Airwaves Unscripted (PapaMic)

The second my phone buzzed, I nearly knocked over my coffee scrambling for it.

Aizawa's eyes flicked up from the stack of papers he'd been grading on the couch, one eyebrow quirking at my clumsiness. Izuku's head snapped up too, green eyes wide and hopeful, fingers curling into the hem of his hoodie.

I didn't even need to look at the screen to know who it was.

Tsukauchi.

I sucked in a breath, thumb swiping across the screen with a speed that probably set a new world record.

"Tsukauchi, please tell me you've got good news or I'm about to start making threats on national radio—"

A tired chuckle came from the other end, and my heart stuttered.

"Take a breath, Yamada. It's... good news. She's being released."

The weight on my chest evaporated so fast I nearly choked on air. "Wait—seriously? Like, right now?!"

"Yeah, right now," Tsukauchi confirmed, voice warm with a smile. "All charges are dropped, but there's a fine. It's... a bit hefty."

I don't care. I'd pay double, hell, triple—whatever it took.

"How much are we talking?" I demanded.

The number he gave was enough to make me wince, but I was already reaching for my wallet, heart still racing. "Right. Done. Consider it paid."

Aizawa snorted, crossing his arms. "You didn't even hear the amount, Zashi."

I shot him a glare, waving him off. "Doesn't matter. We're paying it. Where is she?"

"Musutafu's main precinct," Tsukauchi replied, voice steady. "You can pick her up as soon as it's processed."

I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, slumping against the kitchen counter with a relief so sharp it made my knees weak.

"Thanks, Tsukauchi," I mumbled, voice rough.

"Anytime. And Yamada?"

"Yeah?"

A pause. "...Tell her to take it easy. She's been through a lot."

"Yeah. Will do."

The second I hung up, I turned to the living room, grin stretching so wide it hurt. "She's out. She's—she's okay!"

Izuku's breath hitched, eyes going glassy and wide, hands flying up to cover his mouth.

"She's really—?"

"Really," I confirmed, crossing the room in two steps to pull him into a tight, bone-crushing hug. He choked out a wet laugh, fingers clutching at my jacket with a desperation that made my chest ache.

God, kid.

"Told you, didn't I?" I mumbled, ruffling his hair. "Your old man's got this."

He snorted, voice muffled and shaky. "Y-You're not that old."

"Rude!" I shot back, but the grin didn't leave my face for a second.

Aizawa rolled his eyes from the couch, but the tension around his eyes was gone, shoulders easing back into the cushions. "Come on," he sighed, pushing to his feet. "Get your shoes. We're picking her up."

Izuku's head jerked up, eyes wide. "R-Really? I can come too?"

Aizawa arched an eyebrow. "Of course. Who else would we bring?"

The way Izuku's face lit up was so blinding I nearly choked up myself.

Damn it, Shōta.

A few minutes later, we were heading out the door. Hitoshi had made some grumbled excuse about staying back, claiming he had a paper to finish and "I'm not great with... emotional stuff."

I didn't push it. Kid wasn't wrong.

Izuku, though—he was practically vibrating with nerves, feet tapping restlessly in the backseat as we pulled out of the driveway. His fingers twisted in the hem of his hoodie, eyes fixed on the window, but I could see the way they trembled.

Aizawa shot me a quick glance, and I gave a half-shrug, lips quirking.

I cranked up the radio a bit, hoping to fill the silence, but Izuku wasn't listening. He just stared at the passing streets, shoulders tense.

I bit my lip, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Hey, Izu?"

His head whipped around, eyes wide. "Y-Yeah?"

"She's okay," I said softly. "You'll see her soon. Promise."

His breath hitched, but he gave a tiny, shaky nod.

The drive to the precinct was short, but it felt like it stretched on for hours. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, Izuku's fingers were practically white-knuckled around the door handle.

I killed the engine, turning back with a soft grin. "Ready, kiddo?"

He swallowed, nodding so fast I worried he'd give himself whiplash. "Y-Yeah—yeah, let's—"

Aizawa snorted, sliding out of the car with a lazy stretch. "Then come on. She's waiting."

Izuku bolted out of the backseat so fast I barely caught the door, stumbling after Aizawa with wide eyes and a half-choked breath.

I chuckled, ruffling my hair as I followed, heart pounding.

Almost there.

As we reached the front desk, a familiar figure stepped out of one of the back rooms—Tsukauchi, looking worn but smiling softly. Beside him, her hair a little mussed but eyes bright and cheeks wet with fresh tears—

Inko.

Izuku stopped dead, breath stuttering.

"M-Mom—?"

And then she was pulling him into her arms, sobbing openly as her fingers carded through his hair, half-muffled apologies spilling from her lips. Izuku choked out a wet laugh, arms wrapping around her with a desperation that made my chest hurt.

I exhaled slowly, a shaky grin splitting my face.

God, finally.

Aizawa's hand settled on my shoulder, fingers squeezing softly. I shot him a grateful glance, and he rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his mouth was real.

"Told you we'd get her out," he muttered.

I snorted, scrubbing a hand over my face to hide the way my eyes stung. "Shut up, Shōta."

But the warmth in my chest wouldn't leave, even as we watched Izuku cling to his mother like she was the only thing keeping him breathing.