love isn't something you earn

i'm gonna take care of things // pt 1

it was a long night. aizawa was nearing the end of his patrol with aching bones and sore hands from continued use of his capture weapon.

he could feel something brewing on the darkened streets of musutafu that night. his usual patrol route was crawling with thugs and criminals, and they were bolder, more ravenous. it was almost 3am, and he knew hizashi would worry if he was out much longer.

he sighed and walked to the edge of the roof, capture weapon at the ready. the wind was cool against his face, turning his nose and cheeks ruddy. winter was approaching.

there was a spot, on his way home, that he always made sure to stop at. it was a small, dejected neighborhood that was old and run down, but its shadowed alleyways housed a community of stray cats. he'd befriended them a few months ago during an investigation in the area, and came back often to feed the cats there.

he usually skipped it when his patrols ran long. he wasn't sure why tonight was different, but something in his gut told him to go. and his gut had never been wrong before.

he landed a few roofs away, not wanting to scare the skittish cats, and walked the rest of the way.

upon first glance, the alleyway seemed normal. dark and a little grimy, scattered with cardboard boxes and trash cans. thin and disheveled cats roamed the shadows, watching him warily, ears flattened against their heads.

then he caught a glimpse of purple.

he looked closer. there was a person curled up on the ground next to a pile of cardboard. their face and body were hidden, only a tuft of messy purple hair was visible. aizawa was no stranger to homeless people, he dealt with them often due to the nature of his work, and he contemplated leaving them be, and heading home like he originally planned.

and then he realized.

the figure was small. really small, like a child. and silent. so, so silent that aizawa couldn't tell if they were even breathing.

in his mind, he sent a quiet apology to hizashi, and debated the best way to approach. he didn't want to corner them, but the way they were positioned in the alley ensured that they'd almost always have an escape route. smart.

considering how small they were, aizawa could definitely catch up if they tried to make a break for it, and he wanted to give them somewhat of a choice in the matter. he entered the alleyway quietly, trying to make himself as nonthreatening as possible.

as he moved closer, he saw just how small they really were. their head was tucked into their knees, and their bony hand softly pet a black cat at their feet.

he barely got a look at their face before they tensed up and looked right at him.

fucking hell. he thought.

it was a boy. he looked to be about 10, but he was painfully scrawny. a muzzle was clamped onto his jaw, and a gash bled across his forehead. dark bruises bloomed across his collarbone, trailing under his ratty shirt.

and his eyes. they were wide and purple and scared. aizawa's breath caught in his throat. he'd seen enough of this in his life, you'd think he'd be used to it by now, but his chest still tightened with instinctual panic.

he quickly scanned over the scene again. a quirk trafficking ring had been shut down near here a few years ago, and the area was populated by ex-felons, drug dealers, and poor families. the boy's injuries were in visible places, and the muzzle looked worn with repeated use. the cat next to him was clearly a stray, its fur matted and littered in scratches, but it huddled close to the boy with an air or familiarity. it was likely that he lived in this neighborhood or close to it, and there was a higher probability of abuse than trafficking.