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Shouta is just cleaning up for the night when the knock rings through his apartment.
He frowns at the door as he turns the tap off, setting down the plate he was washing. Not many people have his address, and most of them are from UA, like Hazashi and Nemuri. But as much as his irritating co-workers like to drop in unannounced, the knock seems almost quiet and hesitant.
He strides over to the door regardless, even as his eyebrows draw together and he stays light on his feet. Shouta only hesitates for a moment before he undoes the latch on the door, swinging it open.
His eyes immediately move down to a mop of green hair, the stature of his visitor much shorter than anticipated. They're leaning heavily on his doorframe, and when their head snaps up to look at him, Shouta takes in their appearance at lightning speed.
He's a child, that's for sure, freckles adorning his round face. Probably around the age of his students if he has to guess. But that thought is quickly overshadowed by the rest of the kid's condition. A trickle of blood runs down one cheek, and his green eyes are wide and hazy as he blinks up at Shouta as if trying to focus on him. His dark clothes are tattered and torn in places, but something about them itches at the back of Shouta’s mind.
“What—” Shouta's mind stalls as he stares down at the injured, unknown child on his doorstep, trying to figure out what's going on. Is he a UA student? Shouta doesn't recognise him, but maybe he's from one of the other courses?
The child curls in on himself slightly, a blush creeping up under his freckles, and something about the motion feels familiar.
“S-sorry,” he stutters, “I know you're probably — probably really busy, I just wasn't sure —” he ducks his head slightly, eyes drifting away from Shouta as his voice drops to a mumble. “But you probably have stuff to do, I really shouldn't have come here, I mean what if you have some hero emergency and I get in the way, I shouldn't be bothering you anyway—”
Wait a second. Shouta knows that mumbling.
“Problem child?” He demands quietly, eyes widening. He isn't sure how he didn't see it sooner, even if the kid usually does hide his hair and face on patrols.
Shouta had given the kid his address months and months ago, hoping against all odds that the kid would trust him enough to come to him if he ever needed it, vigilante or not. It seems his prayers have been answered, but Shouta is starting to feel like that's not a good thing as his eyes race across Rabbit's body, trying to assess his condition in the low light of the corridor.
He tries not to think about the fact that this is the first time he's truly seen Rabbit, without the mask and goggles that always cover his face, the hood that casts a shadow over his features. Most of the recognisable parts of his costume are gone, likely in a bid to enter the apartment block unnoticed. The dark colour of his outfit has always made it hard to spot blood, but from what Shouta can see he doesn't seem to have any serious injuries. Nothing that would warrant him seeking Shouta out when he never has before.
The kid looks back up at him again, blinking hard once, twice, as if trying to clear his vision, which, paired with the blood trickling down his face from his hairline, makes Shouta's stomach sink to his feet.
“Sorry, I shouldn't have — have come here, I'll just—”
Rabbit pushes himself away from his heavy lean on the doorframe with one arm, and Shouta opens his mouth to say something along the lines of absolutely not, you come in here right this instant and let me help you, but before he can get any words out Rabbit's eyes roll up into his head, and his knees buckle, his body pitching forwards.
The only thing that stops an unfortunate introduction between his face and the floor is Shouta's battle-honed reflexes, grabbing the kid by both shoulders as he slumps.
“Kid?? Kid?!”
Shouta swears under his breath, allows himself a second to freak out, before he twists the kid in his hold, slipping an arm under his knees and lifting him up. His problem child is surprisingly heavy for a child of his size, but considering his career choice and the muscle it builds, Shouta supposes it makes sense.
He carries the kid inside, kicking the door shut behind him in his rush to set Rabbit down on the sofa. The blood on his face captures Shouta's immediate attention, and he crouches in front of the sofa, tilts the kid's head forwards gently, following the blood back to try and find the wound.
The last thing he wants to do is betray his kid's carefully earned trust by calling someone in, but he'd rather do that than watch the kid die of a concussion that he's not equipped to deal with.
The moment he starts prodding at his scalp, the vigilante groans, head shifting in his grip.
“Kid?” He leans back slightly, enough that the kid will be able to see his face, just in case he panics or forgets where he is. “You with me?”
It takes him a second, but Rabbit pushes himself up, head moving out of Shouta's gentle grip as he rights himself. He looks about as lucid as he did before he fainted, which isn't great, but Shouta can't deny how relieved he is that the kid woke up at all.
“Yeah, 'm fine.” His eyes flick from Shouta to the rest of the room, taking it in even as his eyebrows furrow with effort.
“You are not fine, kid,” Shouta grunts, reaching forwards for his head again. The kid tenses slightly, but he doesn't flinch or pull away, so Shouta takes that as permission to continue gently probing the back of his head. “You’ve got a concussion.”
Rabbit huffs at him “I don't. Really, I'm fine.”
Shouta raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
His fingers press down on a slightly wet patch on the crown of the kid's head, and his face twitches slightly, which is strange to see. Having spent all his time with the kid masked, he'd been starting to wonder if he had any reaction to pain at all.
“It's just — a cut,” the kid explains as Shouta leans forward for a closer look, “it's not… it's barely bleeding.”
For once, he seems to actually be telling the truth about his injuries. While it's deep enough for the cut to be letting out a flow of blood, it's not nearly bad enough to warrant the glassy look in the kid's eyes.
He frowns. If not a concussion, then…
“What happened?” He asks, sitting back on his haunches to look the kid in the eyes.
Rabbit wets his lips slightly as his brain seems to catch up with the question. Now that Shouta can see the rest of the kid, he can see his elbows are resting on his knees, clearly taking all of his weight, if the small sways of his torso are anything to go by.
“...Dart,” he rasps eventually, eyes looking up at Shouta for a moment before flicking away, focused unseeingly on something beyond his walls. “Think it was… laced with something. I don't know. Don't feel…”
So he's been drugged. Great. Shouta purses his lips, studying the kid. There's not much he can do for that, except maybe call some paramedics or take him to a hospital for a blood test. Both of which the kid isn't going to let him do. If he causes the kid to run before he's feeling better, and something happens to him when he's not in a state to defend himself, Shouta will never forgive himself.
Rabbit seems to take his silence for… something, and keeps rambling his disjointed sentences.
“I didn't get a full dose… only grazed me, I think. The dart.” His head drifts downwards for a moment before it jerks back up. “Sorry… just… wasn't sure if I could get — get home…”
Shouta sighs, settling a hand back on his head.
“No, kid, I'm glad you did. I gave you my address for a reason, okay? I want you to come to me if stuff like this happens. You did good, kid.”
The tranquilizer (and that must be what it is, because Shouta's not sure he can handle the alternatives) has definitely gotten to his head, because his problem child sniffles slightly, looking up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes that Shouta never thought he would see on the child vigilante.
“...Really?”
“Really, kid.”
Rabbit blinks up at him with watery, cloudy eyes, before he frowns slightly. He looks back down at his lap, and he mumbles something under his breath that Shouta doesn't quite catch.
“Kid?”
“Izuku.”
Shouta freezes, and Rabbit glances back up at him shyly. “My name's… Izuku.”
And. Doesn't that just make a pit of guilt sink into his gut and climb up his throat? All Shouta's wanted for months and months was for his kid to trust him enough to tell him his name, and now that he has it he wants nothing more than to have never heard it. The kid — Izuku — barely has the mental capacity to string full, uninterrupted sentences together without struggling, much less to decide to share his most closely guarded secret with a man he definitely wouldn't share it with were he in control of himself.
Shouta wanted to know his name, but not like this.
He does his best to force a smile onto his face. He knows that right now, a bad reaction would feel too much like rejection. “Izuku, then. Was it a villain who attacked you?”
Whoever it was that attacked him, Shouta needs to be ready. A villain would be aiming for a lot more than just incapacitation, and if they hit him with a tranquilizer it’s very possible they were attempting to capture him.
Unless it’s poison. Shouta really hopes it’s not poison.
Rabbit Izuku stares through him for a few moments, brows furrowed before he pales considerably. Cursing himself silently, Shouta wonders how stressful of an encounter it must have been for Izuku to look so panicked at the question. Maybe it would have been better to tend to his injuries first, and begin with the tentative questioning after Izuku had had a moment to settle into his new surroundings, but Shouta can't deny he needs this information sooner rather than later, despite the distress it seems to be causing the kid.
Or that's what Shouta thinks, until Izuku frantically raises a jerky hand to press against his mouth, pale face tensing, and it finally dawns on him what's happening.
There's a mad scramble around his apartment for a bucket or bowl or something, before Shouta manages to get the kitchen bin under the kid's face just in time for him to retch, the acrid smell stinging his nostrils as vomit hits the bottom of the (thankfully mostly empty) bin.
Izuku’s fingers come up to curl around the rim of the bin as he shudders slightly, so Shouta releases it, shifting a hand up instead to push the messy, dark curls out of the kid's face.
He gives another retch, weaker than the last, but not much seems to come out except bile. Shouta winces in sympathy as the kid seems to alternate between coughs and retches, stuck in that awful stage where his body hasn't quite realised there's nothing left to reject. Without thinking, his other hand comes up to rub against his problem child's back, between his shoulder blades, unable to do much to help the kid's fight to take a breath other than offer support in the form of gentle words and touches.
Not for the first time, Shouta realises just how small his little vigilante is. It's easy to notice on the streets, patrolling the rooftops together as Rabbit rambles about his latest hero analysis or villain encounter, but as long as Shouta has known him the kid has always stood tall, puffing himself up like an angry kitten. Even then, Shouta has to remind himself that his ally, who's just taken down multiple grown men in an unfair fight, is a child.
It's hard to reconcile that Rabbit, the vigilante, the protector, is the same as Izuku, the child sitting on the sofa in front of him, curled into himself and shaking, small and tired and sick.
Eventually, the kid's coughs taper off into even breaths, and Shouta runs his hand through his messy curls, carefully avoiding the cut on his head.
“There you go, kid,” he mumbles, shifting the hand in his hair down to his forehead instead. Shouta doesn't really know what he's doing, but the kid's temperature feels normal, which he thinks is probably a good sign. Hopefully whatever’s in his system was just making him feel queasy, rather than the vomiting being a defence against a truly harmful substance.
He pulls both hands away, leaning back, and Izuku's response is immediate. The vigilante lets out a weak whine, and his head shakily lifts as glassy eyes search for Shouta.
“I'm not going far, Izuku,” he does his best to reassure. Clearly, whatever's in his system is messing with the kid's head more than he thought if he's actively reaching out to Shouta for comfort. Rabbit was far too careful about keeping that distance between them usually. “I'm just going to go and get you some water, okay?”
Izuku blinks for a moment, nodding, and Shouta takes his chance to slip into the kitchen. The half-washed dishes are still in the sink, and he shoves them to the side as he fills up a cold glass of water for his problem child. After a moment's deliberation, he also grabs the first aid kid under the sink, and stuffs his phone into his pocket, just in case he does need to call an ambulance.
By the time he returns, Izuku is looking a little more like himself. His eyes are just a little sharper, and he's sitting up, no longer hunched over the bin.
“Drink this,” Shouta orders, pressing the cup into the kid's hands. His gloves hands wrap around the cold glass as he stares down at the water, and after a moment he takes a shaky sip.
Shouta sits down next to him, setting the first aid kit down on the sofa between them.
“Sorry ‘bout your bin,” Izuku mumbles, not looking up at him.
“It's fine, kid, really.” The kid's eyes flick to him, and they're still far too cloudy, but Shouta will take it. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Mmm…” he hums, quiet. He already seems distracted, blinking at Shouta's walls for a moment. “Dizzy.” He decides after a few moments. “At least… don't feel sick any more.”
“That's good,” Shouta agrees, responding more just to keep the conversation going and to stop the kid from nodding off like he seems to want to. “Does anything hurt?”
Izuku's response is reflexive. “I'm fine.”
“Kid.”
Izuku hums again, but as usual he doesn't seem keen on elaborating.
“Izuku,” he stresses, not willing to do this song and dance now, of all times.
Izuku's eyes snap back to him, looking dazed. “How'd you know …” he mumbles to himself for a moment, and Shouta waits as patiently as he can. “Just… a few bruises and scratches.”
“Nothing internal?” Shouta checks.
Izuku shakes his head, grimacing right after no doubt at his own dizziness, and Shouta breathes a sigh of relief. He's by no means an expert in these things, but aside from his brief vomiting spell none of Izuku's symptoms are ringing any alarm bells in his head.
“Okay,” Shouta sighs. “Don't suppose you'll let me call an ambulance?”
Izuku flinches hard, water sloshing out of his glass as he looks up at Shouta with panicked eyes.
“Never mind,” he grumbles, and the kid relaxes minutely as Shouta drops the topic.
“No hospitals,” he mumbles eventually, and Shouta just nods.
“I'm gonna clean some of your scratches, okay? Finish your water.”
Izuku seems to be in surprisingly good shape, Shouta quickly finds. He tends to the scrapes he can see on his arms and legs — most likely from being thrown into the tarmac if he had to guess — and the cut on his head, but considering he got drugged in that fight it's pretty impressive he managed to get out in one piece.
He cleans the wounds as best he can, disinfecting and wrapping them where possible. The last thing he wants is the kid getting an infection, and he knows Izuku doesn't always have access to first aid materials, outside of coming to Shouta.
That had taken a while to establish. The first time he found Rabbit patrolling with an untended wound, he practically had to pin the kid down just to clean it. Which, in hindsight, probably freaked the kid out, but these days, while Rabbit doesn't always come forward with his injuries, if Shouta finds out about them on patrol he sits still with minimal grumbling while Shouta patches him up.
A lot has changed, in the past months.
By the time Shouta is done, the glass of water is empty, his problem child's head resting on his shoulder, eyes half open. He lets go of Izuku's now bandaged wrist, reaching up to press a palm to his forehead again, but his temperature still feels normal. Izuku leans into the contact for a moment before he takes his hand away.
“Still feeling okay?” He checks, running the hand through his hair instead.
“Mmhmm.” His eyes flicker for a moment, half awake. “Sleepy.”
Shouta deliberates for a moment, uncertain, but he can't deny that with the state his problem child's in, some rest would probably do him a world of good.
“Get some sleep, kiddo. You're safe here, okay?”
Izuku mumbles something against his shoulder, eyes already slipping shut.
“Stay?” He asks quietly, voice small as if he expects Shouta to say no even as he presses further against his side.
Shouta can't help the soft smile that spreads on his face, fingers not stopping as they comb gently though his kid's curls.
“Always.”