He regained consciousness in a dingy apartment, damp and incredibly dark. A few slivers of light were all that flickered in through the cracks in the black windows. His head felt woozy from the previous torment. He heard a raspy male voice say,

"Wow, now you are really picking up strays, Makoto."

A familiar sounding female voice spoke right at his head,

"Shut up, Tomura, he was literally being beaten up to death."

"As you can see, I do sympathize."

"Thanks, now shut up, because he has woken up."

Izuku realized that the people here had noticed him waking up so he made a show of yawning before immediately regretting it when a searing pain in his jaw reminded him of the beating up he had gotten. His head was still swimming, making it hard to focus his thoughts.

"I am sorry, I thought you were about to die and our apartment was the nearest. We don't have anyone with a healing Quirk here but we do have a Doctor....he stitched and bandaged you up. Would it be too bad if I opened a window?"

"Okay."

A window on his right slid open, and the evening light poured in, assaulting his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut again, to shield them from the brightness.

"Where's my mom?"

He asked the first question that came to his mind. His mom would be worried sick about him, as he didn't return yet.

"She has been contacted...I have said that you are staying over at a friend's house."

And his mom had believed that? Something seemed to not add up, until the male voice from earlier, whose name was probably Tomura said,

"She is really persuasive, don't worry."

Thinking back, he still sounded like a petulant teenager. Even at that time.

"Indeed, you don't have to worry...now, can you move?"

Hearing the question, Izuku attempted to sit up, only to give up with a groan as agony shot across his body.

"He really did a number on you, didn't he?" she said, as Izuku finally opened his eyes to look at his saviors/captors/kidnappers/whatever.

An unhealthily thin boy was standing beside the window. From what Izuku could see of him, his face was covered with a bluish hand, and hands were placed all over his neck and arms. Finding the profile slightly disturbing, he looked beside his bed, as the female who Tomura had called Makoto had shifted there.

She was probably ten years of age, not much older than he was, and yet, she had a determined and mature glint in her black irises and her hair which was tied up in a bun gave her the look of a benevolent elder sister. Looking back on it, Izuku felt that he had already known by then.....what she actually was. She kneeled beside him and spoke again,

"I am sorry for not introducing ourselves. I am Makoto Shigaraki and that's Tomura Shigaraki. He gets a little emo at times, don't worry."

An indignant sound could be heard from Tomura as if he had been offended.

"So....you are brother and sister?"

Makoto glanced at Tomura and nodded.

"In a way, yes."

"Oh," was all Izuku said before blankly staring at the walls and trying to formulate his next question. They were still kids, so there must be a guardian around. Oh God, he had burdened an unknown person with his care, how would he ever repay the debt?

"That boy, whose name was Katsuki Bakugo, I believe, would have killed you if Makoto hadn't stepped in. Apparently she sent them packing after which she appeared here, bearing your bloodied form."

"Tomura, such visceral poetics aren't exactly necessary here."

"If you call the truth poetics, then so be it."

Despite everything, Izuku found the sibling banter rather hilarious. He almost laughed before a burning pain in his chest reminded him of a broken bone.

"I think we would just call your mom here by nightfall. Right now, moving you would be critical as your condition isn't exactly stable."

"Wow, you call my words visceral poetics and now you are spouting off lines like you have a Medical Degree."

"With the level of work I do, I have an unofficial one."

"Yeah, sure, unofficial consulting doctor."

Tomura went around the bed to stand behind her and now Izuku could see his face clearly. He really wondered who the eleven-year-old had taken his fashion choice from.

Hands decorated his entire upper body, and red eyes peeked from two sides. A mop of dark blue hair grew in unkempt clumps, and Izuku couldn't take his eyes off him. Whether it was an intense fascination or suffocating terror, he didn't know.

"Tomura dearest, take that hand off and show the poor boy your handsome face. It costs nothing, you know."

"Am I getting paid?"

"One chocolate bar."

"Fine."

Izuku was mentally taking down notes of their behaviour. It had become a habit, observing those he liked. And even without information, he was beginning to grow fond of these siblings.

"As Makoto-chan has said, I am most obliged to show you my alleged handsome face."

"Enough with the dramatics, Tomura."

"I am hurt."

"Oh COME on."

Tomura Shigaraki removed the calcified hand off his face and sighed. Evidently he was neither a fan of taking them off nor keeping them on. This was a rather confusing paradox for Izuku to process. Tomura himself couldn't pinpoint the issue himself.

A haggard-looking pale roundish face came into view. Eyes and forehead bore the marks of numerous scratching, and his cheek looked bruised.

"Also, Izuku, if it wouldn't be imprudent of us to ask—, why was that boy bullying you? I couldn't get a clear reason from him."

Izuku moved his head to look at Makoto who had asked the question.

"Because I am Quirkless."