One Horn

Chapter 6: Rest

Hey guys. Know I haven't updated in a while (shoves dsmp fics in the closet) There's a reason for it. I started writing dsmp oneshots. I don't know if any of you are into that, but I'll post them if there's any demand. I'm already going to post them on ao3.

Watch me shamelessly self-promote my ao3 account on wattpad. If Wilbur Soot angst is of any interest, please check my other fics. Lunermoon1000.

_

Shouta watched the boy's gentle breathing from his side. Izuku's -and wasn't it a relief to finally have the kid's real name- brow was scrunched, a sign of obvious discomfort, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead that made his hair wet on his skin.

His breathing was heavy and feverish, but it didn't look like it was anything serious. Though, that might change if he isn't given a chance to rest without having needles and scalpels pointed at him.

The possibility that one of Izuku's wounds was infected was high, seeing as they only cleaned them with saltwater rags. He needed antibiotics.

Thinking about what kind of fever dreams he was having worried him, especially due to the small whimpers he'd let out occasionally. Shouta could only tuck the blanket higher and brush his hair off his face. He was still boiling.

Shouta looked back over at the link chain on Izuku's ankle and quietly moved over to inspect it closer.

He hadn't been able to get this close to the chain before, but he had an opportunity now. It was a thick metal that had been screwed tightly into the wall. He examined the links for the weakest ones, all while trying not to startle the kid awake.

Moving on to the boy's ankle, he closely inspected the chafed skin, noting the discoloration and dried blood.

This was it.

The infection.

Cold metal dug into Izuku's small ankle. Gods, he was so small. He was just a baby, how could they do this to him? How could people be so cruel? Shouta tried not to jostle the cuff, seeing as that would cause it to dig into his skin, and he tried looking closely at the lock. He would need the key. There was no other way.

He waited until the Asshat came back, this time taking Shouta first. He was quiet throughout the whole session, keeping his mind focused on the one thing he needed. When Overhaul was done with him, he stumbled back to the room and observed more closely as Asshat grabbed Izuku, watching him take a small ring of two keys from his left pocket to unlock the cuff. He tried not to make it obvious that he was staring.

Gods' sake, he was an underground hero.

He could do this.

Shouta was not going to half-ass this. He'd gone on enough rescue missions to know how to do one from the inside. He couldn't rush.

He wanted to scoop the boy into his arms and run, but he restrained himself.

Izuku spent most of the next few days in fitful sleep, laying on the cool floor with the blanket tucked around his shoulders. Sometimes he murmured soft pleas for help or a name that Shouta couldn't quite make out. Sometimes he could hear quiet apologies. For what, he didn't know.

Time passed slowly, but too fast all at once. He thought through plans and times. Eventually, he could tell that Asshat was falling victim to routine as he no longer tensed his shoulders in preparation to fight Shouta off.

It must have been a little more than a week later, Izuku was now comfortable enough to lean against him. The boy hadn't gotten any better, if anything, he must have gotten worse. His arm spasmed occasionally, or his face would twitch. They had stopped taking the boy for sessions, which made sense. Izuku wasn't any use to them if he was dead.