to be a vigilante without a reason,”.
Izuku scoffed, nearly laughing at Eraserhead’s explanation. “Sure, interesting . That’s almost as much bullshit as your lie last week. I’m not interesting, Eraser, and it would be in your best interest to leave me alone. I’m not going to let you catch me any time soon,”.
“You didn’t bolt when I knew you heard me land on the roof. You must think I deserve a little trust,”.
“I’m looking for a fight, literally, I’m on this rooftop looking for trouble. You were a challenge, nothing more. I don’t trust you even the smallest bit, so don’t imply that I do,”.
“And yet you’re still talking to me,”.
“I can change that. I know how to get down from here,”.
“Going to jump again?”
“Without a doubt,”.
The two lapsed into a tense silence. Izuku on the balls of his feet, ready to bolt over the wall, and Eraser gripping his capture weapon tightly in one hand. Izuku knew that if he moved too quickly the hero would wrap him up in that scarf. He wasn’t in the mood for that tonight, too tired from the adrenaline of escaping the group home to really fight the best underground hero in Japan.
A muffled scream 2 blocks over broke Izuku from his tense state, head whipping toward the sound before launching up from his crouch and sprinting for the edge of the roof.
“Kid? Where are you- Kid!” Eraserhead shouted after him, but Izuku was already leaping to the neighboring building, tucking to roll and up to his feet to jump to the next building.
The whistle of fabric to his left and breaths that would be silent to anyone else alerted him that Eraser is next to him, following his lead as bounced across rooftops, using air conditioning units and cement edges to propel himself through the air. The hero kept up with him easily, his capture weapon doing a majority of the work as they went.
The two finally reached the alley Izuku had heard the cry from, dropping down from the roof to attack the would-be muggers.
Eraser was already wrapping one in his scarf, eyes alight behind his yellow goggles as he kept the man from using what seemed to be some sort of transformation quirk by the change in air movement behind Izuku. The hum of his quirk reverberated off the walls in a deep thrum, only pausing when the man quickly blinked. The criminal was struggling against the hero, fighting the metal-enforced weapon, but was losing the battle.
Izuku took on a shorter person, dodging a punch thrown his way upon landing and swiping a kick at the person’s head. His opponent dodged and threw another punch at Izuku’s face, but he ducked, reaching for the knife strapped to his leg as he did. He drew the weapon, slicing up and diagonally as he popped back up to cut across the person’s forearm shallowly.
The mugger cursed and stepped back to reach into their own pocket to pull out a switchblade. The soft click of the blade flipping out of its holder alerted Izuku just in time to the knife that was jabbing at his vitals. He wasn’t going to be able to avoid the hit with the way his body was turned and his center of gravity balanced, so Izuku shifted his weight and let the knife slice between his lower ribs, leaving a deep cut that immediately soaked his shirt with blood.
He hissed through his teeth, but forced himself to step into the person’s personal space, getting close and past the range of the knife so he could slam the butt of his weapon into his opponent's temple. The man crumpled like wet paper, hitting the ground with a loud smack and clatter as the knife slid across the pavement.
“Shit,” Izuku groaned and gripped his side, the wound stinging as his hand touched his skin. The area was slick with blood and he could feel it starting to drip through his fingers. The metallic tang of it filled the air and burned his nose, coating his mouth and pushing aside the need to tie the mugger up for the police.
“-id, Kid, hey. That looks nasty, let me take a look,” The air near his wound wavered and Izuku immediately slapped the approaching hand away.
“Fuck off,” he hissed, flipping around to where Eraserhead was standing to his left and curling into himself. “Don’t touch me,”.
“Mask, you’re injured, just let me look. I’m actually certified as a field medic, which I know you’re too young to be,” desperation bled into Erasherhead’s normally neutral tone.
“I don’t need your help, fuck!” he yelped as a strip of capture weapon wrapped around his ribs and wound. “That hurt like a son of a bitch,” Izuku growled and put his knife up to slice through the weapon.
“No, don’t do that, kid. You’ll bleed out and I’m not letting you die here because you were being stubborn,”.
“And I’m not letting you keep me here so the police can arrest me!” he shouted and sliced through the weapon anyway.
“That’s my second capture weapon in two weeks, Christ,” the hero mumbled, “Fine, go, keep the fabric wrapped around it and get yourself medical attention. I’ll stay here with the criminals since that’s fucking protocol. Mask, promise me you’ll get that taken care of at a hospital,”.
“Yeah, I’d die before they looked at this. Stop pretending like you care about my health,”. Izuku rolled his unseeing eyes behind the black fabric wrapped around his head.
“I do care, kid, I genuinely care for your health,”.
Izuku’s free hand tightened into a fist and a muscle started to twitch in his jaw from how hard he was clenching it. “Fuck you,” he spat and took off in a sprint down the alley just as flashing lights approached the opposite end.
---
Izuku limped down the street, his thin undershirt soaked through with blood. He had slipped into an alley several blocks down to re-arrange his clothes into a civilian outfit. Pants untucked from boots, thin, long-sleeved overshirt wrapped over the piece of capture weapon he had taken from Eraser, and his undershirt pulled on over the makeshift first aid. He’d snapped his escrima sticks together into the billy club before unfolding it completely into a guide cane, exchanging his black mask for sunglasses from his pocket.
Now, he was dragging himself down the street of his old neighborhood, hoping to find an alley that he was familiar enough with that he could call and give Hitoshi directions to. He was just about to crawl behind some trash cans when a familiar voice and quirk caught his attention.
“Deku?!”
Ah, shit. It was not a good time for Kacchan to appear.
“Hi Kacchan,” he did his best to keep the pain out of his voice and off his face, knowing how easily his childhood friend could read him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, nerd? Why are you hunched over like that?” Katsuki shouted in his version of worry.
“Just ran into some bullies, no big deal,” Izuku tried to shrug but ended up tugging on his wound under the wraps. He winced just enough for Katsuki to see.
“Bullshit, the bullies haven’t gotten a physical hit on you in two years. What the fuck actually happened?”
“It’s none of your business Kacchan,”.
“None of my- fucking Deku! You are my business!”
“Kacchan, I really c-can’t do this right now, I have to g-go,” Izuku wobbled on his legs, holding out his free arm to try and catch his balance.
Katsuki was by his side in a flash, hiking Izuku up under his shoulder to take some of the boy’s weight.
“You’re about to pass out, let me fucking help you,”.
Izuku didn’t reply, just leaned his weight on his friend. He knew the Bakugou’s had a first aid kit worthy of a pro hero. This would have to work for now and Izuku would have to sneak off later.
The two boys made their way down the street to the Bakugou home, a familiar path that Izuku didn’t even have to fake needing his cane for. By the time they reached the front doors, Katsuki was basically carrying Izuku, the vigilante slumped fully forward and dragging his feet on the concrete.
“Come on, nerd, stay with me,” Katsuki murmured as he quietly opened the front door with his key.
They made it to the stairs and Izuku wanted to sob at the thought of going up them on his own. Katsuki must have read his body language because he adjusted his grip and scooped Izuku up into a bridal carry. He tried to protest, but Kacchan had just told him to shut up while simultaneously complaining about how heavy he had gotten.
Katsuki set Izuku down on the bathroom floor and helped him remove his shirt.
“Shit, Deku, who the fuck knifed you?” Katsuki hissed.
“No one important,” Izuku whispered and felt for the cabinet door where he knew the first aid kit was kept. Katsuki batted his hands away and pulled the case out for him, setting it next to his side.
“Tell me what supplies you need,” Kacchan muttered and started to pull a few things out.
“Needle driver, Tissue forceps, scissors, sterilized needle and thread, and sterile bandages. I’m going to need to stand up to scrub my hands and wash the wound out with water. Help me up,” Izuku held out his hand and waited for the other boy to grab it.
Katsuki helped him up and Izuku hobbled over to the sink, gritting his teeth and nearly biting through his lip when he washed the wound out. The slices Stendhal had given him during training were never this deep, nor were the cuts from bullies. He’d only had to do stitches on himself a few times and once on Hitoshi’s face when a muzzle from school had been too small and too tight.
After the wound was washed, Katsuki set all of the supplies on the bathroom counter and stepped away.
Izuku took his time, hands shaking with the effort to keep his stitches even and close enough together. It took him twenty minutes and lots of cursing, but finally, he was through for Katsuki to help him wrap bandages several times around his ribs and maneuver into one of the boy’s old t-shirts.
“Alright, Deku, tell me what the fuck is going on. It’s almost one am and you’ve bled on half of my bathroom floor from a fucking knife wound,”.
A knock emanated from the front door downstairs before Izuku could get a word out, resounding around the house and interrupting the two boy’s hushed argument. The house was silent for a few moments before the knock came again, much louder this time.
“Katsuki! You better have not gone for a run and forgotten your keys again!” Auntie Mitsuki yelled from down the hall, her voice moving closer as she walked to the stairs and toward the front door.
Kacchan stayed where he was, holding his breath so as to avoid bringing attention to him and Izuku fighting in the bathroom.
Izuku ignored the way Katsuki was glaring at him, tuning into the voices downstairs to hear who was at the door.
“Good morning ma’am, I’m so sorry to bother you so early. I’m a detective with the Musutafu Police Force. We had a bit of a disturbance a few blocks from here and we’re going around the neighborhood to ask if anyone had seen or heard anything unusual,” A male voice rings with an official tone.
“Oh, no detective. My family and I have all been asleep for the night. My son does get up on occasion for early morning runs, but his shoes are here so he hasn’t been out. What kind of disturbance was it?” Auntie Mistuski explains.
“Armed robbery. Some idiot in a black mask held up a civilian. They put up a fight. The perp fled and left a trail of blood to this neighborhood,”.
“Oh my gosh,”.
“He’s probably long gone, but just in case. You know?”
“Absolutely detective, I’ll call the department if I remember anything,”.
“Thank you, ma’am, have a good night and stay safe,”.
Auntie Mitsuki closed the door and trudged back up the stairs, passing the dark bathroom where the two boys were huddled together.
“He didn’t believe her,” Izuku whispered and started yanking the borrowed t-shirt over his head, switching it out for his normal black, long-sleeved shirt. He bent down to tuck his pants back into his boots, grimacing as blisters rubbed up against the fabric.
He stalked out of the bathroom, rushing for Katsuki’s bedroom window and the ancient oak tree he knew would be easy to climb down.
“Deku, hey, Deku, Wait!” Katsuki tried to catch his arm, but Izuku slipped fluidly to the side and kept going, pulling the window up and throwing himself at the tree.
“Deku! Your stitches!” Kacchan whisper-shouted.
Izuku was already racing down the tree, years of climbing the massive oak kicking muscle memory into gear. Katsuki jumped out of the window after him, using his quirk to slow his fall to the ground instead of climbing the tree.
He rounded the corner of the house, snagging the fire extinguisher from Katsuki’s quirk practice spot on the side of the house and continuing his trek after the supposed detective.
“If you’re going to follow me, at least pull your hood up and put this on,” He called as quietly as he could over his shoulder.
Izuku tossed Katsuki a surgical mask just as the boy finished tucking all of his spikey blonde hair into his hood.
“What the fuck is going on Deku,” he hissed back.
“That “cop” didn’t believe Auntie, plus he’s not a cop. Keep your head down and face covered,” Izuku whispered back before taking off in a dead sprint towards where he could smell the detective on the sidewalk. He was sure the man had dipped himself in whatever nasty cologne he was wearing.
Izuku pulled the fire extinguisher off his shoulder while running, swinging it forward and letting it hurtle at the man’s head just as the imitation cop was turning around to look at the two sets of footsteps that were pounding the concrete behind him.