The men unfastened Izuku’s ankle first.
His leg felt strange when it was free.
Heavy.
Full of needles.
He tried to pull it beneath himself, but the gloved man held it against the mattress.
The wrist cuff opened next.
For one hopeful second, nothing held him.
Izuku rolled towards the opposite edge of the bed.
A hand closed around his waist.
He did not scream.
The sound stayed trapped behind his teeth.
The man placed his feet on the floor.
Izuku’s knees folded immediately.
“Sedative’s still in him,” someone said.
“He can be carried.” The smaller cuffs closed around Izuku’s wrists.
They were connected by a short length of metal.
The man lifted him beneath the arms.
Izuku went limp.
He had learned this before.
When adults were stronger, struggling only made their hands tighten.
The false nurse followed as they carried him from the room.
The corridor was longer than Izuku had imagined.
Bare lights hung from the ceiling.
Some flickered.
Doors appeared on both sides, each metal and without windows.
A cart stood against one wall, loaded with boxes marked by red medical symbols.
A man in dockworker clothes pushed another cart past them without looking at Izuku.
The air smelled of fuel, disinfectant and something sweet that made his nose sting.
Every door required a key or card.
Every turn led to another corridor.
There was nowhere open.
Nowhere he could run even if the man released him.
They passed a covered window.
A thin line of darkness showed beneath the cloth.
Izuku could hear engines.
Water struck wood or metal in a slow rhythm.
The man carrying him turned through a wide doorway.
The room beyond was larger.
A table stood in the centre.
Several chairs faced it.
Work lights had been placed along the walls, but large sections remained dark.
Rampart sat at the far side.
He was not wearing his full hero costume.
His armour was gone.
A dark shirt covered his arms.
His gloves rested on the table beside him.
Without the costume, he looked more ordinary.
That made Izuku remember the apartment.
Rampart had looked calm there too.
He had spoken to Mum as if he were explaining something simple.
Then the walls had moved.
Mum had bled.
The man carrying Izuku set him on a chair.
Izuku tried to push backwards.
Hands held his shoulders.
Rampart looked at the All Might shirt.
Then at Izuku’s face.
“You survived.” Izuku could not speak.
Rampart folded his hands.
“What did you tell them?” Izuku watched his fingers.
“What did you tell the heroes?” Silence.
“The woman called Midnight.
Eraser Head.
Present Mic.” Izuku’s eyes moved towards him despite himself.
Rampart noticed.
“What did you tell them about me?” Izuku’s breathing became shallow.
“I told…” His voice failed.
Rampart leaned back.
“You told them I killed your mother.” Izuku’s eyes filled.
“You did.” The words were barely audible.
Rampart’s face did not change.
“Your mother created a violent confrontation.” “You killed her.” “She refused every reasonable opportunity to cooperate.” “You killed Mum.” Rampart’s hands tightened together.
Only slightly.
“Inko Midoriya had already murdered one member of my family.” Izuku shook his head.
“She understood that actions have consequences.” “No.” “She chose to attack me rather than accept responsibility.” Izuku remembered invisible walls crushing the apartment.
Mum standing between him and Rampart.
Her nose bleeding.
Her voice telling him to run.
“You killed her,” he said again.
Rampart studied him.
“What did she tell you before you escaped?” Izuku looked at the floor.
“Did she tell you where she kept her records?” No answer.
“Did she make recordings?” Izuku did not know what records meant.
“Did she tell you why I came?” His cuffs clicked when his hands trembled.
Rampart leaned forward.
“What were her final words?” Izuku pressed his wrists against his stomach.
“Run to Auntie.” Rampart became still.
“And where did running take you?” Izuku did not answer.
He thought of alleys.
Rain.
Cold pavement.
People passing without seeing him.
The heroes finding him.
Midnight holding him.
The hospital bed.
The false nurse.
This room.
Rampart watched the answer move across his face.
“Your mother told you to run,” he said, “and every place you ran led you back to me.” “Auntie’s coming.” “Is she?” “Yes.” “Then why is she not here?” Izuku’s lips trembled.
“She doesn’t know where you are,” Rampart continued.
“None of them do.” “Midnight knows.” “Midnight was unconscious before you left the hospital.” Izuku’s breath caught.
“She promised to stay, didn’t she?” He looked away.
“Did you see her fall?” His chest tightened.
Rampart’s voice remained calm.
“Present Mic ran towards the sound of gunfire.
Eraser Head left the hospital room.
Midnight remained beside you.” Izuku tried to breathe more slowly.
“She did exactly what I expected.” “No.” “They all did.” “Midnight’s good.” “Good?” Rampart considered the word.
“Do you believe goodness kept her standing?” Izuku did not answer.
“Did being a hero stop her from failing you?” “She didn’t.” “She was on the floor.” “She stayed.” “And you were taken.” Izuku shook his head.
Rampart leaned closer.
“What is a promise worth when the person making it cannot keep it?” Izuku’s eyes burned.
“She tried.” “Trying is a word weak people use when they want credit for losing.” “No.” “Your heroes found you in the street.
They brought you somewhere they called safe.
Then they let strangers walk through the door and carry you away.” “They didn’t let them.” “They did not stop them.” “They’re coming.” Rampart smiled without warmth.
“Why?” Izuku stared.
“Why would they come?” “Because…” The answer felt obvious.
Because they were heroes.
Because Midnight had stayed.
Because Present Mic had given him the headphones.
Because Eraser Head had carried him.
Rampart waited until Izuku tried to arrange those memories.
“Heroes rescue people because other people are watching,” he said.
“They wear costumes.
They smile for cameras.
They collect applause.” “Midnight didn’t.” “Midnight wore a costume.” “She gave me her coat.” Rampart paused.
Izuku tightened his hands.
“She put it down first.” He remembered the pavement.
Midnight kneeling at a distance, placing the coat where he could choose to take it.
“She didn’t grab me.” “Then she learned patience.” “She was nice.” “Niceness did not save your mother.” Izuku’s shoulders shook.
Rampart continued before the grief could settle.
“The world told your mother that you were Quirkless.
The doctors dismissed her.
The police wrote reports about her.
Heroes did not come when she asked for help.” Izuku looked at him.
He recognised some of the words.
Doctors.
Police.
Mum crying after appointments.
“They abandoned both of you,” Rampart said.
“Then, after your mother died, three young heroes found you and pretended the system had become kind.” “They helped.” “They used you.” “No.” “They needed a frightened child to make themselves feel heroic.” “No.” “Why else would they care?” Izuku’s breathing sped up.
Rampart’s voice softened.
“People do not care for children like you without wanting something.” A man behind Izuku shifted.
Even he seemed uncomfortable.
Rampart did not look away.
“You frightened the police.
You accused a respected hero.
You carried a gunshot in your memory and blood on your hands.
Do you think Midnight looked at you and saw a good little boy?” Izuku stared at his cuffed wrists.
“She said…” “What?” Izuku remembered the hospital.
His question.
Am I bad because I’m a hero?
Midnight’s answer had been careful.
Titles did not make people good.
Choices did.
“She said choices.” Rampart’s expression sharpened.
“What choices?” “Good ones.” “And who decides which choices are good?” Izuku did not know.
Rampart opened one hand.
“Heroes?” Silence.
“Police?” Izuku remembered the detectives leaning over his hospital bed.
Telling him he killed Mum.
He shook his head.
“Doctors?” Another shake.
Rampart leaned back.
“So you understand.
Their titles do not make them right.” “Midnight said that.” The answer came immediately.
Rampart’s mouth tightened.
Izuku looked up at him.
“She said heroes can be bad.” “And you still trust her?” “She told the truth.” Rampart was quiet for a moment.
Then he smiled again.
“A small truth, offered so you would swallow a larger lie.” Izuku did not understand.
Rampart gestured towards the room.
“Look at the people around you.
They do not pretend to be rescuers.
They do not promise safety.
They understand that the world belongs to those strong enough to take what they need.” Izuku looked at the adults holding him.
One would not meet his eyes.
Rampart continued.
“You could learn that.” The words changed something in the room.
Izuku stopped crying for one confused second.
Rampart’s voice became gentler.
“You survived alone for three days.
You endured hunger, cold and fear.
A child who was truly weak would have died.” Izuku looked towards him.
“You are not what the doctors said.” Rampart’s gaze moved over him with unsettling interest.
“You are not nothing.” For the first time, his words did not sound entirely cruel.
That frightened Izuku more.
“Heroes will always see someone they need to save,” Rampart said.
“Police will see a witness.
Doctors will see a mistake.
Your aunt will see a child she failed to protect.” Izuku shook his head.
“But people like us could teach you never to need rescue again.” The man behind Izuku tightened his hand on the chair.
Rampart lowered his voice.
“You could become strong enough that no one ever holds you down.
No one tells you where to go.
No one makes your mother beg.” Izuku stared.
For one small moment, the offer found the right wound.
No more cuffs.
No more running.
No more people getting hurt because he could not protect them.
Rampart saw the hesitation.
“You do not have to wait for heroes,” he said.
“You do not have to forgive them for failing you.” Izuku’s eyes moved to the All Might face on his shirt.
The printed smile had wrinkled beneath his cuffed hands.
Midnight had not asked him to forgive her.
She had not told him to stop being afraid.
She had stayed on the floor even when the drug took her legs away.
“No,” Izuku whispered.
Rampart’s expression remained patient.
“You are frightened.” “No.” “You think refusing makes you loyal.” “They’re coming.” “They lost you.” “They’re coming.” “And when they fail again?” Izuku looked at him.
He was crying, but his answer did not change.
“They’ll keep trying.” Rampart’s jaw tightened.
“You would rather wait for people who abandoned you than learn from someone telling you the truth?” “You killed Mum.” The sentence was simple.
It cut through every argument.
Rampart went still.
“You hurt Midnight.” Silence.
“You put these on me.” Izuku lifted his cuffed hands as far as the man behind him allowed.
“You’re bad.” The word was childish.
Small.
Absolute.
Rampart’s patience cracked at the edges.
“Bad?” “Mum protected me.” “Your mother murdered my brother.” “No.” “She took him from his family.” “No.” “Daichi had a family too.
Did your mother explain what she stole from us?” Izuku’s hands began shaking.
The alley returned.
Mum against the wall.
Daichi’s hand on her.
The gun on the ground.
Rampart continued.
“Your mother murdered my brother and died pretending that made her brave.” “No.” “She died running from responsibility.” “No!” One of the men tightened his grip on Izuku’s chair.
Rampart’s eyes narrowed.
“Inko Midoriya was a murderer.” “I killed your brother!” The words tore out of Izuku.
The room became silent.
Rampart did not move.
Izuku’s breath came in painful little pieces.
“What did you say?” Izuku was crying too hard to stop.
“Mum didn’t do it.” Rampart’s voice lowered.
“Repeat yourself.” “I did.” “You?” “He was hurting Mum.” Izuku pulled his cuffed hands towards his face.
The man behind him caught his wrists and forced them down.
“There was a gun,” Izuku sobbed.
“It fell down and he was hurting her and I told him to stop.” Rampart stared at him.
“He wouldn’t stop.” “I didn’t want to.
I didn’t mean to.
It made a big noise and he fell and Mum said she did it, but she didn’t.” No one spoke.
Rampart’s face emptied.
Not calm now.
Vacant.
“She let me believe it was her.” Izuku shook his head.
“She was protecting me.” Rampart’s gaze focused again.
It moved across Izuku as though seeing him for the first time.
The small body.
The cuffs.
The All Might shirt.
The child who had fired the gun.
“Yes,” Rampart said.
His voice was almost gentle.
“She was.” The blow came before Izuku saw Rampart stand.
One moment Rampart was behind the table.
The next, his hand struck Izuku across the face.
There was a bright sound.
The chair tipped.
Izuku hit the floor on his side.
Pain arrived after the fall.
His mouth burned.
Something warm ran beneath his nose and over his lip.
For several seconds, he did not understand.
Then Rampart’s shoes entered his vision.
Izuku curled as tightly as the cuffs allowed.
“I’m sorry.” His voice shook against the floor.
“I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to.” Rampart seized the front of his shirt.
Izuku raised his cuffed hands over his face.
“No.” Fabric pulled tight against his throat.
“Please.” The shirt tore from collar to shoulder.
The sound frightened him almost as much as the strike.
Rampart dragged the shirt upward.
The men behind Izuku held him still.
Cold air touched his skin.
The All Might shirt came free.
Rampart knelt.
He pressed the white fabric against the blood beneath Izuku’s nose.
All Might’s smiling face darkened.
Izuku reached for it.
“My shirt.” Rampart moved it away.
“Give it back.” Rampart stood.
Izuku tried to rise, but one of the men pushed him down.
The hero on the shirt was turned towards Izuku.
Still smiling.
Blood marked the raised fist and one side of the face.
“This will bring them exactly where I need them,” Rampart said.
Izuku did not know what he meant.
“It’s mine.” Rampart passed the shirt to the false nurse.
“Place it in the cabin aboard the river vessel.
Beneath the bunk.
Do not conceal it well.” The woman accepted it.
Izuku stared at her.
She had brought him water.
She had checked his heartbeat.
Now she held his shirt by the torn shoulder as if it belonged to no one.
“Please.” She avoided his eyes.
Rampart turned back towards Izuku.
“Your mother died for a lie.” Izuku shook his head.
Blood touched his mouth.
It tasted like metal.
“She died for me.” Rampart studied him.
The room remained quiet.
Before, Rampart had hated Mum.
Now the hatred was looking at Izuku.
“Then we will discover whether the heroes are willing to do the same.” Rampart looked towards the men beside the door.
“Prepare the container.” Izuku did not know what that meant.
He knew from their faces that it was bad.