Chapter Text
If Izuku was honest, he never quite understood family.
It seemed unnecessary - a group of people you're supposed to love and protect? Even if you continuous argue and can't stand being in their company? Izuku was better off on his own. he didn't need people dragging him down, prying into his business.
He didn't need someone to tuck him in at night, to remind him to brush his teeth, to make his lunch and bug him about cutting his curls. He hadn't had someone to do that (as far as he could remember) so by default he didn't need one.
Besides, he was Quirkless, he'd been an outcast as far back as his memories go - he had to make himself bad, an outcast, so he wouldn't be made one against his will. The whole bully yourself so other's didn't kinda thing.
So, it stood to reason that at age twelve, it made sense for him to be grabbing fistfuls of hair, fist clenching and causing his opponents nose to bust in the worst cracking nose he'd ever heard. His victory was short lived, the older and bigger kid getting a hit on his side, pushing the air from his lungs and flipping there positions.
But you see the thing about Izuku, was that he was quick. Sharp reflexes that resembled one of a Hawks, and so in total only three attacks hit him, the fist pounding the floor continuously.
He felt the blood burst from his nose after the hit - cartilage not shattered just yet - and the side of his bottom lip splitting, a bruise already forming where a chubby fist had landed on his cheek. Izuku squirmed slightly before bringing his knee up, grinning at the high pitched squeal the older boy made when his particularly sensitive area between his legs took the blow, and launched them forward.
He pressed his forearm against his throat, the older boys hand clawing at his face. So Izuku bit down, blood coaxing his tongue. Hands grabbed the sides of his hoodie, wrenching Izuku off and forcing his back against the wet grass, the boys lackies deciding it was their turn to hive him a beating.
They aimed more for his stomach and arms, their boss getting dobs on Izuku's glorious features, and this time he struggled to keep the tears at bay. This, of course, egged him on and he latched onto one boys legs, slamming harshly on the side of his knee and jabbing his fingers in his eyes as his knees buckled, shouldering into the other guy and slamming a hand against his kidney, narrowly missing a hit to his throat, and sagging to the ground once his attacker was done, breathing heavily.
He caught the sound of sirens just a little too late, pushing his aching body up and darting towards them, the voice nagging at him. He knew it was a bad idea, but he was low on choices.
Of course, they'd decided the best place to fight was in a cornered area of the park, so either he had to grow wings and fly over a wall, or use the Police as an exit.
As the car skid to a stop, he flung his yellow backpack on and pulled his hood up, sliding across the bonnet before the Officers could get out and flying down an alley. He was stopped however, when an officer - one he'd grown accustomed to in the recent years - with long limbs swipe his feet beneath him, quickly dragging his arms behind his back.
"For gods sake Izuku, again?"
=--=
"You know we wouldn't call you unless it was a last resort. But this boy - this is his last chance."
Keigo nodded, reaching for the folder that was passed to him as the Social Worker sighed, signing something at the Police Stations desk and sharing a small conversation with the officer before he scurried. She looked exhausted - probably was. He'd received the call about the troubled Duckling nearly twelve hours ago, and she had most definitely been awake the entire time filling out paperwork.
He'd spent the entire time setting up the spare bedroom and getting his home in order, also filling out paperwork.
"No, no, I'll do everything I can to help."
He flicked through the file, noticing how little of normal things were documented; like medical history and schooling. What was a frequent thing were complaints and arrests. He closed it and looked at the Worker.
"Is there a summary you could tell me for now? So I can read this at home - I don't want to keep the kid waiting."
She nodded, breathing deeply and collecting herself. Keigo knew this was going to be a handful - the chances of him getting PTSD himself from hearing this were high.
"Of course. Izuku's been in care since he was eight, he was surrendered by his Mother and upon further investigation, sever neglect was discovered. He only became my Case after the third replacement, and I have limited information about what happened exactly. All I am aware of it that they were persecuted for Child Endangerment, Quirk Discrimination and Child Abuse. These homes were within a few months, and Izuku was nine when he went through these court trials."
That was a heavy load, and they both knew it.
"It was after these Placements he grew a more ... rebellious ... attitude. It started off small, a few cases of disrespect and running away but it's been within the last year he's become as unpredictable and inplaceable. Before you, I called every Placement and they refuse to take him."
"He's a sweet boy, when he isn't putting his defence up. It peaks through some times; a intelligent kid with a big heart. He just doesn't understand that not everyone is out to harm him."
Licking his lips, Keigo ruffled his wings and looked up at the sound of sarcasm. The words weren't directly heard, but the tone was enough to draw their attention. The Social Worker sighed. "I've found myself in this position a rather lot recently. Here he is."
True to her word, a boy appeared down the hall. He looked rougher than the twelve years old, with his dark green hair curlier and the golden specks in his green eyes more frequent. He was skinny, hoodie and jeans hanging off his lanky form, a bruise blossoming on his cheek and dried blood flaking beneath his nose and corner of his lip.
He was pushing against a officer, who nudged him forward with an unimpressed glare. When they stopped a small distance away, he gripped just an little tighter. "I don't want to see you here again, kid. There's only so many chances I can give you." He scowled, eyes fluttering to the Social Worker.
"How you doin' Miss Noama?"
She shook her head, tapping on the back of her clipboard as she crossed her arms over it and on her chest. "Izuku." Her warning was unheeded as Izuku rose his eyes to Keigo, raising his eyebrow as he smirked.
"Bag yourself a Chicken? Did I interrupt a date? Could'a lasted another twelve hours."
The Officer still behind him gave a huffed laugh, wiping his face and looking just as exhausted. "Not if Detective T was here." Izuku shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets. "Well he's not." Noama tutted, catching his attention once again and diverting the conversation back on track.
Keigo watched Izuku's smirk fall a little, fear cracking through the masked eyes, before his smirk quirked again.
"No, this is Keigo Takami. He's your new placement. This is your last chance, and he's going to make sure you-" He wasn't listening, and Noama's voice hardened. "Izuku. Do you understand what happens if you are moved or detained again?"
Rolling his eyes, Izuku waved her words away and shrugged. There was a tightness however, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "Yeah, Yeah, Juvie and all that shit. Why don't we skip the middle man and leave the poor Chicken with his sanity."
The Officer handed Izuku his bag and the boy frowned, weighing it and scowling. "You fuckers took my spray paint."