The sun had gone down hours ago, the city now sleeping with it. Nobody was out except criminals, villains and the occasional bar-hoppers. Crickets chirped. The wind howled.

It howled so loud he nearly missed the scream.

His feet stopped at the ledge of the building. It was an apartment. He had to be quiet if he didn't want to alert the residents. He crouched low, lowering his hood so his ears could hear better. The scream came from the west.

He bolted. As he came to the edge, he leapt. He swung his arm out, pressing two fingers to his palm. A white substance shot out from his wrist, catching on the roof of the next building. It pulled him forward, and he fell into a roll. He jumped up and started again.

The scream wasn't far. It was only a few buildings down. He skidded to a halt, sitting down against the ledge. He peered over, spotting a man in dark clothing approaching a woman. The glint of something shiny caught his attention. The man had a knife.

The vigilante pulled out a phone, and called for the police. He pocketed the device, making sure the end was facing the opening.

"This will teach you not to ignore me," the vile man sneered. He swiped, aiming for the woman's chest. She screamed and ducked as the blade sliced her shirt. She backed into the wall with an audible thud.

The vigilante took the opportunity with the gap and jumped down, landing in a crouch. He stood up, moving his hair out of his face. Normally he'd have his hood, but it had been torn by a villain earlier that night. He didn't worry too much, though, as the lighting was terrible and his hair was much too dark to make out the color.

He held out his hand, more of the substance shooting out towards the villain's hand. He yanked, taking the knife away. The vigilante pocketed the weapon.

The attacker was too shocked to notice. He was too busy trying to get the substance off his wrist.

The vigilante briefly looked back at the woman he was protecting. She was cowering, her entire body shaking and tears poured down her face. Her outfit gave the idea that she was returning from the night shift from a restaurant. He turned his attention back to the man in front of them.

He seemed to shake off his surprise, and immediately charged at the masked man. One thing the vigilante noticed was how much taller the man was than him. He could use that.

He dodged the sweeping arms, sliding under the man's legs and spinning around. He continued to duck and dodge. He held his arms behind his back, one wrist wrapped around the other. He led the man out of the alley, leaving room for the woman to escape.

The attacker swore as each attempt to strike the masked man failed.

Faint sirens could be heard from the east. The vigilante smiled under his mask. The villain didn't seem to hear them yet.

In his brief moment of distraction, the man had actually gotten a hit on him. The masked man doubled over, pain erupting through his stomach.

The vigilante smirked. That was what he was waiting for.

No longer held back by laws, he stood and got into a fighting stance. The man seemed to laugh and came barreling towards him. The masked man dodged again, this time kicking him to the ground after he turned. The villain fell, and the vigilante shot the webbing out, essentially chaining the man to the ground.

He watched the villain struggle for a while, before taking the phone out of his pocket. "He's pinned down," he said, his voice heavily modified. He heard the officer on the other end swear. He glanced up, seeing no traces of the woman. "The woman he tried to assault is in the alley." He hung up.

He hurried over to the woman, who had now sunk to the ground and was sobbing hysterically. He helped her up.

"Thank you," she wailed, clinging to his arm. "How can I repay you?"

The vigilante shook his head. "Your safety is all I want."

She sniffed, head turning as the sirens came right in front of them. She looked back over at the man who saved her, but he was already climbing up the wall and disappearing into the night.

The man ran, lifting his hood back up. He looked back at the scene he left behind. His eyes briefly met another's. He lifted his hand in a mock solute, and jumped off the back of the building.

Eraserhead sighed and rubbed his temples, blinking his tired and burning eyes. That kid was going to be the death of him.

_____________

Sometimes Aizawa Shouta regretted expelling his entire first year class. Not because he realized the potential they had, if there was even a hint of potential, they stayed. No, it was because Yamada Hizashi often had him help grade his students' papers.

So that was where he was right now, hunched over their shared office with papers scattered everywhere. He didn't understand why Hizashi was so insistent on having him help; Shouta was okay at English at best. He could hold a conversation, sure, but it wasn't fluent like Hizashi.

And of course, Hizashi chose that moment to remember what else they were out of and instead of adding to the list on the fridge, he decided whatever it was he needed now. So Shouta was left with the assignments, and Hizashi was perusing the various shelves in the store.

Shouta sighed, crossing out a verb tense with red ink. Hizashi made a mistake leaving Shouta to do the grading. He knew the other man was more lenient with marking points. Learning a new language is intense, Hizashi reasoned. Shouta didn't disagree, but students didn't learn if you were constantly giving them points they didn't earn.

At least at this point in the school year, the students could tell which teacher graded their work. They tended to feel less shitty when they found out the local grumpy, insomniac gave them an F instead of everybody's favorite energetic, crazy man.

The familiar sound of the front door slamming open and hitting the wall made him drop his pen. "Shouta!" Hizashi yelled, his voice slightly panicked.

If it wasn't for that, Shouta would have elected to ignore him. Maybe go to their room and sleep. A nap sounded nice.

But instead, he hauled himself out of the chair and headed towards the office door. Someone better be dead for how much his husband was shouting. "Hizashi," Shouta started, clearly annoyed, exiting the office and walking down the hall, "I swear if you broke the door again-"

Hizashi holding a young boy in his arms.

Oh.

Someone was dying.

The boy groaned as Hizashi carefully moved around the house. Shouta could see his leg was severely disfigured. He sighed. They could call Recovery Girl, but she was taking a much needed vacation. They'd have to go to the hospital.

"Mind telling me why you brought him here instead of the hospital?"

Hizashi's face flushed. "You have the car keys."

If Shouta sighed one time, he was going to lose it. He gestured for Hizashi to head to the car while he turned around to grab the keys off the hook by the kitchen. Catching up to Hizashi after putting his shoes on wasn't hard, considering he wasn't trying to jostle the boy around.

Shouta slid into the driver's side while Hizashi lay the boy in the back, then hopped into the left side. The boy cried out as the car's engine tumbled the vehicle. Hizashi was quick to reassure him.

Shouta hit the gas, and they drove off towards the hospital. Hizashi kept talking to the boy, trying to take his mind off of the pain. The kid had stopped crying, and was now panting and attempting conversation.

Shouta slammed on the break as a car sped across in front of them. The sudden stop shook the kid, making him cry out. Glancing in the rear view mirror, the tired man saw the kid grab his leg before wincing and pulling back.

"Sorry," Shouta grumbled. Luckily, the rest of the ride was smooth.

Pulling in front of the hospital entrance, Shouta let Hizashi out so he could get the boy inside. He waited to see them disappear through the doors before finding a parking spot. Luckily there was a spot two rows away from the entrance, so he didn't have to keep his husband waiting for long.

When he walked inside the building, he saw Hizashi and the kid sitting in the waiting room. Shouta looked around, noting the other people with more serious injuries. They'd most likely be waiting for at least thirty minutes.

Shouta sat down next to his husband. He glanced at the kid, and noticed he was scribbling on a clipboard. Hizashi followed his line of sight and whispered, "He's filling out the paperwork."

Hizashi rested his head on Shouta's shoulder. A few minutes later, Shouta felt a tap on his knee. He looked down and saw a pen. The kid was leaning forward and holding out the clipboard. Seeing that Hizashi was falling asleep, Shouta carefully moved his head off and grabbed the clipboard from the kid, standing up. As he walked towards the front desk, Shouta skimmed the information.

The kid's name was Midoriya Izuku and he was 15-years-old. The hero frowned when he saw a lack of contact information. There was an address, but no phone numbers. Did his parents not have a phone or something?

At any rate, it wasn't Shouta's place to pry. The chances of seeing the kid after this were slim. And with the condition his leg was in, he'd be concerned if he saw him wandering the streets anytime soon.

The nurse at the desk took the clipboard and pen from his hands and smiled in thanks. Shouta nodded and made his way back to the chairs. Hizashi had woken up and was rubbing his eyes.

Time passed in a blur. People were called for their turn, and soon it was theirs.

"Midoriya?" a nurse called out, scanning the room.

The kid stirred, and attempted to stand up. Hizashi was quick on his feet and held his hands out, grabbing the kid to steady him. Hizashi would have just scooped him up again, but now that the kid was more aware of everything he clearly didn't want that.

So Hizashi helped him walk, or hop, towards the nurse while Shouta followed behind in case anything happened.

They arrived at the X-ray room, and another nurse came along to help the kid. The nurse who called him turned to the adults.

"I noticed a lack of information on the sheet," she said, handing the clipboard to Hizashi, who was closer. "Even if you do check him out today, we still need it for the records."

As Hizashi was reading the sheet, Shouta said, "We're not his parents."

The nurse stilled. "You're not?" She tilted her head. "Then where-"

Hizashi flipped the sheet of paper back down and handed it back to the nurse. "I found him in an alley on my way back from the store."

"Oh, dear." The nurse tapped her pen on the side of the clipboard. "That complicates things. Well, then, I guess if you're not his parents you don't have to stay. You are free to go in and visit, but it's not necessary."

Hizashi practically brightened, but was shot down by a glare from Shouta. "Sho, we really should-"

"No, Zashi. You have papers to grade, and I have patrol in a few hours." The underground hero crossed his arms at Hizashi's pout. "And besides, I'm sure his parents are looking everywhere for him. They'll find him eventually."

Hizashi continued to whine, but followed Shouta out of the hospital.

As they got back into their car, Shouta turned to his husband and asked, "Did you at least buy what you needed?"

Hizashi nervously laughed, avoiding Shouta's eyes. "Nope."