Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shouta knew from a young age that he wanted to be a hero. 

From a young age, he had always looked up to the big-name heroes of the world - old heroes, like Gran Torino, and heroes that were only just making their way into the world, like All Might. 

When he’d been younger and needed an excuse to get out of the house he and his older sister, Inko, would go looking for villain fights. When they found one - which was rather easy, what with it being such a big city - they would hide on the nearest roof and wait for the heroes to come. Shouta would find himself trying to copy the heroes’ moves, throwing out a flurry of punches and clumsy kicks, doing little backflips and cartwheels on the roof, just to get his blood pumping and to see his older sister smile for once.

They started this practice when Shouta was four years old and finally old enough to go outside with only his sister to watch him. His sister was much older - she had been eleven years old when he’d been born, and he couldn’t quite remember a time when he’d seen the girl truly smile. That was probably the main reason why the days on the rooftops were so important to him. 

His sister must have seen the talent in his flips and cartwheels, because she started saving all the money she could. When he was five years old, Inko got their mother - gaunt and tired as she always was - to sign Shouta up for gymnastics. Inko took on an after-school job to keep him in the program. When asked why, she would just ruffle his shaggy hair and say ‘Can’t let one of the world’s future heroes go in without any training’.

Shouta had taken to gymnastics like a duck to water, as Inko had known he would. By the time he was six years old, he would do several flips in a row without any assistance. He went to competitions, and he always won. His walls and his shelves were lined with trophies and medals, gold, silver and bronze covering the cracked plaster. 

Gymnastics was a good distraction for Shouta. The boy was always quite lonely. His dad was never there, always out spending the money that their mother worked so hard to bring home. His mother worked three jobs, and she came home late every night only to leave early the next morning. Inko began to distance herself, always focused on school or her new boyfriend, Hisashi Midoriya. If not for the money that was left in the cookie jar periodically for gymnastics and sweets, Shouta couldn’t be certain whether Inko came home at all.

When he was seven years old, Inko graduated and stopped coming home. The money stopped appearing in the cookie jar, and instead was mailed to them in plain white envelopes with no extra notes to explain herself. His mother took on an extra job, and Shouta almost never saw her unless he stayed up into the wee hours of the night. His father stopped coming home. Life at school was miserable, all of the children taunting him because his Quirk hadn’t come in yet.

He was eight when it finally did come in. He'd been watching another villain fight, and it looked like the heroes were losing. His chest had ached as he watched the underground hero be beaten into the ground. Something had tingled in the very tips of his fingers, and then his eyes had flashed red and his long, shaggy black hair had risen from his shoulders and the green fire that danced along the villain's skin had ceased abruptly. The hero lunged at the villain, and Shouta blinked, and his eyes became unbearably dry and achy. His irises - which had previously been a dark brown - were a bright red.

But his quirk had been activated.

He’d ran home to tell Inko, and had been overwhelmingly disappointed when he remembered that he wouldn’t find her there. 

The next day, not knowing what else to do, he told his teacher about his quirk, and how he’d made the villain’s power stop working. The teacher had only given him a fearful glance and had backed away. The other students had stared at him with distrustful eyes.

The next day, a group of students had beaten him up. Shouta was expelled. The other students weren’t. 

His hair, which had been long and unruly and had fallen almost past the middle of his back, he cut short. It bunched up in the back, wild and unruly now that it wasn’t so long and weighed down. Some patches were shorter than others. He couldn’t tie his hair back for gymnastics anymore, and the hair always fell into his eyes when he did his flips. 

He had to pin his hair back with his sisters old hair clips, small and bright pink with cats on the end. Shouta quite liked them, despite the fact that they were girly. Others didn’t, but that was their problem, not Shouta’s. 

Though he couldn’t understand why people could never be happy with him. He’d been bullied for his quirk coming in late, but when he got it, everyone was wary around him. They made fun of his hair for how long and unruly it was, saying it made him look like a girl, but when he cut it short and pulled it back with clips, he still got made fun of. How was he supposed to make these people happy?

It took a while to find a good school that would take someone like Shouta. Turns out, a kid with an Erasure Quirk who had fighting on his record wasn’t a good combination for many of the schools in Japan. 

He was eventually placed in a cheap public school. His mother was only able to afford one set of the school’s uniform, so Shouta had to go to school every day in shabby, wrinkled clothes. On the first day of school, his mother took a brush to his hair - which had grown shockingly quickly, just barely brushing the middle of his neck. She was in a hurry to brush it so he could get to school, and the brush’s bristles pulled and ripped at his hair roughly. When he went to school, his scalp was unbearably achy and his eyes were puffy.

The school was crowded, filled with hundreds of other children. The school had a rule against children using their quirks, but you could often hear the crackle of an explosion or the heat of flames dancing on fingertips. On the first day of school, in the hallway, a boy had extended his leg and had tripped him. But Shouta didn’t use his quirk - didn’t want to.

When he got home that night, he went straight to bed. His mother woke him up hours later when she got home, and had dragged him into the kitchen. She’d shaved all of his shaggy hair off with a pair of clippers, right down to the scalp. She’d cut the skin right by his ear in her haste. Shouta had hated the way the vibrating clippers had brushed over his still-sore-scalp. The sensation had made him grind his teeth.

At school the next day, a girl in his class called him SkinHead. The other children in the class had heard her, and thought it was hilarious. By the end of the day, every child in the school called him SkinHead instead of his name. 

It made Shouta wonder if they would have made fun of him if they saw the pink, cat-themed hair clips.

The days slowly faded into a gray haze, one after another. School was a dull spot in his life, a dark smear on his bright enthusiasm to become a hero, like a pencil mark on plain white paper. 

He hardly remembered school anymore, though he still made the highest marks in his grade. His life revolved around gymnastics and watching the heroes from rooftops, wondering if someday maybe, just maybe, that could be him.

Once a month, his mother would wake him up in the middle of the night to shave his head down to the scalp. The clippers always opened up that same, almost-healed-over scab behind his ear. He always walked to school with his ear feeling tender, hot and irritated. 

She shaved his head on his birthday. Same haircut, as always - right down to the scalp. When he woke up, she was gone. No festivities. His sister didn’t come to visit and his father, like always, was nowhere to be seen. His present was a bloodied ear and a lollipop from the librarian when she looked at his profile when he was turning in his books and had seen it was his birthday.

Just before he turned ten, he sent his sister a letter. Saying that he missed her, that he wished she would visit, even though he understood why she couldn’t, since the return address stated she lived on the other side of Japan. Informed her that it was almost his birthday, and that he couldn’t believe he was almost ten. Said he was thinking about mowing lawns so he could save up for self-defence classes along with gymnastics. To prepare him for life as a hero. Said that he loved her, and that he, once again, hoped to see her soon.

He got the response on the day of his birthday. Three hundred extra dollars for defence classes, and a single piece of white printer paper. On the paper, typed in bold letters, were the words ‘ Happy Birthday, Shouta ’.

He took a mixed martial arts class. He got his ass handed to him to boys much older than him, again and again until he finally got the hang of it. He had been on the brink of quitting many times - when the world got too loud, when the lights were too bright, when the shallow bruises that were left by the unyielding fists of those bigger and stronger stung just a little too much. But he couldn’t. Because he would be a hero. Because he was a hero. 

His instructor informed him that he was a master at gymnastics, better than her, and that he should consider taking parkour classes. Shouta had no ties to the place, no nostalgia for it, no friends, so he did. And just like with gymnastics, he took to it like a pro.

When he was twelve years old, his hair cuts became fewer and farther in between as his mother became more and more tired. She cut them every two months, now, sometimes longer. The hair was always past his years when he did, sticking up and messy and shaggy. He never combed it, because the bristles hurt. When his mother was around to give him his midnight haircuts, the scab behind his ear was always almost completely healed over. But it always split open again under her mistrations. 

Sometimes his mother forgot to buy groceries, and all Shouta ate was sweets with the spare money Inko sent periodically. That was okay with Shouta, since the food he cooked with the groceries was never that good anyway, though so much chocolate did make his stomach twist painfully on occasion. But Shouta could never seem to find the words to ask for more groceries, during their midnight haircuts, because his mother was always so tired and so irritated. So he made due with what he had. 

When he was fourteen and he finally told his instructor why he was taking mixed martial arts classes, he told him to sign up for U.A. The greatest hero school in Japan. So Shouta did. 

It was difficult. All the other students had such flashy quirks - ice, and sleeping gas, and earth and metal and some loud kid that made his head hurt why couldn't he shut up.

He was younger than the rest, since he was born during the school year, and shorter, and weaker, and less powerful. But that was okay. Because what Shouta lacked in strength, he made up for in determination.

Determination, it turned out, wasn’t everything. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Aizawa,” the odd looking rat-like creature said. Shouta couldn’t quite respond, so busy trying to figure out what, exactly, this (person? Thing? Animal?) was. 

“I understand you were trying for the hero course, but, of course, you couldn’t have gotten in with a quirk such as yours.”

Shouta nodded. He was disappointed. Extremely so. But there were other schools, and other ways to get hero licenses. He wasn’t out of options-

“However,” Nezu said, cutting off his train of thought. “You showed great promise. Despite not having a flashy quirk, you did well. I have a proposition for you.” 

Shouta blinked. Nodded.

“We can’t put you into the hero course, but we do have room in the general studies program.”

Shouta frowned. Cleared his throat. 

“Sir,” he said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. It was always gravelly, now that he was older, and when it wasn’t gravelly it was squeaky. Shouta hoped it would find a nice median, someday, because it was truly aggravating to hear. “I appreciate it, but I need to be in a hero course to be a hero.”

“Let me finish, Aizawa,” Nezu said, smiling sweetly, though Shouta knew that it hid sharp teeth. “In the middle of the year, U.A. holds an annual sports festival. Many hero course students compete for a chance at getting a good internship with a hero agency, and many students in other divisions compete for a chance at being transferred into the hero course. It’s rare that we do, but if you truly impress me, like you did in the exam…. I might consider it.”

This was the chance of a lifetime, he knew. But was it worth it? Was it worth the precious months he would waste in the general studies program, when there was only a chance he would be transferred into the hero course? 

He ran a hand through his hair. It was beginning to grow, since his last haircut, though his scalp was still prickly. He missed his longer hair. Even if he knew, to get back to his longer hair, he’d have to go back to pinning it up with clips. 

He could do this. Right? 

He nodded to himself, determined. His hands gripped the fabric of his black slacks. He looked up, eyes narrowed. Determination hadn’t been enough to get him through the entrance exam, but it could be enough to get him through the sports festival! 

“I won’t let you down, sir.”

~-~

After he started going to U.A., his mother stopped coming home so much. Groceries were delivered to the apartment every so often, but his mother was never with them. He still got money from his sister, and Shouta doubted she knew that his mother had stopped returning.

Before, when he woke up in the morning, there was almost always a dirty cup in the sink, smelling of tea of hot chocolate or coffee, or whatever else had struck her fancy. These days, the only cups found in the sink were his own.

But that was okay. He could adapt. 

His hair grew longer, ridiculously quickly, now that his mother wasn’t there to shave it all away. By the time he was two months in at U.A., he had to clip his hair back again. He didn’t have the time nor the energy to go to the store to buy new clips, so he used the same old pink cat clips. 

He worked harder in parkour and mixed martial arts, his muscles always straining from overuse. He got taller, eventually, but with all the chocolate he always ate instead of proper food, it wasn’t all that surprising that he wasn’t very tall yet. 

When he was four months into U.A., just a few weeks before the sports festival, he got another letter from his sister. The usual amount of money fell out of the envelope. Along with the money was a card. An invitation. Standard, with no touch of personalization. More than likely bought at a dollar store.

It was a letter to a wedding. More specifically, Hisashi Midoriya and Inko Aizawa’s wedding. The card was pink, just like the ever-present cat clips in Shouta’s hair. The address was far away, and he wasn’t sure how he would manage to get there, but he stuck it to the fridge with a magnet. Excitement and something like apprehension thrummed through his veins. 

How long had it been? Seven years since he had seen her in person?

He’d have to get a suit. Find some way to control his hair. Get a gift. His teachers liked him well enough, if he missed a single payment then they wouldn’t be too terribly upset. He’d just have to pay them back, somehow. Perhaps clean their establishments after practice, or on the weekends, to make up for it. 

Yes. That’s what he would do.

~-~

The wedding was two days before the sports festival. Shouta bought a nice suit, charcoal grey with a blood-red button up and a black tie. He couldn’t afford dress shoes along with the suit and the gifts, along with transportation, so he just wore his nicest pair of sneakers. He took gel to his hair, and tried his best to comb it back. The stray hairs that escaped the gel’s hold he pinned back with the pink cat clips. 

He bought Inko a necklace with a moon charm on it. For Hisashi, who he couldn’t remember much about besides the fact that he wasn’t his biggest fan, he bought a simple watch. Leather strap, soft on the skin. 

He took a bus to the wedding, and hoped that the seats wouldn't damage his suit. The buses always seemed too loud and dirty. After that bus, he took another bus, and then a train.

The wedding was in a garden. It was only just starting when he arrived. He kept his present on his person rather than set it on the table designated for presents, and sat at the back of the wedding. 

The bride and groom wore kimonos, black and white. His sister looked different than he remembered - green hair pulled back into a bun, face powdered and lips painted red. There was a flower in her hair. She looked older, more sophisticated, not like the teenage girl who stayed up with him on rooftops to study the heroes fighting below. 

The ceremony continued as could be expected. After the ceremony came the reception. The adults drank sake, danced and chatted. It was hard to find Inko over the dozens of bustling people, with the flashing lights and the loud noises. Shouta’s skin prickled every time someone got too close. 

Eventually, Inko sat down, and her new husband went around to talk to business associates. She leaned her head back against her seat, and let her eyes fall closed. Long, black lashes splayed on powdered cheeks. Shouta thought she looked odd. Not human. 

He sat at her table. Just looking at her. She didn’t notice him, for a while , until she looked up. Eyes widened. Shouta nodded in her direction.

“Shouta?” she asked, voice breathy and bordering on disbelieving. 

“Hey,” he said, not knowing quite how to respond. 

“You’re here,” she noted. “Is… is mom?”

“No,” Shouta said. “Just me. I haven’t seen her in a while. Her cups are never in the sink anymore.”

“And… dad?”

“Still gone.”

“When was the last time mom was there?”

“Four months. Five months. I don’t know. When I started high school, she stopped coming home at night and stopped giving me my hair cuts.”

“Ah,” Inko said. “So… you’re alone?”

Shouta blinked at her.

“No. Yes. At home. I have my instructors. And I’m thinking about getting a cat, so I won’t be alone then. I’m okay.”

Inko smiled at him in that way that she had smiled at him before, so many years ago. Chapters ago. Life times ago. Or, that’s what it felt like. It made something in Shouta’s stomach twist and ache, like it did when he ate too much candy, or when he was sad, or scared. He couldn’t tell whether she was smiling at him because she felt she had to or because she was really, truly happy to see him.

“You got old,” Shouta noted. Inko laughed.

“I suppose I did. So did you. You’re taller, now.”

“Time tends to do that to a person,” Shouta noted. “It’s funny like that. Are you twenty five?”

“Unfortunately,” Inko said, with a hint of bitterness.

“I wish I was twenty five. I’d be a hero by now. And I’d have lots of cats.”

“I suppose you would,” Inko said. “Still stuck on being a hero?”

“Yes,” Shouta said. “I’m going to U.A., now. I’m in general studies, but I’m going to transfer to the hero course. I think my Quirk will be useful for taking down villains.” Inko smiled fondly.

“I’m sure it will be, Shouta,” she said.

“How can you be sure?” Shouta asked, tilting his head to the side. “You don’t know what it is.”

“I don’t.”

“Because you left.”

“Because I left.”

“It’s Erasure,” Shouta said. “I can erase people’s quirks. No one likes me because of that. But I don’t really like anyone else, either.”

“That’s okay, Shouta,” Inko said. “If they don’t like you because of your Quirk, they don’t deserve you.”

“You left before I got my Quirk,” Shouta said. “So why don’t you like me? Why didn’t dad like me?”

“I don’t know why dad didn’t like us,” Inko admitted. “That’s just how life played out. But I do like you, Shouta. I love you.”

“But you left me.”

“But I left you.”

“Will you come back?” Shouta asked. Shouta wasn’t sure why he did. He already knew what the answer would be. What she would say. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Or maybe he was just tired of being alone. “I know you don’t like cats. Unless they’re on hair clips.” He pointed at the clip in his hair. “If you come back, I won’t get a cat.”

“I can’t come back,” Inko said. “And you can’t come with me. I’m sorry, Shouta.”

Shouta hummed.

“No you’re not. But that’s okay. Can you give me a reason? Why you can’t?”

“No. No, I don’t think I can.” Shouta nodded.

“Have a happy marriage, Inko.” He handed her the box with the necklace and the watch. “The moon is for you.” He stood up. “Do you have any suggestions? To name my cat.”

Inko dabbed a napkin at her eyes.

“Takara,” she said. “It matches with the owner.” Shouta nodded. 

“You said you loved me.”

“I do.”

“I love you too. And I hope I see you again, even though I won’t. Can you just…. Can you just call? Please? Or… or write a letter, with the money, or something? ”

“I’m sorry.”

Shouta blinked hard. 

“Why did you invite me today?”

“Because you’re family.”

“Did you want to see me?”

“I want to see you every day, Shouta,” Inko sighed. 

“Then why can’t you? ”

“Sometimes things don’t make sense. You’ll understand someday. I promise you.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“That’s okay.”

“Stop saying that. Just….” He sighed. “Goodbye, Inko.”

“Goodbye, Shouta.”

~-~

He did well in the sports festival. He took second place, and hero agencies were scrambling to get their hands on him. He was transferred into Class 1-A immediately afterward. They sat him next to a loud blonde and a girl with a rather vulgar disposition who was always flirting with him. Both were several inches taller than him. It made him want to start eating healthier, just so he didn’t have to crane his neck to speak to people.

Loud Blonde and Vulgar Girl were the only two in Class 1-A who were nice to Shouta. Apparently, when Shouta had transferred to Class 1-A, he had replaced a boy that was rather popular among his peers. Loud Blonde and Vulgar Girl, later identified as Hizashi Yamada and Nemuri Kayama, were nice to him because they didn’t like the boy he had replaced. Even though he wore girly hair clips and he was always a mess and he was more than likely irritated from not sleeping enough and he talked about his Calico cat, Takara, a lot. 

When the time came to pick hero names, it was Hizashi’s idea for Shouta to be called Eraserhead. Shouta thought it sounded nice enough. Hizashi wanted to be called Presentation Michael, but Nemuri and Shouta convinced him that it was stupid and he shortened it to Present Mic. Nemuri called herself Midnight, and Shouta thought it was fitting. Not that he would have opposed the girl, even if he disliked it. He was terrified of her.

He got money on his birthday, as well as a black and white photo of a blob about the size of a pea. Shouta thought it looked rather like a kidney bean, though he wasn’t sure why Inko would send him a photo of a kidney bean. But he didn’t have much from his sister, so he pinned it to the wall with a tack.

When he sat at his desk for class that day, he immediately informed his friends of the significance of the date.

“I am fifteen today.”

Hizashi and Nemuri immediately started planning for a party, which Shouta had never had someone do for him before. Shouta wasn’t sure how they would have a party, but he wasn’t going to complain, not when Nemuri was excited and Hizashi had that smile on his face that made Shouta want to smile too.

They went to his apartment after school. Nemuri frowned at the cracking plaster. Hizashi asked where the TV was, and Shouta informed him that there wasn’t one. Nemuri looked in the fridge, intent on gathering ingredients for a cake, only to find it bare, save for a bottle of ketchup and a couple cans of tuna that was supposed to be a special treat for the fat cat that was rubbing against her calf. 

It had been a while since his mother sent groceries. 

Shouta wasn’t sure what to do for the people in his home, so he reached into the cabinet and took out all his candy stash. He handed Hizashi the gummies and Nemuri the chocolate, and crossed his arms, squeezing his elbows. He was anxious, but he didn’t know why.

Hizashi cleared his throat and started looking around, letting out a happy squeal when he saw the pinned up picture of a kidney bean on the wall.

“Is your mom pregnant?!” he demanded, jumping up and down happily. 

“No. I haven’t seen her in five months.”

Hizashi and Nemuri gaped.

“My sister sent me that,” Shouta continued. “I think it’s a photo of a bean.”

“No,” Hizashi said, “it is not.”

“It’s an ultrasound image, Sho,” Nemuri said, and since when does she call him Sho? “It’s a photo of a baby. It means your sister’s pregnant.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “So she’s going to have a baby.”

“Well, yeah,” Hizashi said. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Shouta asked.

“I… think it’s too soon to tell, Shouta,” Nemuri said.

“She got married, just before the sports festival. I guess that’s when they got a baby.”

“I… suppose so,” Hizashi said awkwardly. “Uh, do you want to go out to eat, Shouta? For your birthday?”

“Yes,” Shouta said after a moment of thought. “I’ll change. Do you have clothes to change into? I don’t think anything I own will fit.”

“We have clothes in our bags, don’t worry about us,” Hizashi said. Shouta nodded, and turned on his heel, heading to his room.

He chose a black sweater and grey jeans. He liked them because they weren’t scratchy on his skin, like some of his other clothes. He decided to wear flip flops instead of sneakers, because he liked to go without socks if he could help it, and stepped out of his room where Hizashi and Nemuri were waiting, already changed somehow. They were whispering among themselves, but stopped when he stepped into the room.

“You look great!” Hizashi said. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and a jean jacket with blue jeans. Nemuri was wearing a tight, backless black dress with a neckline that dipped low.

“Where do you want to go, Sho?” Nemuri asked, already taking out her wallet. “It’s on me!”

They ended up getting ramen with little broiled shrimps on the side. Shouta liked it, because it wasn’t his own cooking nor was it chocolate, even if he couldn’t finish the entire bowl of noodles. They ended the night with a trip to the movies, where they watched a romantic comedy. Hizashi and Nemuri gorged themselves on popcorn while Shouta ate candy. The two drove him home, each taking a turn to hug him and say goodbye before departing, and Shouta felt something warm and fuzzy settle in his chest as he watched them leave. 

That night, he gave Takara the special tuna for being so good while he was gone, and cuddled with his cat while he fell asleep, dreaming of the smell of buttery popcorn and the taste of Skittles. 

~-~

He went through his internships and made strong connections with a few big-name heroes. He worked and worked until he finally had the highest marks in his class again. He didn’t have a flashy, destructive Quirk like the others, but he still remained in the top three of his class.

Months passed. Summer began. In July, when Inko sent him more money for his classes, she also sent a photo of a rather scrunched up, red baby. Shouta thought the child looked rather odd. Its’ skin was bright red and it looked very irritated at having its picture taken. Shouta could share the sentiment. He didn’t like having his picture taken either. 

At the bottom of the photograph was a single word. Izuku.  

Shouta pinned the photo of the scrunched up creature on the wall next to his ultrasound photo, not sure if he would ever be able to meet this Izuku child. 

Probably not, he noted bitterly.

He pinned the photo up, and tried to cast the child out of his mind. Izuku’s unpleasantly red face still lingered. 

~-~

Shouta knew he’d had feelings for Hizashi, though he had elected to ignore them until they went away, like he did with most things in his life. It was just one more annoying fly he’d have to swat to go with all the other troubling things. He hadn’t expected the feelings to be reciprocated, though he had to admit, it was nice.

Hizashi kissed him on his birthday. They were at a fair, on a ferris wheel. The lights of the fair, bright and colourful, had danced off his skin. Shouta had the fleeting thought, ‘ I want to kiss him’, and then Hizashi had. It was rather surprising, quite honestly.

It was also awkward, since they were so young, and Shouta wasn’t quite sure if he had done it right. But that was okay, because it seemed Hizashi didn’t know what he was doing either. Nemuri had taken a picture of them right after they’d stepped off the ferris wheel, holding hands, Shouta with a confused look in his eyes and Hizashi blushing furiously. Shouta had pinned it up on his wall, right next to Izuku. 

They went on a lot of dates, after that. Nemuri came too, sometimes. They went out to eat, and to the movies, and to the arcade. It was the happiest Shouta had been in a while, admittedly. He liked being with Hizashi. 

Hizashi was kind in a way Shouta couldn’t quite describe. He made Shouta feel warm. He was also quite good-looking, at least Shouta thought so. He was funny, in a way, even if he was very loud and when he got over-excited he couldn’t quite control his Quirk. But that was alright, since Shouta’s quirk was Erasure. 

He stayed over at Hizashi’s place a lot, and Hizashi’s parents never seemed to mind, only made more food to accommodate. Sometimes Shouta caught Hizashi’s mother sneaking extra food onto his plate.

They played video games a lot, at Hizashi’s house. Sometimes board games. Sometimes they did homework. Sometimes they just sat there in silence, Hizashi playing a mindless game on his phone and Shouta reading a novel. 

Hizashi liked to joke that his parents probably thought they were doing ‘ something else’, though he never clarified on what that ‘something else’ was. Shouta thought he probably meant kissing, though they did do that a lot too. 

Exams came and went, and then the school year was over. Shouta spent more time with Hizashi and Nemuri than he had the previous year, Takara joining a lot. They spent a lot of time at the gym, training to control their Quirks or, in Shouta’s case, working with weapons. Shouta had only just taken a liking to his capture weapon, which he carried on his person quite a bit now, even though it was a bit heavy. It was sort of like a weighted blanket, and Shouta could appreciate that, since he loved the weighted blankets that Nemuri let him use whenever they slept over at her house. 

In July, just like the previous year, Shouta came home to find a letter on the mat from Inko. When he opened the envelope, a photograph fell out onto the floor. Another photo of a baby. The same word, on the bottom of the photograph.

Izuku. 

He was quite a bit bigger in this photograph, and a bit more human looking. Shouta supposed that was inevitable. He was smiling at the camera. He had exactly four teeth. Shouta counted. His hair was longer, sticking up around his head in a halo of green and black. He looked like a piece of broccoli, or perhaps a cabbage. 

Shouta unpinned all of the photos from the wall. On the back of the ultrasound photo, he wrote ‘Kidney Bean’. In the photo of Izuku as a newborn, he wrote ‘Creature’. In the newest photo, he wrote ‘Cabbage’. He thought it was quite funny, though Izuku might have been offended.

He pinned the photos back onto the wall, in the order that he got them, and stared at them for a while. Yes. Izuku. 

Perhaps I should get a sign that says ‘The Life Cycle of Izuku’....

~-~

In his third year, he met a boisterous girl named Emi Fukukado. She was funny, he supposed, since everyone else seemed to laugh at her jokes. She had sea green hair, and he liked it, because it reminded him distantly of his sister and, even more distantly, his father. It made it hard to look at her, sometimes. 

She seemed to like Shouta, for whatever reason. Always telling jokes to get her to laugh, and seeming to have more and more fun when she failed. 

Shouta liked her, so he didn’t complain when she was around.

The third year at U.A. was undoubtedly the hardest. There was nothing but work. Interviews. Exams. Training. It kept Shouta busy, and he loved that. 

He mastered his capture weapon in that time, as well as his mixed martial arts class and his parkour class, though he still attended to keep his skills sharp, just like how he still did flips around his apartments for gymnastics. He’d knocked over a lot of vases doing that, and his cat hated it, but that just encouraged him to do it more, if he’s being honest. He loved it when his cat looked disdainful. 

The cat hissed at him from under the couch every time he pulled off a triple back flip. 

When he finally finished U.A., he started working as an underground hero. He, Nemuri and Hizashi worked together a lot, especially when a big name villain crossed their paths, but Shouta was always gone before the press could get a hold of him.

Seventeen years old, and already a successful and respected underground hero. Shouta wondered if Inko would be proud of him.

In that time, he sold his apartment and sent Inko his new address. He pinned his pictures up on the wall and shoved his medals from gymnastics contests long forgotten in a box in his closet. Inko still sent him money.

He got a new photo of Izuku. He was smiling at the camera shyly, hugging himself. He was rather chubby, but Shouta supposed that was normal for children at that age. His hair was long, longer than it had been last time, and it looked as if it had never been cut or combed. 

Shouta brushed his fingers over the spot behind his ear, remembering the hair cuts his mother had given him, before she’d disappeared. The ever-present cut behind his ear and the prickliness of his scalp. Shouta wondered if she still mailed him groceries ever so often and, if so, if there were bags of rotting food waiting outside of his old apartment for a boy that wasn’t coming back home.

Shouta wondered, briefly, if he should send her a letter saying he didn’t live there anymore, before dismissing the thought. He hoped she wasted her money.

On the back of the photo, he wrote ‘Greenstalk’. He hung it up next to ‘Cabbage’. 

~-~

His face started getting scruffy and prickly with hair after he turned eighteen, but he didn’t like shaving so he didn’t do it often. He didn’t think Hizashi minded much. He liked running his hands along the sides of his face and kissing his forehead, for whatever reason, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Hizashi moved into his apartment right after Shouta turned eighteen. His fridge was filled with groceries, now, rather than just tuna and the occasional half-eaten chocolate bar. He slept in Shouta’s bed, and Shouta liked that because Hizashi hugged him and traced the scars he’d gotten from hero work at night. Half of the closet belonged to Hizashi, and half to Shouta, and you could tell because half of the closet was filled with very bright colours and half were muted grays and blacks. 

In the bathroom, Hizashi’s shampoo sat beside Shouta’s, along with his body wash. His hair gel was on the counter. His hair brush too, along with several hair ties that Hizashi put in the same container that Shouta kept his kitten hair clips. 

His toothbrush shared a space with Shouta’s in the cabinet. His razer sat next to Shouta’s. 

All of Shouta’s space was being shared by Hizashi, but Shouta couldn’t find it in himself to mind that much. 

Shouta took day shifts and Hizashi night ones, and they hung out in the few hours in between each, either talking or cuddling or something in between. Hizashi patched up Shouta’s scrapes and bruises, and Shouta did the same for Hizashi. When Shouta’s dry eye was bad after patrol, Hizashi brought him his eye drops, and when Hizashi’s throat hurt after using his Quirk too much or his ears ached, Shouta brought him water, throat lozenges and noise cancelling headphones.

It was good. 

In the summer of Shouta’s eighteenth year, Shouta got two things in the mail. His regular letter from his sister and an official looking envelope. He opened the letter from his sister first.

Izuku. Three years old. He had freckles now. On the back of the photo, he wrote ‘Sprout’, and pinned it up on the wall next to the other photos. Then he opened the official looking envelope.

It looked a lot like the wedding invitation, but less frilly.

It was an invitation. But not to a wedding. 

He put the card on the table, and sat on his couch, staring at it. Hizashi found him like that, hours later. He sat next to him. Opened the envelope. Slowly closed it, and put it back on the coffee table, before wrapping an arm around Shouta and pulling him close. He tucked his head under his chin, a movement that was awkward now that Shouta had finally caught up height-wise and was now only an inch or so shorter than Hizashi’s 6”1. Hizashi hummed some pop song he had played on his new radio show, and Shouta stared at the wall blankly.

Hizashi called Nemuri, and she came with a weighted blanket and three movies for them to watch. Shouta accepted the blanket and relaxed under its weight. Hizashi and Nemuri sat on either side, Hizashi with an arm wrapped around his waist and Nemuri leaning against his shoulder. They ate popcorn and skittles, like they always did when they watched movies. 

Shouta couldn’t quite bring himself to pay attention.

His parents were dead. 

His father, who he hadn’t seen since he was seven years old. His mother, who he hadn’t seen in four years. They were dead.

They had died together.

He had so many questions, and none of them could be answered. Why did they die together? How did they die? Who had invited him to their funeral? Would his parents even want him there, if they were alive? He felt the strong urge to shave his head, just because he thought it might make his mother happy had she been able to see him, and he tugged at the black strands anxiously. 

Hizashi took the hand from his hair and entwined their fingers. 

A funeral. Because they were dead.

When people died on TV, loved ones always cried. 

Why couldn’t he cry?

Was he even considered a loved one by these people?

His stomach twisted. He felt ill, and he pushed away the skittles. 

Hizashi kissed his temple. Shouta leaned his head against Nemuri’s, and fell asleep.

~-~

The funeral was two days later. Shouta hadn’t wanted to buy a new suit, since he really didn’t have the money, but the suit he’d worn for Inko’s wedding really wasn’t fitting for a funeral and it was too small. 

They bought a new suit. Black pants, black suit jacket, black collared shirt and a blood red lapel. He didn’t wear a tie. 

He took a razor to his face and shaved his beard, something he usually only did once a month or so, the same schedule his mother had shaved his head, all those years ago.

They didn’t own a pair of clippers, now, and Shouta was glad for it, since he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from taking them to his head. Instead, he washed his hair thoroughly, blew it dry and combed out all the tangles before tying it back up into a half knot. 

In the minutes before it would be time to leave, he paced the room relentlessly. Adjusted the lapels of his suit jacket, washed his face repeatedly, adjusted his hair. When strands of hair began to fall out of the half-knot down into his face, he pinned them back with the pink hair clips and started pacing again. 

Hizashi watched him pace from the couch, looking worried. They’d decided he wasn’t going to the funeral, since he had never met the deceased, but…

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” Hizashi asked. Shouta pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He felt like scratching at his skin, felt like clawing his way out. He flexed his fingers instead. 

“Could… can.... Would you? Would you be comfortable with that?” Hizashi smiled at him softly. 

“Of course I would be,” he said. “Anything for you, Sho.” Shouta’s shoulders slumped, and he felt marginally lighter. 

“Thank you, ‘Zashi.” He sat next to him, and Hizashi hooked a finger under his chin, kissing him softly. His other hand held his cheek, and his thumb stroked over smooth skin. Shouta blinked his eyes open when Hizashi pulled away, smiling slightly. Something came to his mind and Shouta, having no filter whatsoever, said it. “I love you, Hizashi.” 

Hizashi’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Shouta felt a blush creep up his neck, and his ears burned. His heart started thrumming in his chest.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…!

Hizashi opened his mouth to say something, but the alarm on his phone cut him off. Shouta stood up from the couch quickly.

“Time to go,” he said, hurrying out of the house. Hizashi sat there for a moment, stunned, before running after him.

They were halfway to the funeral when they realised Hizashi wasn’t wearing a suit and had to drive back.

~-~

The funeral was crowded, filled to the brim with unfamiliar people, and Shouta found himself reaching for Hizashi’s hand involuntarily. 

They sat in a pew at the back. Hizashi kept a hand on Shouta’s leg, and Shouta covered the hand with his own as the funeral’s proceedings went on. Almost everyone in the room was crying and Shouta wondered what it meant if all these strangers were crying for his parents but Shouta, their son, couldn’t manage a tear.

A woman walked up to tell a speech, and a hush falled over the crowd. Shouta’s eyes widened in shock. Hizashi looked utterly confused as Shouta’s shoulders began to shake.

Inko Midoriya began her speech.

“My parents were incredible people,” she began. “They were kind, and always there for me. I was lucky to have them. My dad taught me to ride a bike, my mom taught me to bake cookies. They worked hard to support me, and...” Her eyes, which had been sweeping across the room of people, met Shouta’s. Her speech stalled. 

Why does she lie?

She swallowed.

“They had their ups and downs, but they came together again four years ago, and I think they’re happy to have died together too. They’ve been nothing but kind to me, my husband and their grandson these last couple years….” She blinked hard. “I’m sorry...” She wiped at her eyes. A little boy with long, curly green hair suddenly ran forward and hugged her leg.

“Mommy don’ cwy!”

Shouta gasped. 

The Cabbage….

Inko walked down from the stage. The funeral came to a close. Shouta stood up from the pew abruptly, Hizashi hurrying to follow and apologise to whoever they ran into. Shouta grabbed Inko’s wrist and pulled her along, the woman staying quiet as he did, until they were outside.

“What…. Why did… what? ”

“I’m so sorry, Shouta,” Inko said. “I didn’t know you were coming-”

“ Fucking tell me what’s going on, Inko! ” Tears welled in Inko’s eyes. Shouta felt nothing but confusion and anger. 

“When Mom left you… it was because dad got into contact with her again. I’m so sorry, Shouta… she left for dad.” 

“But… but why wouldn’t she take me with her? What...”

A hand gripped his shoulder, and Shouta knew it was Hizashi.

“Sho, maybe we should-”

“No, no, I want to know,” Shouta said. “If she left, why didn’t she take me with her? ”

“Shouta...” Inko swallowed thickly. “Dad… left because of you. And… and mom missed dad, even though he was barely around to begin with, and when he said he wanted her back she just…. The condition was, he’d take her back… so long as you didn’t come with her.”

The world cracked down the middle. Puzzle pieces he hadn’t known were missing came together to form the entire picture. Why his mother worked so much, why his dad had never been home, why his mother had always been so… distant. Did she blame him for his father leaving?

“Did she want to leave me?” Shouta asked, quietly. Inko looked down at her feet. “Oh.”

“You… were always different. Weird,” Inko admitted. “Dad didn’t really… like that, all that much. And neither did mom. They just… couldn’t handle you, I don’t think. No one could quite understand how your mind… ticked.”

“Is that why you left?” Shouta asked.

“No. I left for Hisashi. He wanted to leave, and he… didn’t like you. But I wanted to be with him, and you didn’t really like him either, and...”

“When Dad left, where did he go?” His voice sounded empty, even to him.

“No one really knows for sure,” Inko said, wringing her hands nervously. “But… I think he went to another woman.”

Shouta nodded.

“And you… you’ve been around them the past few years. You...”

Inko nodded.

“I… think I need to go now,” Shouta said. Inko nodded.

“That’s probably for the best.”

Shouta nodded. 

“Thank you,” he said. Inko blinked.

“For what?”

“For… believing in me. When you were still with me. I’m a hero now, because of you. Underground. Look up Eraserhead.”

“I will,” Inko said. “And I never stopped believing in you. I’m sure you’re an incredible hero.”

“He is,” Hizashi said, hand dropping from his shoulder to grasp at Shouta’s hand. “One of the best heroes I’ve ever met. Good day to you, ma’am.”

With that, they left.

~-~

Shouta couldn’t sleep that night. His mind was too full. The sheets felt too rough, too hot. When he kicked off the blankets, he was too cold. Hizashi lay beside him, an arm across his waist. 

He still had so many questions.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked Hizashi. Hizashi stiffened slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why… why did everyone I loved leave me for someone better?”

Hizashi’s hold on him tightened.

“They’re not better than you, Sho,” Hizashi said. “Those people are idiots. If they had any intelligence at all, they would’ve seen you for how amazing you are.”

Shouta sighed.

“Can’t be that amazing, if everyone packed up and left. Inko said mom and dad left because I was… different. What’s wrong with me?”

“ Nothing is wrong with you,” Hizashi said vehemently. “If they couldn’t love you for you, then they weren’t worth it. Alright? They’re not worth it. If you ask me, you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you being you.”

“I guess you ‘love me for me’, then?” Shouta asked sarcastically.

“I do,” Hizashi admitted quietly. 

“Oh.” It felt like his brain was rewiring itself. “Wait, did you just say-”

Hizashi pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Go to sleep, Sho.” 

“Okay.”

~-~

Two pictures of Izuku later, and Shouta was twenty years old. He hadn’t gotten any taller, but he’d gotten broader - his chest and arms more defined, the fat from childhood that had remained in his face having melted away to reveal sharp features.

He was twenty years old when there was a knock on his door, and a woman in a police uniform waited outside. There was also a woman in a flowery dress and a cardigan standing beside her with a clipboard and a stack of paperwork. Shouta frowned at the woman.

“Can I help you?” he asked hesitantly.

Hizashi, what did you do now…

“Yes you can,” the police officer said. “Can I come in?” Shouta nodded, leading the two women to the couch and - was that a kid?

And not just any kid. A green haired kid.

The Cabbage.

“I’m going to be blunt with you, Mr. Aizawa,” the police officer said. “Hisashi Midoriya left his family, giving up custody of Izuku as well, and Inko Midoriya is dead. You’re his last living relative.”

Shouta felt an odd numbness in his hands as the world around him froze, his body drenched in cold.

What?

Chapter Text

He couldn’t remember signing the papers, but he must have, because next thing he knew the police officer and the woman in the floral dress were gone and he was alone with the cabbage. 

Izuku. Not the cabbage. Izuku. Human child. 

He stared at the child. The child stared back. He looked weary and tired, like he hadn’t slept much the past few days. There were dark circles under his round eyes, something Shouta hadn’t known was possible for children. His hair, which had already been long and uncontrollable in every picture he’d seen of him, looked as if it hadn’t been combed or washed in the past few days. Shouta was reminded of a time long ago, when his mother was still alive and she would rip a brush through his hair.

Shouta had the strong urge to reach forward and poke the child. Just to make sure this was all real.

Shouta didn’t think that would be appreciated.

“Hello,” he finally said. His voice rumbled in his chest, and he saw the child flinch. Shouta supposed that was understandable. He was rather scary looking on good days, and his voice was quite deep. Had he been the child’s age, he’d probably be a bit frightened too.

“Hi...” Izuku said. The child’s voice was high and tinny, and somehow his voice seemed to match his appearance. Small. 

“My name is Shouta,” Shouta said, because he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. “I… believe I am your uncle.” The child nodded. “What… is your name.” He already knew his name, but the child might appreciate pleasantries. Or perhaps not. He didn’t know much about Izuku, after all.

“‘Zuku,” the child said. Shouta wasn’t sure if he just couldn’t pronounce all the syllables of his first name or if everyone called him ‘Zuku. He wasn’t sure how to ask.

“That is… a nice name.” His voice sounded dry, even to his own ears, and Shouta hoped the child was not offended, since that’s how his voice sounded all the time.

“Are you… going to take care of me now?” His words were clumsy and round, and there were W’s where there shouldn’t be W’s. Shouta wondered if he should get the child in speech therapy. 

“I think so,” Shouta said. “If that’s alright with you.” But was it even alright with Shouta? Would it be alright with Hizashi? Did he even have a choice, at this point, after signing those papers?

“Okay,” the child said. 

Where do I put a child? I guess I could put him in the guest bedroom, but that’s where Nemuri usually sleeps… 

“I’ll buy a futon,” Shouta muttered, “for Nemuri. And you can sleep in the guest bedroom. I’ll buy a bed for a child. Or a crib, if you still use those at this age. And a dresser. A child dresser? Do children need dressers..?” He dissolved into mutterings and questions directed to no one other than himself, Izuku waiting on the couch for him to finish, gazing at him warily. The boy looked very pale. His freckles stuck out too much.

“I’ll make food,” Shouta decided, quickly standing up. He walked to the kitchen swiftly and took a tupperware container out of the fridge. He was planning on having it for lunch, but he supposed the child needed it more. He shoved it into the microwave for thirty seconds and leaned against a counter, his arms crossed against his chest, hands gripping his elbows. Hizashi always said that was how he knew when Shouta was anxious or irritated, but Shouta just did it because he found it comforting. It was like being hugged. 

The child walked into the kitchen from the living room and stood across from him. Large eyes looked at him inquisitively. They were green, just like his hair. Just like Inko’s eyes. And his father’s eyes. Who were both dead.

He felt like he could feel clippers buzzing along his scalp. He tugged at a strand of hair. 

“You’re five years old.” The boy nodded. “What do five year olds like?” The boy frowned, as if in thought.

“I like heroes.” He said the word ‘heroes’ like there was a W just before the O. Shouta felt hope begin to blossom in his chest. Yes. This. He could talk about this. “Like All Might!” 

“I used to like All Might too, when I was your age,” Shouta stated. “He wasn’t quite as popular back then as he is now.”

“But now he’s the number one hero!” Again, with the added W’s. 

“I’m a hero,” Shouta informed him, and Izuku gasped, suddenly looking like an excited puppy. “Underground. I went to U.A.. That’s basically a hero high school.”

“What’s your hero name?” Izuku said, practically bouncing in place. Shouta felt himself relax, slightly. Yes. This he was good at, because he was Izuku, fifteen years ago. Starry-eyed and always talking about the heroes of the world. 

“Eraserhead,” Shouta said, and Izuku looked like he might pass out.

“I have a chapter for you in my hero notebook!” he informed him. The boy, Shouta noted, seemed to add more and more unnecessary W’s to words when he was excited. Who knew. 

“You can write?” Was he even in school yet?

“I’ll go get it!” Izuku shouted, either ignoring his question or not hearing it through his excitement. He ran into the living room, and Shouta followed him. He ignored the beeping of the microwave behind him. Izuku was digging through his suitcase, throwing clothes aside in search of his hero notebook. His things scattered across the floor, and Shouta couldn’t help but wince. He didn’t care much for his appearance, really, but when his home was a mess it made him antsy. 

The boy finally procured his hero notebook, and brought it over to him. There were quite a few stickers on the cover, as well as a few drawings done sloppily in crayon. One of them looked like a house. One, he supposed, was supposed to be a horse. 

He flipped through the notebook until he found a drawing of… Eraserhead. 

The drawing was done in blacks, whites and muted grays. Black clothing, and the gray of his capture weapon, which looked rather like a snake, or perhaps a scarf done by a blind grandmother. There were black dots on his face, and Shouta thought that was supposed to be his stubble. His eyes were red dots hidden under black hair. The drawing was frowning. At least that was fairly accurate.

He looked at the notes on the side. The spelling was dreadful, as was the handwriting, but Shouta managed to make out what it was supposed to say.

Quirk: Erase. Floaty hair.

Weakness: Dry eyes.

Alive.

Underground hero. 

Notes: Goes after villains from roof tops. Can do flips and tricks. Good at scarf. 

It wasn’t much, obviously. He wasn’t sure if a child could have written more than that, what with children at that age’s attention spans being as short as they are. But it was certainly impressive. 

He tried to keep to the shadows, and do his work quickly and quietly. Not a lot of people knew that a hero named Eraserhead existed. So how had the boy gotten as much information as he had? Had he… seen him in action?

One thing was for sure. Hizashi would find it utterly hilarious that a child thought his Quirk was ‘Floaty hair’.

“This is impressive,” Shouta said. The child positively beamed. 

He heard a meow from across the room.

“Do you like cats?” he asked the child. Izuku blinked.

“Um, yeah,” Izuku said.

“Go play with my cat. Her name is Takara and she’s fat. You’ll like her. I have to make a call.” 

He walked into the kitchen, taking out his phone and dialing Hizashi’s number. As he did, he took Izuku’s food - still warm - from the microwave, dishing it up onto a plate and setting it on the table for Izuku to eat later. Hizashi answered just before the phone could ring out.

“Uh, babe? I’m at the radio show. Do you need anything?”

“There’s a child playing with our cat.”

“... what?”

“My sister is dead, her child belongs to me now, and he is playing with Takara. I’m feeding him leftovers, but I’m not sure what to do with him now.”

“Oh,” Hizashi said. “Ok, sweetheart, relax. The show wraps up in twenty minutes, and then I’ll hurry home, okay? We can talk about it then. Is that alright?”

“Yes,” Shouta said. He paused. “My sister’s dead.”

“I know, Sho, I’m sorry,” Hizashi said, and he sounded like he meant it. “Just try not to think about that right now, okay? I’ll be back before the hour’s over. Yeah?”

“Okay,” Shouta said. “I love you, ‘Zashi.”

“I love you too, Shouta. I’ll see you soon.” Shouta pressed the ‘End Call’ button. His hands went back to gripping his elbows as he followed the sounds of Izuku’s giggles. Izuku was laying on the floor of the hallway, the cat purring away on his chest as Izuku thread his fingers through her fur. 

“Hello, Cabbage,” Shouta said. Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed at the nickname. “There’s food on the table. Hizashi made it, so it’s good. Please eat it.” Izuku nodded, slowly easing the cat off his chest and standing up. He was rather short, like Shouta had been as a child, and he barely came up to Shouta’s hip. 

Shouta guided him back into the kitchen, and Izuku took a seat at the table. The cat jumped onto the table to follow the boy, but Shouta gave her a gentle nudge and she leapt back down. Shouta walked into the kitchen and grabbed two chocolate bars from the cabinet before sitting across from Izuku.

“Finish the food and you get one of these,” Shouta said, setting the bar on the table and ripping into his own chocolate bar. It had been years since he ate just candy for lunch, but with Izuku eating his food, he didn’t really have much choice. He didn’t trust himself to cook without setting something on fire. 

“But you’re not eating lunch,” Izuku pointed out. The shyness he’d possessed earlier seemed to have vanished now that he’d encountered the cat. 

“This is my lunch. And I’m an… adult.” It wasn’t often he thought of himself as an adult. It sounded fake.

“How old are you?” Izuku asked, taking a bite of his food. 

“I turned twenty last November.”

“That’s really old,” Izuku noted. Shouta frowned, feeling a little hurt. 

“It’s not that old,” Shouta said. “I’m only fifteen years older than you.”

“Wow,” Izuku said. Shouta narrowed his eyes.

“Eat your food,” he said, taking a large bite out of his candy bar. He wanted to get out of this topic of conversation.

“Do you like… sports?” He hoped not.

“Not really.” Thank God. 

Shouta tried not to look too relieved at that. Sports meant he would probably have to attend games, and sports games always seemed too loud and too bright. Nemuri and Hizashi had taken him to a sports game once. He’d gotten a headache that was so bad, he’d almost thrown up and they’d never suggested it again.

“Me neither,” Shouta confided. “They’re very...” He couldn’t find the right word. He moved on. “But I was in gymnastics. I liked gymnastics.”

“Like flips and stuff?”

“Basically,” Shouta said. “I did flips on roofs a lot so my sister put me in gymnastics.” Izuku looked very sad suddenly.

“My mommy put you in gymnastics?” he asked, his voice sounding small. Shouta frowned.

“Yes,” he said. “She saved up money so I could go. She’s probably the reason I’m a pro hero.” Izuku sniffled. “Are you… okay?”

“I miss my mommy,” Izuku said and Shouta felt suddenly, incredibly stupid. 

“... Oh. I’m sorry. About your mother. I… miss her too.”

“Can you tell me stories about her?” Izuku asked. “Someday? Not today, but someday? I miss her,” he said, again. Shouta felt very uncomfortable. He was never very good with crying people, especially not crying children. He wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. Hands gripped elbows. 

How was he supposed to tell the child stories about a woman he hardly remembered?

“Yes,” he said, because he didn’t want the child to cry. Izuku wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater. “Please stop crying.” Izuku’s eyes welled up with tears again, and he looked like he was just short of wailing. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he replaced both R’s with those ever-present W’s. His face was red from trying to hold in his crying, and it made his smattering of freckles stick out all the more. Shouta didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to hug the child, because it might make Izuku uncomfortable, but what if Izuku wanted a hug? Should he get him water? “My daddy says boys don’t cry. I’ll stop crying.” He sucked in a huge breath. 

“No, no, that’s...” Words lodged in his throat. He hated words. He had the words, but they were always too round or too sharp, and he never knew how to shave them down so he could say what he wanted to say. “You can… cry. If you need to… cry. I know you’re going through a lot… I shouldn’t have asked you to…. Stop crying.” Izuku whimpered. He was still holding his breath, like that would help. “Please breathe.”

He checked his watch. Hizashi’s radio show would just be ending, now. It took him thirty minutes to drive home. Shouta almost hoped he would speed. 

He looked at the child’s plate.

“Eat your food and you get chocolate. Chocolate makes me feel better.” Izuku nodded, continuing to pick at the food on his plate. His eyes were still red and puffy.

“Are you married?” Izuku asked. Shouta almost choked on a bite of chocolate. 

“No,” Shouta said slowly, drawing out the word. “I’m twenty years old.”

“That’s old enough to get married,” Izuku pointed out.

“Still too young for me,” Shouta said. 

“My mommy and daddy were married, before my daddy had to leave for work,” Izuku said.

“I see,” Shouta said, feeling something bitter and ugly grow in his gut at the mention of Izuku’s father. Maybe it was from his anger at his own father, for abandoning him. Maybe he just hated all negligent fathers. Maybe he just disliked Hisashi Midoriya.

Maybe all three.

“I am dating someone,” Shouta said. 

“Really?” Izuku asked. “What’s her name?”

“Hizashi. And it’s ‘he’. We’ve been together for four years now.”

“That’s nice,” Izuku informed him. “Do you love him?” He drew out the word ‘love’.

“Very much,” Shouta said seriously.

“Do you want to marry him?”

This child asked too many questions.

“Maybe one day.”

“Does he want to marry you?”

“I’m… not sure. Maybe.” Why did this child have him questioning his relationship?

“Do-”

“No more questions, please. Your foods going to get cold,” Aizawa said. “Remember, if you don’t eat your food, you don’t get candy.”

Izuku ate. Shouta unwrapped the candy bar for him. He felt Takara curl up around his feet, her purr vibrating against his ankle. He finished the candy bar much faster than he finished the food.

“Would you like to play with the cat more?” Shouta asked. He would have offered to play a movie, but he wasn’t sure if children were supposed to watch TV at that age. The cat was a safe bet. And it would give him a chance to read the file Izuku’s case worker had left before hurrying away.

Izuku nodded, and turned onto his stomach, sliding down from his chair. It only reminded him of how small Izuku was. Had he been that short at Izuku’s age?

Probably shorter.

While Izuku sat on the floor and played with the cat, Shouta walked into the living room and sat on the couch. The file was on the coffee table. It reminded him of a day two years ago, when he’d gotten the invitation for his parents’ funeral. 

His parents had died in a gas leak, in their home on the other side of Japan. When they’d found them a few days after their death, they had been laying in bed together, holding hands.

They’d had a house together. They’d loved each other so much, they had held hands, even in death.

Shouta didn’t regret his life. He was happy with where he was today, and he wouldn’t change anything. That didn’t stop the wave of grief that washed over him at the thought of his parents, at the knowledge of why they had left in the first place, at the brief glimpse into a life he never had.

He opened Izuku’s file. At first, it was just basic stuff. His height (3”0). His weight (17.4kg). Hair colour, eye colour (Green, green). He was up to date on all his shots. He had 20/20 vision, and he could read and write despite not being in school yet. He flipped through until he found the page about Izuku’s parents (InkoInkoInkoInko Inko- ), not being about to staunch his curiosity. 

He turned to the page on Hisashi Midoriya first, not quite able to look at his sister’s yet. It said what he already knew. Hisashi Midoriya. Age: 31. Height: 6’1. Weight: 170 pounds. 

The notes: Hisashi Midoriya abandoned Inko and Izuku Midoriya two months prior, signing away all his rights which many believe was the main trigger for Inko’s s-

He snapped the file shut.

S. He didn’t know if he’d be able to read the rest of the word without screaming. The hands gripped his elbows tighter, and he could feel his nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. 

S.

Hisashi’s fault…. My fault?  Hisashi’s fault.

In that moment, Hisashi Midoriya wasn’t the annoying brother in law, or the negligent father who had abandoned his five year old son ( Two years younger than I was, oh God- ), but a villain. A villain who had, however indirectly, killed his sister.

Shouta didn’t get angry often. He got irritated a lot, yes, but that was practically in his job description. 

He was furious.

He didn’t think he had even been this angry at his parents’ funeral. 

A squeal of laughter sounded behind him.

He reopened the file, and skipped Inko’s section.

Notes about Izuku.

An intelligent, albeit sensitive, boy. Cries very easily. Quirkless. Found his mother’s body.

Found his mother’s body.

Shouta felt ill.

Izuku knew that his mother was dead. That much was obvious. But he didn’t know that his dad had left - he thought he was working. Was that what Inko had told him? What Hisashi had told him, before he left? What was he supposed to say, should the boy ask where his father was, when his father would come and get him?

Quirkless.

Was that why Hisashi had left?

“You… were always different. Weird”   

His father had left him because he was different. 

“No one could quite understand how your mind… ticked.”

How similar were Izuku and Shouta after all?

Inko had said, a million years ago, that they couldn’t figure out how his mind ticked. 

Had Hisashi made the same excuse for Izuku?

He snapped the file just again and threw it on the table like the paper burned. 

S.

Quirkless.

Different.

Ticked.

He scratched at his scalp. He could still feel the buzzing. 

~-~

He wasn’t quite sure when Hizashi walked into the house, only that Izuku was sitting on the floor next to the couch rather than on the floor of the kitchen and he looked concerned. 

His cat was laying on his feet.

“Shouta, I’m here-” Hizashi said, peeling off his jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack. He was panting slightly, like he had run up the stairs from the parking lot. Izuku gasped.

“You’re Present Mic!” he squeaked. Hizashi grinned that grin he saved for younger children and fans. 

“Right you are!” Hizashi said. He walked over and shook the boy’s hand. “But please, call me Hizashi. What’s your name, Little Listener?” Izuku was practically vibrating in place after meeting two heroes in one day.

“Izuku Midoriya!” the boy chirped. “I have a chapter in my hero notebook about you!” Hizashi’s eyes widened slightly.

“Oh really? Can I see it?”

“Yeah!” the hyper cabbage said. “Lemme go look for it!” And with that, he took off out of the living room. Takara hissed from where she was laying across Shouta’s feet. Hizashi sat on the couch next to Shouta.

“Are you okay, Sho?” He asked quietly. Shouta didn’t know the answer to that question.

He was angry. And his elbows ached. His head was pounding, and so was his heart. And he felt sad, but he didn’t think he needed to cry, and that only made him angrier. 

“I don’t know,” Shouta answered, because he didn’t. 

“That’s okay,” Hizashi said, because it was.

Shouta was reminded of green hair pulled back into a bun, red painted lips and a white kimono. 

“Please stop saying that,” Shouta said, feeling fourteen years old again.  

“Do you want a hug?” Hizashi asked, and he didn’t know the answer to that, either. 

He leaned against his shoulder. Hizashi’s hand ran through his hair. It felt much better than the buzzing. It didn’t sting, and there wasn’t any blood dripping down from behind his ear. 

Izuku ran back into the room, holding his notebook like it was his favorite child. He flipped through the pages until he found Hizashi, shoving the notebook at him afterwards.

Shouta thought the drawing of Present Mic looked vaguely like a cockatoo. Hizashi obviously thought the same, if his strained smile at the child’s drawing was any indication.

Quirk: Shrieky.

Weakness: Ear ache.

Alive

Pro hero

Notes: Yells until people fall asleep.

“Well that’s accurate,” Shouta noted. Hizashi whacked him.

“It’s very good, Izuku. Especially for someone your age,” Hizashi said, smiling at the boy warmly. “You did a great job. I especially like my description.”

Izuku smiled at them, and it was almost blinding. 

“Do you want to be a hero when you grow up?” Hizashi asked, giving the boy his full attention. 

“Yes!” Izuku said, bouncing up and down. “I wanna be the best hero ever, and make everyone smile and feel safe!”

“Well, you’re already on the right track!” Hizashi said. Shouta began to relax into the couch more, now that the child’s attention was on Hizashi. Hizashi Yamada was much better with children than Shouta was. 

His mind wandered away from him as Izuku and Hizashi chatted. 

Inko was dead. Had they already had her funeral? Izuku had found her. Had he watched her die?

If they’d already had her funeral, had Hisashi gone?

Surely the social worker would have told him about her funeral, had she not had one yet.

Had she been that…. That gone, that she felt the need to kill herself, to leave Izuku alone after Hisashi left? 

She could have called him.

They hadn’t been on speaking terms. He hadn’t even talked to her since the funeral. And he had been hurt, so hurt, after she’d explained herself but….

If she had called him, he would have dropped everything, everything, to help her.

Inko, why didn’t you just call…?

He sighed, his head falling back against the back of the couch. Why did he keep asking himself questions he already knew the answer to?

He looked up. Izuku looked a little upset, and Hizashi a bit awkward, and Shouta immediately regretted not following the conversation more closely.

“Well, that’s okay!” Hizashi said. “You can still make a difference without a Quirk! Sho fights quirkless all the time, and he’s one of the best heroes I’ve ever met!” Hizashi poked him, looking at him expectantly. Shouta blinked. What was he supposed to say to that?

“... yes,” Shouta said. “It is possible to be a hero without a Quirk. Completely plausible. It just means you’ll have to work harder than the rest to train, like I did.” He thought for a moment. “If you’d like to be a hero, I can get you into some gymnastics and self-defence classes. Or if you want, I can just help you myself. It’s no trouble. I… have too much free time, anyway.” Izuku’s eyes widened.

And then he barrelled forward, wrapping his arms around Shouta’s waist and burying his face in his chest. Shouta gasped, arms lying stiff at his sides.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you Mr. Shouta!”

Something thick and uncomfortable settled into his chest as he remembered a time a lot like this one, long ago.

Shouta rolled around on the rooftop, doing little cartwheels and flips, panting from the exertion. He looked up at his sister after he rolled onto his back, and his smile was blindly, long strands of black hair falling into dark brown eyes. Inko smiled down at him.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” she noted, sitting down on the rooftop next to him. The five year old grinned, sitting up and crossing his legs across from her.

“Yes!” Shouta agreed, pushing hair out of his face. “I will be the greatest flipper of all time! And the greatest hero! I will!”

“I’m sure you will, Shouta,” Inko said, a soft hand reaching out and pushing a strand of hair out of his face. “So, I was wondering… you have talent.” Shouta nodded eagerly.

“Would you like to take gymnastics?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” He frowned. “But we don’t got the money. Mommy says stuff like that’s expensive.”

She leaned in close, conspiratively. 

“That’s true,” she said quietly. “But I have the money.”

Shouta’s eyes widened. 

“And if you’re good - like, really good, and you make good marks in school and you’re nice for mom and dad… I’d be happy to pay for your lessons.”

“Yes! Yes I will! I’ll be the - the best boy ever! Yes! And I’ll be super smart at school! And I’ll make you proud at gymnastics too!” he shouted gleefully, hands flapping in his excitement.

Inko ruffled his hair.

“I know you will, little hero.” Shouta, his face looking like it might split from his smile, lunged forward, hugging his sister close.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Shouta swallowed thickly as he slowly patted Izuku’s back.

“Just call me Uncle Sho, kid.”

Chapter Text

Getting Izuku settled in was… overwhelming. 

They had to buy the boy a bed, first - the child couldn’t sleep on the couch forever. And Izuku had told him that he loved All Might, so Shouta had gotten All Might sheets for him, but when he saw the sheets on the newly-assembled bed he had started crying because they reminded him of home, so Shouta had had to go back to the (loud, bright, crowded ) store to buy him new sheets.

The guest bedroom was painted green. Shouta liked the colour because it was dark and made the room seem colder at night, and it helped him fall asleep. The rooms being as dark as possible were important for both Shouta and Hizashi - Shouta because his eyes often ached from his Quirk and, when he got overwhelmed, it was quite easy to trigger a headache and Hizashi because he got frequent headaches from the sheer volume of his own Quirk. But Izuku didn’t like green because it reminded him of Inko, and whenever he was reminded of Inko he cried, so Shouta had had to go back to the damned store to buy new paint for Izuku’s and, after Izuku had so kindly pointed out the colour’s resemblance to Inko’s hair, his own room (light blue and dark, dark navy). He, Hizashi and Nemuri (who was utterly delighted to meet the newest addition of the household) had to spend the entire weekend painting, and the smell of the paint was too sharp and too chemical like that damned cologne that the boys at U.A. used to wear, which brought him right back to the headache issue. 

Then, after looking through the child’s things, they discovered that Izuku needed new clothes and an armoire to put things so Shouta, Hizashi and Izuku had to go back to that damned, godforsaken store to buy him pajamas, jeans, t-shirts and formal clothing. And the worst thing was, they would have to go back to the hellscape that was the store in the next few months to buy Izuku his uniform for school.

It was exhausting, mentally and physically, in all the worst ways.

But, they got it done, and Izuku’s (and Shouta’s) room was finally, blissfully done the following Monday. 

It was painted a light, sky blue. The sheets matched the walls and were patterned with clouds and little smiley-faces. He had a net hanging from one corner of the ceiling that held a variety of stuffed toys and action figures. The armoire and his dresser held all his clothes, old and new, and the closet held extra sheets and blankets, as well as shoes.

Overall, it looked… nice. 

They had their first real dinner on Monday night and, after so much shopping and painting, it was quite possibly the best thing Shouta had ever tasted. Nemuri’s absence was painstakingly obvious to the adults. The purple-haired woman had joined them for almost every dinner she had time for. But, what with Izuku being so new to the house and so overly sensitive after his excitement over living with heroes and the grief after losing his mother had truly started settling in, they didn’t want to overwhelm him with Nemuri’s presence. After all, the child had only met Nemuri once and had almost fainted.

As Shouta ate the food Hizashi had prepared, he couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t crying. Izuku could hardly go an hour without tearing up. The bright, happy child they had encountered for a few, precious hours had long since faded away to a sniffling little boy with watery eyes and a near-constant pained look on his face.

And Shouta was sad, yes. But he couldn’t bring himself to cry for the woman.

For years, Shouta had considered Inko his best friend. Even after she had left him for Hisashi and the only way he’d known she even still remembered him were the letters that appeared in his mail periodically.

He had loved Inko. He had really, truly loved her. And he thought he still did, despite everything. But he couldn’t bring himself to mourn for her, not really.

The Inko he knew had died the day she left him for her boyfriend. He had grieved for her after the wedding, and he had buried the image of the woman she was into the far recedes of his mind at the funeral. The old Inko’s casket had been lowered to the ground when he’d said goodbye to the woman for the last time, two years ago, two million years ago, and it had been buried far away under a landfill of hurt, left to rot in a place he didn’t like to think about. 

And he couldn’t mourn for her more than he already had. 

Hizashi was chatting excitedly to Izuku, keeping it up even if the boy only responded in hums or grunts. Hizashi seemed to be making it his mission to distract the boy, never getting discouraged. Shouta was reminded, once again, of how good Hizashi was with kids. 

“May I be excused please?” W’s. 

“You haven’t finished your food,” Shouta said.

“I’m not very hungry,” Izuku admitted.

“I’ll put your food in the fridge in case you want it later,” Shouta acquiesced. 

“I probably won’t.” The child seemed to replace every R with a W. 

“I’ll put it in the fridge.” Izuku nodded, turning over in the chair onto his belly and sliding to the floor. 

“Are you going to sleep?” Hizashi called after him.

“Yeah,” Izuku called from down the hall, and it sounded a little choked. 

“We’ll see you in the morning, little listener!” Hizashi called. His response was the door to Izuku’s room clicking shut. 

“He’s crying,” Shouta noted.

“His mother just died,” Hizashi responded, taking another bite of his food. 

“He was the one that found her after she...” Shouta cleared his throat. 

“I know, Sho. I read the file. I really am sorry.” 

“I’m not sure how that will affect him.”

“We could look into psychiatrists, if he needs them. Needs someone to talk to.”

“Holding stuff like that in isn’t… healthy, is it?” 

“No,” Hizashi said. “It’s actually pretty bad for you. Talking about what’s bothering you is supposed to make things… easier.” He took a sip of water. “Do you need to… talk about things?”

Did he? His sister had died. He could talk about that. Probably needed to. Or about Inko leaving. About his parents leaving. That hadn’t really been… addressed, had it? 

“This isn’t about me,” Shouta finally said. “This shouldn’t be about me. We’re talking about the kid, now.”

“Sho, there’s no shame in talking about what’s bothering you.”

“We need to talk to Izuku,” Shouta said. “Soon. Not tonight. But tomorrow. Or the next day. Just… soon. About Inko. And… Hisashi. He thinks the reason his dad’s not here is because of… work.”

“Is that what you thought, when your dad left? Is that what your mom told you?” Hizashi asked, never one to drop a topic of conversation. 

“Hizashi. This isn’t about me,” Shouta said. “I dealt with my problems years ago. Focus on the bigger issue here.”

“So your problems aren’t important? Is that it?” Hizashi asked. “It’s just a question, Sho.”

Shouta’s irritation was replaced by a thrum of anxiety between one heartbeat and the next. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t. He didn’t. His hands gripped at his arms involuntarily, fingers tapping at his elbows. 

“Hizashi. You are making me very uncomfortable. Please stop.”

And Shouta hadn’t had to say something like that in years.

At U.A., not a lot of kids liked Shouta. He’d replaced one of the most well-liked kids in the school with his transfer to the hero course - of course they didn’t. They liked to tease him, and shove him around in the hallways, and go just a little too far in hero training because they knew it would bother him, and knew that he got overwhelmed easily.

On one such occasion, they pushed him over the edge so far he’d ended up screaming at a student, head pounding with a headache and stomach twisting like he was about to be sick. Shouta had regretted the incident, since the rumors after the events had spread like wildfire afterwards, and everyone seemed to walk on eggshells around him - even his best friends. It was far worse than being teased.

But he, Nemuri and Hizashi had worked out a system. If a person was overwhelming him - beginning to push him into that state where it felt like an icepick was splitting into his head and his heart was racing and he felt like he was about to be sick - then all he’d have to say was “You are making me uncomfortable. Please stop.” And if they didn’t, Nemuri or Hizashi would step in to help him. 

He hadn’t had to say anything along those lines in over three years. And never to Hizashi.

Hizashi’s eyes widened.

“Okay,” Hizashi said. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” Shouta said, running a fist over his sternum, as if that would make his chest stop hurting. 

“Don’t thank me,” Hizashi said. “You didn’t want to talk about that, and I pressured you. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Shouta said bluntly. Hizashi smiled sadly. 

“It won’t happen again.”

“It probably will,” Shouta said knowingly.

“Then I’ll make an effort not to do it again.” 

Shouta nodded. Sighed. 

“I’m tired,” he said.

“Okay,” Hizashi said. He checked his watch. “It’s pretty late, so… how about you go to bed now, I’ll keep my patrol tonight short, and I’ll be back by morning?”

“Okay,” Shouta said. He and Hizashi grabbed their plates, placing them in the sink to be washed later, and walked toward their shared bedroom - Shouta to get ready for bed, and Hizashi to get dressed for patrol. 

“Be safe,” Shouta said as he pulled a sleep shirt over his head. 

“Always,” Hizashi said. They hugged each other, Hizashi pressed a kiss to his cheek as he did so, before Hizashi walked out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind him. Shouta heard the front door click shut across the apartment. 

Shouta sat on the edge of his bed, hands stapled together in front of him. The aching in his chest was gone, now. Only sleepiness pulling at his eyelids, though that, admittedly, was fairly normal. 

It was only eight. Was Izuku asleep yet? He stood up quickly, shaking the jitters out of his hands and walking to Izuku’s room across the hall. He eased the door open slowly, hinges creaking.

“Are you asleep?” Shouta called. He got a sniffle in response. Awake and crying. The night was going splendidly. 

“Would you like water?”

“Yeah,” Izuku said after a moment of silence. 

Shouta walked away from the room, returning a moment later with a small bottle of cold water, which he opened before handing to the child. 

“Drink. Crying makes you dehydrated. And it’ll help you sleep.” Izuku nodded, taking a small sip of the water. 

“Where’s ‘Zashi?” Izuku asked between sips of water. 

“Patrol,” Shouta said. “I was about to go to bed but I thought I should check up on you. So I did.”

“Thank you,” Izuku said. Shouta frowned.

“Don’t thank me for looking after you,” Shouta said. Izuku blinked.

“Okay.” There were still tear tracks on his face.

“You should probably wipe your face.” Izuku wiped his face with the long sleeves of his pajamas. “Better. Are you actually tired or did you just leave because you needed to?”

Izuku shrugged. Shouta nodded.

“I’m tired,” Shouta said. Izuku looked guilty, for a moment. “But I can’t sleep until you sleep. So I’ll read to you.” Isn’t that what parents do in movies? His parents had never read to him, but maybe it would help Izuku get to sleep? Or would he start crying again? “What books do you like?” Shouta asked before he could start questioning his choices more.

“Comics,” Izuku said.

“I… do not think it’s possible to read a comic book out loud,” Shouta said. “I think Hizashi has children’s books. He likes to read them at hospitals. I’ll look for them.” He walked out of the room stiffly, returning a few minutes later with a book about a tortoise and a hare. “I like this one.”

They read together, Izuku asking a few questions as they went along. Shouta was leaning against the headboard of Izuku’s bed as he read, and the child sat beside him. Eventually, the child leaned against him so he could see the pictures better. Shouta was uncomfortable at first, but the child was warm and he relaxed soon afterward. 

It didn’t take long for Izuku to fall asleep, leaning heavily against Shouta’s side, the pro hero’s arm pinned under the child. 

He sighed. He couldn’t move, now, not after just getting the kid to sleep.

He put the book aside, looking up at the ceiling. Hizashi would free him when he got home. Probably. 

Izuku’s hair was long. He’d have to take the boy to get it trimmed, at some point. 

His eyelids felt heavier, like they had before he’d gone into Izuku’s room. 

It wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes for a bit. Just until Hizashi got home.

They fell closed. 

~-~

When he woke up, he was covered in a gray blanket. The child was still asleep next to him, but he had shifted in the night, sleeping in the space below his arm instead of on his arm.

Shouta slowly pushed the blanket aside, easing his way out of the bed.

When he opened the door, he heard something clunking around in the kitchen. Hizashi was flitting around in the space, dishing up plates.

“What is it?” Shouta asked, grabbing a mug from the cabinet for coffee. 

“Onigiri,” Hizashi replied. On the plastic plate, which he assumed was Izuku’s, the onigiri had a little smiley-face drawn on it. Shouta set his mug by the coffee maker and grabbed the food, putting his and Hizashi’s in their usual places and Izuku’s in the spot he had claimed as his own. 

“Should I wake up the cabbage?” Shouta asked.

“Probably. I’ll get our coffee fixed if you take care of him.” Shouta nodded, walking back to the boy’s room. He knocked on the still-open door. 

“Wake up.” Izuku groaned. “There’s food.” Izuku mumbled something incomprehensible. “If you don’t wake up, I’m eating your food.” No he wouldn’t. “Cabbage. Wake-up time. C’mon.” The boy sighed, sitting up slowly and slipping off the bed. 

“I have to get dressed,” Izuku informed him. Shouta nodded, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Hizashi was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee. Shouta sat across from him and began to drink his own, his hands feeling less dull and tingly with sleep after getting his caffeine fix.  

The child walked out of his room a moment later, and he and Hizashi’s eyes widened when he saw him.

The child was wearing bright yellow pants - and since when had he gotten yellow pants? - and a dark red t-shirt. His feet were enclosed in electric-green socks, and his hair was an absolute mess. Even Shouta, who knew next to nothing about clothes or how they matched, could tell that wasn’t it.

“I think I should have picked out his clothes,” Shouta said. Hizashi nodded slowly. 

Izuku climbed up onto his chair, leaning his head on his hand and taking a big bite of his food. Hizashi and Shouta slowly turned back to their own food, talking quietly amongst themselves. 

“I think we should cut Izuku’s hair,” Shouta said. “And start researching schools.” Hizashi hummed. 

“Do you want a haircut?” Shouta asked. Izuku looked slightly uncomfortable at the prospect. “We wouldn’t be shaving it or anything. A trim, at most, to make it easier to manage.”

“Your hair is long,” Izuku said. 

“I’m an adult. And my hair doesn’t go in all directions. Your argument is null.” 

“We’re not going to cut it if you won’t want to,” Hizashi cut in. “It just… might look better and be easier to take care of if we trimmed it a little shorter.” 

“Okay...” Izuku. “But not shaved.” He said the last part sternly, like that needed to be clearly expressed before they proceeded. 

“Of course,” Hizashi said. “I’ll call a hair stylist. But in the meantime…. Kid, you gotta change your clothes.” 

“Why?” Izuku asked through a bite of food, making a mess everywhere. Shouta passed him a napkin. 

“Um,” Hizashi said, clearly trying to find a way to phrase it nicely. “They don’t exactly… match.”

“You look like a stop light.”

“ Shouta! ”

“Oh,” Izuku said. “But I like my clothes!”

“At least change the pants.”

“But… but I like yellow!”

Shouta shrugged.

“Then the shirt.”

“But Unckie Sho, I like this shirt!”

Shouta froze. 

“Did you just call me Unkie Sho? ”

“Oh my goodness that was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Can I please keep my clothes, Unkie Sho?” Izuku said, flashing him puppy dog eyes. He knew what he was doing. Shouta was sure of it. Shouta narrowed his eyes right back.

Well. At least the child wasn’t crying for once.

“... change your socks.”

Izuku grinned, jumping up and hugging Shouta’s arm before barreling back to his new bedroom to, presumably, get new socks.

“ Did you buy him yellow pants? ”

“Why on earth would I buy him yellow pants? ”

Shouta sighed. “It’s too early for this. Set the appointment with the hairdresser please.” 

Hizashi pulled out his phone just as Izuku came back into the room - this time, mercifully, wearing black socks - to finish his breakfast. The phone call lasted a good five minutes before Hizashi hung up, smiling.

“We’ve got you scheduled for two hours from now, little listener!” Hizashi said. “How about you go and brush your teeth and then we can watch a movie until it’s time to go, yeah?” Izuku nodded, quickly eating the last bits of his food, before walking back down the hallway to the bathroom. 

“Do you mind combing his hair while I do the dishes, Sho?” Hizashi asked. “We can’t take him to the hairdressers with his hair all tangled up.” Shouta nodded, standing up.

He knocked on the bathroom door before entering. Izuku was sitting on the sink so he could see the mirror above it while he brushed his teeth, precariously close to the edge. 

“I’ve got to brush your hair,” Shouta said. Izuku spit out his toothpaste. “This one’s non-negotiable, Cabbage.”

“My head hurts when people brush it,” Izuku said. Shouta sighed.

“I know. I’ll try not to yank it, okay? I know it hurts.”

“My m-m-mommy said I’m tender-headed,” Izuku said. 

“You probably are,” Shouta replied. “I don’t know about your… about Inko, but it used to take a lot of trouble to get my hair brushed, when I was your age. Still hurts a lot. But I’ll try and be careful, okay, kid?”

Izuku nodded. He turned around and faced the mirror, and Shouta stood behind him. He sprayed a surplus of water onto the boy’s hair and tried to carefully run a comb through small sections of hair rather than trying to run a brush through the entire thing, stopping when he saw the child wince in the mirror. 

“You’re good at this,” Izuku said. “My m-mommy had to hurry to get to work a lot, so it always pulled and hurt me.” Shouta winced. He remembered a brush tearing through tangled hair, crying at school because the ache in his swollen scalp was nigh unbearable. The sound of hair ripping through the bristles of a brush.

“Yes, I know. It’s horrible, isn’t it? Your grandmother used to do the same thing to me.” Until she started shaving it all off.

“Really?” Izuku said. When he said it, it sounded a lot like he was trying to say ‘wheelie’. “I don’t remember Gammaw much. She went to heaven when I was really little.”

Shouta sighed.

“I don’t remember much of her either.”

He combed a tangle out of the last strand.

“Done. Do you need help getting down?” Shouta said, putting the comb and spray bottle back into their original places. 

“Yes please.” Shouta grabbed the boy under his armpits and hauled him down from the counter, setting him down on the ground carefully. He wasn’t sure how durable children were. “Thank you, Unkie Sho!”

Shouta wondered if the child was just going to call him ‘Unkie Sho’ from now on.

“It’s no trouble.”

~-~

The ride to the hairdresser’s wasn’t a long one - maybe thirty minutes or so, thanks to the traffic in the city. Short enough for Shouta and Hizashi to get there and get back quickly before Shouta’s patrol shift. 

Izuku became friends with the hairdresser immediately. Hizashi’s hairdresser was a petite woman with purple and blue dyed hair cut into a pixie cut and tattoos that ran up the expanse of her arms. She was funny, to adults and children, and she didn’t try and patronize Izuku because he was so young. Shouta thought he would have liked to have her as a hairdresser, had he not cut his hair himself. 

When they told him they just wanted a trim for Izuku, she got to work. It was done fairly quickly, since it wasn’t that complicated of a haircut, the hairdresser, the cabbage and Hizashi talking amongst themselves while Shouta watched her cut Izuku’s hair.

In a matter of fifteen minutes, they had paid the woman and they were back in the car heading to a fast food place for a quick bite to eat before heading home. They got the food through the drive-through and ate it in the parking lot of the restaurant, Izuku falling asleep in his carseat in the middle of eating.

“Hizashi?” Shouta said while they drove home.

“Hmm?” Hizashi said, using the turn signal.

“No one knew.” Hizashi blinked at him confusedly.

“What?”

“When my father left, no one knew. He was already gone so much, we just thought he was off doing whatever he did when he wasn’t home…. We only realized he left for good when he’d been gone for three months.”

“Shouta, you don’t have to-”

“You asked,” Shouta said. “And I didn’t think my dad left because of work because he didn’t work. And my mom wasn’t at home enough or really cared enough to sugar coat things to give me an excuse. That just wasn’t how we worked.”

“Oh.” 

“Yes. ‘Oh’.”

“You… said you weren’t comfortable talking about that. Why did you?”

“Because I love you, and I wanted to be honest,” Shouta said. “And because I didn’t want you to ask again.”

The drive home was quiet.

Chapter Text

Izuku loved his dad. 

Dad always took Izuku and Kacchan to the park every Wednesday after work, and then took them to get their favorite ice creams from the ice cream shop. On the weekends, he always found the time to spend with Izuku - whether it be watching movies, playing catch in the yard, teaching him to play catch, or going out for food. 

On his birthdays, his dad always took him out to adventure parks or superhero museums. He helped him with his Quirk analysis notebooks, and he helped design Izuku’s future hero costume.

Dad was Izuku’s favorite person in the entire world. 

Sure, there were some things that Izuku didn’t like. He didn’t like it when his dad came home every day and asked him if his Quirk had come in yet, since he already felt kind of bad about not having one yet when his entire pre-school class’s Quirks had developed. He didn’t like when his dad told him not to cry, because Mommy cried when she got sad too and Dad never said anything to her. He didn’t like when Dad had to go on business trips because Mommy was always extra sad when he did, and he didn’t like the days after his birthday, when Dad got all mad at Mommy and Mommy hid in her room.

Mommy and Dad always argued around his birthday. Mommy had a brother that Dad didn’t like because he was a ‘freak’. Izuku didn’t know what a ‘freak’ was, but the kids at pre-school who had already gotten their Quirk called him it sometimes and it didn’t sound very nice. 

Izuku was five years old when Mommy took him to the doctor and the doctor told him he couldn’t be a hero. The doctor had said he had something wrong with his foot, a bone or something, and it meant he couldn’t have a Quirk. Mommy had cried and cried and cried. 

When Dad had found out, he was mad. He and Mommy had argued, again, like they always did when Dad got mad, but this time it wasn’t about Mommy’s ‘freak’ brother, it was about Izuku. When the yelling finally died down, the house was really quiet except for Mommy’s crying, but Izuku was too scared to go and check on her. Then he’d heard something heavy dragging across the floor in front of his bedroom, and the door was slammed shut, and Mommy had only cried harder. 

When Mommy had stopped crying and Izuku had come out of his room, Mommy told him that Dad had gone to work and that he wouldn’t be able to come home for a few days. Izuku had wanted to ask Mommy how many days, but Mommy looked like she might start crying again, so he didn’t. 

Izuku started counting days on the calendar after that, until Dad could come home and he, Kacchan and Dad could go to the park together like they always did and eat ice cream. But the day that Izuku’s dad usually took them out for ice cream came and went, and Dad still didn’t come home, so Izuku started counting down to the next day, and the next…

Kacchan asked Izuku if his Quirk had come in yet, and Izuku had tearfully explained that his foot was weird so he couldn’t have a Quirk, and Kacchan had looked at him weird, like he was unsure of something. The next day, Kacchan looked like he was upset about something and wouldn’t even look at Izuku. The day after that, he started acting mean every time Izuku tried to talk to him.

Mommy started working more since Dad’s work hadn’t given him any more money, and she didn’t have any more time in the morning to help Izuku take a bath and brush his hair, and Izuku didn’t know how , so he couldn’t. The kids at his preschool called him gross, and it made Izuku feel gross too, and that just made him sadder.

Izuku had had a friend in Kacchan, but now Kacchan didn’t want to talk to him, and no one else wanted to talk to him because he was a freak, and because he was Quirkless, and because he was gross, and Dad’s trip for work was really far away so he was never home to spend time with Izuku anymore, and Mommy was always working and crying, and it felt like Izuku didn’t have anyone. 

Mommy didn’t come home for dinner one night, so Izuku tried to wait until she did. But after a while his tummy started hurting, and he couldn’t wait anymore because it felt like he might be sick. So he got bread from the counter and he tried to get peanut butter from the shelf, but he couldn’t reach it. All he had for dinner that night was bread, and since Mommy wasn’t around to see him do it, he ate it on the floor in front of the TV while he watched cartoons. 

Mommy had come home, but she was really tired and had fallen asleep in front of the TV and wouldn’t eat any of the bread Izuku brought her for dinner. Izuku had curled up next to her and fell asleep, because he was lonely and it looked like Mommy was too.

His dad had been gone for a whole month, Izuku counted the days off on the calendar. When he’d been gone for a month, Mommy got really sad and stopped leaving her room, even to go to work. She always said she was too tired, and she wouldn’t drive Izuku to pre-school so Izuku had to walk all the way there. He’d felt like a grown up after, and he’d told his mommy all about it, but she’d just told him to go to his room and play with his toys and went back to sleep. He’d waited for her to make him something to eat for dinner, but she hadn’t, so he ate bread again. 

Everyone at pre-school started teasing Izuku more because he was gross, so Izuku tried to take a shower like a big kid. But the water was too hot, and then it was too cold, so he’d had to hurry to take his shower and when he’d gotten out, there was still lots of soap in his hair. He didn’t want to get back in the shower though, so he’d tried to clean it all out with a towel, but it hadn’t worked and he’d had to go to school with the soap suds still in. Everyone had teased him more, after that. 

Izuku thought Mommy was so sad because Dad had to go on the business trip to make lots of money. Only, he must not have made that much money, because every time he came home from school he’d find lots of bills on the mat marked ‘Urgent’, and since Mommy was too sad to go to work and Dad’s job never gave them any more money, they went unpaid.

It made Izuku scared, because he’d watched a cartoon on the TV where a family wasn’t able to pay their bills, and they’d ended up homeless and living outside. Izuku had been camping once, but that was in the middle of the woods, not the city. And he didn’t know if he’d like to go camping outside forever. 

Mommy slept a lot, now, instead of crying. Sometimes Mrs. Bakugou would visit his Mommy, and at first she’d tried to help but then she was yelling at her, and after she yelled at her she yelled at him, and said that it was his fault Dad had left. Izuku wondered if it really was his fault Dad had gone on a business trip, and his fault Mommy always cried now or slept.

At pre-school, he decided he wanted to make Mommy feel better, so he’d made a card. He’d made it with pink and blue construction paper and lots of glitter. Even Kacchan had helped a little, once he told him why he was making it, and had helped him spell the words! And he had the teacher look at his note - she’d said it was very nice and his handwriting was ‘excellent’. Izuku wasn’t sure what ‘excellent’ meant, but it sounded better than ‘freak’, so he figured that was a good thing!

He had shown Mommy the card, but Mommy hadn’t even looked at it. She told him to set it on her nightstand and that she’d look at it later, but when he came back a couple hours later with food for her, she hadn’t even opened it. When he’d asked her when she would, she’d told him to go to his room and to leave her alone.

Izuku didn’t know why, but he missed his mommy. She was always in her bedroom, laying in bed and sleeping, but still he missed her. She didn’t act like she used to - she didn’t make him dinner anymore, or help him with his drawings. She didn’t tell him stories about superheroes, or watch movies with him. She didn’t smile at him and ruffle his hair anymore. She didn’t do anything. It was like with his toy robot. When he was all charged, he was able to play and do tricks and walk around, but when his battery was low he got slow and glitchy.

Maybe he just had to find Mommy’s charger.

Until then, however, he would focus on his hero analysis notebooks - he had just started a chapter on Present Mic, and he loved Present Mic. 

~-~

He didn’t find Mommy’s charger in time.

In the next couple weeks, while Dad was away on his business trip longer and longer - Mommy had said, weeks ago, that he’d gone to America, but America couldn’t be that far away, could it? - and Mommy’s batteries got lower and lower. She didn’t talk to Izuku anymore when he tried to get her attention, barely moved. The most he could get her to do was sip some water. 

At first, Izuku had thought Mommy’s charger might be food , so he’d brought her dry cereal (the bread had long since gone dry and moldy). But Mommy didn’t want the dry cereal, and how was Izuku supposed to get her up and moving and playing with him if she wouldn’t eat?

So he’d looked for another way to charge Mommy’s batteries. He’d tried to play Mommy’s favorite songs on pots and pans with wooden spoons, singing an off-key version of the music. Mommy had just told him to go away. He’d tried reading to her, and he had done a good job too, he even knew most of the words, but Mommy didn’t like that either. She was getting skinny, and when she opened her eyes they always looked so tired and sad. 

Izuku wasn’t sure how to get Mommy back to normal.

How was he supposed to get Mommy back to normal if she wouldn’t even look at him?

He’d tried to call Mrs. Bakugou, but she’d hung up on him. He’d tried to talk to Kacchan at school, but he’d just frowned at him sadly, looking uncomfortable to be near him, before yelling at him when he wouldn’t go away. He’d gone to his teacher, because everyone said you were always supposed to go to your teacher when you had problems, and he’d told her that Mommy’s batteries were low and she wouldn’t even eat anymore, but the teacher thought he was telling stories and told him to go sit back down at his table.

How was he supposed to help Mommy if no one would help him?

He remembered his uncle, the one Mommy and Dad liked to argue about, the one that Dad always called a freak , and he thought it might be an okay idea to call him, but he couldn’t find his contact number. He didn’t even know his name. 

So, he grabbed Mommy’s phone, and he called Dad. 

The phone had rung. And rung. And rung. It had rung and rung until it left at a voicemail. He tried calling again. No response. Why wasn’t Dad answering?

But he remembered what his teacher had once said, about Americans sleeping on a different schedule since they lived so far away. So he waited until it was really late ( Midnight! That was the longest he’d ever stayed up in his life! ) and tried to call again. If he was right, then it would be six a.m. in America and Dad would be getting ready for work!

But he got the same response. So he’d waited an hour, and he’d called again. And again. And again. 

He’d left voicemails, too, dozens. Some of them he was saying hi, some of them he was begging for help, some of them he was just crying because he couldn’t get any words out. And he’d regretted it, too, after he did it because Dad had told him over and over again. ‘Boys don’t cry, Izu, stop crying, you’re not a girl, are you?’ But he couldn’t stop crying because there was something wrong with Mommy and Please pick up the phone, Daddy, please. 

And Dad didn’t pick up the phone. 

He fell asleep listening to Dad’s voice, Dad’s ringtone, and the deep timbre of it was almost comforting, almost like those nights when he was little when Dad would sing him to sleep. Almost. But that was just a recording, and Dad wasn’t there.

Mommy got up one day, and Izuku thought he’d finally gotten her batteries charged again. 

She’d walked into the living room, and she’d sat at the table, and she’d looked so tired and so sad but Izuku could work with that because at least she was moving. 

Izuku had brought her dry cereal and a cup of water. 

All the other food - the milk, the eggs, the cheese, the leftovers, had all gotten gross and slimy and smelly and Izuku had had to throw it away. 

Mommy had eaten the cereal, and she even thanked Izuku and smiled, just a little, but she had smiled. And Izuku felt so happy , it was the happiest he’d felt since Dad had gone on his business trip and Mommy’s battery had started dying. 

Izuku had run to get Mommy the mail when it was delivered, and brought it to her with a grin on his face, just happy to be helping now that Mommy was up. 

Mommy seemed to get more and more tired as she looked through the envelopes. Her face had gotten paler, too, and she’d looked a lot like she had a couple days ago. Battery dying. Laying there. Except… worse. 

She’d smiled at him. Kissed his forehead - commented that he really needed a shower, my goodness Izuku, you’ll have to take one this evening, won’t you, there’s no time now - and sent him off to school. Izuku had asked Mommy to drive him, but Mommy said she couldn’t, said she had to take care of something and - you’re such a big boy, Izu, Mommy’s great strong boy, now, you can take yourself to school, can’t you?

So Izuku walked.

The school day had passed by quickly, since he was so happy. He’d grinned at Kacchan, and Kacchan had smiled back, just a little, before frowning and turning toward his colouring sheet. The teacher had said good morning to him. The school had had Izuku’s favorite for lunch that day, and not even his classmates’ teasing could dim his mood!

He’d practically skipped home, excited to see Mommy’s batteries charged, excited to play, and watch movies and just spend time with Mommy.

When he came home, he found Mommy back in bed, and his heart sank. But maybe she was just taking a nap?

He’d reached over to shake Mommy’s shoulder, and her skin was ice cold. He let out a startled yelp. He didn’t know what to do, because Mommy was so cold, why was she so cold? What could he do?

He’d ran into the hallway and grabbed as many blankets as he could carry, and he’d dumped them onto Mommy, tucked her under them. Mommy was still sleeping, and when he touched her face she was still cold, why couldn’t the blankets get her warm?

He ran out of the apartment, heading to his next door neighbor's house, telling her that his Mommy was cold, she won’t wake up, Mommy won’t wake up and I can’t get her warm!

The neighbor called an ambulance and gave him a cookie to nibble on. And he’d relaxed, because the ambulance people were supposed to help people who were sick, they would help Mommy, and they’d make her feel all better again. He had nothing to worry about. They’d wake her up, and give her hot cocoa to get her warm, and they’d figure out why she was so sad and tired now and why her batteries kept getting low.

After an hour, a lady in a flower dress and a police officer came to pick him up from the neighbor’s house, the neighbor sending him off with another cookie.

The lady in the flower dress said they were going to drive for a long time, and that they’d drop her off at his uncle’s house.

Because Mommy’s batteries were dead. 

Chapter Text

Shouta’s phone rang just as they walked through the front door.

Hizashi was holding the child, Izuku braced on his hip, little head leaning against his shoulder. His hair was shorter, obviously so, but it still looked nice. In Hizashi’s other hand, he held a large cup of soda that he’d gotten from the fast food place they’d just gotten back from. Shouta raised an eyebrow.

“Who’s calling you? People never call you.” Shouta thought he should be offended, but it was true. The only person who could, reasonably, be expected to call him was Nemuri, and she hardly did because she knew he didn’t like talking on the phone. He checked the number - it was unknown, but it wasn’t marked as ‘Spam’. He sighed, before answering. 

“Shouta Aizawa.”

“Yes, hello, Mr. Aizawa?” a woman on the other side of the line said.

“Yes...”

“This is Izuku’s social worker. I was just calling to check in and ask some questions.”

“Alright.”

“How’s he settling in?”

“Fine. He just got a haircut, and he likes the cat.”

“That’s… good. That’s great! Have you gotten him everything he needs?”

“We’ve arranged his room. He has a bed, a dresser, and an armoire. He also has lots of toys. That was Hizashi’s doing. Is that all?”

“Not quite!” the woman said cheerfully. “Has Izuku attended his mother’s funeral yet?”

“No,” Shouta said. “I thought that had already taken place.”

“Mr. Aizawa, Izuku’s mother died the day before he came to live with you,” the woman said. “It was your job to arrange the funeral, as her remaining living next of kin.”

“Oh.” Shouta thought for a moment. “I don’t know how to do that.” 

“I’ll give you some numbers to call, to help you out,” the woman said easily. She listed off a few phone numbers for funeral homes, and Shouta quickly wrote them down.

“Is that all?” Shouta asked. “I have to get going. I’m busy, and I’m already behind schedule.”

“Yes, Mr. Aizawa, that’s all I wanted to know,” the woman said. “I’ll be going to your house soon, though, to check up on Izuku personally. It’s protocol.”

“I’m aware,” Shouta said. “Goodbye.” He hung up the phone, slipping it back in his pocket. 

“I have to plan a funeral,” he informed Hizashi. “I’m not sure how to do that. But I have phone numbers now.”

“That’s good,” Hizashi said quietly, carefully easing Izuku down and laying him on the couch. He took a blanket from the back of the couch and covered him with it. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“I appreciate it,” Shouta said. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ll be late for my shift.”

“Better hurry,” Hizashi said. Hizashi pulled on his hero costume - which was really just a black tracksuit and his capture weapon - before putting his goggles on. Hizashi hugged him, like he always did before one of them had a shift. “Be safe. And text me if you won’t be able to come home before dinner, so I can put it in the fridge for you.” Shouta nodded, leaving the apartment after quietly easing the door shut behind him.

As soon as he was out of the apartment building, he took to an alley and climbed up to a roof.

~-~

When Shouta returned home hours later, adrenaline still thrumming through his veins and sporting a few scrapes and bruises from a scuffle with a robber, Hizashi and Izuku were watching a movie on the couch. There was a bowl of popcorn sitting between them. His shoulder slumped as soon as he got inside the apartment and his arms felt like lead as he lifted the heavy capture weapon from his shoulders and hung it up.

“Hi, Unkie Sho!” Izuku called from the couch. Hizashi called, “Hey babe!” at around the same time.

“Hello, child,” Shouta said, collapsing on the couch next to Hizashi. The man in question started playing with his hair. 

“Rough patrol?” Hizashi asked.

“Tiring. I’ll be fine. I’m just… very tired.”

“You should probably go back and try to get some sleep,” Hizashi said. It felt like he was braiding a strand of his hair. “You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Right. He was supposed to plan a funeral. That was happening. 

“Mhm,” Shouta said, slowly standing up from the couch.

“Your dinner’s in the fridge!”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Lunch for tomorrow, then!”

Shouta walked towards the hallway that held all of their bedrooms before stopping just at the entrance. He checked his watch. 7:30. Probably too early to send the kid to bed… and the kid’s bedtime was at 8:00, and Hizashi’s shift started around thirty minutes after that…

He was so, so tired… 

“Child,” Shouta said. Izuku turned around on the couch to look at him. “It’s almost your bedtime-” he had to fight back a yawn - “so why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll read you something.”

Izuku frowned, slightly. “But… me and Unkie Zashi are watching a movie...” 

“Sleep is important. Especially for cabbages.” Hizashi snorted, and Izuku just looked even more confused at the ever-present nickname. “Bedtime. Hizashi has a shift soon, and his hair alone takes an inordinate amount of time to fix.” Hizashi pouted, clearly offended.

“What’s in-or-dee-nate mean?” Izuku asked, sounding the word out slowly.

“Unusual. An unusual amount of time.” He paused for a moment. Izuku still looked confused. He wasn’t sure how to explain this to a child Izuku’s age. “Large. It takes a large amount of time to comb and style.” Izuku nodded. 

“Okay!” Izuku said. “Well… well this movie will take an un-or-dee-nate amount of time to finish so- so we gotta wait till later for bedtime!” He regretted teaching this child new words already. 

“Nice try. Not happening. Come on, kid.” Izuku pouted sadly, shuffling down from the couch and into the bathroom. Shouta turned to Hizashi. “Does he… need help brushing his teeth?” Hizashi shrugged hopelessly. 

He’d seen the child brushing his teeth on his own before, of course, but he was only five years old and you were supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes and floss, and he wasn’t sure if someone the cabbage’s age could do that…. Maybe he should set up a timer…

Izuku ran out of the bathroom with toothpaste on his chin and a onesie on.

“All done!” he chirped. Shouta nodded, leading the child to his bedroom before heading to his own to grab another children’s book from Hizashi’s collection. This time, he chose one about dragons.

He didn’t make the same mistake of leaning against the child’s headboard, this time. Instead, he sat on the side of the bed and opened the book on his lap. Izuku scooted over and leaned against his shoulder so he could look at the pictures.

“The giant purple dragon flew over the bright blue sky, jets of green fire shooting from his mouth….”

Shouta was halfway through the book when he felt Izuku begin to get heavier and heavier against his shoulder. When he glanced over at the child, his eyes were steadily trying to slip shut while he tried to keep a grasp on consciousness. Shouta glanced at his watch. 7:50. At least he’d be in bed on time… Shouta fought back another yawn and continued to read to the sleepy child.

Izuku started snoring quietly just as his watch ticked from 7:59 to 8:00, and Shouta slowly eased the book closed. 

He wasn’t sure how to get the child off of his shoulder. He put his hand between the child’s head and his shoulder and pushed outward, the child immediately flopping to the side and falling onto his pillow. Shouta shrugged. He fell on the pillow. He was probably fine. 

He stood up and grabbed the child’s blanket, tucking it around his shoulders, and turned his head to the side so it wasn’t quite so face-planted on the pillow. He wouldn’t want the child to suffocate. 

His feet dragged against the carpeted floor as he headed to his and Hizashi’s bedroom. Hizashi was in front of the mirror, checking his hair and putting on his leather jacket. His sunglasses were hooked on his shirt. 

“Hey babe,” Hizashi said, not looking away from the mirror. Shouta made a vague sound in response that didn’t sound like any recognisable human language. “‘Zuku go down easy?”

“Mhm.”

“He liked the book?”

“Mm.” Shouta flopped down on the bed, not bothering to change out of his tracksuit. 

“Pajamas, Sho. You can’t sleep in your clothes.”

“Nyeh.” Hizashi chuckled. He walked over and kissed Shouta’s forehead, like he always did, unclipping his sunglasses from his shirt. 

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

“Be safe,” Shouta murmured, already slipping to sleep when the door to their bedroom closed behind Hizashi.

~-~

“Yes, I need to purchase a casket and a plot. I also need to rent out a place for a funeral. Yes. How do I do that. No, I called because I need help with that. A social worker gave me your number. Yes, child protective services. I don’t have that much. No, I don’t have insurance. Sir, I’m twenty, I didn’t really see the point of getting insurance yet. No, I’m not. Yes. Yes, yes, I’ll get insurance, but do you have anything that won’t cost nine hundred and eighty thousand yen? Hello? Sir?” He looked at the phone. He’d hung up on him. “Ah.”

He ran a hand through his hair, breathing in deeply. “Of course.”

“You alright, Sho?” Hizashi called from the couch where he and Izuku were playing with Takara. 

“Yes. Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Hands on elbows. “How much do we have in our bank account?”

“Uh, enough to cover bills until our next payment from the agency. Why?” 

“The average price for a funeral is nine hundred thousand yen. We do not have that much money to spare, we have to pay rent and-” He took a deep breath. Fingers on elbows, tap tap tap. 

“‘Zuku, can you go play with Takara in your room for a few minutes please?” Hizashi asked. Izuku nodded, picked the large cat up and walked toward his bedroom. “Okay. Breathe. It’s gonna be fine. Just sit down, we’ll figure this out. Did Inko have any money set aside for final expenses?” 

“She was thirty-one, ‘Zashi, she wasn’t thinking about her funeral. ” He rubbed a hand over his face. “We’ve barely even started out at the agency, Hizashi, we don’t have enough for this. ”

“We’ll figure this out. Okay? We could take longer patrols, or do two patrols a day or...”

“That might have been possible before, but how are we supposed to do that with the cabbage? Chances are, those shifts are going to overlap.” 

“We could go for cremation. That might be cheaper. Hell, it might be required in our area, for all we know.”

“Hizashi, if it’s not required, we’re not going to cremate my sister just because it’s the cheaper option. ” 

“I don’t see any other way we can do this.”

“Could take out a loan,” Shouta noted. 

“Yeah, and be in debt. That’s not gonna work, besides Izuku has to go to school soon, and we’ll have to deal with expenses from that...” 

Tap tap tap. 

“Okay. Okay. We could take out the loan and… get side jobs, doing something else along with the hero work. Nemuri would probably be alright with watching the child, right?”

“Probably,” Hizashi said. He tapped his foot. “Okay. Okay, we can do that, just until we’ve got the money covered. Okay. That’ll work.”

“Can you call the place?” Shouta asked.

“What? Why? Would I even be allowed? She was your sister, Sho.”

“Why phone manners are… not the best. The man on the phone hung up on me after I lost my patience.”

“You… got impatient with the funeral director.”

“Yes. He kept calling me ‘young man’ and telling me to get life insurance.”

“.... I see.” Hizashi managed to keep a straight face for a solid five seconds before it cracked and he let out a single, booming laugh that made the plates in the cabinet rattle. Shouta activated his Quirk just before anything could shatter. “I’m sorry, it’s just… HA!”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing, I’m sorry sweetheart. Give me the phone, I’ll redial the- the funeral director-” Hizashi dissolved into cackles again. “God, I’m so sorry, Sho, I really shouldn’t be laughing, it’s not decent-”

Shouta gave a long-suffering sigh. 

“Just call the place, please.”

~-~

It took far too long and far too much paperwork to get a loan from the bank and, even then, they were only able to cover about half of the cost. That, along with added expenses such as suits, the rent of the place, bills, Izuku’s school uniform… they’d have to keep a close eye on their money for a while. 

They ended up getting a simple wooden coffin for Inko, both because it was cheaper and because, from what Shouta remembered of his older sister, the woman probably wouldn’t want anything elaborate.  

Then they’d had to get a list of people Inko was close to out of Izuku, which proved difficult since he couldn’t seem to remember a lot of their names. The main people he listed were the Bakugou family, Izuku’s father - and Shouta wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with that - and a few work associates. 

Then they’d had to worry about where to have the funeral. He knew that Inko - and most of his family - had been Christian, but they’d never really followed the religion strictly, and he’d never gotten the chance to get into the habit of following the religion - or any other religion at all, really - because of the rift between him and his parents. He considered himself to be agnostic, but he didn’t want to disrespect Inko, so he decided to try and find a church that would be willing to hold the funeral and a pastor to officiate. 

Then he’d had to worry about getting Izuku his suit - he and Hizashi’s suits from his parents’ funeral were still in good condition, as they weren’t used often, but Izuku didn’t have one and once they’d told Izuku why he needed a new suit, the tailor could hardly take the boy’s measurements because he was crying so hard. They’d had to stop quite frequently so Hizashi - because Shouta didn’t know how to deal with a crying adult, much less a crying child - could comfort the boy. They’d ended up buying a white button up, a black tie, plain black slacks and a suit vest.

Then he and Hizashi had to worry about getting invitations to people, since they didn’t know any of their addresses and Izuku, a five year old boy, couldn’t remember them. So they’d spent hours pouring over the phone book, looking for these people’s names so they could call them, and when they did find them, half were too busy crying for Shouta and Hizashi to get a word in about where the funeral would be held, and the other half had yelled at them and that, along with everything else, was so stressful it had made Shouta want to go in his bedroom and hide under a weighted blanket and sleep for a hundred years. Eventually, Hizashi had taken over phone calls for the both of them and Shouta had finished up everything else, and that was perfectly fine with Shouta. Maybe Hizashi, being a pro hero who was in the public eye a lot, was just more used to dealing with people than Shouta was. 

They’d ended up finishing everything the night before the funeral was scheduled. Dinner was a subdued affair. Hizashi had tried to make quiet conversation with Izuku, at first, but the boy hadn’t responded, and Hizashi had fallen into an awkward silence.

They all went to bed early that night, even Hizashi taking off of patrol for the day. Shouta had read to Izuku, a story about a princess locked in a tower, and Hizashi had run a hand over Izuku’s hair as he fell asleep.

It’d taken far too long to fall asleep that night. Usually, when Hizashi didn’t have a shift and was in bed with him when he fell asleep - usually on the weekends - it was easy to fall asleep. But it’d been difficult that night. Hizashi liked to sleep close to him at night, and that usually consisted of using Hizashi’s arm as a pillow while Hizashi held him close. And he couldn’t stop tossing and turning, so he knew that Hizashi was just as awake as he was.

“I can’t sleep,” he said in defeat.

“I noticed,” Hizashi replied dryly. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Shouta said. He paused for a moment, and Hizashi waited patiently. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Talk me through it, Sho.” Shouta nodded.

“I… haven’t seen her in a while.” Hizashi hummed. “Last time I saw her I was eighteen, at my parents’ funeral. And now I’m going to see her again, at another funeral, but it’s hers. I haven’t seen her in years , and when I finally do she’s… she’s not…. Really there.

“I… never really knew her. I don’t know how much she changed, in the eleven or so years she was gone, and she might’ve been an entirely different person, for all I know, and I…. I can’t really remember much of her from when she was around , but she’s… she was family, and she was the only person in my family that- that liked me, that loved me, even though I’m… strange. And now she’s dead. The last person in my family who didn’t - who didn’t hate me is dead. And I don’t know how to feel about that. And I’m trying to figure that out.”

“You’re wrong,” Hizashi said. Shouta glanced up.

“What?”

“You’re wrong,” Hizashi said simply. “You’re very, very wrong.”

“How so?” Shouta asked dryly.

“Who do you think Izuku is? A neighbor?” Hizashi asked. “He is your family. And he doesn’t think you’re strange. Or, if he does, he doesn’t automatically dislike you for it. And family isn’t just the people you’re related to. Forgive me if I’m overstepping here, but I like to think me and Nemuri are your family too, and we still love you. And we don’t think you’re strange.”

Shouta raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Okay, you’re a little odd, but that’s not a bad thing! Everyone’s a little weird, Sho.”

“That’s… true.”

“We love you, Shouta,” Hizashi said. “Me and Nemuri, and….” Hizashi cleared his throat. “And I think Izuku does too. Or, he cares about you, at least.”

“Okay,” Shouta said. He was quiet for a moment. “I appreciate it, but I still probably won’t get much sleep.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

~-~

The next morning, Shouta shaved off his beard and tied back his hair into a loose knot. Lose strands of hair fell in his face from his bangs, like they always did, and he pinned it back with the cat clips. They were mostly hidden by his hair and his ears, but he knew they were there, and that was surprisingly comforting. 

He changed into his suit, and he helped Izuku change into his own, buttoning up his shirt and tying his tie before helping him get the vest over his head. Then he placed a towel over his shoulder and grabbed the spray bottle and a little hair spray. He sprayed the boy’s hair until it was damp before combing it back, close to his head, being careful not to pull too much. Then he quickly attacked it with the hair spray before it could dry and return to it’s original poofiness, trying not to wince at the sharp smell. 

When he got into the living room, Hizashi was already ready, scrolling through his phone. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit with a black tie and a navy blue tie, as opposed to Shouta’s tie-less black suit and blood red lapel. His hair was in a bun, loose strands spilling out down his back and shoulders.

“My collar’s weird,” Izuku said. Shouta glanced at him.

“Is it stiff?”

“Mhm,” Izuku said, sniffing as he fidgeted with it. “And the tie’s hurting me.”

“I can’t help with the collar, but I’ll loosen the tie,” Shouta said, crouching down to adjust the tie accordingly. “Better, Cabbage?” Izuku nodded, smiling gratefully, though his eyes were still teary. 

Hizashi crouched down by Shouta.

“Are you ready to do this?” Hizashi murmured to the boy. “It’s okay if you say no. We’ll figure something out.” Izuku sniffed.

“I’m scared,” the boy admitted. “I miss my mommy, and I don’t want her to get buried!”

“I know, baby,” Hizashi said. “That’s just the way life played out. I know it’s not fair. I’m so sorry, ‘Zuku.” A few tears spilled out of Izuku’s eyes, and Hizashi pulled a handkerchief out of his suit pocket, dabbing at them.

“I wanna go say bye to Mommy,” Izuku said, determination clear in his voice even if tears still rained down.

“You’re a very brave boy,” Hizashi said. “Me and Uncle Sho are very proud of you, Izuku.”

“‘M not brave,” Izuku said. “If I was brave, I wouldn’t be scared.”

“Brave isn’t about not being scared,” Shouta said. “To be brave is to be courageous, and to be courageous is to do something, even if it makes you mad or sad or if it hurts you. Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” Izuku said. He tapped his chest. “It hurts here.” He tapped his head. “And here.” Hizashi looked like he was about to start crying.

“But you’re doing it anyway,” Shouta said. “That’s why you’re brave. Okay?”

A fresh wave of tears fell, but Izuku fixed his jaw and met his gaze head on.

“Okay.”

~-~

The drive to the church was an hour long, and they still had two hours and thirty minutes until it started. Izuku fell asleep in his carseat on the way there, like he always did when they had to go on a long drive. 

“You’re good with him,” Hizashi noted.

“I’m not,” Shouta stated. “I know nothing about children. I have no experience with children. I have no idea how children are supposed to be raised, or how to talk to them. I’m just… trying to try my best, and use logic and reasoning as I go along.”

“Well, your ‘logic and reasoning’ is certainly helping him,” Hizashi said. Shouta shrugged. “I’m proud of you too, y’know.” Shouta felt his ears go red, and he was thankful they were hidden by his hair.

“Be quiet so I can drive.”

~-~

The church, thankfully, wasn’t very crowded when they got there, save for a little boy and his family and a few other people. Izuku waved to the little boy, who had very spiky hair and looked like a very angry child, who looked to a similar looking woman - who’s back was to the boy - before waving back tentatively. 

They sat in a pew in the back. A cross sat at the front of the room, and an image of Jesus was carved into it. Shouta felt like it’s eyes were digging into him, and he tried not to look at it. 

The funeral went about as well as could be expected. The woman with the spiky hair came forward to speak - which Shouta hadn’t been expecting or planning, but he preferred her talking about the deceased than him having to. She probably knew her better. 

The woman talked about how lovely of a woman Inko had been - her kindness, and her motherly nature. She ended it by saying she missed her dearly, and Shouta heard Izuku choke on a sob next to him. 

When the pastor called for everyone to say goodbye to Inko and everyone started walking toward her opened casket, Izuku turned quickly and hid his face in his side, shoulders shaking.

“I don’t wanna look, Unkie, I don’t wanna look, please don’t make me look, I don’t want to see it again. ”

“You don’t have to look,” Shouta said, rubbing the boy’s back awkwardly. 

“Izuku,” Hizashi said upon seeing his partner’s helpless expression. “Do you want to leave now, and head to the cemetery?” Izuku sobbed, and nodded.

They left the building quickly, Hizashi carrying Izuku to the car and strapping him into the carseat. Shouta passed the child a bottle of water from the front as they started driving, and the child didn’t fall asleep this time, instead watching the world pass by outside the window as tears streamed down his face.

They pulled into the cemetery and waited for those from the funeral to arrive. When they did, they got out of the car, Hizashi unbuckling Izuku from the back. Izuku held onto Hizashi’s pant leg as they headed toward the freshly dug funeral plot and he had one hand hooked in Shouta’s belt loop. 

Izuku stared at the ground as they lowered the casket into the ground, and Shouta stared at the sky. He remembered, years ago, staring at the sky with his sister from rooftops while they waited for villain fights to fall into their lap.

He missed that Inko.

The crowd dispersed as the pastor finished his prayer. 

A tall woman with spiky hair walked toward them.

“You’re Inko’s brother,” she said by way of greeting. “She never mentioned you.”

“She wouldn’t have.”

“I see.” She turned to Izuku. “I don’t like that kid. But you’d better take care of him.” Her voice had a threatening tone to it. She looked at Izuku, and her face was that of distaste, before slowly softening. “I’m sorry about your mother, Izuku.”

Izuku nodded. 

“That’s all I wanted to say.” She marched away. Shouta stared after her. A boy cleared his throat. He looked down. The angry-looking boy.

“I-I don’t like Deku either!” he proclaimed, but he didn’t seem too sure of himself. “But… be nice to him, please.” He nodded. Looked at Izuku.

“I miss you, Kacchan,” Izuku said. “Will you go to the park with me again? With me and Unkie Sho and Unkie Zashi? You live far away, but-”

“I can’t, nerd,” the boy said. “She won’t-” He visibly cut himself off. “I’m… sorry about auntie.” He looked back up at Shouta again, this time threateningly. “Remember what I said! B-be nice to Deku, and take care of him, like Mom said too!” He marched away in a way that was eerily similar to how his mother had. 

“You have interesting….” Hizashi hesitated for a moment, “... friends, Izuku.”

Izuku sniffed. 

“Mhm.” 

“C’mon, Listener, let’s get you home.”

“We’ll get ice cream on the way home,” Shouta said. “Do you want ice cream?”

“Yes please.”

“We’ll get you a sundae, then.”

Chapter Text

After the funeral, Hizashi and Shouta both applied for day jobs, Shouta signing up for night shifts as well. It was exhausting, and it barely left them enough time to tuck Izuku in before they had to run to patrol, but what had to be done had to be done.

Hizashi seemed to take the extra work a lot better than Shouta did. Shouta had signed up for day shifts because he needed all the sleep he could get, but now that he had a side job he’d had to transfer his four hour-long shift to almost immediately after he came home from his day job. Then he just barely had time to change into night clothes, thank Nemuri, and get a few hours of sleep before running back to the restaurant, where he now worked as a waiter. It was the same with Hizashi - work, sleep, and patrol.

It left him frazzled and irritated. After only a week of trying to pay the money back for the bank - who only seemed to pile on more and more ridiculous amounts of interest the longer it went unpaid - it felt like he didn’t have the energy to do anything anymore. Even tucking Izuku in at night felt like a monumental task. Sometimes, it made him wonder why he still did it.

Then he looks at Izuku, and he remembers.  

Izuku tried to help in any way he could, in his own way… When Shouta’s legs hurt from being on his feet all day, he would hug him and ask him to feel better soon. When he was simply too exhausted to sleep, Izuku seemed to be able to sense it and would give Shouta one of his stuffed toys just before he left for bed. When Hizashi’s head hurt, Izuku would bring him bottles of water, and when he seemed to be in a bad mood, Izuku would try and tell him funny stories to get him to smile. The stories were rarely ‘funny’, at least by adult standards, but something about watching the little boy gesticulate animatedly while he talked was amusing. 

Overall, Shouta didn’t regret taking on the extra job to pay off his debt, not when it was for Izuku. He only wished it hadn’t cost him so much energy. 

And not having enough energy was a very dangerous thing for patrol. 

~-~

His goggles were one of his favorite possessions, both because of who had given them to him and because of their dual purpose. They helped him use his Quirk without other people knowing who he was using it on, and they helped with visual input and went a long way to keep him from getting overwhelmed. Their only real downside was that they slightly inhibited his peripheral vision.

Which was why, when he was fighting a group of villains in a warehouse after busting them for illegal distribution, he didn’t see the pole flying his way until it hit him right in the knee. He felt his knee jerk backward, and then a loud crunch. 

The villains, who he’d done a good job keeping at bay until now, slowly rose back to their feet once they saw that they’d inhibited him. Shouta activated his Quirk on the nearest one as he walked closer, trying not to look down at his surely-broken leg. The shock and adrenaline was keeping him from feeling the pain but, he knew, as soon as he looked at it it would be near-unbearable. 

The one who walked closer to him seemed to be the one that had thrown the pole at his leg. He seemed to have a strength Quirk, large muscles rippling under the skin of his arms, with shaved hair and a thick head. Even with his Quirk cancelled, with the amount of physical training the man had obviously done, he would probably be able to administer grave injuries. Shouta felt his anxiety spike. 

His hands were covered by a stretch of his capture weapon. He slowly reached toward his watch, pushing a button - sending a distress call to any heroes in the area. 

His hands gripped his capture weapon. Distantly, he remembered kicking this man in the face near the beginning of the fight. There was still blood caked under his nose, down his chin. Now he looked like he was after Shouta’s blood. 

Behind the man with the strength Quirk, there were three other villains. One with bat wings, another with tubes fused to the sides of her face. An acid Quirk. The last had scales running up and down his body, shimmering and changing colours every few seconds. Chameleon. 

It should have been a fairly easy fight, if not for his damned leg. If not for his reflexes, muddled by exhaustion. 

The best course of action would be to try and escape, but Shouta wasn’t sure how with the strength villain so close. The ceiling was too high, too high for his capture weapon to wrap around a support beam. He couldn’t run, not with his leg, his leg which was bending the wrong way-

Shouta felt an ache spark up from his knee. The other three villains, hiding behind the strength villain, were laughing. Shouta’s ears buzzed with the noise. His watch beeped, quietly, a response to his distress call. 

He could wait it out. He just had to hope the strength villain didn’t kill him before then.

The strength villain glanced at his leg, tutting. Shouta did not look. He would not look. He would not look at the leg. He could not look at the leg. The strength villain picked up the pole, lying near him, and tossed it aside. He lifted his foot, easing it down on his knee slowly. Shouta gasped in pain as the pressure slowly increased. Not even adrenaline could keep him from feeling that. 

“So fragile, for a hero,” the man said. “So easy to break.” Shouta tried to keep his Quirk activated. If the villain tried to use his Quirk on him, on his leg, it was a goner. The villain picked up the pole again, never easing the pressure, and looked at it. It was hollow, but it was heavy, made of metal. The villain squeezed it, and it gave way under his hand, making finger-like indents.

“I could crush your skull, like this, with or without my Quirk,” the villain said. “Crush it as easily as a soda can.” He held the pole with both hands, and it bent it almost in half. “And I could break every one of your limbs, as easy as twigs.” He unbent the pole, twisted it. “I could rip them off and throw them away, and no one would be able to save you.” Even the other villains, behind him, looked surprised. Shouta wouldn’t blink. He would not blink. He could not blink. This villain was waiting for him to blink. 

His foot pressed down again, and Shouta felt something pop. Then something wet, pooling under the limb. He pressed the distress call again, again. Two beeps back.

If they were coming, then where were they? They couldn’t be far…

“Or,” the villain continued. “I could get Myrmeke. Get her to spit acid at you, get her to melt off every inch of your skin. ” He lifted his foot. “But I don’t think I will.” He couldn’t blink. “I think I’ll just leave you here.” He brought the foot crashing back down onto his leg, and Shouta felt something in his leg rip. “To bleed out. Or die from infection. Whatever comes first.” The other three villains stared at his leg in fear and disgust. The one with the wings looked like he was about to throw up. 

Sadistic. Very, very sadistic. 

Shouta felt like he might throw up too.

The villain with the strength Quirk shoved money at the villain with the wings. He took it, never once looking away from Shouta’s leg. Shouta wasn’t sure if it was because of morbid fascination or because he simply couldn’t look away. He wondered how bad it really was.

Don’t blink.

The strength villain marched out of the warehouse. Acid and Chameleon followed him numbly. Wings shuddered, before flying out the warehouse window. 

Shouta let out a breath and blinked. 

He had been holding himself up before, but now he collapsed backward. The warehouse floor was cold concrete, but Shouta could feel a warm liquid under his back. Creeping upward. Wetting his hair.

Shouta couldn’t help it. He had to treat the wound - the world was already growing fuzzy around the edges. He looked down at his leg, and he almost threw up.

He couldn’t tell much because of the black fabric of his tracksuit, but the gigantic pool of crimson blood under him spoke volumes. He held in a breath, closed his eyes, and his mind went numb as he felt along his utility belt, taking out a small knife. He didn’t like knives, he wasn’t good with them, but it was useful, in this case.

He cut at the fabric of his pant leg, ripping it off and throwing the soaked fabric aside. He couldn’t even see the colour of his skin - it was all covered by deep red blood. A jagged, white piece of bone stuck out of the skin, and the wound pumped out great globs of blood as it did. His knee was squashed, and he couldn’t bend it - couldn’t move his leg at all, really.

He took his capture weapon and rolled up more of his tracksuit, tying it up at his upper thigh, as tight as his cold hands could get it. He tried not to cry out as his leg gave a sharp stab of pain, as the gray material digged into his skin. His skin was buzzing. His ears rang. 

He looked at his bracelet. 

Three heroes had pinged it, saying they were coming to the scene. Midnight - who was supposed to be watching Izuku, what the hell-, Present Mic - why him, why does he have to see this, why why why - and a hero who had just applied for their agency, Vlad King. 

At least heroes were coming. He just had to stay awake. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t walk, but he could stay awake. He had to anyway, so he could adjust the tourniquet. 

He hoped Midnight hadn’t left Izuku home alone. 

He pushed his goggles up, and they got his bangs out of his face. He stared up at the ceiling. At the cobwebs of intersecting support beams.

How long would the healing process be? Not long, surely. He’d find someone with a good healing Quirk. Might even send a letter to Recovery Girl. The old woman was fond of him…. Well, fond of Hizashi. She could help…

His heart started beating rapidly, and his hands started shaking as the numbness in his brain melted away, slightly. His fists clenched, slightly. The warehouse had hanging lights blaring overhead, and they were too bright. The sound of his own breathing was too sharp, too loud. His leg ached too much, too much, and the remaining numbness in his brain scared him, and his chest hurt. The smell of his blood was overbearing, moist and coppery, and it made Shouta want to vomit. A headache reared its ugly head.

His arms were heavy as he lay there, heart trying to beat its way out through his chest. Stay awake. His eyelids felt weighed down, forcing them back open a struggle. Stay awake. The pain was almost unbearable, and he felt like he could pass out from it alone, even though his mind was still a little cloudy and numb. Stay awake. His hands were growing cold. Stay awake. 

Shouta wondered if this was how he would die.

Stay awake. 

He heard a loud bang, and then three familiar faces were standing over him. He felt someone grab his hand. Shouta was glad. They were so cold. 

“Stay awake!”

Shouta couldn’t stay awake. 

~-~

Shouta came to in a hospital bed. There was a steady beeping next to him, and he felt odd and floaty. His hands were still cold, but someone was holding one of them, and it made it feel better. It took him a while to open his eyes.

Hizashi was sitting beside him, looking exhausted and run down. There were dark circles under his green eyes, and Shouta could see them even through his glasses. Izuku was curled up on the chair on the other side of the bed - wrapped in a blue blanket, green head of curls peeking out. 

“‘Zashi?” he murmured. Hizashi looked up, and his shoulders seemed to slump in on themselves in relief.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he said. “Good God, Sho, never do that again, oh God- ”

“What...” He looked down the expanse of the hospital bed. 

Hospital gown. IVs. Pads on his chest, monitoring his heart beat.

Further down…

A large cast covering his leg. 

Memories came rushing back, whether he wanted them to or not.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’.” Hizashi shook his head. “You almost died.”

“Feels like it,” Shouta grunted.

“No, you don’t understand - you almost bled out. The doctor said something about an artery behind your knee being damaged when it was crushed, and they had to do a blood transfusion, and you nearly died. ”

“How… how long have I been asleep?”

“Twelve hours. You’ve been in and out, but I doubt you remember. This is the most lucid we’ve seen you.”

Shouta nodded.

“Is the child okay?”

“ Is the child - yes, the kid’s okay! Why wouldn’t the kid be okay? You should be worried about your leg! You won’t be able to walk for weeks after this, Sho!”

“B-but the debt- what about Inko’s funeral bills? How are we supposed to pay them with me laid up? Can’t they just get someone with a healing Quirk in here?”

“Shouta, that bastard shattered your knee. He snapped the bone in your leg in half. It was in so many pieces, they had to take you back for surgery to rebuild your knee! They said they can’t heal it that fast, or there could be damage. You’ll just have to heal naturally, for a few weeks - maybe a couple months - and then they’ll heal you the rest of the way.”

“Did the agency fire me?” he asked numbly. Hizashi sighed.

“No,” Hizashi said. “No, I don’t think so. But you’re out of the field for however long you’re hurt. And they’re requiring two weeks of physical therapy afterward. You’ll still get paid, they’re putting you on temporary disability, but...”

“It probably won’t be enough,” Shouta finished.

“Yeah.”

“And the restaurant?”

“Can’t wait tables with one good leg, Sho,” Hizashi said. “They, uh… they let you go, for the time being. I’m sorry, babe.”

Shouta nodded.

“How is this gonna affect my work?” he asked instead. “Any… any physical problems, after it’s healed?”

“The doctors’ aren’t sure yet,” Hizashi said. “Might have some chronic pain. You’ll probably have to go easier on your shifts, at first. They’ll probably prescribe you some pain medication. And, yeah, physical therapy, to strengthen your leg again. It’s uh… gonna be a bit of a process.”

“Hmm.” Shouta sighed. “He was right.”

“What? Who was right?”

“I should have gotten insurance.”

~-~

The agency paid for his medical bills and promised to pay for his physical therapy, once he was healed enough to start it. He was given strict instructions from a rather frightening nurse to stay on bedrest for the next week, at the least - a nurse would be coming by every day or so to check on his injury and his bandages. After three days of observation in the hospital, he was given a prescription for a strong pain medication and a wheelchair and pair of crutches and sent on his way. 

They gave him his ruined tracksuit, his stained capture weapon, and his goggles on the way out of the hospital. 

They reached their first challenge upon entering the car - Izuku didn’t want to sit in the back, he wanted to sit with Shouta - I wanna protect you from the bad guys, Unkie Sho! - so Shouta had to sit in the backseat with Izuku to compromise. It was awkward, with his cast, so he ended up leaning with his back against the door and his leg sprawled out in front of him, wincing every time they hit a bump in the road and it sent a spike of pain to pierce through the pain medicine. Izuku traced little shapes and figures on Shouta’s cast as Hizashi drove, and asked if he could draw on it when they got home. 

Hizashi helped him into the wheelchair provided by the hospital, pushing him into the apartment building and into the elevator - which they very rarely used, since both preferred the stairs. Izuku held his hand and looked around the elevator suspiciously as they rose up in floors, like he was expecting villains to pop out of nowhere and attack Shouta again. 

Hizashi knocked on the apartment door, and Nemuri answered it. She was wearing tight black pants and a see-through shirt, the sleeve of which fell off of one shoulder. Shouta was tempted to cover Izuku’s eyes. Takara was resting in her arms.

“Auntie Nem!” Izuku shouted excitedly, rushing forward to hug the woman’s leg. 

“Hey, tiger!” Nemuri said, ruffling the boy’s hair. She turned to Shouta. “How do you feel, handsome?” Shouta rolled his eyes at the nickname. Hizashi snorted. 

“Fine.” That was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that. “Thank you for watching my cat.”

“Oh, it was no trouble, she’s a sweetheart,” Nemuri said offhandedly. 

“Auntie Nem! Auntie Nem!” Izuku said excitedly, bouncing in place. 

“Yes, ‘Zuku?”

“I’m gonna protect Unkie Sho! From the bad people! In case they come back!”

“Is that so?” Nemuri said. Izuku nodded sagely.

Like Shouta would even let Izuku protect him. If the villains came back to attack him again - which he doubted - Izuku was going out of the nearest exit. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll protect him valiantly. You’re like a knight in shining armor.” Izuku looked confused.

“What’s vowel-ant-lee mean?”

“It means you’re doing something with courage, or determination,” Shouta explained. “You remember what courage means?”

“Doing something even though it hurts?”

“Exactly. It basically means you do something with courage.”

“Okay!” Izuku said. “Then- then I’m a valiant knight! Yeah!” He pronounced valiant like ‘vale-ant’. 

Close enough.

Nemuri snickered.

“That’s right!”

Hizashi cut in.

“Can we get in the apartment, please, Nemuri?” 

“Oh, right, of course,” Nemuri said, stepping aside. Hizashi wheeled Sho into their bedroom and adjusted the pillows against the headboard, easing him back against it. Nemuri and Izuku followed them into the room.

“Can I draw on your cast now, Unkie Sho?” Izuku asked hopefully.

“Yeah, Sho!” Nemuri said, smiling evilly. “Can we sign your cast?”

He was going to regret this immensely. 

“Yes. Go find a marker.” Izuku ran to his room to get a marker, returning a minute later with a black Sharpie. He climbed onto the bed carefully, knee-crawling his way over to Shouta’s side, bringing the marker to Shouta’s bright blue cast.

“Give me a turn after you’re done, little knight,” Nemuri said, sitting on the best beside Izuku.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Izuku drew smiley faces and what Shouta assumed was supposed to be his Eraserhead persona. He also drew rainbows, turtles, and a cat face. Shouta decided he liked that one best.

“Give me a turn, kid!” Nemuri said. Nemuri turned away from the drawing to talk to Hizashi, Izuku and Nemuri piping in every once and a while.

“Auntie, what’s that?” Izuku asked after a few minutes. Shouta looked down at his cast.

“Nemuri Kayama, oh my God,” Hizashi gasped. Shouta thought his mouth was hanging open. Nemuri was snickering.

“What is it?” Izuku asked again, looking a bit concerned.

“It’s-” Nemuri began.

“ Don’t you dare. ”

“Scissors! It’s scissors!” Nemuri said. 

It was, in fact, not scissors. But Izuku didn’t need to know that.

“Cabbage,” Shouta said. “I’m thirsty. Get me water, please?” That wasn’t quite a lie. The pain medicine was making him a bit dehydrated, and he hadn’t drank water all day.

Izuku scrambled out of the room to get some water.

“Really? Honestly, really? I have to wear this for the next few weeks.”

“Did you expect anything else?” Nemuri asked.

Shouta wished he could say he had. 

“There was a child in the room. ”

Nemuri shrugged.

“He thinks it’s scissors.” 

Shouta dragged a hand across his face. Izuku returned to the room with a bottle of water, which Shouta opened and drank from. 

Hizashi checked his watch.

“Okay, who wants lunch?” Hizashi asked, standing up. Izuku gasped.

“Me! Me me me!” 

“Let’s go, then, Listener! I’ll teach you how to make yakitori...” Hizashi and Izuku left the room, Izuku babbling away excitedly.

“Don’t you guys usually order in for lunch on weekends?”

“We can’t afford it right now.” Something in Nemuri’s forehead pinched.

“You guys doing okay?” she asked, face awash in seriousness.

“We’re fine,” Shouta said, sinking back into his pillows. “Don’t worry. We’ve just got to pay off a loan...”

“How are you going to do that, without you working too? Especially with all the bullshit banks play.” Shouta didn’t say anything. “You know I can help you, right?”

Shouta looked at her.

“I appreciate it,” Shouta said. “I do. But we’ll be fine.”

“Just don’t hesitate to call, if you need anything,” Nemuri said. Shouta nodded. “I mean it. We’ve known each other for six years now. I know I tease you a lot, but you’re basically like a little brother to me. Don’t think I won’t drop everything to help you and ‘Zashi.” Like a little brother. Shouta didn’t think he was the best at being a brother to anyone, not even his own sister, but he didn’t comment.

“I know, Kayama,” he said. “Why did it take Hizashi and… was it Vlad King…?” Nemuri nodded. “Why did it take them so long to get there?”

“They got in trouble with a big-name villain. They had to wait for backup from another patrol section before they could come to get you.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because I care about you, dumbass.” 

“You were supposed to be watching Izuku,” Shouta pointed out. 

“Yeah,” Nemuri said sheepishly. “But he was fast asleep, so I just asked your neighbor to watch him. He was, uh… pretty freaked out when I came to drive him to the hospital. It was pretty touch and go, for a while, whether or not you would… pull through, or even if you’d be able to use your leg at all. The blood loss was… really bad, Sho. I didn’t know what to tell him, and he started crying and shaking and...” 

Shouta remembered when Izuku woke up, and saw him up and talking to Hizashi. How the little boy had looked so relieved. How he’d ran forward and wrapped his arms around Shouta’s neck, almost knocking his IV out when he jumped on the bed, and how Shouta had patted his back slowly as the boy calmed down. Hugging Izuku had felt a lot more natural, then, than it had the first time. 

“Oh.” Shouta added another item to the list of things he needed to do for Izuku - research primary schools, research potential speech therapy, and get the child a phyciatrist.  

The smell of grilled chicken floated in from the open bedroom door.

“So,” Nemuri said, drawing out the word. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

“My birthday is in November.”

“So what? No shame in planning early!”

Shouta shrugged.

“Probably the same as always,” he said. “Restaurant, movies… maybe go to the adventure park, if it’s not too crowded.” 

“But that’s what we do every year!” Nemuri protested.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you want to do something new? ”

“Not really.”

“Boring,” Nemuri stated. Shouta frowned.

“But you and Hizashi like my birthdays.” 

“Of course we do,” Nemuri said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I… guess we can do something different, if you and ‘Zashi want to.” Now that he thought about it, they might have to, since the child would probably want to tag along. 

“I was just joking, Sho,” Nemuri said. “Do whatever you want. It’s your birthday.”

Shouta hummed.

“What are we going to do about Izuku? I think he can go with us, but we’d have to get a G-rated movie...”

Nemuri shuddered. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Nemuri said. They heard Hizashi call for her from another part of the house. “I think that’s my cue. I’ll go get your food, okay, Sho?” Shouta nodded. 

He didn’t think he liked people waiting on him.

Nemuri returned with two plates of steaming yakitori, sitting next to him on the bed to eat. 

“‘Zashi’s at the table, with Izuku,” she said. “He didn’t think he could eat in bed without making a mess.” Shouta nodded. That was fair. Izuku was a bit of a messy eater. 

They finished eating, and Hizashi and Izuku returned to the bedroom. The three friends talked long into the night, Izuku eventually getting bored with their conversation and falling asleep between him and Nemuri at around eight.

Nemuri finally left their bedroom to sleep on the futon at around eleven o’clock, since it was far too late and too dark out to drive home.

Hizashi didn’t mind moving Izuku, instead letting the boy sleep in between them, at least for tonight.

~-~

Recovery was painful. After a week of bedrest, he began to slowly move around the apartment on crutches. It was definitely a workout for his arms, but he had to get used to walking with them. He couldn’t rely on the wheelchair.

After a few tries, he was able to get up from bed on his own without assistance. Then, he worked on standing from the table, and then on standing from the rather low-standing couch. Then he tried to do some household chores around the house to help out Hizashi, but quickly gave up after his leg started aching from standing in one place too long. Izuku was happy to help with chores, anyway. The nurse brought a water-proof cast protector and a shower chair so Shouta could shower on his first visit to the apartment. 

Recovery was painful, but he was… getting there. At least, he thought so. 

Two weeks in, and they replaced the cast with a lighter one after cutting it off to take out the stitches, the doctor raising an eyebrow at the rather… creative drawings Nemuri had left. Shouta had grinded his teeth the entire time the saw was running, wincing at the vibrations that ran up and down his arm from the saw cutting at the cast. Izuku, too, had looked upset at the noise, though he blocked it out with hands over his ears. Shouta had been surprised at how utterly awful the knee looked, still swelled up and purplish and pale with dead skin and pink indents from the cast. Then they’d replaced it with another cast, and he’d been sent on his way with further instructions to try and walk around the area with his crutches and to get lots of rest.

He’d started walking around the city, after that, Izuku and Hizashi were always following in case he needed help. Izuku had tried to bring Takara, too, on a leash, but the cat seemed to prefer getting a good nap on the couch while the humans were gone. 

It was around this time that Shouta started getting antsy, now that he wasn’t allowed in the field. The walks helped a lot. 

Four weeks in, and the pain in his lower leg had eased up quite a bit, while the pain in his knee still raged on as it healed. His leg felt stiff in the mornings, and Shouta worried about that carrying over after the cast was removed and everything was healed. It could interfere with his work.

At five weeks, he started doing chores around the house again, folding the laundry and putting it away and doing the dishes. Izuku had actually been a big help around the house for Hizashi while Shouta had been on bedrest, and they’d decided he was about old enough to get a chore sheet to teach him responsibility. Just simple stuff, like cleaning his toys up when it was a mess, making his bed, and feeding and watering Takara - which Shouta kept a close eye on, when he did, so Izuku didn’t over-feed her. 

At six weeks, they x-rayed his leg again. They said that his knee would still take a few weeks to heal - maybe a month  - but that his leg could be completely healed in the next two weeks or so. Of course, he’d still have to keep the cast on for his knee, but it was still good news. Shouta tried to ignore the fact that, even after the knee was completely healed, he’d still have to wear a knee brace until he could build the strength back up in that leg. The doctors had said that he might have to wear that knee brace again in the future, if there were other consequences to the injury, such as bad chronic pain. 

At eight weeks, they checked the break in his leg and decided that it was as healed as it was going to get. Upon looking at the knee, they saw that it was healing up nicely and was arranged in all the right places. They scheduled a time for him to go to a doctor with a healing Quirk so they could hurry the process a bit, get the pins out of his knee and leg, and get his knee in a brace. 

Three days later, he was at a specialist. The man had neon green hair and purple eyes and he looked a little frenzied, but he seemed nice enough. He explained everything before he did it - which was especially helpful when he healed his leg and sawed off the cast. He still hated that saw - it was like a silver spike drilling through his skull. 

After he got the cast off, he started the healing process, which was a lot more unpleasant than he’d been expecting. Unlike with Recovery Girl, it wasn’t quick or painless - when he touched the hurt area, he could feel the broken bones slowly melt and fuse back together - achingly slowly. But at least, when he took his hand away, the healing stopped immediately and it hurt far less than it had before - not a sharp pain, and more like a throb right in the middle of his knee.

Then he took the pins out. Hizashi had to cover Izuku’s eyes and comfort him when he started crying. Shouta really couldn’t blame him - he’d started covering his eyes as soon as the doctor administered the lidocaine. 

After numbing the areas with the pins - and it still didn’t feel like enough, not really - the doctor had to cut through the skin to get some of the pins. And when he got to those pins, he had to ease it out slowly, twisting and pulling and nudging all the while, the long silver pin bumping against bones and raw skin as it slowly made its way to the surface. It only took fifteen to twenty minutes to get all the pins out, but it felt like longer. The doctor sutured the small cuts he had left after he was done, using his Quirk to subtly speed up the healing process. 

After that horrible experience was over, the doctor gave him a leg brace and told him to use his crutches for the first couple days afterward, warning him about all the chronic pain he would more than likely experiencing in the future and that, should the knee hurt after it’s been healed, the knee brace should help a lot. Then he told him what steps to take going forward for his physical therapy, gave him some numbers to call, gave both Izuku and Shouta lollipops, and kicked all three out of his office.

Shouta would have run out if he could. 

Another three days later while Hizashi was at work, Nemuri drove him to the physical therapist - mainly because Shouta wasn’t sure if he was allowed to drive, and because Izuku refused to let him sit anywhere but the back seat anymore. I gotta protect you from the bad guys, Unkie! I’m your knight in shining armor!

Before he got inside, he tied his hair back, and walked inside without his crutches. He hated that he still limped slightly when he walked.

The main physical therapy they did, that day, was bending his knee back and forth and moving his legs in a bicycle motion. And it felt like something was stabbing up under his kneecap the entire time. 

As the days progressed, the pain in his kneecap lessened as well. It stopped feeling so stiff when he walked, his limp was getting much better, and he was finally able to start training for his patrols again.

The first thing he did when his physical therapy sessions were finally, blessedly over was wrap his capture weapon around an outcropping of a roof and yank himself up onto it. 

He’d spent the entire day hopping from building to building, the pain in his knee a mind jab whenever he landed a bit hard, doing flips and cartwheels even when he didn’t have to, like when he was younger and still took gymnastics. 

When he got home, the brace went back on his leg, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. Because he was back to normal. For the most part. 

Two days later, and he was getting ready to go back to patrol, approved by the agency and taken off of temporary disability. The next day, he’d have to try and get his old job back - hopefully with shorter hours, so an accident like that didn’t happen again - but that was a problem for tomorrow. 

He had just changed into his new tracksuit after tucking Izuku into bed, and both he and Hizashi were headed out the door, Nemuri flipping through channels on the couch, when something heavy knocked into the back of his uninjured leg, small arms trapping around it.

“No!” Izuku wailed. “ You can’t go! ”

Shouta looked down at him. “Child-”

“No!” Izuku shouted. “I won’t let you! No! ” 

“Izuku, I don’t have time for this, my shift starts in twenty minutes.”

“You can’t go, Unkie Sho!” His voice sounded mournful. “You can’t leave! I won’t let you leave!” He looked into the child’s eyes, and they were filled with tears. His voice warbled. “The bad guys will get you again, Unkie, please don’t leave me!”

“Cabbage-”

“I-I gotta protect you! I said I would protect you from the bad guys! I can’t make sure you don’t get hurt by those meanies again if you leave!” 

“Izuku-”

“It’s d-d-dangerous, Unkie!” The boy had only just learned the word dangerous - he still pronounced it wrong, as dang-ear-us. He was getting there.

“Izuku, I have to go!”

“Baby, Shouta’s going to be fine-” Hizashi tried to reason. Izuku only wailed louder, breaths stuttering in his chest.

“Y-y-you - c-c-c-can’t-” 

“Cabbage-”

“Tiger, please calm down-”

“It’s all right, baby, Uncle Sho’s alright- oh my God, Izuku, breathe- ”

Izuku screamed, shoulders and arms trembling as his wails increased in pitch and volume. His face turned blotchy and red. 

“ Y-you’re-y-y-our- ”

Shouta fell to his knees in front of the little boy, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Izuku.” The boy didn’t respond. “Child. Izuku. Cabbage! ” The boy looked up, sobbing. “I know you’re upset, and you’re confused, but I need you to breathe. You’re scaring Hizashi and Nemuri, okay?” Hizashi and Nemuri nodded. “So you have to breathe, and you have to calm down, okay? Hmm?” Izuku nodded, and tried to suck in a deep breath. 

Hizashi crouched down beside him.

“Like me, ‘Zuku,” he said. “Deep breath in.” Izuku did. “Hold it.” Izuku did. “Deep breath out. You’ve got this, Zu, it’s alright. Come on.” Izuku started breathing again, and the red of his face slowly slipped away. He started crying in earnest, however, and Hizashi opened his arms. Izuku ran into them without a second thought, hugging the man’s neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, ‘Zuku, it’s okay...”

Izuku sniffed, and slowly pulled away. His face was covered in tears. 

“Better?” Izuku nodded. “Good. Now, explain to us what’s wrong. It’s okay if you don’t mind - just talk it out with me, Izuku.” Hizashi said that to Shouta a lot, when he was confused or overwhelmed or angry and he didn’t know why. He knew it worked pretty well.

“U-Unkie Sho could get- get hurt,” Izuku said. “L-like last time. A-a-and-” He choked on a sob.

“It’s alright, Zu, just take your time,” Hizashi said.

“I-I- I don’t want Un-Unkie Sho’s batteries to die like- like Mommy’s!” Shouta frowned. Batteries? What? 

Hizashi seemed to understand what he meant, however.

“That’s not gonna happen, Izuku. Okay? It’s not gonna happen.”

Shouta knew that was a lie. Anything could happen on patrol. He could leave one day and not come back. That’s what made life as a hero so dangerous, so unpredictable. But they’d been warned about that since day one - since the day they signed up for U.A.’s hero course. They knew the risks. 

Maybe that’s why Izuku was so worked up. He hadn’t known.

“Y-you don’t know, Unkie Zashi!” Izuku shouted in frustration. “Unkie Sho g-got hurt last time!”

“But he also got better, because your Uncle Sho is a very strong man. Okay? No one’s gonna kill him but him.”

“W-well, I don’t want him to do that either...”

Nemuri covered her mouth, like she was swallowing backa  laugh. 

“This is just Sho’s job, Izuku. That’s all there is to it. I’m sorry it scares you, but he’s gotta do his job, okay? And I promise you, I’ll watch him and make sure he comes home safe. Does that sound alright, ‘Zuku?”

“Will…. Will he watch you, and keep you safe?” Izuku asked. “I don’t… I don’t want you to get hurt either, Unkie Zashi.”

Hizashi looked like his heart was about to melt. 

“Yes I will,” Shouta said. “Always. There’s nothing to worry about, Cabbage.” Izuku frowned, and slowly nodded.

“Okay. But can you come say hi to me after you get back? So I know you’re okay?” Hizashi and Shouta nodded.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Okay,” Izuku said. He yawned. “I’m sleepy.”

“Go to bed, Cabbage. We’ll see you in a few hours, alright?”

“Alright... I love you, Unkie Zashi, Unkie Sho...” He walked to the hallway, before stopping. “You too, Auntie!” 

“W-we love you too, Cabbage.”

It appeared as though Hizashi’s heart did melt, that time.

Chapter Text

When Shouta got home from work that day, knee smarting angrily and ready to collapse in bed under his weighted blankets and hide from the world for a while, he immediately noticed how… quiet the apartment was. 

Not that Shouta minded quiet. He quite enjoyed it, really - it's just that it wasn’t a common thing in the Aizawa-Yamada-Midoriya household, not since Izuku had come to live with them, since the child wasn’t in school yet - that would have to wait for two more long weeks  - and the child was always doing something and making some kind of noise.

It was rare that you couldn’t hear the pitter patter of little feet running up and down the hallway, or Izuku talking to himself in his room, or Izuku trying to climb something, or crying, or watching cartoons, or cuddling and cooing at the cat, or something.

But no. Dead silence. Tense dead silence. 

The only good thing about his schedule, now, was the hours. The job was gruelling - picking up heavy boxes and parcels and loading them into delivery trucks, carrying merchandise into the stores, constantly covered in sweat and achy muscles, and so much noise - the sound of delivery trucks beeping blaringly as they backed up, metal grinding against metal as their back doors opened, the yells of drivers and suppliers and all the moving. 

He was lucky his boss allowed him so many breaks - half the time he was hiding in the break room, sipping coffee and taking tylenol and praying to a God he didn’t believe in that his headache would go away, and the other half he was bent over a toilet, trembling and puking because so much noise made everything ache . 

But, despite the painful work and the even more painful surroundings, it had shorter hours - he’d show up early in the morning and leave at about noon, showing up at the apartment around five minutes after Hizashi left for his radio show. It made everything a lot easier on them, and Nemuri - of course, she still stopped by to watch Izuku every night so Hizashi and Shouta could patrol, but now she could do her own day shifts without having to worry about Shouta and Hizashi calling last-minute for her to babysit the child. It was working out well, so far.

And since it was the middle of the day, Izuku was almost certainly awake. He always was. The child never seemed to take naps, and Shouta and Hizashi never enforced them since he was hard enough to get to sleep at eight every night as is, what with all his boundless energy. 

Shouta sighed, quickly taking off his uniform shirt and his shoes, leaving himself in a grey t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He hated his uniform shirt, and he was always happy to take it off - the material was too itchy and scratchy, and when it rubbed against his skin it felt like millions of little cactus spikes prickling his nerves. Not to mention the uniform shirt had tags on it, which he hated with a burning passion, but his boss said he wasn’t allowed to take the tags off in case other workers had to use his shirt should he quit.

The socks got pulled off as fast as the shirt. He hated socks more than he hated tags. 

“Child,” he called, looking around the apartment. Hizashi probably would have called him if he’d lost the kid, and Izuku couldn’t have gone far if he’d decided to leave. Probably. 

He walked down the hallway, pushing Izuku’s room open. Toys scattered around the room - he’d have to get Izuku to clean those up later - but no sign of the child in question. He moved on to the bathroom. No child. The closet. No child. Though there was a very vibrantly coloured jacket.

He heard a small rustle come from his and Hizashi’s room. Shouta frowned uneasily. Why would the child be in their room?

He eased the door open. The child was kneeling by their bed, looking through an old, battered shoe box. On the side of the box in Sharpie, in Hizashi’s swooping, curly handwriting was ‘Memories’. 

Ah. 

The boy was holding a photo of him and Hizashi, back when they were kids in U.A. The ferris wheel photo, right after he and Hizashi had gotten together. Purple, pink and yellow lights danced off the skin of the kids in the photograph - Shouta still remembered how red Hizashi’s face had been, after they’d walked off that ferris wheel, and how confused Shouta had felt, still trying to work out what had just happened. 

It was a good memory, the image of it captured in time with Nemuri’s old polaroid camera. That’s why it was saved in the box.

“Cabbage,” Shouta said. “It is not polite to go through other people’s things.” Izuku’s head shot up, and he looked very guilty for a moment then suddenly, inexplicably nervous. 

“I’m sorry, Unkie Sho,” Izuku said. “I was looking for my toy, so I could play heroes with my action figures, and I thought they might be in here.”

Shouta crossed his arms.

“How did that lead to you looking through boxes?”

“I got… cur….. Cear...” 

“Curious,” Shouta supplied for him. Izuku nodded vigorously, green curls bouncing. 

“Yeah! That.” 

Shouta sighed. He really shouldn’t scold the child, he was so young, but there was something about him looking through his room that made him distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Look. Cabbage.” How did he say this…

Tap tap tap.

“If you want help looking for something, if it’s in Hizashi and I’s room, ask. Don’t just go in. Okay? And don’t go through people’s stuff. It’s not nice. If you get curious about something, just ask if you can look through it. Got it, child?” Izuku nodded sadly, eyes on the floor. He looked chastised. 

“I won’t do it again, Unkie,” Izuku said again. “I’m sorry.” He frowned for a moment. “But… who’s this baby?” He pointed to the photo of newborn Izuku, sitting nestled between all the other little frozen pieces of history. 

Shouta and Hizashi had taken the photos down from the walls immediately after Izuku had started living with them - partly because they didn’t know how destructive the child would get, once he was comfortable with them, and partly because it would be hard to explain why Hizashi and Shouta already had photos of him.

“That’s you,” Shouta said simply. “Right after you were born. You probably don’t recognise yourself. You looked like a very dried out tomato back then.”

“You met me before?” Izuku asked in wonder.

“No,” Shouta said. He decided the one time he saw the boy at his parents’ funeral didn’t count. “Your mother sent those to me on your birthday every year. I guess she wanted me to know you existed.” Shouta shrugged. “But no. I never met you.”

“Oh...” Izuku said. “Did…. did you not want to?”

Shouta blinked.

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know. You just… I dunno.”

“I was young, when you were born, Izuku. I had no way of going to visit you. I wanted to, at first, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to. After that I was pretty indifferent to you.” 

“What’s in-different?”

“It just means I wasn’t that involved in your life. And I’m sorry about that.”

Izuku hummed.

“My dad didn’t like you much, I don’t think. Mommy and him were always arguing about you.”

“I know he didn’t like me,” Shouta said. “And that’s okay.”

Izuku tilted his head to the side. “You’re not sad he didn’t like you?”

“No,” Shouta said. “I can’t make everyone like me, and he liked me for something I couldn’t control, so it doesn’t matter.” He felt like he was directly reciting one of the speeches Hizashi had given to him, time and time again. 

“He called you a freak,” Izuku admitted. 

“Lots of people have. I’ve been told I’m an odd person.”

“Well I don’t think you’re a freak,” Izuku said, puffing up his chest. “I think you’re the bestest ever. ” 

“I appreciate that. Immensely.” Shouta hoped he hadn’t offended the boy by how dry his voice sounded. Izuku just looked confused in that way he did before he asked a question.

“What's ee-mens-sleeve mean?” Shouta considered getting the child a dictionary. 

“You remember when ‘extremely’ means?” Izuku nodded - he’d learned what that word meant a few days ago. “It means I appreciate it to a great extent. I appreciate you not thinking I’m… odd, very much.” Izuku smiled, and it was like the sun was looking up at him. 

“Can we look at more pictures? I wanna see what I looked like when I was little!”

“Look in a mirror.” Izuku’s shoulders slumped, and he pouted up at him. Shouta sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed to get the weight off of his leg. “Okay, Cabbage.” Izuku grinned, climbing up on the bed beside him and bringing the box of photographs with him, handling them carefully, like each photograph was the most delicate, expensive thing he’d ever held. 

It made Shouta wonder why he wasn’t this careful with cups and plates. Hizashi was always having to rush forward during dinner time to save a porcelain plate or a glass cup that was dangerously close to the edge.

He picked up the most recent photo, next. He held it carefully, and looked at it sadly. 

“I remember when this was taken,” Izuku said. “Mommy did it. She loved taking pictures.”

He placed the photo aside, next grabbing yet another one taken back in Shouta’s high school days. In that one, they were at a diner. Hizashi had burst into laughter at something Shouta couldn’t remember, and the milkshake was running out of his nose. Shouta could be seen in the background, giving the blonde a disgusted and affronted look. Hizashi’s face was red and tears were falling down his eyes despite the fact that he was clearly laughing, not crying. Shouta could remember how concerned he’d been for the boy, at the time, before remembering how inclined for the dramatic he was.

Izuku giggled at the picture. 

Izuku grabbed the next one. 

This one was taken in a selfie like way. Hizashi and Nemuri were both on the couch, Shouta sitting between them, wrapped in Nemuri’s weighted blanket and completely dead to the world. It had been taken at Shouta’s old apartment. 

“Is that Auntie?” Izuku asked excitedly. “She looks different.”

“We all looked different,” Shouta stated. “We were younger.”

Izuku grabbed the next photo. He gasped.

“ Is that a kitty? Is that Takara? ” he squealed. 

“Yes. She was still a baby.”

“She was skinny. ”

“She was a healthy weight,” Shouta rebuked. Before I started feeding her tuna fish all the time…

Izuku grabbed the next photo. 

“Who’s that?” Shouta looked at the photo. It seemed, the farther down Izuku dug in the photo filled box, the older they were. That photograph held a picture of Hizashi, a reluctant-looking Shouta, and Tensei Iida. It looked like it had been taken after the exams for first year, judging by their appearances… Shouta still had that shorter hair…

“That’s a friend of mine. His name is Tensei. He’s the pro-hero Ingenium.” Izuku looked like his eyes might just pop out of his head with how wide they were. “He has a little brother named Tenya who’s about your age. You might meet him some day.” 

“Oh, please please!” Izuku said, bouncing in place excitedly. “I wanna meet Tenya and Mr. Ingenium! Please, Unkie, please? ” Shouta felt very uncomfortable and very manipulated as a pair of bright green puppy dog eyes fell on him.

“I already told you you might be able to,” Shouta said. “Please stop.” The eyes did not cease. “I’ll work something out with your Uncle Hizashi. Yes?” Izuku nodded frantically. “Good. Now calm down.” Izuku reached for the next photograph, digging his hand deep into the box.

“That’s Hizashi’s family,” Shouta said before Izuku could ask. And it was - there were his parents, who might as well have been Hizashi’s carbon copies. Tall, blonde hair, though his father had blue eyes while his mother had green. Shouta was in the photo, too, because after he and Hizashi had gotten together it wasn’t often he was away from Hizashi’s house. 

“You looked tiny, ” Izuku said. And Shouta supposed that was true - as a child he’d been fairly short because of his eating habits, and that photo was taken just before he shot up to 6”0 and got taller than Nemuri. 

“Yes,” Shouta said. “I was a child. And Hizashi’s parents are both very tall.” Izuku hummed, grabbing the next photo. 

“Graduation.”

“And this?”

“First patrol.”

He pointed at another.

“The second Sports Festival.”

“What about this?”

“That’s just a tree.”

Izuku kept going through photos until he came across the last one at the very bottom of the box.

“Who’s this boy?”

Izuku had pulled out a photograph of a tall boy with bright, floating blue hair and a wide, cheshire cat grin. He’d been… a friend. Not as close as Nemuri and Hizashi, but a friend nonetheless, though their group never hung outside of school grounds. He still blamed himself for his death, for not being there.

“Someone I try not to think about,” Shouta said simply. “No more photos. Have you eaten?”

“Unkie Zashi gave me leftover onigiri for lunch,” Izuku replied.

“Go play with your toys, and then clean your room. There are toys scattered everywhere.” Izuku nodded, scurrying out of the room and down the hallway to his own. 

Shouta sat there for a moment, not quite willing to stand up yet until the achiness eased its way out of his knee. He glanced down at the box of photos again. It was still open, and the boy’s photo was resting on the rest. He stared at it. The photo stared back.

“I’m still sorry.”

Then he put the lid on the box, and slid it back under the bed. He couldn’t be blamed if he wanted to forget about some of the memories resting inside.

Chapter Text

It was one of their few days off from their hectic schedule - Sunday. Hizashi’s radio show didn’t play on Sunday and Shouta’s boss was a firm believer in the fact that no one should work on that day. He had no such qualms against working on Saturday, but Shouta wouldn’t complain.

It was one of those quiet Sunday mornings, where everything was slow like melting butter and it was quiet for once. No yelling from Izuku - no talking from Hizashi - not even any sound coming from the TV. Just quiet. 

Shouta took a sip of his coffee and tried to revel in the calmness and quiet of the morning for as long as he could. 

Izuku was, presumably, still asleep and Hizashi, not wanting to wake the boy up, had put his breakfast in the microwave before joining Shouta at the table. And it was nice, because Hizashi held his hand while they ate and smiled at him warmly every once and a while, like he was happy just from seeing Shouta, and it made something nice and warm spring up in his chest.

And then it was broken by a single, piercing shriek, followed by stuttered crying.

It didn’t take long for Hizashi and Shouta to quickly push away from the table, Shouta fearing the worse - had a villain snuck in? Was he hurt? Would he be able to take him to the hospital if he was hurt?

When they crashed through Izuku’s bedroom door, they found the boy on the floor. He was pouting, and frustrated and pained tears were running down his face. He was holding a spot on his forehead, which was bright red, but other than that he looked fine.

“What happened?” Hizashi asked, moving Izuku’s hand away from the spot before tilting the boy’s chin up and glancing at his pupils. 

Izuku sniffled and let out a choked off sound. Shouta knew that the boy always made that sound before he started crying.

“Calm down, child,” Shouta said. “You’re alright. Tell us what happened.”

“I-I was trying to do flips like you!” he wailed. “And then I hit my head on the dresser!” The five-year-old glared at the piece of furniture. 

“You were trying to do flips?” Shouta asked. “You can’t just do flips without knowing how, especially in such a closed off space. It’s not safe.” 

“Y-you said y-you’d teach me gym-gymnastics, b-but you-you’ve been busy… so I-I wanted to learn to do flips b-b-by myself so I c-c-could be a her-hero like-like you and Unkie Zashi and All Might and-” He wailed loudly. 

“Child, if you really wanted to learn all that you should have just reminded me. I would have found the time,” Shouta said, feeling slightly guilty. “That was st-silly. That was silly. You acted silly.” He wasn’t sure if he should say the word ‘stupid’ in front of a child.

Izuku looked just as upset by being described as ‘silly’. 

“But you’re always tired!” he said. “And you’re always working ‘cause mommy’s- mommy’s funeral cost so much and...” He looked down and rubbed at his eyes. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”

Shouta frowned. Bother him? Why would Izuku asking to learn about gymnastics bother him? He’d made the offer in the first place, a few months ago….

Shouta looked over to Hizashi. Hizashi looked close to tears.

Shouta looked back at Izuku.

“I apologize,” Shouta said, “for calling you silly. And I apologize for making you think that you asking me to teach you gymnastics would bother me.”

Izuku frowned at him.

“You don’t gotta say sorry,” Izuku said. “That’s not-”

“No, child,” Shouta said. “If I did anything - anything - to make you feel like you asking me to teach you gymnastics would bother me… then I’m not doing my job right. Because my job, above all else, is to take care of you. That’s why I signed all those papers, and why I got all those other jobs, to take care of you. And if teaching you how to do a flip, or a cartwheel, or anything, is a part of taking care of you… then that’s what I’ll do.” Shouta shrugged. His hands gripped his elbows. He rarely shared what he thought like that, and never to Izuku. He didn’t…. Do heart-to-hearts much. Except with Hizahsi, occasionally. He hoped he’d gotten his point across. He saw Hizashi shaking in the corner of his eye, and knew that his boyfriend was crying now. Because of course he was.

“So… so you’ll teach me flips and cartwheels?” Izuku asked hopefully. Shouta had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, because of course that’s the part a five year old would focus on.

“Yes, child,” Shouta said. “That is what I said.” Izuku grinned, darting forward toward him.

“Careful, careful-” he heard Hizashi cry out, just before Izuku crashed into him and wrapped his arms around his leg.

The wrong leg.

Shouta had to stop himself from crying out as he felt the familiar pain start sparking up in his knee. Izuku, of course, was utterly oblivious as Shouta started leaning against the doorway slightly to keep from falling. 

“Zu, baby, maybe you should-”

“No, no, he’s...” Shouta cleared his throat. “He’s fine.” He patted the boy’s curly green head, and Izuku let go of his leg and smiled up at him sweetly. 

“Um, how about you help go eat your breakfast with Unkie Zashi while I go do something,” Shouta said.

“But, you said-”

“I will, child,” Shouta said. He needed to sit down… “Just… later. Not right now. You have to eat first. Yes?” Izuku nodded.

“That makes sense! Okay, Unkie!” He darted out of the room, headed toward the dining room. Shouta heard  a chair drag across the floor. 

“You alright, Sho?” Hizashi asked. His eyes were still red, and he had his arms outstretched in front of him, like he was expecting Shouta to fall.

“I am fine. I’m perfectly fine. Don’t worry about me, Zashi.”

“Really? Because you look like you’re about to- ”

“I’m fine,” Shouta said through gritted teeth. “I think I just need to sit down.”

“Okay, if you say so...”

Shouta walked out of the bedroom, past the kitchen - where he tried not to make it obvious to Izuku that he was in pain - and into the living area. He practically collapsed onto the couch, Takara jumping on beside him. His leg was outstretched in front of him, feeling stiff and still aching sharply. He could hear Hizashi in the kitchen, reminding Izuku to be careful about Shouta injury.

He ran his fingers through Takara’s soft fur. 

Damn that villain. 

Izuku ran into the room as soon as he was done eating, leaving Hizashi to deal with cleaning up. He was bouncing in place as he stood in front of him, looking eager. 

“Alright,” said Shouta, sitting up slightly. “I need you to clear a space in here - move the table, the chairs, all that.” Izuku nodded, moving the coffee table against the far wall as well as the arm chairs. 

Shouta took him through all the steps Shouta’s instructor had taught him - safety, first and foremost, before moving on to the actual physical part of gymnastics. By the time they were done, Izuku could manage a roll across the floor - and the beginning of doing it backwards - without much trouble. 

The boy looked up at him directly after completing the roll. 

“I did it, Unkie Sho!” he crowed excitedly. “I-I really did it! Did you see that?! That was so fun!” 

“Quiet down, child,” Shouta said. “We have neighbors.” And the yelling was starting to make his ears hurt, but he didn’t say that. 

Izuku looked a bit more subdued.

“But, yes. You did do a good job.”

Hizashi ran forward from where he was standing in the doorway, grabbing the boy and spinning him slightly. 

“You did such a good job, Zuku!” Hizashi said. The boy giggled madly as Hizashi held him, gripping the man’s neck tightly. Hizashi set him down.

“Whoah...” Izuku said, tilting back and forth slightly. “I’m…. dizzy….” He fell onto his back. Hizashi snickered, darting forward and tickling his stomach mercilessly. There were tears streaming from the boy’s eyes.

“S-stop! S-s-stop Unkie Zashi!”

“What’s the magic word, Little Listener?” Hizashi asked, continuing his assault. 

“P-please! Please s-s-stop!” 

“Oh, fine,” Hizashi said, baking up. The boy curled up onto his side on the phone, holding his stomach and still giggling.  Shouta saw Hizashi quickly take a picture with his phone. 

Izuku slowly sat up, wiping at his face, shoulders still shaking with the remainder of his laughing. He looked up at Shouta and smiled happily. 

“Unkie Sho! Can we keep learning? I wanna learn another flip!”

“You have to learn that one first, cabbage,” Shouta said. “You did good, but there’s still stuff you need to work on. You want to be a hero, right?” Izuku nodded vigorously. “A hero is only as good as their abilities. And since you don’t have a Quirk, your physical abilities will have to be better than everyone’s. Yes?” 

Izuku nodded, still smiling, before it fell slightly.

“Do you think I can really be a hero without a Quirk?”

“I think anyone can be a hero, Cabbage,” Shouta said honestly. 

Izuku frowned.

“There’s never been a Quirkless hero before...” he said, frowning. 

Shouta really did roll his eyes, that time.

“Then just be the first.” Izuku blinked up at him, startled. “What?”

“Nothing! Just- thank you!” 

“Mhm,” Shouta said, feeling awkward. “Doesn’t matter if you don’t have a Quirk. Plenty of heroes have pretty useless Quirks for battle, and they do fine. Alright? If anyone says that you can’t be a hero without a Quirk, they’re a thick-headed ignoramus.” Izuku blinked. “Ignoramus means an ignorant or stupid person.” Izuku nodded. 

“Am I allowed to call someone an ignoramus?” Izuku pronounced the word ‘ignor-anus’, and Shouta heard Hizashi wheeze from where he was standing.

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw.” 

~-~

By dinner, Izuku had improved exponentially, and Shouta’s leg had finally stopped hurting. It was lucky he didn’t have patrol that night, honestly. 

What Shouta and Hizashi hadn’t known was that, once Shouta taught him to do a simple roll, he would start rolling where he wanted to go instead of walking.

Which was…. Unexpected, admittedly. Shouta couldn’t quite remember doing that as a child. 

First, he rolled from the living room to the table, then he tried to roll from the floor onto the chair. Thankfully, he gave that up and just climbed onto it.

Then he rolled back into the living room and started rolling around the room everywhere while Hizashi and Shouta watched a movie on the TV.

“You remember that old video game? With the blue hedgehog?” Hizashi whispered to Shouta. Shouta hummed. “I think that’s what he’s going for.”

“Child!” Shouta called to Izuku. Izuku stopped rolling and looked up at him. “Please stop rolling everywhere.” Izuku pouted at him.

“You told me to practice!” Izuku protested.

“I didn’t mean to use it as a form of transportation. Your head is going to start hurting from the floor soon.” 

“What’s transportation?”

“Someone or something moving from one place to another.”

“Mkay!” He went back to rolling.

“ Child. ”

It was a bit of a lengthy process to get the child to settle down. 

“Izuku, just sit down. ”

“Cabbage, please. ”

“Zu, for God’s sake-”

“ Get down from there! ”

“But Unkie- ”

The worst thing was trying to get him to sleep. He was simply too excited about his new-found ability to go down. Shouta had read to him, Hizashi had sung, they’d given him stuffed animals, warm milk, everything they could think of. Then, when his eyes had finally closed and he’d gone down and Shouta and Hizashi had returned to their movie, they still heard him rolling around in his room. 

By the time he was really, truly asleep it was ten P.M, Hizashi and Shouta were exhausted, and Shouta was idly considering jumping out of the nearest window. 

“I never want children,” Hizashi said, throwing the extra pillows on their bed aside. “Never. That was Hell. That was the purest definition of Hell.”

“You already have a child.”

“Technically, you’re the only one who has guardianship over him,” Hizashi said as he climbed into bed. “I’m just around for the ride.”

“If you think you’re getting out of helping me raise him-”

“I’m not saying that,” Hizashi said. “Relax. I’m just saying - in the future, if we… get married. Or whatever. Please no more children. ”

“That I can agree with,” Shouta said, climbing into bed beside Hizashi. “Getting custody of a five year old changed the way we do things, imagine another one.” Hizashi snickered.

“Yeah, like… we can’t drink anymore. Can’t watch movies that aren’t above PG-13. Our schedules are different.”

“Can’t go out with Nemuri as much,” Shouta added. “Less sleep. No more naps. Can’t swear. Not that I swear a lot, but you and Nemuri must be struggling.” Hizashi barked a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s true,” he said. He hummed. “You wanna know another thing we haven’t been able to do much since Izuku?” he asked. There was a hand on Shouta’s face, Hizahsi’s thumb stroking over his cheek bone.

“Can’t do that,” Shouta protested. “The child will hear.”

“He’s asleep...” Hizashi reminded him, and Shouta hummed. That was true…

There was a hand on this hip, now, and Hizashi was pulling him close, and just before their lips touched….

The sound of a child, rolling across the floor of his room and hitting the wall.

“God dammit. ”

Chapter Text

Shouta had never regretted taking custody of a child more than he did that moment. 

Work for Shouta had started at four A.M., before, but now that Izuku was finally going to school, he had to go through the lengthy process of changing his work schedule. Then he’d had to scrounge up all the spare money he could - trying to ignore all of the ridiculous amounts of interest piling up on their debt - to get the boy his uniform. Then he’d had to take a day off of work - something his boss had not been happy about at all - to enroll Izuku into the nearest primary school. Then he’d had to worry about lunch money, and books, and new shoes and a haircut (because apparently Izuku’s hair was too long), and then he’d had to figure out how to get him to school on time while also getting to his job on time.

It was enough to make him want to rip his hair out. Or hide in a dark room for a few years.

That was how he found himself where he was. It was six A.M., and he was nursing a cup of coffee and trying to tame his shaggy black hair with the hated hairbrush before throwing it back in a bun and clipping his bangs out of his face with the cat clips. Then he got to work on fixing the child’s lunch - he decided to just throw some leftovers from the previous night in a brown paper bag, because surely the school had a microwave somewhere - and finally, the part he was dreading most, getting the child up and moving. 

Hizashi couldn’t be there because the agency had assigned him desk work along with his nightly patrols and his radio show, so he was already gone, leaving Shouta to do most of the work with Izuku himself. Logically, he knew that the desk work was a good thing, because the agency was paying him for the extra hours he did and they really and truly needed all the money they could get, but it didn’t make him less upset at having to get the child up and ready by himself. 

Shouta opened the boy’s bedroom door, flipping the overhead light on. Izuku groaned and rolled over, burying himself in his pillow. 

“Up,” he said. Izuku moaned pitifully. “Get up, Cabbage.” No movement. If the child was this bad in the mornings, maybe he should make his bedtime an hour early…

“Cabbage. Get up. ” 

“Grah.” 

What does that even mean…?

“Cabbage. It’s the first day of school. Time to wake up.” Izuku muttered something that didn’t sound like Japanese. Shouta sighed. He walked over to the boy, ripping his blanket and sheets off and tossing them aside. “Up. Now. Please.” Izuku sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

“Why do I gotta go to school?” he whined, climbing out of bed and heading to the closet. 

“Your uniforms are hung up on the far right side,” Shouta said. “And because you need a quality education.”

“What’s quality mean?” Izuku asked, pulling off his night clothes and changing into his slacks and uniform. 

“Do you need help with the buttons?” Shouta asked, and Izuku nodded. “And quality basically means ‘good’. You need a good education. Yes?” 

Izuku nodded before frowning.

“If I need a good education then why am I going to public school?” 

“We’re also poor.”

“Oh.”

Shouta helped Izuku button his shirt before Izuku pulled on his blazer. Shouta then helped the boy with the tie. 

“Alright. All done. Is the tie comfortable? Not too tight?” 

“It’s fine, Unkie,” Izuku said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, child,” Shouta said. “Come on, bathroom.” Izuku sighed tiredly, trailing behind Shouta to the bathroom where they stood in front of the mirror. Shouta grabbed a comb and a spray bottle, drenching the boy’s hair with water, like he did almost every morning. To be fair, the boy’s hair had to be combed every morning - it got tangled far too easily.

“Don’t yank,” Izuku warned him through a yawn.

“I know, child,” Shouta said, sectioning off the hair and running his comb through it. Izuku fiddled with his fingers as he did, glancing around the room. He looked anxious. 

Shouta finished combing the boy’s hair, swooping the green curls to the side. He knew that, by mid-day, Izuku’s hair would be just as wild and curly as it had been that morning. 

“What’s wrong?” Shouta asked, putting the spray bottle and the comb to the side. “You look agitated.”

“I’m a little nervous,” Izuku admitted. He had learned what the word ‘nervous’ meant recently, too. 

“About what?” Shouta asked, walking out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. There were eggs in the microwave, left by Hizashi before he’d left for the agency. 

“What if no one likes me ‘cause I’m Quirkless?” Izuku asked, still fiddling with his fingers. Shouta didn’t answer for a moment, plating up the eggs.

“Then they’re bigots and they don’t deserve your attention,” Shouta stated simply. “If anyone upsets you, just tell me and Hizashi. We’ll take care of it. Yes?”

Izuku nodded. “What does bigot mean?”

Shouta thought for a moment.

“A very foolish person who is too attached to an opinion,” Shouta said, sitting at the table. “There were a lot of bigots at my school. My Quirk came in late - I was eight - and everyone made fun of me for it. That, and I was… and still am pretty odd.”

“That’s not nice,” Izuku said, frowning. 

“It’s just the way the world is,” Shouta said, shrugging. 

“But that’s not fair!” Izuku protested.

“You’re right. It’s not. I’m sorry. I wish it was different,” Shouta said. He glanced down at the boy’s plate. “Eat your eggs, you need breakfast.”

“Can I have coffee too?” Izuku asked. “Hizashi said you drink it because it makes you happy and less sleepy.”

“No,” Shouta said. “It stunts your growth. Do you want to be three feet tall for the rest of your life?” Izuku’s eyes widened comically, and he shook his head vigorously. “Didn’t think so.”

“Why is the world so mean?” Izuku wondered.

“I’m… not sure,” Shouta admitted. “Some people have different opinions, and sometimes those opinions aren’t very nice. And when they clash with other people’s opinions…. Sometimes it can bring out the worst in people. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but you’ll understand, someday, okay?”

“I’m never gonna be mean like that,” Izuku said resolutely. “My op- opy-”

“‘Opinions’,” Shouta supplied.

“Yeah, those!” Izuku said. “They’re gonna be nice ones. ”

“Good,” Shouta said. He glanced at the wall clock. “Time to go. Backpack, shoes, carseat, let's go.” Izuku nodded, running to slip his new shoes on and grab his bag. By the time Shouta had slipped into his work uniform - tags tags tags tags tags - Izuku was in the living room, waiting impatiently by the door. 

They went down to the parking lot, Izuku climbing into the back seat and buckling himself up. Shouta climbed into the front, starting the car before peeling out of the parking lot. Driving was just another thing on the list of things Shouta hated doing, but sometimes it simply couldn’t be avoided. 

It took them twenty minutes to get to Izuku’s primary school, pulling into the parking lot at 7:40. Shouta climbed out of the car with Izuku, helping him grab his stuff and walking him into the building, unsure of what he was supposed to do. 

There was a receptionist in the front office. 

“Hello!” the receptionist said warmly. 

“... hi,” Shouta said, feeling awkward. “Uh, I’m here to drop off the child. Where do I take him?”

“Well, what’s his name?” the receptionist asked warmly, turning toward her computer.

“Izuku Midoriya,” Shouta answered. “I’m his guardian and his emergency contact. Backup emergency contacts are listed under Hizashi Yamada and Nemuri Kayama?”

The woman nodded.

“Yes, here he is,” the woman said. “He’ll be in Mrs. Suzuki’s class. It’s down the first year hallway, just past the bathroom. You’ll know it when you see it, dear.”

“Yes. Thank you,” Shouta said. “Come on, child,” he said to Izuku, opening the door and walking out of the office. 

It didn’t take much work to find the correct classroom. Once he opened the door, a wave of noise hit him full force. There were twelve other small children in the room. A lot of them were crying and clinging to their parents. One was standing on a bookshelf, screaming when anyone got near him. A couple were acting fairly civil, playing with toys near the back. One little girl had bright pink hair and was running around with a toy, screaming. 

Shouta felt Izuku hide behind his leg. The teacher saw them and hurried over.

“Hello!” she said  hurriedly, looking rather tired. “Is your son in my class or are you asking for directions?”

“He’s not my son, he’s my nephew,” Shouta said. “And yes. He’s in your class.”

“Great!” the teacher said, looking pained. “Well, the young man can go to a table and sit down, maybe colour in one of our colouring books… does he have school supplies?” Shouta nodded. “Excellent! Tell him to hang up his bag over there, please.” Shouta nodded. 

He turned to the boy.

“Cabbage,” he said. Izuku looked up at him. “Behave. Be nice to your classmates and try to make friends. Remember what I told you this morning.” Izuku nodded. “Your Uncle Zashi will pick you up this evening, after his show. Alright?” Izuku nodded. “Put your stuff up and sit down after I leave.” Izuku nodded. “Try to keep the cartwheels to a minimum.” Izuku nodded. “And when you go out to recess, don’t bring anything from outside to the inside. Yes?” Izuku nodded. “Good. I have to get to work.” 

“I love you, Unkie Sho,” Izuku said, looking a tad bit nervous at being separated from him. “I’ll miss you.”

“I love you too. And don’t bother missing me. I’ll see you this evening after work, yes? I get off at four.” Izuku nodded, though it looked shaky now. “I’ll see you then, Izuku, okay?” Izuku nodded again, before darting forward to wrap his arms around Shouta’s leg - the good leg, this time, since Hizashi had lectured him after the last incident. 

“Bye-bye,” Izuku said before turning to sit at one of the tables. 

Shouta turned to the teacher.

“He has bad anxiety. Don’t mention his mother or his father. If he starts crying, remind him to breathe. If he hyperventilates, call me. If he wants a hug then hug him, please.” The teacher nodded, looking surprised. “He has a sack lunch but it will need to be microwaved… that is all.” Shouta then turned on his heel, speed walking to the car so he could get to work in time for his shift. 

~-~

Izuku wanted to make his uncle proud, so he immediately set out to make a friend. And there were lots of friends to choose from.

He didn’t think he wanted to talk to the little boy standing on the bookshelf, since he looked like one of the scary dogs on the television that slobbered and bit you. A few of the kids looked big and mean, way bigger than Izuku, and they scared him. There was a tiny little girl around the same height as him that looked like a very nice person, but she was colouring and he didn’t want to bother her. The pink-haired girl was loud and scary, and she seemed pretty happy to run around screaming with her toy. Which left the purple-haired boy. Izuku had noticed the purple-haired boy when they walked in because he was clinging to the leg of a tall man with the same coloured hair in a lab coat. But the boy was crying now, albeit quietly, and he looked scared of everyone, so Izuku didn’t know if it’d be alright to talk to him either. 

Maybe talking to the nice-looking girl would be better than upsetting the purple-haired boy or getting yelled at by the crazy girl. 

But he also remembered what the boys at his old school said about girls, how they said that they were all gross and that they didn’t know how to play like boys did. And his Dad had always gotten upset when he cried because he said that only girls did that, and he made it sound like girls were bad , even though Mommy was a girl and she was alright.

Auntie Nem was a girl too, and she never acted weird and she wasn’t gross like the boys said. So maybe they were wrong. Or maybe they had bad opinions, like Unkie Sho said!

So he walked to the nice looking girl and sat next to her. The girl looked up from her drawing. Her brown hair was cut short and the longer strands were pinned to the side, like Unkie Sho’s hair sometimes was.

“Hi!” Izuku said, feeling a little shy. “My name’s ‘Zuku!” The girl smiled at him.

“My name’s Ochako!” she said happily. “Do you like crayons? You can share mine, if you want!” Izuku gasped. He did like crayons!

“Yes, please!” he said happily, and the girl - Ochako - handed him a purple crayon. On the colouring sheet was a snowman, and Izuku coloured his top hat dark purple. 

“Are you happy about school? I am!” Ochako asked, looking like she was about to start bouncing in her seat. “I’m gonna get real smart in school. I can become a hero and make money for my parents!”

“I’m gonna be a hero, too!” Izuku said excitedly. Wait. Heroes made money? Did that mean he could make money for Unkie Sho and Unkie Zashi, so they didn’t have to worry about the bank anymore? That sounded like a good idea!

“My Quirk is called Zero Gravity!” Ochako said happily. “It means I can make stuff really light, but it makes my tummy sick if I use it too much. I’m gonna be a rescue hero!” Izuku felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Uh, I don’t have a Quirk,” he admitted. “S-so I’m gonna be the first Quirkless hero!” 

“You don’t have a Quirk?” Ochako asked. “How?”

“The doctor said that my foot’s weird so I can’t have one,” Izuku admitted. “But that’s okay! That just means I’ll have to work harder than everyone else, and I can do that!”

“That sounds like a good idea!” Ochako said. “Hey - maybe, you and me can be a hero team. You can fight the bad guys while I rescue people! That could be cool!” Izuku’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah! That’d be so cool! I can’t wait!” Ochako giggled, and Izuku’s smile felt too big for his face. “Maybe if we make more friends they’ll wanna be in our hero team too!”

Ochako gasped.

“ Yeah! ” 

And so, the two abandoned their crayons, locked in their plans to be the heroes of the future.

~-~

Izuku didn’t think he liked school much. There wasn’t a lot in school that he hadn’t already learned, so it was really easy. But he’d made friends with Ochako, so that was nice, and recess was a good time to practice with her Quirk and plan for their hero team, even if the school said they couldn’t use their Quirks too much!

During recess, the pair had walked around the place rather than play on the playground much, since it was so crowded. Some other kids walked around too. The purple-haired boy laid in the grass and stared up at the clouds the entire time. The mean looking boys stole seats on the swing sets from other kids, and Izuku wanted to stop them because that’s what heroes do, but Ochako convinced him not to.

“We’re really tiny, ‘Zuku! They might hurt us! We gotta get bigger first!”

The crazy pink haired girl from earlier ran around the playground with her toy. It was silver and it was shiny, and she never seemed to let go of it. She talked to it and squealed about it a lot.

Recess ended really fast, and they went back inside for lunch. After lunch - which Izuku’s teacher let him microwave in the teachers’ lounge - they had afternoon lessons where the teacher taught them all about numbers and shapes, and that was a little harder for Izuku since he hadn’t learned a lot about numbers yet, except how to count to ten.

Ochako was really good at numbers. She said it was because her parents worked in something called ‘construction’ (he’d have to ask Unkie Sho what that meant later) and they had to use math a lot, so they taught some of it to Ochako. Ochako didn’t know how to read as well as Izuku, but she could add and subtract and even do something called division, and Izuku didn’t know what that was either but Ochako said it was really hard. 

Izuku didn’t think he liked his teacher much. She had let him microwave his lunch, but then, as a game, they’d had to say what their Quirks were in front of the whole class, and she’d looked at Izuku weird when he said he didn’t have one. A lot of the other kids looked at him weird too.

“What if no one likes me ‘cause I’m Quirkless?” 

“Then they’re bigots and they don’t deserve your attention,” Shouta stated simply. “If anyone upsets you, just tell me and Hizashi. We’ll take care of it. Yes?”

Izuku hoped they weren’t bigots. They looked like nice people.

After the Quirk game - which turned out to be a game where people were supposed to act like they had each other’s Quirk and how they’d use it - the bell rang. After a while, a lot of kids’ parents came in to pick them up, and lots of them pointed at Izuku. It made Izuku want to hide under a table. 

The purple-haired boy’s father came to pick him up. He was still wearing a lab coat, and as soon as the purple-haired boy saw him, he ran at him and jumped into his arms and hid his face in his neck and started crying again. The doctor-man had shushed him and rubbed his back and said sorry to the teacher before leaving. 

Izuku’s dad would never have held him if he was crying. He would’ve said he was acting like a girl. 

But Unkie Zashi always hugged him when he cried, and Unkie Sho always reminded him to breathe, and that was nice. Maybe he could ask his dad to do that when he came back from America to take Izuku home.

Maybe, when Dad came to pick him up and take him home and he asked him to hug him when he cried instead of calling him a girl, he could also tell him about how great Unkie Sho was and he’d let Izuku visit him! That would be nice!

Izuku looked at the door when Unkie Zashi walked in. Unkie Zashi had his glasses on and his hair was ungelled and pulled up, and he was wearing a bright blue t-shirt and black jeans. He didn’t look a lot like Present Mic. Maybe that was on purpose.

“Ochako, my unkie’s here! I gotta go!”

“Okay, ‘Zuku! See you tomorrow!” Ochako said. Izuku hugged Ochako and ran toward Unkie Zashi, who picked him up and gave him a big hug once he saw him.

“Hey, little listener!” Unkie Zashi said. “Are you ready to go home? Your Uncle Sho will be there by the time we get back, and your auntie is already there and she wants to hear all about your day.” Izuku nodded and Unkie Zashi grinned at him, carrying him out of the classroom and putting him in his carseat. 

“So, I saw you hug that girl. Is she your friend?” Unkie Zashi asked while they drove back home. Izuku smiled.

“Yeah!” he said, bouncing in place. “Her name’s Ochako, and we’re gonna be heroes! ” 

Chapter Text

Shouta woke up and immediately knew he wouldn’t be getting up that day. Last night’s patrol had been difficult, mentally and physically. He had overdone his leg and now his knee was aching terribly, reminding him of his ever-present injury, and Shouta reached under his bed to grab his leg brace and, hopefully, alleviate some of the pain. 

The patrol, by an underground hero’s standards, had been easy. But there was one incident near the end that had shook Shouta to the core - there had been a man and a woman, both wearing matching wedding bands, and the man had been screaming the most awful things at his wife. Shouta had listened for a moment, unsure if he should intervene, before the man raised his hand up and the woman flinched violently, and Shouta’s capture weapon shot forward outside of his own volition.

It had made him so, unbelievably angry. 

But the woman hadn’t wanted help - she’d yelled at him, yelled at him until his ears hurt and his fingers were digging into the skin of his elbows and he was sure he’d have bruises later, angry at him. And she demanded that he let her husband go, release him, so Shouta had and the man had alternated between glaring at him and glaring at his wife the entire time they walked away.

And Shouta didn’t even know what he did wrong. 

When things got too loud or too fast or too sharp or too stressful and Shouta got overwhelmed, he had these moments that Hizashi liked to call the ‘quiet before the storm’. Moments where he was quiet and drawn and pale and his fingers were tap tap tapping away at his elbows and everything ached and it felt like one more thing on top of everything else, one more grain of sand would tip the scale and he would break. 

When Hizashi had seen him, he’d made him go straight to bed and had fitted the sound-blocking headphones that Hizashi usually used over Shouta’s ears, digging the weighted blankets out of the closet and tucking them around Shouta along with the blanket and comforter. Then he’d drawn the curtains in their room so no outside light could get in, turned off all the lights in the room so it was completely dark and had climbed into bed beside him, throwing an arm across his waist and massaging his knuckles as he fell asleep.

Shouta was lucky to have him. But, that didn’t help him the next morning.

Hizashi must have predicted something like this happening, because there were four bottles of water on the bedside and a package of Oreo cookies as well as a bottle of Tylenol. The noise blocking headphones were still fixed firmly over his ears and the room was dark. His phone was charging on the nightstand. 

He checked it. 5:45. Hizashi would have left for office work at the agency not long ago. 

Shouta sighed. His skin was prickling unpleasantly, the pain in his head reaching a crescendo just from the faint sounds of his own breathing. The fabric of his nightshirt felt scratchy on his skin, so he took it off, but then he was cold so he burrowed under his blankets and tried not to get too frustrated.

He needed to think.

Everything hurt but he needed to think.

It was difficult. His mind kept bringing him back to the prickling feeling in his skin. Shouta felt like clawing it out. 

Breathe.

Tap tap tap.

He couldn’t go to work. That much was obvious - too rough, too scratchy, too loud, tags - and he didn’t trust himself to drive to get Izuku to school. So he had two options.

He could call Izuku in sick, or he could get Nemuri to drive him.

Nemuri would gut him. Shouta wondered if it would hurt less.

Shouta sighed, burrowing farther in his blankets. Nemuri. Would Nemuri even be awake? She liked getting plenty of sleep for her night patrols…

Through the small crack in his pile of blankets he saw a wedge of light and he groaned. Then, a tiny silhouette - Izuku. The boy climbed onto his bed and folded back his blankets.

He said something, and Shouta couldn’t quite hear it. Then, tiny hands were pushing his headphones down.

“School time, Unkie,” he said, and even though his voice was quiet it still hurt so much. 

“Inside voice,” he said weakly. “And… I can’t take you… today.” The sound of his own voice made his headache spike. “Not today, Cabbage. Okay? I’m going to…. To call...”

“Auntie?” Izuku suggested.

“Yes,” Shouta said. “So… be a good child, and get ready for school, okay?” Izuku nodded. “You aunt will be here…. Soon. And I’ll tell her to bring…. Breakfast. Yes?” Izuku nodded again. “Good child.” Izuku reached down and hugged him, wrapping little arms around his shoulders. 

“Are you sick?” he asked him softly, pulling away. He was whispering. 

“The world is very… loud,” Shouta said. “It could be worse.” It really could be. If he had gotten truly overwhelmed the night before, had he gotten to that space where everything was too much and he was tearing at his hair and crying and screaming like he used to when he was stressed about school or someone in his class was hurting him, he probably wouldn’t have had the energy to speak. 

Izuku frowned. He leaned forward again, and Shouta thought he was getting another hug, but instead he felt a wet smack on his cheek. 

He couldn’t decide whether he was disgusted or not.

“My mommy used to give me kisses when I felt icky,” Izuku informed him. He looked sad, for a moment, before quickly moving on. “It chases the owies away. Did it work?” 

“A… little bit,” Shouta said (it had not). “... thank you. Just… go get ready and sit in the living room. Okay?”

“Mhm! Your welcome!” Izuku clambered down from the bed, running out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him, cloaking it with darkness once more. 

He was sorely tempted to put his noise blocking headphones back on, but instead he fumbled for the phone on his night stand, sighing as he clicked Nemuri’s phone number. He turned the brightness and the sound onto the lowest setting.

“What the fuck do you want?” Nemuri snapped, voice thick with sleep. 

“It’s Shouta,” Shouta said stiffly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was reminded, once more, of why he didn’t like talking on phones.

“... what?” Nemuri said. He heard shuffling on the other end of the line. “Since when do you call people?”

“That’s not of importance,” Shouta said. He groaned as his headache spiked again painfully. The tingling in his skin only seemed to be getting worse and he wanted nothing more than to end this conversation and to sleep this off. “I’m having a bad day. I need you to take the child to school.” Nemuri was quiet for a moment. 

“Are we talking about a bad day, a Bad Day, or a Bad Day, ” Nemuri asked cautiously. Shouta hated that he understood what she meant. 

“A Bad Day,” Shouta said. “Look, I just got…. Overwhelmed, on a patrol, and I have some kind of migraine and I need to sleep it off. Can you take the cabbage?”

“I mean, sure, of course,” Nemuri said. There was more shuffling from the other end of the line. “Just send me the address.”

“Thank you, Nemuri,” Shouta said.

“It’s not an issue, Sho,” Nemuri said. “Just feel better, alright?”

“Yes,” Shouta said. “Goodbye.” He hung the phone up quickly, opening his messages and quickly typing out the address before powering off his phone and re-burying himself into his blanket home.

He just had to sleep it off. 

~-~

Izuku didn’t know how to button his shirt. He didn’t know how to tie his tie, or tie his shoes, or comb his hair without it yanking.

The only really successful thing he managed was buttoning his slacks.

So there he sat, in the living room, his shirt completely unbuttoned and his tie sitting over one shoulder, his blazer doing little to hide this fact. He’d gotten hungry waiting for Auntie Nem, so he was also eating cookies. The Oreos were in Unkie Sho’s room and he didn’t want to take them from him when he was feeling sick, so he just found a package of chocolate chip cookies and ate those. Not as good as the Oreos, but still tasty.

A key turned in the lock and Auntie Nem came in. She was holding a bag of McDonald’s and a bento. Her hair was pulled back and she was still in her pajamas, which Izuku found silly. Her pajama pants had little tacos on them.

“Okay, tiger, let’s go-” She glanced up at him. “Oh God.”

She sighed, placing the food aside and kneeling in front of him, buttoning up his shirt quickly and taking care of his tie before taking a moment to straighten his blazer. She glanced at her watch.

“No time to do your hair, since I know you don’t like it to be yanked...” She sighed before picking up her stuff again. “It’ll be fine. But you’ll have to help me when we’re driving to your school, ‘kay ‘Zuku?” Izuku nodded, grabbing his bag and slipping on his shoes from where they rested by the door.

Auntie Nem’s car was big and low to the ground and black and it made a scary noise when she started it that made Izuku feel like he wanted to cry even though he didn’t know why. Auntie had shushed him and apologised as they pulled out of the parking lot, telling him to eat his breakfast quickly before they got to the school.

Auntie Nem had gotten him an egg McMuffin, a chocolate milk and a hash brown. Unkie Zashi always made his breakfast in the morning, and it was always fairly healthy  - fruit, or eggs or toast. It was never anything sugary or too greasy, because Unkie Zashi always said it would keep him from learning to his ‘full ability’ at school. Izuku wasn’t quite sure what ‘ability’ meant. There were a lot of words that Unkie Sho and Unkie Zashi said that he didn’t know, and it made him feel kind of dumb. He always had questions for them when he didn’t understand something, but he almost never asked them unless they slipped out. His pre-school teachers hadn’t liked it when he asked too many questions, and he didn’t want Unkie Sho or Unkie Zashi to get mad at him. But so far they hadn’t. Maybe he’d start asking more questions. 

Izuku dug into his McMuffin and his hash brown, and it was very good but very greasy. His hands and face felt slimy and he wiped them off with brown napkins. 

“You can just chug that on the way in,” Auntie Nem said. She leaned across the seat into the back and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “Love you, tiger. Go knock ‘em dead.” Izuku nodded, smiling at his auntie before clambering out of the car and heading to the school building. He heard tires squeal when Auntie Nem drove away.

~-~

“Does anyone know what five plus five is?” the teacher asked the room at large. Izuku knew, but he was too afraid to answer. Ochako, next to him, seemed to be in a similar situation. Neither of them liked to answer questions for the teacher since there was always the risk that they would be wrong. 

The teacher sighed before smiling at them. Izuku thought it looked weird. 

“If no one can answer, I’ll just have to call on a random student.” Izuku’s hands carded together. No one raised their hand to answer.

“Hitoshi!” she called, and the purple-haired boy at the back of the room looked up at her. There was an odd look in his eye, like he was frightened. “What is-” She stopped, abruptly. Narrowed her eyes. “Tell me the answer for five plus five.” Hitoshi was shaking where he was sitting, and Izuku wondered if he was scared of the teacher. “Do you not know? If you just don’t know, then go out with it and I’ll ask someone else.” Hitoshi continued to tremble and his mouth was shut tight. “Well?” Hitoshi looked like he was about to cry, and Izuku didn’t want him to cry - the mean looking boys in his class always made fun of Izuku when he cried.

Izuku’s hand shot into the air.

The teacher looked surprised.

“Izuku,” she said, “do you know the answer?” Something funny pinched in Izuku’s stomach, and he felt like he might be sick, for a moment, before answering. 

“T-t-ten,” Izuku said. The teacher smiled.

“Well done,” she said. “Moving on…. Can anyone tell me what ten plus ten is?”

Ochako’s hand darted into the air this time.

“Twenty!” she yelled, and her voice was trembling too, Izuku could tell, but it was covered up by how loud she was. Everyone who had their attention on the sniffling Hitoshi turned toward Ochako. 

“Inside voice, Ochako Uraraka,” the teacher said. “And you did not wait before being called on. Behave yourself, or I may have to send a note home to your parents.” Ochako nodded. “But you answered the question correctly. Well done, Ochako.” Ochako beamed. 

Izuku picked up on what Ochako was doing, and whenever Hitoshi let out a sniffle or started shaking again, he would answer just as loudly as Ochako had to draw attention away from the boy. When that didn’t work, he gave silly answers along with the loud responses. When that didn’t work, he started acting fidgety at the table, drawing eyes to him with his movements. 

“ Uraraka! Midoriya! ” the teacher finally snapped, and Ochako and Izuku looked up at her. “Hallway. Now. ” 

Ochako and Izuku nodded, standing together and walking out of the classroom. Izuku looked back at Hitoshi - he wasn’t sniffling anymore, and he looked… surprised. Maybe grateful. Izuku smiled at him warmly.

Izuku’s palms started to sweat as he waited for the teacher. What if he was in trouble? What if he called his unkies? What if he got expelled?

“It’s okay, ‘Zuku,” Ochako said, and she grabbed his hand even though it was sweaty. “We’ll be fine!” She smiled at him, and Izuku felt like it would be fine. 

They waited. The teacher came out a moment later. 

“Your behavior was ridiculous,” the teacher said. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you two, you’re usually so well-behaved… each of you will be getting a note sent home tonight. And if this behavior continues, you won’t be allowed to sit together anymore. Do I make myself clear?” Izuku and Ochako nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” Izuku said.

“Good,” the teacher said smartly. “Now, back to class, both of you.”

And so they did.

~-~

“I know what you did! I saw it!” the pink-haired girl said in recess. “It was very nice!” Izuku thought he remembered her name being Mei. “My name is Mei!” Yes. 

“My name’s ‘Zuku,” Izuku said. He shook her hand and he felt like a grownup. “This is Ochako. She’s my best friend. We’re gonna be hero partners some day!”

Mei gasped. 

“ Really? That’s so cool! ” Mei looked like she could barely contain her excitement. “I’m gonna invent support weapons one day, to help heroes!”

“That’s so cool!” Izuku said, bouncing in place. “Have you made any inventions yet? Did they work? What were their uses? Oh, this is so cool- ”

“I made a scoped potato gun! And it worked really well! It was accurate too! I was really proud of it! I also made this laser thing that basically can be used to distract people with flashes and lazers and false shadows so the heroes can escape!” 

“ Wow! ” Ochako gasped. “You wanna help us when we become heroes? We could really use weapons like that-”

“Oh, definitely!” Mei gushed. “I would love to! I’d get to share my babies with the world, and help people, and help you- ” She looked delighted. “This will be so much fun. What are your Quirks, again? I wasn’t paying attention in the Quirk game.”

“My Quirk is called Zero Gravity! I can make things weightless, but it makes my tummy hurt sometimes.”

“And I’m Quirkless,” Izuku admitted. “There’s something wrong with my foot so I can’t have a Quirk. So I’m just gonna be the first Quirkless hero!”

“That’s great!” Mei said. “That just means I can make even more support gear! Yay!” 

All three five year olds were bouncing in place excitedly, and if anyone looked at them, they would assume they had consumed a rather large amount of sugar.

“Wait! We gotta check on Hitoshi before the bell rings!” Izuku gasped, taking off to the play set. He climbed up it, using the railings to climb near the top and look out over the playground. 

“Do you see him?!” Ochako wheezed from the ground. It had taken her a moment to catch up with him. 

“No,” Izuku said, disappointed. “I don’t know where he could b- oh my goodness is that a cat?! ”

He jumped down and ran toward where he saw the cat - oh, and Hitoshi.

“Is that a cat?!” he crowed excitedly, jumping up and down again. “It’s so cute! What’s its name? Is it a boy or a girl?” Another cat noses its way from behind Hitoshi, and it looked up at Izuku distrustingly. It even looked reluctant around Hitoshi. Izuku was not deterred. 

Hitoshi looked scared of Izuku.

“Sorry,” Izuku said. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, I just really love cats. I have a cat named Takara! She’s a calico and she’s old and fat!” That surprised a small chuckle out of Hitoshi before he clamped his mouth shut. 

He sat cross legged across from him. Ochako and Mei were still trying to catch up with him. 

“Do you not want to talk?” he asked. Hitoshi froze for a moment, before nodding hesitantly. “That’s okay! Do you have a notebook? Can you write on it? Is that okay?” Hitoshi nodded reluctantly, pulling a notebook out of his backpack and turning to a blank page.

“What are the cats’ names?” Izuku asked.

Hitoshi’s writing was large and clumsy.

I don’t know I found them here last week trying to get black cat to trust me Dad says I can have one but not two.

Izuku nodded. 

“Well, my unkies love cats, so they might take another one!” Izuku said. He turned to the distrustful looking cat. It had black fur with white socks on its paws. Its nose was orange and patterned with little splotches of black.

Its a girl, Hitoshi wrote. The gray is boy.

“Okay!” Izuku said. Ochako and Mei collapsed behind him once they caught up. Izuku ignored him, focusing on the kitten. “Hello, baby,” he said, trying to copy the tone Unkie Zashi used with him when he had nightmares or he got upset. “Wanna come with me?” The cat stared at him. He let her smell his fingers. “Good kitty.” He smiled at it, and it crept closer. He heard twin gasps behind him. “I like you. I think I’ll call you…. Aiko.”

The cat crawled into his lap and noses at his stomach experimentally before curling up on him. He scratched behind her ear and she started purring. Hitoshi’s kitten was climbing on him too, curling up around his neck. He had a dumbfounded, joyful look on his face.

“What will you name him?” Izuku asked. Hitoshi thought for a moment before slowly, haltingly, writing on the notebook.

Boltan. 

Boltan and Aiko. 

Izuku smiled.

When the teacher called for everyone to come back in, Hitoshi and Izuku hid Boltan and Aiko under their shirts before hiding them in their backpacks.

He gained one cat and two friends on that day.

~-~

“Hey, baby!” Unkie Zashi called, smiling at him as he crawled into the back of the car.

“Is Unkie Sho okay?” Izuku asked, buckling himself in. He placed the partially unzipped backpack beside him carefully and heard something rustle. 

“He’s doing a lot better, I think,” Unkie Zashi said. “But he’s going to keep sleeping it off until tomorrow. Okay?” Izuku nodded. “How was your day?”

“I got in trouble,” Izuku said simply, handing Unkie Zashi a note. “I was making lots of noise because I didn’t want the mean kids to notice a boy was crying. I also got a cat.” He pulled the cat out of the backpack. “Her name’s Aiko.”

Unkie Zashi’s mouth was hanging open. It looked silly. Izuku giggled.

“ What. ”

Chapter Text

Shouta had felt a twinge of anxiety upon waking up that morning.

It was the end of September. Izuku had been in school for around a month and a half, now. Shouta knew that the boy had friends  - he always pointed them out when he saw them in the grocery store, or when Shouta dropped him off, and he talked about them constantly. Hitoshi, who didn’t like to talk and communicated through pencil and notebook. Mei, who had a passion for inventing. Ochako, the sweet girl who gives the best hugs, Unkie Sho. 

He also knew that there were some not-so-nice children in his nephew’s class. Mean boys who made fun of Hitoshi when he started crying, who said rude things about Mei when she got excited about an invention, who liked to trip Ochako in the hallway and spread rumors behind Izuku’s back. 

Shouta knew, even if Izuku didn’t tell him. 

So when he felt the pinch of anxiety in his stomach, he was worried, to say the least - terrified might be a better word. And he considered keeping the boy home from school, to keep him safe, keep him from harm, but Izuku had to have an education and he couldn’t just keep the cabbage home based on a bad feeling. 

So he got Izuku ready for school, and every movement felt mechanical as the anxiety built more and more. But he tried to keep his mind empty and his hands steady as he went through his tasks - button this, comb, tie.

And when Izuku hugged him on their way out the door, Shouta hugged him back, trying not to seem too awkward. He’d kneeled down, and the boy’s arms had wrapped around his neck and Shouta had rubbed a hand up and down the boy’s back. He wondered if Izuku felt the prickle of anxiety too. 

The car ride to the school was filled with Izuku’s insistent chatter, and Shouta tried to keep a distant ear on what the boy was saying as he focused on the road. The tags on his shirt were there, ever present and irritating, and Shouta tried not to curse his work shirt out loud for the child to hear. 

Shouta handed Izuku a few dollars in a plastic bag to buy lunch at the school, since Hizashi hadn’t had the time to make anything that morning before hurrying to the office, and Izuku grinned at him before skipping into the school. The anxiety in his stomach only grew as he forced his eyes away from the building and turned the car’s ignition. 

He would be fine. 

~-~

“Okay, class, we’re going to play a game today!” the teacher said, and Izuku saw Hitoshi go stiff. Izuku grabbed his hand, and Hitoshi smiled weakly at him. Mei and Ochako were talking next to them, chattering away about a new potato gun Mei had made - This one is a potato machine gun, Ochako! A POTATO MACHINE GUN!

“Quiet, everyone, quiet!” the teacher said, waiting for Mei and Ochako to settle down before continuing. “Now  - the game today! We’ll all be going around the room - everyone will be sharing what they want to be when they’re older, and what their parents professions are. Understand?” 

Izuku noticed that Hitoshi looked very, very nervous.

“Ma’am?” he called. “If we don’t wanna play, do we have to?”

“Everyone must participate, Midoriya,” the teacher said swiftly. “It’s a group bonding exercise of sorts - now. Table one can go first.”

And so, they went around the room. There were the more common professions - stockbrokers and chefs and cashiers. Then the kid’s professions  - ballerinas and doctors and police officers.

Izuku, Ochako, Mei and Hitoshi’s table was at the very back of the room, the very last in line. Hitoshi seemed to have sunk farther in his seat the closer it got to being his turn, and even Izuku was starting to feel a bit nervous. But he knew that if the teacher tried to make Hitoshi talk, the boy would cry, and Izuku knew that the mean kids would make fun of Hitoshi if he started crying, and Izuku couldn’t just let them make fun of his friend, he was going to be a hero!

So when it was his table’s turn, he was the first to stand up.

“My Unkie Sho is a pro hero!” Izuku announced. “And so if my Unkie Zashi! And I’m gonna be a hero too, when I grow up!”

“The assignment was to share what your parents’ jobs are, Izuku,” the teacher reminded him. “Start over.”

“... oh. Um, my Mommy doesn’t have a job no more, her batteries died-”

“What was her job, Izuku?”

“She was a nurse, for a little while, I think,” Izuku answered hesitantly. He could feel the part of himself that wanted to cry at the mention of his mother rear its ugly head, and he tramped it down with a smile. 

“And your father?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Izuku answered. “I think he worked at a bank… he’s on a business trip, in America, but I think he’s gonna come back to Japan soon...”

“And what you want to be when you grow up?”

Izuku’s grin widened, and it was a real smile this time.

“I’m gonna be a hero, like my unkies! And I’m gonna be the best hero ever! ”

There were scattered snickers from the mean kids’ table. 

“That’s a heavy aspiration, Izuku,” the teacher said. “And it’s difficult, even for people who don’t have the…. Limitations you find yourself with. It might be better if you thought about doing something else. Is there anything else you want to do?”

Izuku frowned.

“No. Why would there be? I know what I wanna be! I’m gonna be a hero!”

More snickers.

“Nothing, Izuku,” the teacher said with a weary sigh, moving on to the next person. “Ochako, why don’t you share?”

“My parents own a construction company!” Ochako informed them. “And I’m gonna be a hero when I grow up, too! With ‘Zuku!” The teacher frowned.

“Mei?”

“My parents are dentists!” Mei informed her smartly. “And I’m gonna work in hero support and make weapons for ‘Zuku, Ochako and Toshi!”

The teacher turned to Hitoshi.

“And I suppose you want to be a hero, too?” she asked. Hitoshi’s shoulders hunched up near his ears. 

“His dad’s a surgeon!” Izuku answered for the boy. “A brain surgeon! And Hitoshi is gonna be a hero too! Me, him and Ochako are gonna make a hero team, and Mei’s gonna help us!”

“How are you gonna be heroes?” a kid from the mean table said. He pointed at Izuku. “You don’t have a Quirk!” He pointed at Mei. “ You’re crazy!” He pointed at Ochako. “You can’t even use your Quirk without getting sick!” Finally, Hitoshi. “And you don’t even talk! And you have an evil Quirk!”

“Don’t say that to them!” Izuku said, standing up. “You aren’t allowed to be mean to them! They can be heroes too, and they’ll be great ones, just like I will!”

The boy seemed to be shocked. 

“Midoriya!” the teacher said. “ Sit down. ” She frowned at the other boy. “You both will be getting letters sent home tonight. The game is over. Everyone work on your homework, alright?” The teacher sat behind her desk and started drinking heavily from her mug of coffee. 

Izuku sat down in his seat, fuming. He was just trying to help his friends when that bully was hurting them, and he still got in trouble!

Mei was glaring daggers at the mean boy. Ochako looked very sad. Hitoshi was shaking in his seat, and his shoulders were trembling while he breathed, kind of like…

Izuku grabbed the boy’s hand and dragged him out of his seat. 

“We gotta go to the bathroom!” Izuku called, quickly grabbing a pass and rushing out of the door. They reached the nearest boys’ bathroom, and Hitoshi slid down a wall. Izuku closed the bathroom door behind them. 

---

“Izuku,” Unkie Zashi said seriously. “Here’s the first thing you need to know about your Uncle Sho… his mind works a little…. Differently.” 

“Differently?” Izuku echoed.

“Yes,” Unkie Zashi said. “He’s a little sensitive to certain things. Flashing lights, smells, noises, feelings, stuff like that. And sometimes it can take a while for him to understand what you mean when you say something.”

Izuku nodded. He had noticed that.

“And when things like that pile up, sometimes he can get… overwhelmed,” Unkie Zashi continued. “The best thing to do if that happens is to come get me so I can help and to stay out of the way, okay? But if I’m not here….”

“Well, can’t you just teach me what I gotta do?” Izuku asked.

“That was what I was planning,” Unkie Zashi said. “If I’m not here… don’t be scared, okay? You have to be calm. Move him somewhere quieter. Ask him if it’s okay to touch him. And no light touches either, he thinks they feel weird - big touches. Like big hugs. But don’t crowd him and don’t touch him if he says not to, okay? Remind him to breathe. Count with him. Ask him to talk out what’s wrong, because sometimes he doesn’t know. If he starts… scratching at himself or anything like that, tell him to stop. Maybe get his weighted blanket. When he calms down, he needs water, okay?”

Izuku nodded. 

“I’ll remember that!” Izuku said. “But… why does that happen to him?”

Unkie Zashi shrugged.

“I don’t know. It’s just how he is. He’s always been like that. Everyone’s different, Izuku. He’s just…. A little more so. But there’s nothing wrong with him for being different, okay? Understand?” Izuku nodded. c

“Good boy,” Unkie Zashi said, ruffling his hair. Izuku giggled.

------

Izuku didn’t think Hitoshi was ‘different’ like Shouta was ‘different’. Hitoshi didn’t seem to mind loud noises or flashing lights or weird smells or weird feelings. He just didn’t talk, and he was scared a lot.

But Hitoshi, right now, looked a lot like Shouta when he got ‘overwhelmed’. But Hizashi had taught him how to help. He could fix this. He could.

So he’d moved the purple-haired boy to a quiet place, and now he was on the bathroom floor and he was crying openly and trying to catch his breath.

And he still looked scared, scared like he thought someone mean was still listening. Izuku checked the stalls.

“The bathroom’s empty, Hitoshi, it’s okay,” Izuku said. The taller boy relaxed slightly, though the stuttering breaths didn’t cease. What was he supposed to do now? What Unkie Zashi said to do-? Oh. Right. “Okay, it’s okay, just breathe. Breathe slow, okay? In for-.... In for four seconds,uh, hold your breath for…. Seven seconds, and out for eight seconds. Okay? Okay.” Hitoshi nodded, and startled taking slow, deep breaths. Every once and a while his breathing would dissolve into sobs and more stuttered air, and Izuku’s hands would flap anxiously out of their own volition. But at least his friend was breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Izuku asked, and Hitoshi nodded. “Can you…. Can you talk to me? Can you tell me what happened?” Hitoshi winced and his shoulders hunched up near his ears again. “That’s okay! That’s okay! Do you have your notebook?” Hitoshi pulled a small, red book from the inner pockets of his uniform. “Talk it- um, write it out? Explain what you’re feeling, what you think is wrong. Okay?” Hitoshi nodded, hesitantly. 

The boys were mean they said i had a evil quirk

“I know,” Izuku said. “I’m sorry, Toshi. They shouldn’t have said that to you.” Hitoshi shrugged.

Its ok

“No it’s not!” Izuku said vehemently. “They have no right to be mean to you, even if they think your Quirk is evil - which it isn’t! ” Hitoshi frowned, like he didn’t quite believe him. “It’s isn’t. There’s no such thing as an evil Quirk. It’s what you choose to do with that Quirk that makes you ‘good’ or ‘evil’.” Izuku hoped Hitoshi didn’t notice that he was quoting a line from a movie. 

I hurt some one

“Was it on purpose?” Izuku asked. Hitoshi’s face looked pinched. “Was it?”

No

“Then you’re not evil. There’s nothing evil about you. You like cats too much to be evil.”

Hitoshi’s shoulders shook again but Izuku thought, this time, it was because of laughter, not because he was sad. 

~-~

“Time to go, kiddo!” Unkie Zashi called from the car. Izuku smiled at him and climbed in. 

“Is Unkie Sho home?” Izuku asked, like he always did.

“He’ll be there by the time we get back,” Unkie Zashi said, like he always did. 

“Was Aiko good?”

“The best!”

Izuku smiled. “I knew it!” He fidgeted with his hands. “Unkie Sho? I have a question.”

“What’s up, baby?” Unkie Zashi asked, trying to maneuver into the next lane.

“Um...” His fingers were tapping at his legs, and he couldn’t find the words for what he wanted to say. 

“Do you want to wait until we get home?” Unkie Zashi suggested. “Your Unkie Sho might help us answer your question. Hmm?” Izuku nodded, and Unkie Zashi started talking to him about someone at the office - how he’d spilled coffee all down his shirt and had backed up into a plant - spilling dirt all over the office. Izuku started laughing at that - it sounded like something straight out of a cartoon!

It didn’t take long to get to the apartment, and Unkie Zashi grabbed his backpack so Izuku could focus on undoing his seat belt and getting out. Unkie Zashi grabbed his hand and led him to their apartment, where Unkie Sho was sprawled out across the couch with two cats sleeping on his chest. His shoes were still on and his work shirt was tossed onto the floor.

“Hey, babe,” Unkie Zashi said. Unkie Sho grunted from the couch. “Our little listener, here, has a question.”

Unkie Sho slowly sat up, and the cats that had been sleeping on him jumped away, looking agitated. Aiko quickly walked toward Izuku, rubbing against his calf, and Izuku picked her up, cuddling her close. 

“I see,” Unkie Sho finally said. Izuku sat down on the couch, crossing his legs and turning to Unkie Sho. Unkie Zashi sat beside Unkie Sho. Both were giving him their full attention.

“We played a game in school today, where we were supposed to talk about our parents’ jobs, and I told them about Dad’s business trip to America -” Izuku didn’t notice how Unkie Sho went stiff and still, or how Unkie Zashi’s jaw clenched. “And… I was wondering when he was coming back to come get me.” Unkie Sho and Unkie Zashi’s eyes widened. “I wanna tell him all about you!” Izuku continued. “And tell him about Mommy, so he knows. And- and tell him about how great you and Unkie Sho are, so he stops thinking Unkie Sho is a freak so I can come visit lots- ”

“Izuku...” Unkie Zashi said, and Izuku stopped talking. “Um, I don’t know how to...”

-

“Did I ever tell you about my father, Izuku?” Shouta asked, and Izuku shook his head.

“Not much. Your dad was Grandpa, right?” Shouta nodded.

“He wasn’t around much, and he was always spending all of our money. When I was… seven years old, he stopped coming home at all, and I never saw him again.”

Izuku’s eyes widened.

“But- but why did he stop coming home?”

“I never knew for sure,” Shouta admitted. “My mother thought he was with another woman, I think.” Shouta took a deep breath, and that same anxiousness from that morning returned. “When I was… fourteen, I think, my mother stopped coming home too, and I lived alone. Your aunt and uncle helped me a lot.”

“That’s good,” Izuku said, though he still looked shocked and confused. “Why… why are you telling me? What about my question?” Izuku’s eyes widened, slightly. 

“I… don’t think he’s coming back, child,” Shouta said. “He left, Izuku.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Hizashi said to the child, and Shouta saw him wipe at his eyes, like he was trying to keep from crying. 

“Why?” Izuku asked. “W-why did he leave? When did he- Oh.” His hands clenched in his uniform shirt, and Shouta had the distant, fleeting thought that it might tear if he wasn’t careful. That if it did , he’d have to replace it…. When had his thoughts become so consumed by money?

“It’s my…. Oh.” Izuku frowned. “But- but Dad loved me. He said he loved me! Why would he leave me and my Mommy if he loved us?”

“Sometimes people hurt the people they love,” Hizashi said. “It doesn’t excuse anything , but...”

“Mommy’s batteries died after he left,” Izuku muttered to himself. “And he left because...” His eyes suddenly filled with tears and a sob clawed its way up the boy’s throat. “Oh no. No no no no, please, no….” 

“Izuku, I-”

“ He left! He left! He’s gone! Gone! Gone gone gone! ” Izuku sobbed again, loudr, before letting out a wail. His hands were in his hair, and he was tugging at it, shaking like a leaf in a storm. 

“Izuku, don’t do that-” Hizashi tried, but it was like the child didn’t even hear him. 

“ Why- ” Izuku muttered. Hiccuped. “I don’t- Unkie Sho said it was okay, it doesn’t matter, I don’t understand! ”

Hizashi grabbed the boy’s hands, untangling them from his hair, and he pulled the boy impossibly close. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Izuku...” Izuku looked up at Hizashi with tear filled eyes.

“Does Dad think ‘m a freak too?”

“I-I don’t know Izuku,” Hizashi said. “But you’re not, you’re not, you’re not a freak, I promise….”

“I’ve been called a freak my entire life,” Shouta stated. There was no emotion behind his words - it was simply a fact. “Does that make me a freak?”

Izuku shook his head. 

“And neither are you. His opinion doesn’t matter either way, Izuku, because he’s not here. The people who are still here with you, who care about you, their opinions matter the most. Hizashi and I don’t think you’re a freak. Neither does your Auntie Nem. Does Ochako? Hitoshi? Mei?” Shouta felt rather proud that he had remembered the childrens’ names. 

Izuku slowly shook his head.

“Then you’re not a freak,” Shouta said. 

“Dad thinks I am,” Izuku said, again.

“You don’t know that,” Shouta said. “And he left, so he doesn’t matter. Alright?” 

“It… it feels like it matters,” Izuku said, and Shouta felt some inexplicable emotion rise up inside of him, because wasn’t that the truth? How many times during his U.A. years had he stayed up late, staring up at the ceiling and wondering why no one seemed to want him? How many times had he let other peoples’ opinions of him morph into his own?

“I know,” Shouta said. God , he knew. 

Izuku buried his face in Hizashi’s shoulder and Hizashi kept holding him close, murmuring something Shouta couldn’t hear in the boy’s ear and rocking him, side to side, side to side. 

Finally, after a long, long moment, he looked up. His eyes were red, red ringed and filled with tears, and he looked so tired , too tired for someone his age.

“I…. I still don’t…. I don’t think I understand. I’m not...”

“That’s okay,” Shouta said. “Neither did I. That’s okay. It’s all gonna be alright. Yes? It’s all gonna be alright.”

“Sometimes things don’t make sense. You’ll understand someday. I promise you.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“That’s okay.”

Something in Shouta’s chest hurt. 

“It’s alright. Alright? It’s okay to not understand.”

Shouta worried he wouldn’t understand that either, worried he hadn’t gotten what he was trying to say across, but if Izuku was confused he didn’t show it. He nodded at Shouta, and Shouta smiled back at him, hoping he didn’t look too awkward.

“Can I go to bed please? I’m sleepy,” Izuku said. 

“Sure, ‘Zuku,” Hizashi said, setting him down on the floor. “Do you want a bedtime story?

“N-no,” Izuku said, walking away. “I-I-I just want to sleep.”

“Goodnight, child,” Shouta said. He heard another small sob as the child’s door closed.

He didn’t come out for the rest of the night, and Shouta didn’t make him go to school the next morning. 

And time marched on.

Chapter Text

Shouta had let Izuku off of school on a Friday, since the child had been so distraught after the news of his father, and after informing him of him not having to go to school, the child went right back to bed. He didn’t want breakfast. He wouldn’t eat lunch. All he wanted to do was either sleep or stare at a wall while he pet Aiko. It was…. Concerning. 

On Saturdays, their schedules were less hectic - that is, Shouta didn’t have to rush home from work to get there on time for Nemuri to make her shift, since Hizashi didn’t have office work and his radio show was shorter on Saturdays. 

So he drove home, and he tried to organize his thoughts so he wouldn’t get too distressed once he got home. His ears were still ringing from the delivery trucks, and his hands and arms and back ached, and that damned tag was more irritating than usual. Not to mention the anxiety he felt over Izuku. 

He just hoped Nemuri had gotten him to eat. 

When he got home, the child was laying on the couch and watching a newscast about a pro hero involved in a weapons’ bust. Shouta thought it might have been nice to get involved in a big crime like that rather than small things like back alley drug dealers or thiefs, but the bust hadn’t been in his agency’s jurisdiction. 

Hizashi was making something in the kitchen, glancing around the corner at Izuku every so often. Nemuri was already long gone. Shouta sighed, pulling his work shirt over his head - he always wore a black t-shirt underneath - before collapsing on the couch next to Izuku. 

“Hello,” he said. Izuku hummed. “My leg hurts. Can you go get my brace?” Izuku sighed minutely before standing and grabbing the brace from wherever it was Shouta had left it last - Shouta couldn’t remember, but Izuku clearly could - and Shouta fitted the brace over his knee a moment later. “Thank you.” Izuku nodded, sitting back down on the couch. Takara and Aiko walked over, Takara settling herself over Shouta’s lap and Aiko over Izuku’s. 

Izuku’s eyes were glazed over, like he wasn’t really paying attention to what he was watching, which was odd since Izuku loved watching the news when it showed reports on heroes. He liked to document the new things he learned in his hero notebooks. Shouta’s concern only grew. 

There was a thump from the kitchen before Hizashi came marching into the living room. 

“That’s it, ” he said vehemently. “Izuku, come here. You can’t just sit around all day and not eat or do anything. It’s not healthy.”

“Unkie, I’m not hungry-”

“Well I am,” Hizashi informed the child. “And since I’m so tired from the radio show, I’ll need some help cooking. I’d ask your Uncle Sho, but he managed to burn cereal once, so that’s a no.” Hizashi crossed his arms resolutely. “Now. Come on. Now. I’m pulling a … parenting…. Move… so. I won’t ask again.” Izuku stared up at Hizashi like he was an odd species he had never seen before. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” Hizashi left the same way he’d arrived, marching. 

“I… believe you should listen to him,” Shouta told Izuku, and Izuku pushed Aiko from his lap before dragging his feet into the kitchen. Shouta sat there for a moment before following, curiosity piqued. 

Hizashi was leaning against a counter and regarding Izuku carefully. 

“Now,” Hizashi said. “I know you’re upset. That’s okay. But what you’re doing isn’t healthy, so I’m going to help you. Okay?” Izuku nodded. “Now. Wanna know what my dad always did when I was upset?” 

“No,” Izuku said. “What did he do?” He looked very, very tired. 

“He would bake cookies with me. Chocolate chip cookies, and they were awesome. And they always made me feel better. And so, my esteemed nephew, I shall continue this tradition with you. How ‘bout it?” Izuku appeared to be in thought.

“I like cookies,” he finally said. 

“Excellent!” Hizashi said excitedly. “So, here’s what we’re going to do - we’ll make them from scratch. Flour, baking soda, brown sugar, the works - none of that pre made cookie dough stuff. And if you’re a good little helper, I’ll let you lick the spoon. Yeah?” Izuku nodded. “Okay. Here’s what you need to do - I need brown sugar and flour from the cabinet, and I’ll get everything else from here. Okay?” Izuku nodded, walking to the cabinet and pulling out the correctly labelled bags. 

“Sho, since you’re here, can you get me an egg and some vanilla?” Hizashi asked, grabbing bowls and whisks. Shouta nodded, grabbing an egg from the carton in the fridge and vanilla from the overhead cabinet. 

Izuku came back a moment later with brown sugar, flour, as well as a bag of regular sugar.

“Oh, thanks, Zu,” Hizashi said. “Okay, you know where the sticks of butter are, Sho? I need three of those.” Shouta retrieved the butter. “Okay, now I need you to stay as far away from the oven as possible so nothing catches on fire.” Shouta obliged, because if he was near the oven it very well could catch on fire. Hizashi opened the bag of brown sugar, flour and regular sugar. Shouta caught the child staring at the sugar longingly. 

“Okay, I’m going to sift the flour and the baking soda first, and then we’ll add butter, sugar and brown sugar,” Hizashi said, measuring the flour into cups and adding a pinch of baking soda. “Now - Izuku, what are you-”

Izuku had a spoon full of brown sugar that was heading straight to his mouth.

“Give me that,” Hizashi said, taking the spoon. “You can’t eat brown sugar - wait until the cookies are done.” Izuku nodded guiltily. “Okay, now that the flour and the baking soda are all mixed, we can add brown sugar, sugar and butter. After that’s done, we’ll get the vanilla. Mkay?” 

Izuku nodded. Hizashi turned back toward the bowl. He poured in the right amount of sugar and brown sugar, as well as the softened butter and started whisking it all up. Shouta saw Izuku with a new spoon, creeping back toward the counter, to the regular sugar this time. 

“Okay, now that that’s done we can add the e- Izuku, what did I just say- ”

“Sorry, Unkie,” Izuku said, setting the spoon back down. Hizashi snatched it up. 

“No eating sugar,” Hizashi said. “Now, let me show you how to crack an egg.” He tapped the egg against the counter and split it apart over the bowl before whisking again. Hizashi then grabbed a bag of chocolate chips from the fridge. He added the vanilla as well as half the bag of chocolate chips, mixing it well before getting a pan out. 

“Now all we have to do is - Izuku, oh my God. ” Izuku had a handful of chocolate chips. 

“Sorry, Unkie,” Izuku said, letting the handful of chocolate chips fall onto the counter.

“Y’know what,” Hizashi said, and Shouta had an eerie feeling that Hizashi was planning something. “You like sweet things. Try some of this. It’s better than sugar.” He grabbed the bottle of vanilla extract and poured it into a small spoon. “Smell it.” Izuku sniffed it, and his eyes went wide. “Want some?” Izuku nodded vigorously, and Hizashi held out the spoon. Izuku grabbed the entire thing in his mouth, his look of joy quickly dissolving into that of betrayal. 

“What?” Hizashi asked, clearly trying to fight a laugh. “Not good?”

Izuku slowly shook his head. The spoon was still in his mouth. 

“Can I say a mean word?” Izuku asked. His voice was raspy. Hizashi raised an eyebrow. 

“Go ahead.”

“It tastes nasty, ” Izuku informed them smartly, and Hizashi choked on a laugh, almost doubling over on the kitchen counter. “ Really nasty.”

“That’s- that’s because it hasn’t been cooked with the other ingredients yet.” 

“Does the other stuff taste like that too?” Izuku asked, looking alarmed. Hizashi got a thoughtful look on his face.

“... yes,” he said. “Because they aren’t cooked yet either. That’s exactly right. Which is why you shouldn’t eat raw ingredients like that. Not to mention you’ll get a stomach ache.” 

“Oh,” Izuku said. “So no sugar.”

“Nope.”

“No brown sugar?”

“No.”

“... no choco chips?”

“Chocolate chips are okay, but you shouldn’t - Izuku, why- ”

Shouta felt like this was the sort of parenting moment he should address but, not wanting to experience a sugar-high Izuku Midoriya, Shouta turned back to the living room to relax on the couch and rest his knee some more.

There were just some things he knew he didn’t want to see. 

~-~

Shouta glared at Hizashi from the other side of the couch. It was 7:45, fifteen minutes before Izuku’s bedtime, and Izuku was doing cartwheels and front flips around the living room. Hizashi had originally only let Izuku have one cookie, but, of course, the child had managed to beg off two more out of Hizashi and then steal another when Hizashi and Shouta weren’t looking. Hence the cartwheels. 

“Note to self,” Hizashi murmured. “Never let the little listener have caffeine.” Shouta nodded.

It was a long night.

Chapter Text

Izuku returned to school the following Monday, and he was all too eager to walk into the building and see his friends. Shouta was slightly concerned at how quickly the boy seemed to have bounced back after hearing the news of his father abandoning him. It just seemed so… unnatural, how one moment he could be sulking around the house and not doing much of anything at all to be eager and happy just to go to school. It was unnerving. 

He had voiced his concerns with Hizashi, but the man had told him to not ask about it, saying that if Izuku needed help, it was important to let him come to Shouta or Hizashi first. Said he’d read about it in a parenting book. Shouta wasn’t sure if that knowledge was quite sound, but he would go along with it. Logic and reasoning said that he should wait for the child to come to him, so he would. He would listen to what the book had to say. He could do that.

Maybe he should invest in that therapist, after all. He really did need to look into getting insurance. 

After dropping Izuku off at school, he headed to his place of work, anxiety over Izuku building up and dread about the day ahead resting heavily on his shoulders. He hadn’t had a clean shirt, neither of them had had time to go to the laundry mat because of their increasingly hectic schedules, and he’d had to wear his work shirt without an undershirt. The fabric was rough and scratchy and it set Shouta’s hair on end. 

It was a busy day. There was a large shipment at Shouta’s job. He and several other men were supposed to move the array of boxes from one truck to another so they could be shipped to whatever supermarket or department store or restaurant they needed to be shipped to. The boxes were heavy and he had to be careful not to drop him as he moved them from one truck to another, and it made sweat run down his back and his arms strain. By midday his hair was tied up into a knot on the base of his head and he’d had at least three bottles of water. The screeching of the delivery trucks made him feel like he would be ill. 

Money for the Cabbage’s uniform. Money for bills. Money for the debt. Money money money. Come on. One more box. One more box. Now another. Water. 

By the time the first half of his shift was over, he ended up bent over a toilet, like always. But that was okay.

His family needed money. That was a fact.

Shouta could get money. That was a fact too. 

Hizashi worked hard to support them with his jobs. Shouta would work hard too. He could do it. It was only for a few more months. Just a little longer. He could do it. He could.

His nephew needed the money. He would get the money.

He would. 

~-~

As soon as Izuku stepped into the classroom, a girl with bright pink dreadlocks barrelled into his chest, knocking him over. Izuku laughed, high and happy, wrapping his arms around the girl in turn.

“ ‘Zuku! ” the girl squealed. “You’re back! Where were you on Friday? We thought you died! ” 

“I got…. Sick,” Izuku said, wincing slightly. “Your hair is different,” Izuku noted, eager to change the subject. Hitoshi, who had walked over, narrowed his eyes slightly. Mei was oblivious. 

“Yeah! This weekend! Do you like it? Toshi said he did, and Ochako’s not here yet, but I think she’ll like it too!”

“Yeah, it looks great! You look really nice!” Izuku said, grinning. He stood up from the floor. “What did you do this weekend? My unkies and I made cookies and watched movies and played with our cats! It was really fun. My unkie also taught me a new gymnastics thing! I can balance on things now! He says when I get a little better at gymnastics he’ll teach me how to punch stuff.” Mei bounced up and down excitedly. 

“Izuku. You’ll never guess what I made,” Mei said. “Potato. Rocket launcher. ”

Izuku giggled, until he realised the girl was serious. “Wait, really? ”

“The potatoes explode, Izuku! They explode! ” Mei shouted gleefully, shaking the boy by his shoulders.

“That’s so cool! But um...” Izuku frowned. “Why do you build everything with potatoes?”

Mei shrugged. “My mama said I’m not allowed to use real ammunition yet. So I just make the potatoes as dangerous as possible to make up for it.”

That was… what had Unkie Sho said the word was? Oh, right. Concerning. 

Izuku felt like that word described Mei pretty well. 

“I’m never playing hot potato with you,” Ochako said, sitting down beside Izuku. Hitoshi and Mei were sitting next to each other across the table. “Ever.”

“Aw,” Mei said. “Wanna see a video of it on my mama’s phone when she comes to pick me up? It’s really cool! ”

“Yes!” Ochako said. “What are you going to make next? Potato grenade?” Mei’s eyes lit up.

“ Good idea! ” She pulled out a battered looking notebook and wrote something down. 

“Settle down, class!” the teacher called from up front. “I have an announcement!” Izuku’s hand shot into the air.

“Save questions for after, Midoriya,” the teacher said.

“It’s a quick one!” Izuku said. “What’s announcement mean?”

“It means I’m saying something about what’s about to happen,” the teacher said. “Now settle down and don’t ask questions when the teacher is talking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Izuku said, sitting down. He felt a bit excited. What would the announcement be? Were they going on a field trip? Where to? An aquarium? An amusement park? A museum? Izuku hadn’t been to a museum in a while. He wanted to go to one. Maybe a wax one. Those were always funny-

“Next week,” the teacher said, “we’ll be getting a new student. He’s immigrating over from America, and his parents were born in Japan, but he doesn’t know all of the language yet. Please be nice and help him if he needs it. Yes?” There were several ‘yes, ma’ams’ from the class. “I’ve already decided on the seating chart, and he will be sitting with Midoriya, Uraraka, Shinsou and Hatsume.” The four five-year-olds perked up excitedly, though Hitoshi looked more nervous than anything. “Do you four think you can handle that?” Izuku, Mei and Ochako nodded excitedly. “Excellent. Now, on with the lesson: Today we will be learning more about primary colours….”

By the end of the lesson, Izuku decided his favorite colours were red and green. They reminded him of his unkies. 

~-~

At recess, the four sat under their usual spot - the tree on the edge of the park. Hitoshi was curled up at the base, Ochako was practicing her Quirk on leaves and branches, Izuku was making little grass men and Mei, of course, was attempting to maneuver up the trunk and caw like a bird. 

“Do you think the new kid will be nice?” Izuku asked, maneuvering his little grass men around on the ground. He then tied a stick to one of the little grass men’s back so he could fit an acorn shell over his head, like a helmet. Maybe he’d give this one to Unkie Sho, or Unkie Zashi. 

He’d make two.

“ Caw! ” Mei shouted from where she was trying to shimmy up the trunk.

“That means yes,” Ochako translated. “I think.” Hitoshi shrugged.

“America is far away,” Izuku noted. “ Really far away. My Unkie Sho says it's across an entire ocean. I don’t think I like America very much, though.” His dad had gone on a business trip to America and he'd never come back. 

“No one likes America,” Ochako said. “At least, that’s what my mommy and daddy say.” Her voice got low and gruff. “‘No one likes America but those damned Americans’.”

“What does ‘damned’ mean?” Izuku asked. Ochako shrugged. Mei cawed. Hitoshi wasn’t paying attention, having fallen asleep against the tree trunk at that point. 

“I’m not sure. It’s just something my daddy likes to say when he talks about people he doesn’t like.” 

“So people say it when they don’t like someone?” Izuku asked. 

“I guess,” Ochako said. “He doesn’t say it much. ” 

“Hmm...” 

“ Caw! ”

“I think that caw means we have to go inside,” Ochako noted, since she was the only one who could understand Mei when she was cawing like a bird. Izuku thought it was a nice skill to have.

“Mkay,” he said, standing up. “Toshi!” The boy’s eyes blinked open, and he gazed up at him. “Time to go!” Hitoshi sighed quietly before standing, dusting off his uniform. 

Mei jumped down from the tree and stopped pretending to be a bird. 

“Y’know, I heard about something real cool!” she shouted gleefully. “I saw it in a movie! It’s this cool thing called a sleepover. I think we should do that!” 

“Sleep at one of our houses?” Izuku asked, and Mei nodded. “That might be nice. But I don’t think Unkie Sho will want me to sleep somewhere else. He gets… nervous.” Izuku remembered a time a week or so ago, when he, Unkie Zashi and Unkie Sho had been buying groceries and Izuku had gotten separated from them. It hadn’t been pretty.

After that, they started reminding him every time they stepped into the store - “If you get lost, either find a worker to page us or go to where you saw us last and wait there. Remember that, Izuku. Page or wait. We’ll come and get you.”

Izuku tried to remember to do that, every time he stepped in a store, though he hadn’t gotten lost again after that incident. He didn’t like seeing his Unkie Sho scared. It looked… wrong. 

“Well, we could stay at your house!” Ochako pointed out. Izuku perked up. That could be fun. 

“Ooh, ooh!” Izuku said. “Maybe we could invite the new kid next week! So we can all get to know each other! That might be fun!” Ochako and Mei looked thrilled by the idea. Hitoshi looked nervous.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, Toshi. We’re not gonna force you into anything you don’t wanna do,” Izuku said placatingly, and Hitoshi relaxed marginally. He pulled out his notebook. 

Let me think abot it

Izuku nodded. “You got it!” Izuku glanced back at the note. “I think ‘about’ is spelt with OU, not O. It’s one of our spelling words. Do you wanna work on the words when we get back inside?” Hitoshi nodded, looking relieved. “Great!”

Back in class, they had a little time for drawing or playing with clay, and Izuku and Hitoshi hurried through their drawings so they would work on the spelling words. Some of the words were really hard and had lots of confusing noises, and Hitoshi not being able to talk only made it more difficult, but Izuku could work around that.

Izuku said the words, committing them to memory as he did, and Hitoshi wrote them down on a piece of paper. If he spelled them wrong, then he’d write down the proper version before studying them a few more moments and trying again. If he still got one or two words wrong, they’d focus on those words in particular, before doing the entire thing over again. It was a process, but it worked.

Izuku’s mind wondered as he helped Hitoshi. It was October, and he’d been with his unkies for a long time. Really long. He didn’t know how long, but he knew it’d been several months, and now that it was October Unkie Zashi and Auntie Nem and Unkie Sho started talking about Unkie Sho’s birthday a lot. He was gonna be twenty one, like Auntie Nem and Unkie Zashi, and Izuku thought that was really old. That was practically elderly. He couldn’t even imagine getting that old. 

They said they wanted to take Unkie Sho out to dinner and maybe to a movie, but they said they didn’t know what to do with Izuku. Izuku didn’t really know why they said that - he could behave at the movies and the restaurant, and they said they liked spending time with him. Maybe they wanted ‘grownup time’. Izuku didn’t know what ‘grown up time’ was, but Auntie Mimi sometimes babysat Izuku when he was younger every once and a while, and sometimes let Izuku stay the night on her couch, whenever Mommy and Dad’s birthdays or their weddings birthday (he couldn’t quite remember what it was called) rolled around. Whenever Izuku asked, she would snort and say they were ‘busy’. Izuku didn’t know what that meant either.

He missed Auntie Mimi. And Kacchan. They’d been so nice, before Auntie Mimi started being mean to him and Kacchan started avoiding him.

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, and it made him sad that he wouldn’t be able to ask, now. 

Art time ended, and then there was out-loud reading. There were lots of big, heavy books passed around, and they were filled with tons of short stories. They chose one, and everyone around the room took turns reading a section. Ochako’s voice was quiet but really cheery, since she liked this short story, and Mei was describing everything happening in the story excitedly. Izuku couldn’t help but feel nervous when it was his turn, and when he looked up Hitoshi looked kind of nervous too. Izuku took a deep breath and read his paragraph. 

“Hitoshi, your turn-”

“He doesn’t wanna talk,” three voices said at once. The teacher blinked owlishly at the children. 

“He can’t just skip reading time, children. He needs to read it out loud so he can learn.”

“He don’t like talking!” Izuku protested. “Just skip him! He reads great !”

“Midoriya,” the teacher said. “You’re disrupting my classroom. Stop it, or you’ll be sent to the hallway again. Understood?”

“Hitoshi doesn’t want to talk!” Izuku exclaimed. “He doesn’t like talking! It scares him! Just leave him alone!” Izuku could feel himself beginning to lose his patience, and there was a burning behind his eyes. He cried a lot, more than a lot, but he had never cried at school before and he didn’t have Unkie Zashi there to hug him or Unkie Sho to explain things so he could stop. 

“ Midoriya, ” the teacher snapped. “ Hallway. Now. ” Izuku huffed, tears streaming down his face that time, and Hitoshi looked still as a statue as he shuffled out of the classroom.

Hitoshi couldn’t cry in front of the kids. He didn’t want the mean boys to hurt Hitoshi, because the mean boys had made fun of the kid last week that was crying until he cried more, and then he just cried even more after that, and Izuku didn’t know if Hitoshi could handle that. 

Izuku heard the teacher’s voice through the door. “Now, Hitoshi, it’s your-”

Izuku thought fast, leaping up and stomping down on the floor loudly, his sneakers raining down with a loud smack. The voice faltered before continuing, and Izuku did it again, and again, and again, before the door to his classroom was opened and Izuku’s teacher poked her head out. 

“ Midoriya! ” the teacher shouted. Izuku stomped again. His red shoes were his favorites, and they were very loud. “Principal’s office. I’ve put up with your behavior long enough. I’m having them call your parents.”

Izuku stomped all the way to the office. The teacher had to forget about Hitoshi. She had to. Izuku didn’t want Hitoshi to cry. 

He didn’t think he’d thought this through enough, but he just couldn’t let Hitoshi cry. 

The teacher opened the office door, and Izuku plopped down onto a chair. His hands ran up and down his slacks nervously. He’d never been sent to the office for being trouble before. Never. The kids in his class said the office was for troublemakers. Izuku didn’t think he was a troublemaker. 

The secretary called the names on his emergency contact list, and Izuku waited in silence, fidgeting slightly. The secretary clicked away at her keyboard. His teacher had already left. Izuku hoped she hadn’t gone back to making Hitoshi read. Maybe reading time was already over, because of his stomping. Maybe maybe maybe. 

Two people walked in - Unkie Sho and Auntie Nemuri. Unkie Sho was wearing his work shirt and he looked very tired, very ill and very nervous. Auntie Nem has a hand on Unkie Sho’s back, and she was wearing a tight black shirt and leather pants. Her purple hair was pulled back into a ponytail. 

Izuku sunk down in his seat when Unkie Sho and Auntie Nem looked over at him.

“You must be Midoriya’s parents,” the secretary began. “The principal will-”

“We’re not his parents,” Unkie Sho said. “I’m his uncle and his primary guardian. Nemuri was listed third on the emergency contact. Was Hizashi called?”

“Oh, we just assumed, since ‘Nemuri’ is-”

“Because Nemuri is a female name,” Unkie Sho concluded. “Right.” His fingers were tapping at his elbows, the way he did when he was nervous. Unkie Zashi would have been hugging Unkie Sho by now. “Nemuri is my friend, but she is not my spouse. My boyfriend is Hizashi Yamada, he should have been called if you needed both of his…. Parental units. Hence why he was listed second on the child’s emergency contact list.” Tap tap tapping. 

“I see,” the secretary said. “Well, I suppose Ms. Kayama-”

“Oh no, I’m staying,” Auntie Nem said. “I’m already here, I might as well.” She grinned, and Izuku felt a little scared. The secretary looked scared too. 

Unkie Sho and Auntie Nem sat on either side of Izuku, and Izuku thought about hiding under his chair. 

“Hey, tiger,” Aunt Nem said. Izuku waved at her. “Heard you got yourself into trouble.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said, and he could feel more tears welling up in his eyes already. Aunt Nem wrapped an arm around his shoulders and ran her hand through his hair. 

“Just say what you did so I can discuss it with the principal,” Unkie Sho said, voice quiet and rapsy. 

“Are you okay?” Izuku asked. His voice sounded warbly. 

“I’m fine. I’m okay. Just tell me why I had to take off work early, please,” Unkie Sho said. He kept glancing around the room nervously. Izuku hadn’t heard Unkie Sho sound quite as nervous and tired since he moved in with him. 

“My friend Hitoshi Shinsou,” Izuku said. “He doesn’t like to talk. It makes him really nervous, and when he’s nervous he cries, like me. He doesn’t even like talking to me, Mei and Ochako. He writes stuff down in a notebook.” Auntie Nem and Unkie Sho nodded. “And the teacher was trying to make him read out loud, so I asked her to stop because Toshi doesn’t like to talk much, and she wouldn’t listen, even though Toshi was scared! And then she got mad at me and sent me out in the hallway.”

“And..?”

“Well, after that, she was still trying to make Toshi read,” Izuku said. “And I knew Toshi was gonna cry or start breathing funny, like you do, Unkie Sho. And that can’t happen ‘cause there’s these mean boys in my class, and they make fun of people when they cry, and I didn’t want them to make fun of Toshi. So I started stomping my feet in the hallway so I could dis- distack-”

“Distract,” Unkie Sho supplied.

“Yeah, that. And it worked, but she got upset with me and sent me to the office.” Izuku slumped down in his seat. “I’m sorry, Unkie, Auntie. I just didn’t want Toshi to get sad and start crying.”

The principal called them in, then, and Unkie Sho’s hands were all balled up and he still looked nervous, but he looked more mad now. 

“Sir,” Unkie Sho said before the principal could talk. “I work forty-eight hour weeks. Six days a week. One day of break. And even then, I’m a pro hero and I have four hour shifts every week-day and, sometimes, weekends.” The principal tried to speak, and Izuku cut him off. “My boyfriend works three jobs - he has an office job for our agency, a radio to man, and four hour shifts every night, just like me. Both of us are constantly exhausted. And Nemuri has her own bills to pay, too. I am over eight hundred thousand yen in debt and only a fraction of our salary is able to go to paying it off. That’s why every hour is important. And you have the gall to call me from work, the work I do to support my family, because he was trying to stop his teacher from bullying a boy with anxiety into reading out loud when he didn’t want to? Without even getting my nephew’s side of the story before calling me into the office? Did you not think, once , that maybe if you asked, you would see that my ch- my nephew, was the one wronged here?”

Izuku thought the principal looked like a gaping koi fish, at that moment. 

“My nephew will accept whatever punishment you dish out,” Unkie Sho said, voice sounding stiff. He stood up straight. “But I implore you to get both sides of the story before pulling me from work for something that is, ultimately, inconsequential. I’m taking him home. You can call me tonight to speak of Izuku’s punishment.” Unkie Sho turned around and walked out of the classroom, and Izuku hurried after him so he could grab hold of Unkie Sho’s sweater sleeve so he wouldn’t fall behind. Auntie Nem took long strides to keep up with them. 

“That was scary, ” Izuku said, climbing into the car. His eyes were still red and puffy. 

“That was awesome, ” Auntie Nem shouted. Unkie Sho winced, leaning back against his seat with his eyes clenched closed. 

“I feel ill,” Unkie Sho said.

Auntie Nem winced. 

“I’ll drive,” she offered, even though her car was still in the lot. 

As they drove back to the apartment, Izuku remembered something from earlier. 

“Damned teachers,” Izuku said.

Unkie Sho stared at him in surprise and a bit of fear for the rest of the way home.

Auntie Nem had to stop the car on the side of the road because she was laughing so hard.

And that was the day Izuku learned his first ‘special word’. 

Chapter Text

“So Unkie Sho...” Izuku’s tiny voice drawled, and Shouta already felt nervous. Both Shouta and Hizashi looked up from their meals to give the child their attention. “I was wondering….”

Oh no.

“There’s gonna be this new kid in my class this week,” Izuku said. “He’s coming from America. And me and my friends were wondering if we could have a sleepover. Here. Please.”

“You just got in trouble at school,” Shouta stated dryly. “And you’re already asking for special privileges?” 

“Mhm!” 

“Five kids in one apartment…?” Hizashi said. “Where would we put them? There’s nowhere near enough space. Not to mention that our schedules are too unpredictable. I just don’t think it would be possible, kiddo.” 

“Oh,” Izuku said. “Well… would they be able to come over for a playdate? Maybe? I really wanna get to know the new kid.” Hizashi looked over at him. 

“I will… think about it,”  Shouta finally said. “Eat your dinner.” Izuku nodded, hurrying to finish his dinner. 

“Movie time!” Izuku exclaimed, sliding down from his chair. He marched toward the living room.

“Shower first, child!” Shouta called after him. The boy turned on his heel, still marching with purpose, only to the bathroom this time. 

“Shower time!” 

Shouta waited until he heard the bathroom door close.

“I do not like children,” Shouta stated bluntly.

“You seem to like Izuku just fine,” Hizashi pointed out, spearing another piece of pork. 

“He’s the exception to the rule,” Shouta said. “Children make me uncomfortable. They’re loud, and messy, and they know things they don’t need to know and they have no filter. I can hardly handle Izuku.”

“It would only be for a day,” Hizashi said, wiping at his face with a napkin. “Maybe three hours, at most. Izuku’s friends are alright, not too… chaotic.”

“We don’t know the other child,” Shouta pointed out. “The American child. And Mei is chaotic, her hobby is inventing potato weaponry and imitating birds.”

“Babe, if you don’t want a bunch of kids in the house, we don’t have to let anyone come over,” Hizashi said. “Izuku would understand, I think. It’s not like he doesn’t see them at school every day anyway.” Shouta squirmed uncomfortably. 

“I don’t want to…. Disappoint him,” Shouta admitted. “He has had… a very bad few days.”

“Okay. Let’s look at this in a different way,” Hizashi suggested. “Is it just that you don’t want to interact with the children, or do you not want them in the apartment?” Shouta frowned.

“I… suppose I don’t want them in the apartment.”

“Problem solved, then! We can work something out with their parents and take them to a park or something,” Hizashi said, going back to eating his food. 

“That…. Works,” Shouta admitted. He took another bite of food before sighing, pushing the plate away and slumping back against his chair. “I’m being selfish.”

“Hmm?”

“Not letting Izuku’s friends come over just because I’m not comfortable with it. I’m being selfish.” 

“Having boundaries about your personal space isn’t selfish, Sho. All parents have them. And the apartment is your personal space. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting five gremlins in your house. ”

“I’m not a parent,” Shouta protested. 

“Okay, Sho.”

“I’m not, ” Shouta stated. “He’s my nephew. I’m not his father. I can’t replace his father. I don’t know how to be a father, therefore I am not. I’m his uncle. There’s nothing more to this than that.”

“You’re also his legal guardian.”

“That was a matter of circumstance,” Shouta said. “And I didn’t adopt him, all I did was get legal custody of him. Legally speaking, I am no more that child’s parent than you are.”

“But you treat him like he’s yours.” Shouta frowned. 

“I don’t. ” He crossed his arms, gripping his elbows. “Treating the kid with human decency doesn’t make him mine. I’m going into this entire thing blind. All I’m doing is….” Treating him like how I wished my dad had treated me.

“You’re raising him,” Hizashi stated plainly. “You’re taking care of him. You make sure he has his lunch, and you button his shirts and tie his ties, and you drive him to school every morning. You let him cry on you, and you comb his hair, and you read him bedtime stories, and you remind him to take a bath before movie time.” Hizashi shrugged. “Sounds like you’re a bit past the ‘I’m just his uncle’ point, here, Sho.”

Shouta’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to argue forward before snapping it closed with an audible click when Izuku came barreling back out of the hallway, damp hair making little wet spots on his pajama shirt. 

“Your hair’s wet,” Shouta stated, standing up. “Dry it and get me a hairbrush so we can take care of it while it’s still wet. What do you want to watch tonight?”

“ Wolverine! ”

“It’s PG-13. No. We’ve been through this.” 

“Aww.” Izuku tapped his chin in thought. “Lilo and Stitch?”

“I… don’t think I’ve watched that one,” Shouta admitted. Izuku gasped. 

“ What?! ” he shrieked. Shouta winced.

“Inside voice, Izuku!” Hizashi called from where he was gathering dishes. 

“Sorry, unkies, it’s just-” Izuku gasped again, hands flapping excitedly. “I can’t wait to show you the movie now! It’s so good! And the alien-dog Stitch is so funny, and Lilo is so nice and- and-” 

“Wait, alien dog-? Oh my god, breathe, Cabbage.” Izuku took a deep breath of air. 

“ I just can’t wait! ”

“ Inside voice, Izuku! ” Hizashi, again, called from the kitchen. 

Izuku bounced up and down on the couch as Hizashi sorted through their vast array of Disney movies to find Lilo and Stitch. Hizashi had always been a big Disney fan as a kid, and he had gone on a shopping spree for any Disney film he could get his hands on after they’d adopted Izuku. Shouta had thought it a thoughtless endeavor, at the time, since they had been short on money before the funeral bills and buying over a hundred dollars worth of Disney films wasn’t going to help much. But he had to admit it was useful, now.

And Shouta could honestly admit he loved this movie.

The animation was soft and colourful, and the music pleasant to listen to. Lilo and Stitch were both very relatable characters, Shouta finding many of his own odd mannerisms in the little girl and her alien dog. 

And, admittedly… Nani and Lilo’s complicated situation reminded him quite a bit of his and Izuku’s.

Izuku and Shouta both were enraptured by the movie, and Shouta hadn’t even questioned it when Izuku sprawled out on the couch, head falling to rest in Shouta’s lap. He merely patted Izuku’s head absentmindedly and directed all his focus on the movie, leaning up against Hizashi’s shoulder as he watched it. 

He wasn’t sure when his eyes slipped shut and he drifted off, only that he did. 

~-~

“Sho. Babe. Wake up, we have patrol.”

Shouta groaned, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. The end credits of the movie were playing, and the clock on the wall said it was exactly seven p.m. Izuku was asleep with his head resting on his lap, hair already a mess even though Shouta had brushed it before starting the movie.

Figures.

“Move the child,” Shouta requested, and Hizashi bent down to pick Izuku up. Izuku didn’t stir, merely shifting slightly to snuggle closer to the man and rest his face in the crook of neck. “Nemuri on her way?”

“Should be here by the time we’re suited up,” Hizashi said, carrying the sleeping boy to his bedroom. Shouta headed to their own bedroom, feet dragging as he changed from his sweater and pants into his tracksuit. The goggles he pulled on rested on the crown of his head until he was out in the field, and the capture weapon was waiting on a hook by the door, right along with Hizashi’s speaker. 

Hizashi walked into the room after a few minutes, heading straight to the closet and pulling out his leather jacket, sunglasses and headphones before heading to the bathroom to gel up his hair and get dressed. 

Shouta wandered back into the living area, trying to settle his nerves through pacing. He shouldn’t have to - he’d been going on patrols long enough to know the process, but he still found himself pacing out his nerves before almost every patrol. 

Tap tap tap. 

There was a knock on the door, and Izuku knew it was Nemuri because only Nemuri would knock in the tune of the song ‘Sex and Candy’. Shouta opened the door, letting the woman in, who immediately collapsed on his couch and started scrolling through his TV.

“Mind if I steal some snack food? I skipped dinner. Long patrol.”

Shouta frowned. 

“You shouldn’t be skipping out on meals. There’s leftovers from dinner in the fridge, just heat them up in the microwave. They’re in a blue Tupperware container.”

Shouta ignored the fact that that was supposed to be his lunch tomorrow. There were vending machines at his work, and it wasn’t like he would have been able to keep it down for the entire shift anyway. It was fine.

“Oh, thanks, Sho,” Nemuri said, walking into his kitchen and rummaging through until she found the blue Tupperware. “Is the kid asleep?”

“Yes,” Shouta answered, sitting on the couch and waiting for Hizashi to finish getting ready so they could go. “He fell asleep watching Lilo and Stitch. Remember to call us if anything happens when we’re gone, and to update us hourly -”

“I know, Sho,” Nemuri said. “I’ve only been babysitting the kid for months now. I know how this works. Go do your patrol.”

Hizashi walked out of the bathroom, and his hair was gelled back into its usual  cockatoo-like style. His prescription glasses were gone, replaced by contacts, and his sunglasses were fixed firmly over his face. 

“You know what I hate most about being a hero?” Hizashi asked them. 

“The hours?” Nemuri suggested. “Threat of injury? Shitty pay?”

“Nope to all of those,” Hizashi said. “The uniforms. Leather jacket, every day, all year round. Thank god it’s fall. I don’t think I’d be able to handle any more summer weather in this thing.”

He pointed at Nemuri and Shouta both. “You don’t understand the struggle. All you wear is a track suit, and you… don’t really wear anything, to be honest.” Nemuri threw her shoe at him. “Hey, I’m not judging, it’s smart, with your Quirk and all - I’m just saying, makes summer weather a whole lot easier.”

“They call you the R-rated hero,” Shouta informed her. “There’s a lot of complaints at the agency about you, now that you’re becoming more of a popular hero. They say you’re not marketable enough or appropriate because of your costume. I think it’s ignorant, since the costume makes your job and your ability to protect civilians easier, but other people don’t seem to see it like that.”

Nemuri shrugged. 

“People will see me how they want to see me,” Nemuri stated nonchalantly. “If they want to see me as a ‘R-rated hero’, so be it. It’s none of their business how I choose to present myself to the public, anyhow.” Nemuri sighed. “The agency is thinking about changing my hero uniform though. Putting a skin-tight outfit under the actual get up with thin fabric that’s easy to tear.”

“That is…. Unethical,” Shouta said, frowning. “Yes, your costume is vulgar, but that’s just to accentuate your hero persona,” Shouta stated.

“Which is just another part of my hero work,” Nemuri added on. “Let the villains think they know what to expect from you. And I just really like my hero costume.”

“There’s also the fact that this could put you at risk in the field,” Hizashi added. “Yes, a skin tight fabric that’s easy to tear makes it better, but it’s also precious seconds that are wasted when you could have incapacitated whatever villain you’re fighting already.”

“That’s what I said!” Nemuri exclaimed a little too loudly, and Hizashi was quick to frantically shush her, pointing at the hallway where Izuku’s bedroom resided. “Oops.” 

“There’s also the fact that lots of other men in the field wear way more revealing outfits for their Quirk, and they never have to change their hero costumes,” Shouta added. “I think there’s a hero from a different agency who just runs around naked because he has a chameleon-type Quirk. It’s…. Kind of sexist, if you think about it.”

“ Exactly! ” Nemuri said, jumping up slightly. “Male heroes could run around in revealing uniforms and not be given a second glance, but when I do it for my Quirk and my persona, I’m the R-rated hero and everyone feels the need to dictate how I operate.”

Hizashi glanced at his watch and tsked. 

“As much as I love getting into heated conversations about the double standards for women,” Hizashi said, “and that wasn’t sarcasm, I actually have a lot to say on this topic, oh my God - we are going to be late for patrol if we don’t leave now.” 

Shouta sighed, standing up slowly and making his way over to his capture weapon, grabbing it and wrapping it around his shoulders. 

“Do you need your brace, babe?” Hizashi asked, looking the slightest bit concerned.

“I don’t like wearing it in the field,” Shouta stated, adjusting his capture weapon. “It makes mobility more difficult.”

“Yes, but do you need it?” Shouta frowned.

“Probably,” he admitted. “The temperature is dropping rapidly and it’s humid. It… does not feel the best today.” Hizashi nodded, running back to their bedroom and returned a moment later with the brace, handing it to Shouta, who sighed and sat on the couch. He rolled up the pant leg of his tracksuit, fitting the knee brace over his knee before rolling the pant leg bag down.

“Sho,” Nemuri said, sounding like she was equal measures awed and a bit ill, “your knee looks like shit.”

And so it did. There were still multiple surgery scars over the knee - jagged white lines running over the knee itself, little dots where the pins had been jammed in and yanked out, a long, patchy looking scar where the pole itself had hit his leg and crushed his knee and, alone his calf, a rough, wide scar where the bone had broken and had jutted out of the skin. 

Sometimes it hurts to look at. Like all he can feel when he glances at it, when he traces the scars, is how much it had hurt when that villain had crushed his leg, had tortured and taunted him before leaving him to bleed out. It felt the same way when he was running a hand through his hair and a finger brushed against the thin, rough scar behind his ear - sometimes he could still feel the clippers, buzzing along his scalp. 

“I’m aware,” Shouta said, and he hoped he hadn’t offended her by how gruff his voice sounded - he did not want to delve into his topic of conversation. 

“We should… probably go,” Hizashi said awkwardly, standing to the side. Shouta nodded, standing up and heading toward the door. The brace was already starting to alleviate some of the pain.

As soon as he was out of the apartment building, he was on the nearest roof, running across and jumping to the next one, and the next, and the next. Hizashi and Shouta’s jobs were… complicated, at times. Their duties changed quite a bit, when it came to what their patrols were. Sometimes they merely had to watch out for petty crime. Sometimes they would hook them up to a radio and signal them in when some big bad needed to be taken down. It changed with the week. And tonight was a petty crime night, which meant a lot of walking on roofs and waiting for something to stumble into their paths. Shouta wasn’t ashamed to admit he enjoyed these nights - when everything was slow and low-stress and all he had to do was wait around and listen. 

It was…. Relaxing.

Hizashi didn’t seem so keen on letting him actually relax. 

Hizashi stuck close to him as he moved from building to building, that night. All throughout their shift, tailing him like a shadow, even stepping in to help him fight off a mugger who was assaulting an elderly man. He helped him get a dog down from a tree - and honestly, how had that happened? - and helped him stop a convenience store from being held up. Shouta knew he should be appreciative of the help, but he honestly wasn’t sure how to feel about it. 

He took a break two hours into his four hour shift, resting on a rooftop and looking down at the cars gliding past below. Looking for petty crime reminded him a lot of days spent haunting rooftops and abandoned buildings with his sister, always in the wrong part of town and seeking out villain fights so he could watch the heroes win, over and over again, and tell his sister that’s gonna be me too one day, Inko, just you wait!

Petty theft shifts suddenly seemed a lot less relaxing. He scratched at his hair, right behind his ear. He could still feel the buzzing. 

Hizashi sat down next to him.

“Why are you so insistent that you’re not a parent?” he asked him. 

“Because I’m not,” Shouta answered simply. “I have no legal or biological children of my own. That much is obvious, I should think, as I’m gay.”

“But when I implied you were Izuku’s parent you got very…. Defensive.”

“Because I’m not, ” Shouta said. “I’m not his parent. Not in any sense of the word. Why’s that so hard to comprehend?” He wasn’t sure why he felt defensive, or irritated, or even angry, he didn’t, but he still felt that way.

Hizashi shrugged.

“I’m just trying to understand where your head’s at,” Hizashi said softly. “I wanna know you’re okay.”

“No one knows where my head’s at,” Shouta stated. “No one knows how my mind ticks, remember?”

“That’s not your fault,” Hizashi said quickly and firmly.

“I know that,” Shouta said. “I’m not his parent.”

“You act like you are, and that’s what Izuku needs. A parent.”

“I’m not what Izuku needs. ”

“You’re doing everything for that boy,” Hizashi said. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s been going on with you. I know how sensitive you are to loud noises, and I know you’ve been getting sick at work and that your boss is losing patience with you. I know how much your schedule is affecting you, and you have not complained once. ”

“That has nothing to do with Izuku, ” Shouta said. “That has to do with me being in debt.”

“And you’re trying to get out of debt for Izuku.”

“Of course I am,” Shouta said. “If I die, all that debt goes to Izuku, since he’s my next of kin and my ward.”

“You just proved my point.” Shouta frowned. 

“I’m not…. Parent-like. I’m not parent material. I’m not.”

“Why are you doing this?” Hizashi asked. “Why do you get so defensive about this?”

“I… don’t know.” Shouta heard Hizashi’s words in his head before the other man had the chance to say them: Talk it out.

“I’m not…. Doing this to replace Inko,” Shouta said. “ Inko was his parent. Hisashi was his parent. I’m just the freaky uncle who he got landed with.”

“You’re not freaky,” Hizashi said. “And you’re not replacing anyone. Okay? You’re not. You’re doing what’s best for Izuku by providing him with a stable life and offering him a constant figure to look up to in his life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I don’t know how parenting…. Works,” Shouta said. “Everything I do, everything I say, I’m never completely sure if I’m doing right. And it’s exhausting, and terrifying. I…. did not have a ‘constant figure’. Inko raised me, and after she left, I raised myself. I don’t know how parents are supposed to treat their children because my parents were never there. I…. don’t want to repeat that mistake.” He could feel the buzzing again, now, and he wanted to rip at his hair just because his mother would have hated seeing it. But he didn’t. Hands fell onto elbows, a melody tapping away. 

“You’re not going to ‘repeat their mistakes’,” Hizashi said. “That’s not how this works. Okay? That’s not gonna happen. You’re better than them, Shouta - you’re a better person, and a better partner, and better with children, too. Shouta, I never met your parents, but if they left you because you operate differently, imagine what they would have done to Izuku after realizing he was Quirkless. You’re already leagues ahead of them, just by giving that boy a home. Okay?”

Shouta stayed silent, for a long while.

“I’m not parent material,” Shouta said. “I’m not right for Izuku. I have no idea what I’m doing, and there are dozens of people out there that are better than me.” He said it plainly, no emotion behind his words, quick and factual. “But...” His voice cracked, slightly.

“‘But’?” Hizashi prompted. Shouta sighed.

“I… want to be parent material. For the cabbage.” Hizashi laughed quietly.

“Well,” Hizashi said. “I’d say you’re already off to a strong start, then.”

Chapter Text

When Shouta woke up from nightmares, it wasn’t like how most people would. It wasn’t like the scenes in movies and TV shows, where the characters woke up from whatever hell they were trapped in kicking and screaming, clawing at the sheets and confused.

No. For Shouta, it wasn’t like being ejected violently from whatever horrifying dreamscape had clawed its way into his brain and held on tight. It was like being trapped under tons and tons of rubble and having to drag himself up, slowly and painfully until he got that first gust of fresh air. Then it was lying there, lungs burning and eyes searing and scalp buzzing, feeling like he was still trapped under all that rubble and unable to move even if he wanted to while his mind still got used to the idea of being present. 

Shouta thought that waking up from nightmares might be worse than the nightmares themselves. At least with nightmares, he knew that they weren’t real, that they couldn’t hurt them and that they were far away, far in the past and never to be repeated again. Waking up from them was real, and it did hurt. 

Shouta could feel everything too much. The sheets were too rough, too hot, and his hair was too scratchy, and the sweat on his skin was tacky and sticky and gross and his throat was dry. He needed to…. Drink something. But, at that moment, moving felt improbable. 

There was still the fear and the leftover aftershocks of pain from the nightmare itself. And Shouta knew it shouldn’t have hurt, the nightmare shouldn’t have hurt at all, but he had felt that pain before and it was like little ripples in water, only just now hitting him, years and years later, everytime. The hollow feeling in his stomach, sometimes replaced by an aching sickness from eating nothing but chocolate because sometimes that was all there was. The anxiety in his heart, returning to him almost seven years later, the fear and uncertainty over whether or not he’d have enough food, if his cat would have enough food. 

He could taste something sweet and bitter on his tongue, and it made him feel sick. 

Shouta sighed, sitting up and walking down the hall to his bathroom. His hands shook as he brushed his teeth and washed out his mouth, and when he took a wet washcloth to his face it felt like every cold drop of water was ice piercing his skin. 

Maybe it was time to dig his weighted blanket out of the closet. 

When he walked back to his room, he noticed a small wedge of orange light shining out from under Izuku’s bedroom door. Shouta frowned, backtracking into the living room and checking the wall clock. It was two A.M. Why would Izuku’s light be on?

When Shouta eased the door open, he saw Izuku curled up on his bed, crying into his pillow. His voice was quiet and throaty and raspy and raw, like he’d been that way for hours, and his shoulders were trembling. 

“Child?” Shouta called quietly, and the child’s head snapped up to look at him far too quickly. His cheeks were ruddy and red, stained by tears, his green eyes watery, his face lined with indents from his pillow. “Why are you crying?” Shouta asked, and Izuku let out a choked-sounding wail. 

Shouta wasn’t sure how to handle this situation, not when he was already exhausted and overwhelmed himself. But he could try. 

“I’m sitting here. Is that alright?” Shouta asked, pointing at the edge of the bed, and Izuku nodded. Shouta sat down, his weight dipping the mattress slightly. Izuku took a deep breath and blinked at the ceiling as he wiped at his face with a pillow case. “Cry if you want,” Shouta said. “If you need to, do it. It’s healthy.” A few more tears slipped down and Izuku drew in another shuddering breath. 

“B-b-boys don’t cry,” Izuku said, wiping at his face. “‘M not a girl. I’m n-not supposed to cry.”

Shouta shrugged.

“That’s an interesting perspective,” Shouta said. “Because I cry when I’m sad, and so does your Uncle Zashi, and I can guarantee you that we’re not girls.” Shouta gripped his elbows, tapping out the melody of one of Hizashi’s radio songs. 

“Dad said not to,” Izuku said. “A-a-and the boys at school don’t c-cry.”

“Maybe they just didn’t get sad enough to,” Shouta stated with a shrug. “It’s okay to cry, Izuku. Doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl. It’s your body’s natural response to extreme emotions, and it's unhealthy to repress it just because you’re a boy.”

“I… don’t know what those words mean,” Izuku said, eyes filling with more tears. Shouta backtracked. 

“Big emotions,” Shouta said. “Emotions that make your head hurt or your heart jump. Being happy, being sad, being scared. Big emotions like that. Extreme emotions. And your mind-” Shouta tapped his own head for emphasis, “- your mind naturally feels the need to cry, or yell, or kick or scream when those emotions hit. Some more than others. And when we’re sad - and sometimes when we’re angry - we start crying because it’s a tactic - it’s a thing our bodies do to make us feel better. Before you start crying your head hurts and your chest feels weird, right?” Izuku nods. “We cry to make that feeling go away. And that happens with boys and girls. No one is exempt from that. Understand?” Izuku nodded, slower this time. Shouta realized belatedly that he had gotten through the better part of that conversation without feeling awkward. Maybe he was good at teaching. “It’s okay to cry.” 

“C-c-can I have a hug?” Izuku asked, and Shouta nodded. Izuku practically catapulted himself forward, wrapping skinny arms around Shouta’s neck and holding on tight as he sobbed into his shoulder. The noise made Shouta’s ears hurt, but he just kept patting his back haltingly until the boy stopped crying. 

“Better?” Shouta asked, and Izuku nodded against his shoulder. “Good. Why were you sad?” Izuku stiffened against his shoulder, and Shouta wanted to hit himself for being so blunt. 

“Nightmare,” Izuku said. “About my….” Inko.

“I don’t like those either,” Shouta admitted. 

“You have nightmares?” Izuku asked. Shouta nodded.

“Sometimes,” he said. 

“About what?” 

“Lots of stuff,” Shouta said, not really wanting to talk about it. But maybe he owed it to the kid. “About my mom. Sometimes about my dad. Sometimes about hurting my leg. Sometimes about some stuff from patrol.” Sometimes about you. 

“Mine are scary,” Izuku admitted. “My mommy’s batteries run out a lot.”

“That is scary,” Shouta said. “I’m sorry.” Izuku shrugged. Shouta frowned at the child’s phrasing. Mommy’s batteries run out a lot…

“How often do you have nightmares?” Shouta asked.

“Lots.”

“Did you have them last night?” Izuku nodded. “Before that?” Izuku nodded. “How about the day before that?” Izuku nodded. Shouta felt ill. Mommy’s batteries run out a lot.

He had to talk to Hizashi about this. Maybe get the child a doctor. That couldn’t be normal. Was it affecting his sleep schedule? His school work? His grades were alright, but would that change? 

“I don’t think I wanna go back to sleep,” Izuku said, voice muffled by his shirt. 

“You have to,” Shouta said. “You have school tomorrow.”

“Nyeh.”

“Yes.”

Izuku sighed. “Can you stay with me?” he asked. He was latched onto his shirt so tightly, Shouta wasn’t sure if Izuku would have let him go anyway. 

“Okay,” Shouta said, moving so he was leaning against the headboard. He scooted the boy to the side, laying on top of the blankets while Izuku laid under him, the boy’s head leaning against his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep on me. It makes getting up difficult.” Izuku’s answer was incomprehensible through his yawn. Izuku grew heavy beside him, and he snored quietly. Shouta tried to move his arm so he could go back to bed and sighed.

Stuck.

His eyes slipped shut, the last thought he remembered having was, Hizashi will help me in the morning. 

~-~

He woke up to the flash of a polaroid camera. 

“Zashi, please,” Shouta whispered, and Hizashi cackled quietly as he snapped another photo. 

“This is going in the memory box,” Hizashi stated. “Babe, I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. You’re just so adorable.”

“ Stop, ” Shouta said. His ears were burning. He was far too tired for this. Hizashi sighed dramatically, setting the camera to the side and gently easing Izuku off of Shouta shoulder so Shouta could escape. “You’re my boyfriend,” Shouta informed him. “You’re not supposed to make fun of me. That’s not how that works.”

“That’s exactly how that works,” Hizashi said, the two walking out into the living room and collapsing onto the couch. Hizashi was already dressed for work. “Dating you means I get a free pass.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You sound like Izuku,” Shouta said, and Hizashi sobered slightly. 

“Why were you in Izuku’s room, anyway?” Hizashi asked, sounding a hint worried. “I was kinda scared when I woke up and you were gone.”

“I… woke up to get something to drink,” Shouta said. “And his light was on, so I went in to turn it off, and he was crying from a nightmare. He asked me to stay, so I did.”

“What was the nightmare about?” Hizashi asked.

“His mother,” Shouta said, sighing tiredly as his head fell back against the back of the couch. Tap.

“What was your nightmare about?”

“I never said I had a nightmare.”

“Call it an educated guess. So what was it about?” 

“ My mother.”

“Ah,” Hizashi said. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Mm,” Shouta responded, waving him off. “Unimportant. Izuku’s been having nightmares every night. I don’t know how long it’s been happening, but it has. And most of them have been about Inko.”

“That’s…. Troubling.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Hizashi sighed, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses.

“Okay. We can take him to a pediatrician, see what they think...”

“We need to call an insurance…. Person.”

“Yeah,” Hizashi admitted. “Want me to do it?” Shouta nodded.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Hizashi said. “Wait, doesn’t health insurance take, like, five percent of your salary?”

“Well,” Shouta said, sinking into the couch. “That’s it. We’re never getting out of debt. We’ll sink into poverty and the social worker will take Izuku away from us.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“That’s realistic,” Shouta said, tapping at his elbows. Hizashi noticed the movement. “I don’t like this.”

“I know,” Hizashi said. “It’s gonna be okay, though. I don’t want you to worry about this - we’ll figure something out. We always do. Okay?” Shouta nodded.

“Okay.”

~-~

 Izuku bounced up and down excitedly as he waited for class to start so he could finally meet the new kid. 

He hadn’t had a very good morning. Unkie Sho had gotten upset because he was having nightmares, so he’d told Unkie Zashi, and now they wanted to take him to a doctor. Izuku didn’t want to go to a doctor. Doctors always smiled real nice at him, and then when he wasn’t expecting it, they’d stick him with needles. 

Izuku hated doctors. They were vampires. 

But now, Unkie Zashi said he had to go to a doctor called a pediatrician to find out why he kept having nightmares. Unkie Sho said that a pediatrician was a doctor for kids, like Izuku, and Izuku wondered if that meant she wasn’t going to stick him with needles. No one should stick kids with needles. 

Unkie Zashi had stuck around long enough that morning to make him a special bento with his food cut into fun little shapes before he had to run off to work. Unkie Sho had let him give him a really big hug before he got out of the car instead of reminding him that ‘ you have to go soon, child’ like he always did when Izuku hugged for too long. He’d also requested that Izuku draw him something nice in art class, so Izuku was going to draw him a dragon. 

Class started as izuku was beginning to draw his picture, wondering if he should add colour or not as he went. Izuku was the first one at their table to show up, followed by Hitoshi, who went back to sleep after sitting down, and Mei, who was too busy writing something in a notebook about one of her potato weapons to pay him much mind. Ochako sat next to Izuku and buried her face in her arms and didn’t come out for a while and Izuku wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t know how, so he decided to give her her space and went back to drawing. 

The talking fell down as the teacher stood in front of the class, smiling at them in that funny smile Izuku’s teacher always did. Izuku thought she looked kind of like those plastic dolls that girls liked - like the smile had been there too long, and it was fake. 

Izuku didn’t understand why so many people’s happiness had to be fake. 

“Settle down, class,” the teacher said, even though no one was talking anymore. “As I’m sure you all know, we have a new student in our classroom, and he came here all the way from America! How exciting!” She turned to the door, half of it blocked from Izuku’s view by a cabinet. “Come on out, sweetie.”

The boy was taller than Izuku and Ochako but shorter than Hitoshi and Mei. he had orangey-blonde hair that was cut shaggy and a black lightning bolt that shot up the side. His eyes were yellow. 

“Why don’t you tell us a few things about yourself,” the teacher said brightly.

“Um,” the boy said. His voice was weird. Thick and a little accented, his words tilting up when he talked. His grammar was shaky. “I-I’m Denki. ‘M five years old. I have a dog that I named Dave. He is nice. I came here from America, but my momma and dad are from here. Uh, I was raised in Maine, I don’t know if you know where that is but it’s, like, the highest state up? It’s near Canada. Uh…. yeah.”

“Thank you, Denki,” the teacher said, taking over for the obviously nervous boy. “Denki doesn’t know Kanji, yet, so during art time I’m going to be working with him on it, like I used to do with all of you when you were learning to read. If you need me, I’ll be at the back table, yes?” Nods all around the room. “Excellent. Denki,” she said, turning to the boy, and when she was talking to him her speech was slowed down quite a bit. “You’ll be sitting on that back table over there, with the two boys and girls. Yes, the one with the girl who has pink dreadlocks. Good boy.” Denki took a seat in the empty chair next to Hitoshi, crossing his arms across his chest awkwardly as the teacher finished talking. 

“Hi!” Izuku said happily once the teacher was done passing out their assignments. “My name’s ‘Zuku Midoriya! This is Hitoshi!” he said, pointing at Hitoshi.

“My name’s Mei,” Mei cut in. Ochako didn’t say anything, her head still down.

“Uh, her name’s Ochako, but I think she’s a little sleepy,” Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, you’re from…. Maine, right? What’s it like over there?”

“... cold,” Denki said. “Lots of rain. My parents didn’t like the rain much though, so they came back to Japan.” Izuku frowned, the wheels in his head turning. Why come back to Japan after being there for over five years with your son..?

“Well, it’s a little less cold over here, most of the time,” Izuku said, filling in the answers on his worksheet. “Lots rainy though.” Izuku glanced over at Hitoshi, who was struggling to answer the questions on his spelling sheet. “Want help?”

Hitoshi nodded. 

“Ok. See, that word, ‘Almost’. It would have an ‘Alm’ not an ‘Allm’. I got a little confused on that one too, because of the word ‘all’, it’s okay!” Hitoshi nodded, erasing his mistake and smiling at Izuku gratefully before turning back to the rest of the questions. 

“What do you like to do?” Izuku asked the new boy. Denki. Izuku liked that name. 

“Um. I like reading,” Denki said. “My grandmother taught me how to a long time ago. She’s still in America, but she had a bunch of these - these really old books by English authors, and I think they’re really good. There’s this one book about this monster created by this dude named Frankenstein, so a lot of people just call the monster Frankenstein - even though he really wasn’t the real monster, it was his creator that was so mean and all - but it was a really good book and it’s one of my favorites - and I also like this book called Little Women, that one was good-” He stopped, abruptly, after noticing that most of the table was staring at him. “Sorry. I talk too much,” he said. He slumped back in his seat, similar to the way he had before he’d gotten excited by the books. “I’m a little dumb.”

“That’s okay!” Izuku said. “It don’t matter if you’re dumb or smart, s’ long as you’re nice.” Denki blinked. “Are you nice?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Then I think you’re great! Plus you seem to really love books, and it’s good to have something you’re pass-pash- passionate about. My unkies say so. That’s why Unkie Zashi loves music and cooking, and Unkie Sho loves his job, and I love writing about heroes!” 

“Oh,” Denki said. “Um, okay!” 

“Hitoshi loves cats!” Izuku said, pointing at his purple-haired friend. “And Ochako loves math! And Mei loves inventing! She makes great potato weapons. Loving something and wanting to talk about it doesn’t make you dumb.”

Denki looked surprised, for a moment, before a small smile appeared on his face. It looked a little wobbly. 

“Uh, thanks,” Denki said. “You’re…. Really nice.”

Izuku shrugged.

“My Unkie Sho says that…. Um…. oh, nicety should be honesty, just in pretty packaging? So if I compliment you, you know I’m not lying!”

“Oh, okay, cool!” Denki grinned. “So you like heroes? Which ones?”

“I love All Might!” Izuku said, bouncing up and down slightly in his seat. “Oh, and Ms. Joke. And Ingenium! And Eraserhead and Present Mic! They’re not too popular yet, but they’re really great heroes!” 

“There’s not as many heroes in America as there is in Japan,” Denki said. “My dad says it’s ‘cause we’ve got more land over there, so most of the heroes are stationed in major cities and first responders take care of everyone else in small towns and stuff. I lived in a small town in Maine, so I didn’t meet lots of heroes, but I saw a villain fight once when I was in the city with my momma…. Oh, and All Might is pretty cool over in America too, he’s lots of people’s favorite heroes, since he’s number one everywhere and all...”

“I’m gonna be a hero when I grow up,” Izuku said seriously. “All of us are! Me, Hitoshi, Ochako and Mei! We’re gonna be a hero team!”

“That’s totally awesome!” Denki said, sitting up straighter. “I wanna be a hero too, someday, and maybe go to that hero school U.A. now that I’m in Japan but...” Denki shrugged. “I dunno if I’m good enough to get in.”

“I’m sure you will!” Izuku exclaimed. “Maybe you can be in our hero team, too! That- that way we’ll have five members, instead of just four! That’d be awesome! ” 

“Yeah, that would be...” Denki said. “My… Quirk is kinda… bad.” Izuku sighed.

“Don’t be silly,” Izuku said seriously. “You’re five, so you probably just got your Quirk. And none of our Quirks are all that great for hero work, either. I don’t even have a Quirk, and I’m still gonna be a great hero, and I’m gonna make sure people always smile without having to worry about the future. And you can too! Don’t matter what your Quirk is.” Izuku stopped talking. “What is your Quirk, anyway?”

“E-el...” Denki frowned. “It’s hard to say.”

“That’s okay! Take your time.”

“El-ect-rif-ic-at-ion.”

“You can generate electricity?”

“I can shoot it out of my body,” Denki said. “Lots. But I’m not good at controlling it, and it kinda fries my brain up. My mommy says that when I use it too much it turns me goofy for a few hours, but I can never remember….”

“That’s so cool! ” Izuku said. “Is it limitless? At what point do you turn goofy? How many volts?”

“Um, I don’t… I only got it a few months ago, I’m not sure...”

“That’s okay!” Izuku said. “We’ll just have to test it! But that Quirk is so cool, and it’d be so good in combat, and-” Izuku realized his hands were flapping excitedly and made an effort to stop. “How can you have a Quirk like that and say it’s bad? That’s amazing!”

“Oh,” Denki said. “Okay.”

“Can you charge stuff?” Izuku asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. “Like, phones. Or can you light lightbulbs? Can you act as a generator? Charge a regular battery?”

“I… haven’t tried...” Denki said, looking as if he hadn’t considered such things to even be possible for his Quirk. “But… that’s a pretty good idea. To test that out.”

“ Exactly! Maybe we can see what all you can do at recess, and then I can see if I can bring a light bulb to school tomorrow-” Mei suddenly squealed excitedly. 

“You can charge my inventions! The inventions that need batteries or electricity to operate, you can charge them! Oh, this is amazing! You’re amazing!”

“You think I’m amazing…?”

Hitoshi pulled out his notebook, and Izuku felt guilty for not trying to include him in the conversation. 

Quirks not dumb 

good

Can help lots people

Denki frowned at the writing.

“I don’t know….”

“He’s saying that your Quirk isn’t dumb!” Izuku exclaimed. “Any Quirk can help someone, and yours can definitely do that! You’re awesome. ”

“Oh.”

Izuku was confused, because why didn’t he believe it?

“Recess after school tomorrow! I’ll bring a lightbulb and we can see what you can do! Yeah?” Denki nodded, looking a little dazed. 

“Mkay.” 

~-~

Mei and Hitoshi were under the tree, their usual spot, entertaining Denki. Mei was in a tree, imitating a bird, per usual, and Denki looked a bit tempted to join her. Hitoshi was on the ground by the foot of the tree, looking up at the two and smiling. Izuku was a bit surprised. Usually Hitoshi took recess as a time to sleep. 

Izuku was walking around the play area with Ochako, who still had her head hanging low and looked to be in low spirits. 

“What’s wrong, ‘Chako?” Izuku asked. “You’ve been looking sad all day. Are you okay?”

Ochako shrugged.

“I am sad,” she said. “And confused. And worried. My parents have lots of problems with money. They own a construction company, and they say it’s hard to keep up with costs and stuff like that sometimes. And….” Ochako shrugged. “My mommy says that the landlord got mad ‘cause we couldn’t pay rent. We’re living at my grandma’s house now.”

“Oh,” Izuku said. “The landlord guy made you move?”

“Yeah,” Ochako said. “I love grandma, but I don’t think I like living with her. She smells like cats. And she always wants to cook dinner, but it tastes funky.”

“Oh,” Izuku said, because he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “I’m sorry, Ochako.”

“You didn’t make us move,” Ochako said. “Don’t say sorry for something you didn’t do.”

“Okay.”

“My mommy and daddy say we’ll be okay,” Ochako said. “So we will be. It’s all gonna work out. I can tell. It’ll be… fine. It’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Izuku said. “Um, I don’t have a lot of money, but I got, like, a thousand yen in my piggy bank if you want it….”

Ochako laughed. 

“I don’t think that’s enough to buy something at McDonald’s, Zuku.”

“Oh,” Izuku said. He frowned. “Money’s hard.” 

“It is.”

They walked back to the others in silence.

Chapter Text

“Hello, Izuku,” the social worker said, stepping into the apartment. Izuku smiled up at the woman blindingly. “How’ve you been?”

“Good!” Izuku said, holding onto Hizashi’s hand. “Real good! Me and my unkies are having a movie night tonight, and we’re gonna watch Princess and The Frog, and my Auntie Nem is bringing over candy and blankets and snacks and it’s gonna be so fun- ”

“That’s great, Izuku,” the social worker said with a laugh. 

“How have you been?” Izuku asked, smiling up at the woman. 

“I’ve been just fine, thank you for asking,” the social worker said. Shouta could never remember what the woman’s name was - Rikio? Rikio. Rikio turned her attention to Hizashi and Shouta, smiling at them kindly. “Hello Mr. Aizawa, Mr. Yamada.”

“Hey!”

“... hi.”

“I’ll just do a quick check around the apartment, ask Izuku some questions, talk to you two, and then we’ll be done. Yes?” Shouta nodded stiffly, crossing his arms across his chest tightly. Elbows. Tap tap tap. 

Shouta didn’t much like having strangers in his house. 

“Alright, then!” Rikio said, walking around the apartment and dotting things down on her clipboard. She checked Izuku’s room, Hizashi and Shouta’s shared bedroom, the bathroom, the hall closet, the kitchen space - pausing to look through the fridge - and the living room. Then she asked Izuku if she could talk to him privately and lead him back to his bedroom for a good fifteen minutes. 

Shouta knew that he hadn’t done anything incriminating that would be a cause of concern for the social worker, but he couldn’t help but be nervous. Hizashi and Shouta sat on the couch in wait, Shouta’s hands running up and down his slacks. 

“Relax,” Hizashi said. “It’ll be fine.” The social worker walked out of the bedroom, face carefully blank, before sitting across from them. 

“As usual, the house visit has proven positive. Although I am slightly concerned by some of the things Izuku has shared with me,” Rikio said, poising her pen over the piece of paper on her clipboard. Shouta felt anxiety jump up in his heart, and his hands clenched into fists.

“Such as?” Shouta prompted, throat feeling dry. 

“He’s informed me that money seems to be an issue,” Rikio said. “And that you’ve been having some problems.”

“We’re in debt, yes, from Inko’s funeral expenses. But we’ve taken on extra jobs to pay it off, and we are in no shape or form incapable to take care of Izuku, money issues or no.”

“It’s still something I want to see remedied,” the social worker said, jotting something down on her clipboard. “He’s also told me that he’s going to the doctor soon, though he didn’t say why.”

“He’s been having trouble sleeping,” Hizashi said. “Nightmares. We’re taking him to a pediatrician to see what they can do.” Rikio hummed, writing down another note on her clipboard. 

“Of course, as you know, a small sum of money gets sent to you monthly to take care of the child in your care,” the social worker said. “Food, clothing - the like.”

“We’ve been setting that money aside in a separate account,” Shouta stated, still feeling inexplicably nervous. “For a college fund. In case he wants to go.”

“He seems fairly determined to be a hero,” the social worker noted. “Have you dealt with that?” Shouta and Hizashi frowned.

Dealt with…?

“I’m sorry?” Hizashi said with a lighthearted laugh. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Well, I only mean that it’s a very dangerous profession-”

“Trust me,” Shouta said. “We know.”

“And Izuku isn’t exactly built for it.” 

“I’m going to have to ask you to clarify further on that,” Hizashi said, tone edging on dangerous. Shouta still felt a bit confused. How had the conversation morphed into this?

“I only mean that, because of his physical limitations, hero work would be very difficult for him,” Rikio said. “What with him being Quirkless. It might be best if he just-”

“Him not having a Quirk isn’t what matters here,” Shouta cut in. “He’s five. He doesn’t know what he wants to be, and childrens’ interests change all the time. But if he continues to want to be a hero when he’s older, we will support him, and if he wants to be something else, we’ll help with that too. That’s why we have the college fund. We’re trying to cover all possibilities.” Rikio frowned, writing something else down, before plastering on a slightly fake looking smile. Shouta did not like this woman. 

“I see,” Rikio said. “Merely a suggestion, you understand.” Shouta did not understand, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Now, onto more pressing matters - how has Izuku been doing in school? Friends, grades, development?”

“He has a few close friends,” Hizashi said. “Two boys and two girls who he seems to care for very much.”

“And he makes near-perfect marks in all his classes,” Shouta stated. “They were a bit shaky during the beginning of the year. He was… quite nervous about the assignments, and that affected his work. But we’ve been helping him with his homework and his spelling words and his numbers, and he’s doing well now.”

“Excellent,” the woman said, jotting that down on her clipboard. “Has he been eating enough? Growing how he’s supposed to?”

“Yep,” Hizashi said. “He eats all his food at night and during the morning and all of his bento at lunch. We give him cookies after dinner if he eats his vegetables - he’s tiny, but I think that’s got more to do with genetics than anything. Shouta was fairly short too, when he was younger.” Shouta glared at him and Hizashi cackled. 

“I was not short,” Shouta stated.

“You were ,” Hizashi said. “Nemuri and I were, like, a foot taller than you in our first year at U.A., Shouta.”

“I also hadn’t hit my growth spurt yet.”

“Still tiny.”

“ Shut- ”

The social worker cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her, and Hizashi and Shouta went red and quieted down. 

“Have you experienced any problems with Izuku?” Rikio asked.

“Not really,” Hizashi said with a hum. “He’s a pretty easy kid. Real sweet. The only real issues we have are his sleeping problems and that he’s a little sensitive, and even that’s not really a problem. ”

Rikio looked surprised, for a moment, and continued to write away on her clipboard. It made Shouta feel a bit anxious, not knowing what she’s writing. 

“I must say, I’m surprised,” Rikio said. “I expected him to be more of a difficult child.”

“How so?” Hizashi asked. 

“Well,” Rikio said, “for one, he’s very young, and he went through a very traumatic experience - finding his mother like that, taking care of himself for weeks, his friend turning against him, his father leaving, and finding out he’s Quirkless… it’s a lot to go through in such a short time period. A lot of stress. And children aren’t meant to go through something like that - children are supposed to be reliant on their parents or guardians to take care of them, not themselves. I suppose I was expecting him to be a bit more… untrusting.” Rikio shrugged. “Not to mention that, with most children in a new environment, they’ll try and test you.”

“Test us?” Shouta echoed. “What… does that mean?”

“It means….” Rikio hummed, like she was trying to choose her words carefully. “He’s in a new environment. A new habitat, you might say, with new people taking care of him. And because of that, things are more than likely going to be a lot different than how it was before, at the old habitat. He has to learn the rules, learn how far he can go without getting in trouble if he wants to live healthily and happily.”

“Which means…?” Hizashi prompted.

“It means, ” Rikio said, “that he’ll more than likely act like a holy terror so he can figure out what those rules are. ”

“Well… what would be the best course of action?” Shouta asked. “If he starts acting out, what are we supposed to do? How do we prevent it?”

Rikio shrugged.

“Establish the rules.”

“Establish… the rules….”

“Make a chart,” Rikio suggested. “Write down the rules - like, no running in the house, leave your shoes by the door, inside voice, no going in the parents’ bedroom, no hitting the cats…. Stuff like that.”

“Wait, he’ll try and hit the cats?” Shouta asked, alarmed.

“Probably not,” Rikio said reassuringly. “That was just an example. You’d probably also do well to give him a chore list. Maybe give him a schedule - a set time for the TV. Take him outside more. Interact more. Just give him something constant and normal so he knows what to expect. I can’t guarantee that he’ll try and test your limits, but this is definitely a way to avoid that occurring. Understand?” Shouta and Hizashi nodded. “Excellent - if that’s all, then-”

“Wait,” Hizashi said. “We have another question.” The social worker sat back down. 

“Yes?”

“Hisashi is out of the picture,” Shouta stated. “He’s in America. There’s little to no chance he’s coming back any time soon. But, if he does…. Would he be allowed to take the child away from us?” Rikio sighed, stapling her fingers together and leaning her chin against them.

“It’s… complicated,” Rikio admitted. “With the child protective services system, the main goal is family preservation. Unless, of course, that family was abusive or neglectful toward the child. Hisashi Midoriya left his family, but he also signed away custody of Izuku before he left, so his abandonment wouldn’t be seen as such in the eyes of the courts. So should Hisashi Midoriya, for some reason, come back and try and gain custody of Izuku again… it really depends on the judge. Since Shouta hasn’t adopted Izuku and only has custody over him, depending on the feelings of the judge based on the situation…. Should the judge be inclined toward Hisashi, chances are he would be granted custody and all ties between you and the child would be cut.”

“I… see….” Shouta said slowly. “But… since he doesn’t have any rights over the child now , couldn’t we legally adopt him at some point in the future to prevent that from happening?”

“Right now?” Rikio asked incredulously. “ No. ”

“... oh.”

“Allow me to explain?”

Hizashi and Shouta nodded.

“There are several requirements to adopt a child in this country,” Rikio said, leaning forward slightly. “For starters, you have to be over the age of twenty-one. You’re only twenty.”

“Hizashi’s twenty-one,” Shouta argued. “And I am turning twenty-one next month.”

“Be that as it may, you and Hizashi aren’t married, so his age doesn’t factor into this. Bringing me onto our next issue - you can’t legally adopt unless you’re married.”

“What?!” Hizashi asked incredulously. “That’s such bullshit! Isn’t that only with the foster kids? Izuku’s family!”

“It’s just the law,” Rikio said. “it’s meant so that, because of the marriage, the child will have two stable parental units and a steady income. Which brings us into our next problem.”

“We’re in debt,” Hizashi said for her. “But we’re not destitute. We can still take care of the kid just fine, we just have to clock in a couple more hours, but that hasn’t affected how we’ve taken care of him-”

“Except for when Mr. Aizawa got permanently injured during a patrol,” Rikio pointed out. 

“I’m fine. ”

“You have severe chronic pain and you have to wear a leg brace on the best of days, Mr. Aizawa, I know this because I read your chart.”

“I am healing! I am healed ! Nothing like this had happened before, and it was a … one time thing. I was tired, I made a mistake, but I am fine.”

“Mhm. Okay,” Rikio said. “There’s also the fact that both of you will have to go through the same training that aspiring foster parents have to, as well as pay a small fee to adopt the child.”

“Does everything cost money?” Shouta heard Hizashi mutter.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Yamada,” Rikio said, and Hizashi flushed. “There’s also the fact that you have to have had custody of the child for six months in order to even begin the adoption process. You’ve only had the Izuku for… three, going on four months, I believe.” Shouta sighed, running a hand through his hair wearily.

“And if we meet those requirements?” Hizashi prompted. “What then?”

“If you have the child for more than six months, Mr. Aizawa is over the age of twenty-one, both of you are financially stable and married, Izuku agrees, and Hisashi hasn’t come back to stir things up…. More than likely, if you took this to court, you would be able to adopt Izuku, as it would be seen as in the best interest of the child.” 

“Okay,” Shouta stated. “Money, m-marriage, twenty-one, and the child’s permission. And the classes. I can do that.” Probably. 

“Think about this further, first, Mr. Aizawa. Adopting a child is no small feat, and it’s a long process with a very permanent outcome. Don’t rush into this.”

“Of course,” Shouta said. Hizashi stood up with the woman.

“Let me see you out,” Hizashi said, chatting with the social worker idly as he guided her toward the door. Shouta sighed and collapsed against the back of the couch, hearing a door from the hallway creak open a moment later. Izuku walked into the living room, climbing onto the couch with Shouta and snuggling close to his side. He had a large teddy bear clutched in his grasp. Izuku named all of his stuffed animals, and, if Shouta remembered correctly, this one was named ‘Fluff’. Izuku was many things, but he wasn’t very creative. 

Aiko and Takara followed them up onto the couch, the kitten taking refuge on Izuku’s lap while the older cat snuggled up on Shouta’s. Shouta scratched behind Takara’s ear idly. 

“Did the lady leave?” Izuku asked, and Shouta nodded. “Mkay.”

“We’ll have some rules around here soon,” Shouta said. “A chore chart. And TV times. And a little schedule for you. Is that alright?” 

Izuku tilted his head to the side.

“I guess,” he said with a shrug. “But why?”

“We’re trying to keep you from going into your rebel phase before your time,” Shouta stated.

“What’s a rebel phase?” Izuku asked. 

“It’s where you act foolish when you’re a teenager,” Shouta said. “Your Uncle Zashi had one. He got his ears pierced and tried to dye his hair pink.”

Izuku looked horrified. 

“But I don’t wanna dye my hair pink!”

“Hence the chore chart.”

“You better give me a million chores on my chore chart! I don’t wanna dye my hair pink at all! ”

“As you wish.”

“Unkie Sho, I better never become a teenager. I don’t wanna be one.”

“Trust me, child, no one does.”

Hizashi walked back into the living room, looking tired, before pasting a smile on his face when he saw Izuku sitting on the couch. Izuku was moving tilting his head from side to side, probably trying to get a good look at Hizashi’s ears, which were mainly hidden by his long blonde hair. 

“Uh, you alright, kiddo?” 

“Why you go and pierce your ears?” Izuku asked curiously, and Hizashi turned bright red. 

“ Sho! ” 

Shouta shrugged. 

“He asked what a rebel phase was,” Shouta explained. “I thought you were a prime example.”

“You absolute-” Hizashi picked a pillow up from a couch and chunked it at him, hitting him square in the face, and Shouta stared at the pillow in his lap for a good ten seconds before grinning at the other man evilly and turning to the child.

“Charge,” he said to Izuku, and Izuku grinned back in a disturbingly accurate replica of Shouta’s expression. Hizashi went pale and started running for the hallway just in time for Izuku to tackle his legs and take him to the floor. 

They were exhausted, and confused, and filled with worry, but the rest of the night was filled with laughter. 

~-~

“Yes. Yes, yes, I completely agree, I am an idiot, but can we please talk about how I get the insurance -” There was a beep, and Hizashi glanced down at the phone in his hand. “ Fuck. ”

“Language,” Shouta called from where he was sorting through papers on the couch. It was tedious work. He almost wished he was moving boxes at work. 

“Izuku’s not here, I’m allowed to swear,” Hizashi snapped, dragging a hand down his face. “They are infuriating. ”

“Mhm.”

“No, seriously, they do not listen at all, and then they call me stupid and get impatient with me when I ask questions and none of them are taking me seriously when I tell them I need the fucking insurance to go through as soon as fucking possible- ”

“Be civil,” Shouta said with a shrug. “Try and sound like an adult. Kind of.”

“I am an adult.”

“You’re twenty-one,” Shouta said, reading a paragraph on one of the papers. “That doesn’t constitute an adult to a lot of people.”

“It should, ” Hizashi said, redialing a number. “I have a child in my care, I have a partner , I have a job and a house. You’d think that would sound pretty adult-ey to some people.”

“It does,” Shouta stated, pushing the papers away and taking a sip of his coffee. “But then you use the word ‘adult-ey’ and it kind of ruins the effect.”

Hizashi glared at him before dialing the last number and calling yet another insurance place. 

“Yes, hi, this is Hizashi Yamada. And Shouta Aizawa, I’m trying for him too, ha ha. Um, can I ask how we, y’know. Get insurance. Yes, five percent of salary, so that is our income overall or just five percent of separate incomes, because we have two jobs… mhm…. Okay, thanks. So how long is this going to take. Wait, what?” Hizashi’s face suddenly got very tight, a mixture between manic and angry. “O...kay. I.. will…. Call…. Them...” Shouta stopped sorting through papers and watched him call a new number, only for Hizashi to pace into their hallway out of Shouta’s hearing range. Shouta shrugged, turning back to his papers. Five minutes later, unhinged cackling sounded from the hallway.

Hizashi marched back into the living room and promptly fell face-first on the couch.

“Zashi?” Shouta said tentatively, feeling a bit nervous. “You alright?”

“HA.”

“... okay.” Shouta turned back to his papers, and Hizashi eventually picked himself off the couch and looked at him.

“Shouta,” Hizashi said. “How long have we been working for the agency.”

Shouta set down his papers. 

“Almost three years, I think. Why?” 

“We’re dumbasses.”

“I am not a dumbass,” Shouta informed him. “Though I can’t say the same for you. What happened?”

“ We already have fucking insurance. ”

“... what?”

“Shouta, we are pro heroes. We have a dangerous profession. They are legally obligated to give us health insurance, and they have, we just didn’t go and get the fucking card after the ninety day wait time ended because we forgot health insurance was a thing. ”

“... what?”

“They’ve been taking five percent of our salary for health insurance for the past three years and we haven’t even used it because we didn’t get the card because we’re dumbasses. ”

“That… simplifies things.”

“Does that mean Nemuri had insurance this entire time and just failed to mention that we had it too? ”

“Have we even told her that we were trying to get insurance, though?” Shouta asked, and Hizashi froze. His eyes went wide, before his face split and he started laughing hysterically on the couch. “Um.” Shouta patted his back. “There…. There...” 

“ Does she know she has insurance? ”

“Of course she does,” Shouta said. “She’s Nemuri. We just didn’t know because we’re idiots. Will my insurance cover Izuku?”

“ Yeah. He’s your ward, so...”

“Well, this is easier, then. We can just call a pediatrician and get this over with.”

“Can I have an hour to recuperate before I have to start making calls again?” Hizashi asked. 

“Of course,” Shouta said. “You can help me go through finances.”

Hizashi rose up.

“On second thought, I think I’m going to go make that call.”

“Have fun with that.”

~-~

Hizashi, Izuku and Shouta were sitting in the waiting room at a doctors’ office. Beside him, Hizashi muttered ‘three years… three years..’ every so often. Izuku looked nervous, and he was slouching low in his chair, like he wanted the floor to swallow him up. Shouta could share the sentiment. He didn’t much like doctors’ offices either.

“Midoriya, Izuku,” the woman up front called, and Izuku, Hizashi and Shouta stood up. When Hizashi and Shouta walked forward, Izuku seemed to stay rooted to the spot, so Hizashi grabbed the boy’s hand and guided him forward. 

“Hello, honey,” the woman said. “Just go on ahead and jump on the scale so we can measure your height and weight, okay?” Izuku nodded and they weighed and measured him before guiding them back into an examination room. They were joined by a doctor a moment later. 

“Hello, Izuku,” she said. She had light purple hair pulled back in a bun and dark skin. Her lips were painted a neon blue and her fingernails a blood red. Her eyes were electric-green. Izuku looked mesmerised. 

“What’s your Quirk?” Izuku asked abruptly. The woman blinked. 

“I like to call it X-Ray,” the woman said. “It helps me see what’s wrong with my patients on the inside, but without the use of radiation like a common X-Ray machine. It’s very useful for my profession. Because I have this Quirk I can see that you have an extra bone in your pinky toes, the handsome dark-haired gentleman over there has a busted knee, and the tall blonde man has damaged eyes. But what really clued me in on that was the glasses,” the doctor said with a wink. Izuku giggled. 

“How far does it go?” Izuku asked. “Does the Quirk let you see what’s hurting people mentally, or just physically?”

“Just physically,” the doctor said sadly. “I deal with the works of the body, not the mind. Which means that your nightmare problem is a complete mystery to me, right now. Sorry, kiddo, gonna have to ask a few questions first.”

“Okay,” Izuku said, kicking his feet back and forth. The doctor took a seat on a rolly chair. 

“Now,” the doctor said, “how long have these nightmares been happening, Izuku?”

Izuku shrugged. “Long time. A little after Mommy’s batteries died, I think. Lots of nights since then.”

“What are the nightmares about, Izuku?” the doctor asked.

Izuku started to look slightly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. 

“I… dunno,” he said. “Finding… Mommy. My dad. Um. Unkie Sho getting hurt.” Shouta’s eyes widened. 

“Does this happen every night, Izuku?” Izuku shrugged. “Almost every night?” Izuku nodded. “Do you think you’re tired during the day because of these nightmares?”

“Mhm. Sometimes.” The doctor nodded.

“Thank you, Izuku. That’s all I needed to know.”

The doctor turned toward Shouta and Hizashi.

“There are two things I want you to do,” the doctor said. “I’ll be filling Izuku out for a prescription of prazosin. It helps regulate breathing during sleep and it seems to help many people sleep through the night without issue.”

“Alright,” Shouta said. “We’ll go to the pharmacy on our way home.” The doctor nodded.

“But he’s at a young age, and we don’t want him becoming reliant on medication. Yes, prazosin will help, but it won’t stop these nightmares at the source. If we take him off of it, he’ll likely still have the nightmares, which is not what we want.”

“Alright, so what do we do?” Hizashi asked.

“I want you to look into getting Izuku a therapist. To talk about his nightmares.”

“We were considering doing that anyway,” Shouta informed her. “We’ll start researching good therapists immediately.” The doctor nodded.

“The nightmares were likely triggered because the death of his mother was so traumatic,” the doctor said. “He found her when she died. She was alive one morning, and then when he found her she wasn’t. That’s enough to make anyone have nightmares. Which is why he needs to work through that trauma with a therapist, so he can get help.” Hizashi and Shouta nodded. “The medication can cause headaches, drowsiness, stuff like that at first. If he starts having a pounding heartbeat, frequent urination, swollen ankles, fainting, mood changes, things like that, then he needs medical attention immediately, and I expect you to bring him straight back.” Shouta and Hizashi nodded, a bit startled this time. “That’s all you really need to know. I’ll have a nurse come in with discharge papers.”

“Good thing we have that insurance,” Hizashi muttered to Shouta as the doctor walked toward the door. “Therapy and the medication? Lord.”

“Actually,” the doctor said, “your insurance covers seventy five percent of all surgeries, medications, glasses prices, and doctors visits - I looked at your card, sorry. But it doesn’t cover the price of psychologists or therapists, mental health doctors like that.”

“... oh. Well, how much does a therapist cost?” Hizashi asked, looking like he was dreading the answer. Shouta already knew he wasn’t going to like this. 

“Six thousand to thirteen thousand yen.”

“Per month?” Shouta said hopefully.

“Per hour during a session.” 

Izuku looked up at the adults, confused. Hizashi’s head hit the wall behind him with a loud thunk. 

“God dammit. ”

Chapter Text

When Shouta woke up that morning, Hizashi was still in bed, curled up into a tight ball right on the edge of the mattress and shivering uncontrollably, the blanket tangled up near his feet. When Shouta, eyes fuzzy with sleep and the darkness of the room, reached out a hand to grab his shoulder, his night shirt was soaked through with sweat. 

“Zashi?” Shouta murmured, shaking his shoulder slightly. Hizashi groaned, curling in further on himself. Shouta rolled back over, turning on his bedside lamp. 

Hizashi was curled up at the very edge of the bed. The legs of his pants were rolled up, as was the hem of his shirt. His hair was damp with sweat, long strands sticking to his neck, and he seemed to be shivering uncontrollably. When Shouta pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, he felt feverish.

“Hizashi,” Shouta said, shaking his shoulder again. Hizashi groaned again, curling in on himself tighter. “Zashi. Look at me.” Shouta cupped his face, turning his head toward him, and Hizashi sighed before peeking his eyes open, only to wince at the harsh light from the lamp. “What’s wrong?”

“C-cold,” Hizashi said, teeth chattering. Shouta frowned. He didn’t feel cold - if anything, his face felt hot. 

“Anything else?” Shouta asked. 

“Um….” Hizashi’s eyes slipped closed again, and Shouta snapped his fingers in front of his face again until they opened back up. 

“Stay awake for a little while longer, Hizashi. Alright?” Hizashi nodded. “What else is wrong?”

“I feel achy,” he admitted. “My throat kind of hurts. And, uh, headache. And I feel like I have to cough.” Shouta felt along the sides of his neck and hummed.

“Your lymph nodes are swollen,” Shouta stated. “I think you have the flu.”

“Nope,” Hizashi said. “Absolutely not. I’m fine. Perfectly fine, as a matter of fact. Prime condition, some might say. I feel fantastic. ”

“Sure,” Shouta said. “Well, you’re….” He glanced at the clock. “Two hours late for the office. Might as well stay home.”

“I can’t just stay home,” Hizashi said, trying to sit up. Once he got into a sitting position, however, his body started to sway, and Shouta helped him lay back down. “I think I’ll stay home.”

“Probably for the best,” Shouta said. He stood up from bed, walking out into the hallway and to the bathroom, where he wet a rag with cold water before returning to his bedroom. “For your fever,” he explained. Hizashi had his glasses on, now, though he took them off at the sight of the rag. Probably didn’t want them to get wet. 

Shouta sat on the edge of the bed, pressing the rag against his forehead. A long strand of hair fell in Hizashi’s face as he did, and Shouta pushed it aside with a huff.

“Your hair is insufferable,” Shouta informed him. “Absolutely insufferable.”

“You love it,” Hizashi said, eyes beginning to fall closed. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“Shut up. You’re sick. You’re supposed to do sick people things. Like complaining and coughing.”

“I don’t need to cough.”

“Do it anyway,” Shouta said, leaving the rag on Hizashi’s head and walking out into the hallway. Izuku was peeking out of his bedroom door, probably trying to be sneaky. His large mass of hair stuck out too much for that.

“School time, Unkie Sho,” Izuku said. “You didn’t wake me up.”

“I know,” Shouta said. He sighed, crossing his arms. “It would seem,” Shouta said. “Your Uncle Hizashi has the flu.”

Izuku frowned.

“He’s sick?” 

“He’s feeling a bit under the weather, yes. But he’ll be okay. We must do something, though, to make sure you don’t get the flu and have to take time off school.” Izuku nodded. “You have to stay the night with your auntie, I think.” Izuku frowned.

“Never slept over at auntie’s before,” he said, sounding nervous. 

“You’ll like it. She’ll probably let you do whatever you want. You’ll have fun,” Shouta said. I will not. 

Izuku hummed. “Mkay! Do I need to pack stuff?”

“Probably,” Shouta said. “There should be a duffel bag in the back of the closet - pack a spare uniform, shirt and pants, socks, a pair of pajamas and a jacket. Oh, and a toy and a book. Yes?” Izuku nodded, running off to do just that. Shouta walked into the kitchen and dragged out a plastic tub filled with random assortments of medication from the pantry, choosing a bottle of pills for pain and fever and cough syrup before replacing the container in the pantry. Maybe he should put a lock on it. It wouldn’t do for Izuku to find it and think all the little white things were breath mints or something. 

After taking out a dose of medicine from the pill bottle and a cap full of cough syrup, he grabbed a glass of water and checked the fridge - no bento. Maybe he’d give Izuku another Tupperware container of leftovers. Or he could buy him a Happy Meal and hope that they didn’t need gas money. 

No - they had enough leftovers in the fridge for Izuku’s lunch…. Maybe Shouta could just make a sandwich for himself, then. Or eat from a vending machine - should he even go to work today? His boss was impatient enough with him, as is….

Shouta snapped out of his thoughts when Izuku came barreling into the kitchen, holding a backpack and a duffel bag respectively. His shirt was unbuttoned, as was his blazer, and his hair was a mess, just like it was every morning. His red sneakers were untied as well. 

“What’s for lunch today, Unkie?” Izuku asked, bouncing in place. Shouta crouched in front of him, buttoning up his shirt and tying his shoes. 

“I can’t remember...” Shouta muttered, before standing up quickly and pulling a container out of the fridge. “Udon.” 

“ Cold? ” Izuku asked incredulously. 

Shouta shrugged. “Find a microwave. I can’t make you a bento. I’ll burn down our apartment and then the landlord will come yell at us.” Izuku shuddered - he was terrified of the landlord. “Don’t tell Hizashi,” he said, handing him the container of noodles. “He’s big on healthy lunches.”

“Yep,” Izuku said. “If I told him, he’d probably have a…. Have a….. I forgot the word.”

“‘Cow’?” Shouta suggested, and Izuku shook his head. “‘Tantrum’? ‘Fit’?” Two head shakes. “I’m intrigued now. Tell me when you figure it out.”

“Ok!” 

Shouta checked his phone.

“It’s going to be cold,” Shouta told the boy. “Jacket.”

“No thank you!”

“Non debatable.”

“Why do I always gotta wear it?” Izuku whined, dragging his feet as he went off in search of the dreaded article of clothing. “It makes me look fluffy!”

“Not really,” Shouta said. “More…. Squishy.” 

“I’m not a marshmallow,” Izuku whined. “Not squishy!”

“Of course not,” Shouta stated. “You’re a cabbage. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Exactly!” Izuku said triumphantly. “Wait, what?”

“Nothing,” Shouta said. “Hurry up and find your jacket.” Izuku ran off again. Shouta shoved the container of udon into a paper bag, along with a little bottle of water and a package of crackers. Just in case he lost the udon. Or he was still hungry. Or he wanted a snack after school. Or one of his friends was still hungry. He knew from seeing Izuku’s friends at school that Hitoshi and Denki were too skinny. And Ochako’s parents were having problems. And, from what Izuku told him, Mei sometimes got so distracted by her potato weapons she forgot to eat. Should he pack more crackers?

He poured half the box into the paper bag and closed it with a clip. Izuku ran into the kitchen a moment later, wearing a large, fluffy jacket and with a displeased look on his face. 

“Food,” Shouta said, handing him the bag. “There’s also a couple snacks for you and your friends.” Or eight….

“Thanks, Unkie!” Izuku said, running off to put the bag into his backpack. Shouta pulled out his phone as he ran away. 

“ What? ” Nemuri snapped as she answered the phone. “ Sho, this better be good, it is six in the morning!”

“I need you to watch Izuku this evening,” Shouta said. 

“ I have patrol, ” Nemuri said. “ Y’know. My job. That I get paid for. At the highly competitive agency that is practically impossible to advance in. You know the one? ”

“All too well,” Shouta said. “Hizashi’s sick with the flu. If his fever gets worse, I'll have to take him to a clinic. I don’t want the child here. I already have one sick person, I can’t handle two.”

“ But Shoutaaa... ”

“If you do this, I’ll cover your shifts for a week after Hizashi gets better,” Shouta bargained. He was going to regret this.

“ Don’t you have enough on your plate already? ” Nemuri asked incredulously. 

“Unimportant,” Shouta said. “Yes or no?”

“ ... fine, ” Nemuri said. “ I think I liked you better when you hated talking on the phone and avoided it like the plague. This is the most you’ve called me in the six or seven years I’ve known you. ”

“I’ll see you soon, Nemuri,” Shouta said, hanging up the phone. “Child, do you have everything?” Shouta asked, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Yep!” Izuku said. “Hair’s messy though,” he said, jabbing a finger at his head. It, indeed, was. It quite resembled a green bird’s nest. Shouta glanced at the wall clock - he had time. 

“Bathroom. Drop the bag,” he said, walking off to the hall bathroom and standing in front of the sink. There was a mirror above the sink’s counter, and Shouta hoisted him up onto it so it would be easier. 

“Don’t yank,” Izuku reminded him.

“I’m aware of your terms and conditions,” Shouta replied dryly, spraying the spray bottle at the mess of hair. “Comb or brush?”

“Brush,” Izuku said, grabbing it and handing it to Shouta. Shouta began to quickly brush through sections of hair, making sure to slow down if there were any tangles in his way so as not to hurt the child. 

“You need a haircut,” he informed the child. “Desperately.”

“What’s that word mean?” Izuku asked, leaning his head forward slightly as Shouta could get the hair at the back. 

“Well, usually it would mean despair. Or anguish. You remember what those words mean, yes?” 

“Mhm!”

“In this case, it just means you really need a haircut. Understand?”

“Yep!” Izuku said, popping the ‘p’. Shouta set down the brush, ran a hand through the hair to make sure it didn’t have any more tangles, and helped the child down from the counter. 

“School time. Be quiet when you’re going down the hallway,” Shouta said. Once Izuku finally had everything ready and they were safely out of the apartment, Izuku took off like a rocket toward the car, and they were off.

~-~

When Izuku arrived at school, Denki appeared to be trying to decipher Hitoshi’s handwriting. It wasn’t easy - Izuku knew how to read kanji and even he didn’t know what Hitoshi was trying to say half the time. 

“Hi, Denki! Hi, Toshi!” Izuku said, sitting down in his usual spot.

“Hello,” Denki said. Hitoshi smiled at him.

“Where’s Ochako and Mei?” Izuku asked. “They’re always here before us.”

Denki and Hitoshi shrugged in unison. 

“I dunno,” Denki said. “Probably traffic. My mama got stuck in it this morning.” Izuku hummed.

“My Unkie Zashi has the flu,” Izuku said. “So I get to stay over at my auntie’s house tonight.”

“That’s cool!” Denki said, still obviously trying to decipher Hitoshi’s handwriting. “You talk about your unkies a lot.”

“‘Cause they’re awesome.”

“They sound awesome,” Denki said. “Do you live with them or something? Is that why you gotta stay at your auntie’s house?”

“Mhm,” Izuku said. “My Unkie Sho says he don’t want me to get sick like Unkie Zashi. Unkie Zashi has a fever.”

“Hmm.” Denki groaned, his head falling onto the table in front of him. “Do you know what that says?” he asked Izuku, voice slightly muffled. “I feel mean not answering, but I can’t read it. It keeps going all wonky.”

Izuku grabbed the notebook, dragging it towards himself. 

“It says…. ‘The cat got locked in the dish washer’. Wait, what?” Izuku said, looking up at Hitoshi. Hitoshi’s face was red. “Boltan got stuck in a dishwasher?!”

Hitoshi shrugged. Izuku assumed that meant yes. 

Hitoshi dragged the book back towards himself.

I was wassing my papas scrubs he tired

“You were washing his scrubs in the dishwasher?”  

Cloths in wassing machne

“... oh. Well is the cat okay?”

Hitoshi nodded. 

“Good,” Izuku said. “My cat’s okay, too. She loves cuddling with Takara, and the other day she got into a barking contest with the neighbors dog - yeah, barking. Aiko can bark. I think it might be one of those animal Quirks - like Principal Nezu, at U.A. Nezu is real smart. Aiko can bark.” 

“ Cool! ” Denki said excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to see an animal with a Quirk - there were lots of special bred animals like that in America, but we could never afford one, and I don’t think mama and daddy wanted one that much, but they’re supposed to be really cool, and one of my classmates had a parrot who could talk. ”

Izuku blinked.

“Parrots….. Parrots can talk, Denki,” Izuku said. “They copy what humans say. That’s not a Quirk.”

“Oh,” Denki said, visibly deflating. 

“Still cool, though!” Izuku reassured him.

“I guess.”

“What are you reading?” Izuku asked, trying to lift the boy’s mood. Denki’s face brightened. 

“Oh, I’m reading this book called The Catcher in the Rye, it’s about this paranoid boy, right? And something scary happened to him, and he keeps trying to push people away but also trying to get close to them and it’s really confusing but I love it so much, even though my mama said I was too young for it, I kinda stole it from the attic, but that’s okay I think because my grandmother always said that any type of book is good for a kid my age so long as it isn’t naughty, whatever that means, and-” Denki took a deep breath. “I really like it! It’s kinda confusing to follow though, ‘cause Holden’s a little funny and there’s a lot of stuff in there I don’t understand ‘cause I’m a little slow with reading stuff, but it’s still so good and- and-” Another deep breath. “I can’t wait to finish it!”

“Um…. okay,” Izuku said. “Well, it sounds really good! Maybe I’ll read it someday! …. If I learn English. Or if there’s a copy in Japanese.” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly.

“I can try and teach you!” Denki said. “I can try and teach all of you! That way, when we’re heroes and we need to talk to help someone who only speaks English, we can! A-and if we gotta talk ‘bout something secret, we can do that too!” Denki stopped for a second, looking at Hitoshi apologetically. “And I’ll teach you how to write in English, too. But I’m not that good at spelling.”

“That’s a great idea!” Izuku said. Hitoshi looked somewhat reluctant. “We should wait until ‘Chako and Mei get here first, though, so they can learn too! They’re gonna be heroes with us too!”

“Okay!” Denki said, agreeing easily. “I’m okay with waiting.”

Izuku smiled, turning to grab Hitoshi’s attention so he wouldn’t feel too left out of the conversation, when he heard another student’s conversation.

“ - like they’re ever gonna be heroes. My dad says Quirkless losers can’t be anything. ”

“ That’s not very nice... ” another voice said, sounding hesitant.

“ Whatever, ” the mean voice said. “ He’s Quirkless. Who cares? It’s not like we’re hurting anyone. ”

“ I… guess... ”

Izuku had to rub his eyes to stop himself from crying, because he cared what they were saying about him, and it did hurt him. It made his chest ache and his eyes sting and his brain hurt, and he hated that he cared but he did.

Why does everyone have to be so mean?

Hitoshi reached over the table and tapped his shoulder, looking concerned. Denki was staring at a wall, lost in thought, like he was daydreaming, and he obviously hadn’t noticed what the other kids were saying. But Hitoshi had, because Hitoshi noticed everything. 

“I’m okay,” Izuku said. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.” 

Hitoshi nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced, and settled back against his chair. 

Mei came barreling in, then, dreadlocks waving in the air around her head as she leapt across the table into her seat. Hitoshi and Izuku didn’t even flinch, long since used to her shenanigans, though Denki, fairly new and still lost in thought, jumped back so violently he hit the floor with a thump. 

“Ack!” he shouted, holding his hand. It looked red and raw with carpet burn. 

“Sorry, Denki!” Mei said, still bouncing in her seat. 

“She does that a lot,” Izuku informed him.

“ Yeah, ” Denki said, picking himself up off the floor and climbing back into his seat. “I saw.”

Ochako wandered in the room, then, looking tired and a bit frazzled. Her hair was a mess and she looked a little pale.

“You okay, ‘Chako?” Izuku asked as she sat down.

“‘M okay,” Ochako said. “I was late ‘cause I had to take the train. The people on it are scary.” Hitoshi nodded in agreement. 

“Don’t your mommy usually take you?” Izuku asked. 

“Yeah, why didn’t your mama drive you?” Denki put in.

“My daddy said the ‘damned bank people’ took the car away so I have to go on the train for a couple weeks until Mommy and Daddy find it. I don’t like it. The people are scary and it's noisy and smelly.” 

“Yeah!” Mei agreed. “I had to go on the train once because my mom’s car was broken and it was bad. They need some air freshener.”

“My Unkie Sho says you’re not supposed to say that word,” Izuku said.

“What word?” Ochako asked.

“‘Damned’. You’re not supposed to say it.”

“ You just said it,” Mei said slyly. 

“Because Ochako asked! But you’re never s’posed to say it. It’s a grown up word. Only grown up people can say it. That’s the rules.” 

“But why?” Denki asked. “My parents say grown up words all the time, and they don’t get mad when my big brother says mean words!”

“He’s older though,” Izuku said. “It’s a mean word, too, and it can be used to be rude to people. That’s why you’re not supposed to say it. And my Unkie Zashi says I’m so cute and a-dor-uh-ble that if I start swearing it might give someone whiplash.”  

“What’s whiplash?” Denki asked, and Izuku shrugged hopelessly.

“They say really weird words, I can never understand them!”

~-~

“I don’t hear coughing,” Shouta said, coming into the bedroom with a tray of soup, the last package of crackers and a ginger ale. “Nor do I hear complaining. I told you to do normal sick people things.”

Hizashi shrugged.

“I don’t have anything to complain about,” he said, and his voice sounded scratchy. “You’re good at taking care of me when I’m sick, what do I have to bitch about?”

“I disagree,” Shouta stated. “I am not good at doing this. I tried to make chicken broth since you said your stomach was queasy. I burned it and ruined a pot. You get deli chicken noodle soup. Enjoy.” On the tray was a styrofoam bowl of soup, the label of the nearest deli printed on the side. 

“How did you burn chicken broth?” Hizashi asked, taking the spoon and stirring up the soup. “You heat it up on a stove and serve it up in a bowl. What’s burnable about that?”

“I burned cereal once,” Shouta informed him. “Don’t question my cooking skills.”

“Sho, babe, sweetheart, light of my life,” Hizashi said dramatically. “No offence, but there aren’t any skills to question.”

“Shush,” Shouta said. “I had to deal with the deli over the phone to get this soup. And I burned my hand on the pot. Be grateful.”

“You just told me to complain,” Hizashi pointed out.

“... point taken.” Shouta frowned. “Eat your soup.”

“Got it, got it,” Hizashi said, taking another bite. Shouta pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. 

“Better,” he said. “Do you want more fever pills?”

“No, I’m fine for now, thanks,” Hizashi said, emptying out the bowl. “So what did you pack Izuku for lunch today? I usually make his lunch before I go to work, but...”

“Just…. Food.” 

“Uh huh,” Hizashi said. “What kind of food?”

“... good food.”

“ Sho. ”

“Leftover udon,” Shouta admitted. “And about eight packages of crackers.”

“Oh my God, I’m never getting sick again.”

“I’m not sure it’s optional.”

“Oh no, I’ll make sure it is,” Hizashi said. “Those germs will come near me, and I’ll yell ‘Not today!’ and blast them with a flamethrower,” Hizashi informed him.  

“You watch too many movies.”

“Probably.”

“ Definitely. ” Hizashi suddenly went very pale and looked exceedingly uncomfortable.

“I think I need to puke.”

“Oh my God- ” 

Hizashi ended the day with a low grade fever and a large bruise on his shoulder from where a bucket was thrown at him. 

Shouta regretted nothing. 

~-~

“Hi,” Izuku greeted as he climbed into Auntie Nem’s car. Auntie Nem grunted in response, drinking deeply from a paper cup of coffee. “Are you okay?”

“Nope,” Auntie Nem said. “Absolutely not. Your uncle woke me up at six a.m. and I was unable to go back to sleep afterwards. I am exhausted, and we are going to McDonald’s. I need an iced coffee.”

“Can I have an iced coffee?” Izuku asked hopefully. 

“Hmm… well, it would make Shouta’s life more difficult, but… yeah, no, I’m the one that has to deal with you tonight. Remind me tomorrow, I’ll give you a sip of my coffee when I’m driving you back.”

“‘Kay! Can I get a happy meal?”

“Well, I’m not just gonna stop at a McDonald’s to get a coffee and nothing else,” Auntie Nem scoffed. “Come on, tiger, you know me better than that.” Izuku grinned, bouncing in place in his seat, smiling as he looked out the window. 

“Burger and fries?”

“Sure, kid.”

“Yay!”

They drove through the place, Auntie Nem got in an argument with the worker, and Izuku left with a burger and fries happy meal, a Sprite, and a dinosaur toy. 

“What’s his name?” Auntie Nem asked as she climbed out of the car. Izuku hummed, in thought. 

“Tako!” Izuku decided. Auntie Nem shrugged. 

“Good choice as any, I guess.”

Auntie Nem’s apartment was nice. It had lots of nice carpets and throw rugs and big white couches, as well as a large flat screen TV fixed to the wall. Her kitchen was huge, and Izuku made a beeline for it, climbing up onto the counters and digging through the pantry until he came up with a package of oreos, which he took back to the living room, where Auntie Nem was laying on the couch. Izuku sat crossed legged next to her feet. 

“Oreo?” Izuku asked, and Auntie Nem grinned, holding out her hand for one. Izuku handed her one before digging into the package of cookies himself, Auntie Nem turning on a movie once she was gone eating her own cookie.

Right at nine o'clock, Auntie Nem came him some of his sleeping medicine, and Izuku fell asleep right there on the couch, covered in oreo crumbs and watching a movie about a talking dog. When he woke up, there was a pillow under his head and a soft blanket wrapped around him.

Izuku decided then that he really liked Auntie Nem’s house.

~-~

Auntie Nem drove him back to his unkies apartment after school the next day. Unkie Zashi was on the couch, scrolling through the TV and looking tired and pale, but very much okay. Unkie Sho was trying to make mint tea in the microwave without somehow burning it, and it showed in the way he fumbled with the buttons. 

Unkie Zashi was watching a movie with a robot in it. 

“Unkie!” Izuku squealed, darting forward and tackling Unkie Zashi back against the couch.

“Hey, listener - oof. ”

Izuku moved so he was snuggled up close to his uncle’s side, one leg tossed across his lap, and looked up at him.

“I missed you,” Izuku said. “Are you still sick?”

“I’m doing much better now,” Unkie Zashi said, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Your Unkie Sho took care of me, and we got this weird tea thing from the store that’s supposed to help. And now I feel fine. Okay?”

“Mkay,” Izuku said, snuggling back into his side. Auntie Nem sat on the couch next to them, looking incredibly tired, and Unkie Sho walked into the room, holding the tray of tea. 

Izuku gasped. 

“I know the word!” he shouted excitedly. “ I figured it out! Unkie Sho, I figured out the word! ”

“The what?”

“ Aneurysm! ”

“ What?! ”

Chapter Text

Shouta had worked at his hero agency for three years. He had poured in long hours and had taken every case they threw at him, big or small, a simple patrol or an hours long stake out. He’d gotten his knee crushed while working for this agency, had nearly lost his life more times than he’d like to mention, had gotten overwhelmed and shaky and sick so many times it was difficult to track, but he still came back and he still put in the work because this is what he had been building toward his entire life. 

He wasn’t going to leave after a little hurt. He hadn’t left when that villain had beaten his leg in with a pole, hadn’t left after the long, unfair hours and the lackluster pay. That wasn’t who Shouta was . He didn’t leave once the going got tough. If he was that type of person, he never would have gotten into U.A.’s hero program, probably would have never gotten into U.A. at all. 

Probably would have been dead by now. 

Which is why he held his tongue when his first undercover mission fell less than two days before  his birthday. Two days before what was, technically, his and Hizashi's anniversary. Held his tongue when he knew that the mission was too dangerous, knew he probably wasn’t ready, especially with his skill sets. He didn’t say anything, not even when his mind flashed back to Izuku, and how he had looked, asleep in that emergency room after Shouta had injured his leg. 

He could do this. Shouta Aizawa didn’t give up. This was his dream. This was all he had wanted to do his entire life. He’d been working towards this since he was old enough to know that heroes were real people, not fake characters on the television. This was what had kept him going through the motions when he was a child, when his scalp was burning and bleeding and he was hungry and sick all the time and he was small, so small, and lonely. 

So Shouta held his tongue. 

There was a very wide spread, very successful drug ring. Drug rings were something Shouta got assigned to a lot - he was stealthy enough, and they were fairly easy enough for someone of his rank in the agency. Drug rings he could handle. Going undercover in a drug ring was a completely different story. 

He was going undercover with three other heroes - Hizashi, Vlad King and Tensei Iida, who had come over to help from his own company. Said he had been keeping an eye on this ring for a while, but he’d never gotten sufficient enough evidence to place an arrest. 

Shouta wasn’t sure what the drug was, exactly, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know if it brought the attention of Ingenium. Shouta hadn’t seen Tensei in a while, years, probably. He wasn’t sure he knew the man all that well. Tensei had always been civil to him at U.A. when the rest of the class seemed to despise him, barring Hizashi and Nemuri, but they had never quite bridged the gap between acquaintances and friends. Shouta had, truthfully, never really…. Learned how to do that. All of his current friends - Joke, Nemuri, even his boyfriend, - seemed to have just latched on and not let go when he hadn’t been paying attention. 

But at least Shouta knew Tensei. He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle going undercover with a stranger for however long this mission would take. 

When Shouta and Hizashi had woken up the morning before the mission - they were to spend the next few hours preparing weapons and practicing their backstories before the mission - he felt jittery and a bit sick with nerves. So many things were running through his head at once. What if the mission went on for longer than expected? What if he died? What would happen to Izuku? What if the mission was a failure? What if they took his hero license away? What if he was fired from the agency?

After a bit of pestering from Izuku, Shouta had given him the okay to come to the movies with him, Hizashi and Nemuri for Shouta’s birthday. What if they didn’t get to do that? What if this was his last birthday? What if, what if, what if…

“I can hear you thinking,” Hizashi grumbled, folding his shirt and pants together into a roll and sticking a pair of socks over the ends. He always packed like that, for as long as Shouta had known him. He said it was the most space-efficient way to do it. “Relax. It’s just a mission, like anything else. We’ll probably be back before the week is over.”

“I’m worried,” Shouta admitted.

“I noticed.”

“Anything could go wrong,” Shouta continued. “This is my first major mission since...” He pointed at his own leg dejectedly. “And my first undercover mission ever. I do not want to mess this up. I cannot lose my job, Hizashi.”

“Sweetheart, you’re not gonna lose your job,” Hizashi said, rolling up another pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “And no one is forcing you to go on this mission. There’s no shame in wanting to back out. The agency will understand if you tell them you’re not ready to go on another major mission-”

“I am ready,” Shouta said. “I am ready to go on another major mission. That is not the problem. I don’t….”

“Talk it out.”

“I’m lucky,” Shouta stated. “I’ve been doing this for three years, patrols and small missions and things like that, and I’ve never seen someone die. And I’ve never had to kill anyone. And I don’t want that to change. Izuku looks at me like I’m a hero.”

“You kind of are. ”

“Yes, but how am I supposed to look back at him if I end up killing someone for this job? Or if I’m not able to save anyone? I could die,” Shouta noted, “and Izuku would be left all alone. He’d be sent into the system. You don’t have guardianship over him, you’d probably never see him again, and-”

“ Shouta, ” Hizashi said, cutting through his nervous ramblings. Shouta gripped his elbows. “It’ll be fine. Alright? Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see. Don’t stress yourself out over this, you have to be on your A-game. Everything is going to be fine. It’s just a drug ring.”

“It’s a big drug ring,” Shouta muttered. “A big drug ring with lots of people-”

“Everything will be fine. ”

And oh, how wrong he was. 

~-~

“You can’t go!” Izuku wailed, holding on tight to Hizashi’s leg. “Please don’t go! I’ll be good, I’ll be the bestest ever an’ I’ll make lots of pretty pictures for you at school, just please don’t go! ” 

“Baby, you’re going to be fine, ” Hizashi said, trying to gently pry the five year old off his leg. “You’re gonna have so much fun with your auntie, and we’ll be back really soon! You’re gonna have a great time without your ol’ uncles around telling you what to do.”

“I don’t want you to go!” Izuku said, again. “Please don’t go, Unkie Zashi, please don’t go! My tummy hurts, and I’ll miss you, and we still gotta do Unkie Sho’s birthday and you’ll miss movie night and - and - ”

Shouta set his and Hizashi’s bags down on the ground, crouching in front of where the child was clutching Hizashi’s leg. There were tears falling from the boy’s eyes, cheeks red and ruddy, and he did look a bit ill.

“Child,” Shouta said. “I’m going to explain something to you. And it is important, so listen.” Izuku sniffled. “Our jobs are demanding. We might have to leave a lot for missions like these. And we’ll miss you when we’re gone just as much as you’ll miss us. But these are bad people, Cabbage, and someone has to stop them. They are hurting people, Izuku. Okay? We have to leave to stop the bad people. Do you understand?”

“B-but….” Izuku rubbed at his eyes and sniffled loudly. “What if the bad people hurt you? ”

“That’s just another part of our careers. It will be a part of your job too, if you become a hero. It’s something we have to accept. But we will always come home to you, alright? Always.” Shouta wasn’t sure if he was explaining this correctly. What if it just distressed the child more? What if he wasn’t saying it right, and he hurt the child’s feelings? This was all so complicated...

“Promise?” Izuku prompted, and Shouta nodded.

“I promise, child,” he said. “Now release your uncle’s leg. I think he needs it.” Izuku’s ears went as red as his tear-stained face, and he released Hizashi, smiling up at him apologetically.

“Sorry, Unkie,” Izuku said. Hizashi ruffled his hair. 

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” 

Nemuri, from where she was sitting on the couch and watching the situation with raised eyebrows, cleared her throat pointedly. 

“You’re going to be late if you don’t leave now,” Nemuri said. 

Shouta sighed. 

“We’ll be back soon, Cabbage. Alright?” Izuku nodded.

“My tummy still hurts.”

“It’s probably because you were crying,” Hizashi said. “Drink some water. And if it gets worse, there’s some medicine in the cabinet, your auntie knows where it is.”

Izuku nodded, eyes still tearful. 

“I love you,” Izuku said, wiping at his eyes with new vigor. “Bye-bye.”

“We love you too, Zu,” Hizashi said warmly, grabbing their bags from the floor. 

“Not bye, child,” Shouta stated. “‘See you later’. Yes?” Hizashi and Nemuri looked at him oddly, like they didn’t understand what he was trying to say, but Izuku nodded affirmatively. 

“See you later!”

“Good child,” Shouta said. Izuku hugged his leg, then, but let go without having to be prompted.

“Be safe ,” Izuku said bossily. “Stop the bad people from hurting anyone, but don’t let them hurt you , okay?”

“Okay,” Shouta and Hizashi said in unison. 

“We’ll see you later, Izuku,” Shouta said, and he and Hizashi left the apartment before Izuku could start crying again. 

Hizashi drove because Shouta was too nervous, alternating between tapping the tempo of songs from Hizashi’s radio show on his knees and rubbing his palms up and down his pants. Every second to the agency seemed to go by too fast and overwhelmingly slowly at the same time. It was horrible. 

“Breathe, babe,” Hizashi said from the driver’s side. “It’s gonna be fine. Just relax.”

Shouta felt like Hizashi had said those two phrases at least a hundred times that day. It didn’t stop the slowly spreading feeling of dread. It felt like an infection in his chest. 

“I am relaxed,” Shouta said. “I am completely relaxed. I am completely relaxed and focused and ready to complete this mission because I know that nothing could possibly go wrong. I am fine.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sho.”

The drive to the agency took a good forty minutes because of rush hours traffic, and by the time they got their Shouta felt a bit ill. 

Just a mission. Just a mission. Just a mission. Just a -

Their boss was on one of the top floors of the agency’s main building, and Tensei and King were waiting outside the door of his office, Vlad’s arms crossed over his broad chest. He almost looked too big for the small plastic chair. Tensei grinned at them and waved, ever-easygoing. 

“Eraser. Mic. Great to see you again.”

“We’re off-duty, for now,” Hizashi replied. “Just call us by our names, Tensei.”

“Right, sorry,” Tensei said. “I guess it’s habit, by now, what with my profession.” 

“Understandable. How’ve you been? How’s your brother?” Hizashi asked, and Shouta was grateful that he picked up Shouta’s slack in the conversation-sense. 

“Tenya is…. Tenya,” Tensei said simply. “He’s a bit of a stickler for rules, but he’s a great kid. Wants to be a hero like everyone else. Incredibly smart.” 

“Aiming for U.A.?” 

“Yeah, but he says we’re not allowed to give him a recommendation. Says he wants to earn it himself. Determined little thing. He actually recently went to the optometrist and they gave him these glasses, and they look so odd on his little face!”

“Oh no, did he get the old man glasses?” Hizashi asked, and Tensei nodded, chuckling. 

“He looks like a little librarian. He recently got his Quirk, too - went to bed one night, and when he woke up there were engines on his legs. Not elbows - ” he said, gesturing to his own arms. “Legs. Lucky brat.”

“Still a hard Quirk to master,” Shouta muttered, feeling rude having not contributed much to the conversation. “There’s a lot of factors. Will it activate every time he runs? Will it take a while to control? Will it activate while he’s just walking, unexpectedly? What if it activates at a drastic speed while he’s using it, and he can’t bring it back down? Will he be shot in the air? Will he fly? Will he be injured? Is his Quirk similar to yours, or will the engines die or just fall out if he overuses it too much? Yes, the area is convenient for our line of work while yours is less so, but it doesn't make it any easier to learn to control. ”

Tensei and Hizashi blinked. 

“Well, that’s concerning, now that I think about it,” Tensei stated. Shouta shrugged. “I’ll start training with him immediately after the mission. You’re never too young to start learning , I suppose.” 

“Sho is actually training his own little student,” Hizashi said, leaning forward excitedly. 

“Is that so?” Tensei asked.

“He wants to be a hero,” Shouta said. “And everyone has potential. I’m teaching him, yes.”

“The student’s his nephew,” Hizashi continued. “About a month older than your brother, I think. We took him in about four months ago. We’re in the process of adopting him. Well, we’re about to start the process of adopting him. We still have to wait until that one - ” He pointed at Shouta - “turns twenty one.”

“And we have to wait until we’ve had him for another few months,” Shouta added dryly. “And we have to be married. And we have to get our financial situation back under control.”

“This mission will definitely help with that,” Hizashi noted. 

“What’s his name?” Tensei asked. “Maybe we can get him and Tenya together, they can make friends. Tenya certainly needs more!”

“Izuku Midoriya,” Hizashi said. “He’s a very talented child. Really smart. Very tiny. Green hair and bright green eyes and, like, a million freckles. He loves heroes - probably has a chapter about your Quirk in one of his hero notebooks, now that I think about it. I’ll have to ask him when we get back.”

“Has his Quirk come in yet?” Tensei asked. “Something that’ll help him get into U.A., I hope?”

“Um, no,” Hizashi said. “Izuku is Quirkless.” Tensei blinked.

“I see,” Tensei said. “Well, that certainly won’t get him into U.A. easily. But, if he inherited anything from Shouta, here, he’ll end up in the hero course by the end of his first year anyway.”

“We hope so,” Hizashi said. 

“I… think I might be at fault for his Quirk not being developed. Well, at least in part,” Shouta said. 

“Babe, that’s pretty much impossible. It’s all genetics. He was born like that.”

“Okay, then genes. My father had a very strong telekinesis Quirk, and my mother could cancel out Quirks - non mutant and mutant - if she touched them. I saw her cancel out a man who was born with six arms, once, and it was…. Disturbing. But that’s besides the point - Quirks are largely affected by the Quirk of the parent. My sister had a very weak telekinesis Quirk, more than likely affected by my mother’s own Erasure Quirk. My Quirk came in three years late, and everyone assumed I was Quirkless, though I never really went to the doctor to get tested. But when I was eight, my Quirk came in - Erasure by looking at the target, and a very weak telekinesis Quirk that can pretty much only be activated when my Erasure Quirk is. My Quirk was strengthened by my father’s in the fact that I don’t have to touch someone to cancel out their Quirk, but limited by my mother’s in that I can’t cancel out mutant type Quirks. Because of my sister’s genes and the fact that her own Quirk was weakened significantly from what could have been by my mother, I think she carried on those genes to Izuku, and it just cancelled out his Quirk completely. But, had Izuku been born without those genes, he likely would have gotten a fire type Quirk, maybe with his hair floating slightly like mine when it’s activated, or a fire manipulation Quirk - able to move and control fire from Inko’s telekinesis,” Shouta rambled. Hizashi and Tensei blinked at him slowly, looking completely and utterly lost. “I talk to Izuku’s pediatrician quite a bit,” Shouta defended himself, feeling his ears go red. 

“Uh… huh...” Hizashi said slowly. “Well, that’s… a theory.”

“So you just took a lot after your mother, then,” Tensei said, still looking bewildered. 

“Yes,” Shouta said. “I inherited much of my mother’s appearance as well - black hair, brown eyes -”

“Skinny,” Hizashi muttered.

“That too,” Shouta said. 

“Wait, you had brown eyes?!”

“Um.”

The door to the office opened, then, and they were ushered in. 

Shouta hadn’t actually seen his own boss since he was first hired. The man was quite scrawny, and he had oily, blonde, thinning hair combed down to a red scalp. He was quite short, even now, and he had quite a few more wrinkles on his face than Shouta remembered. 

“Hello, boys,” the boss greeted. “Eraserhead, Present Mic, Vlad King. Good to have you joining us, Ingenium, I know you’re horribly busy these days.” The man appeared apologetic, though Shouta wasn’t sure if it was truly genuine - there was something behind his eyes that made it look fake. Like he was looking at a plastic version of a person rather than a real one. 

“Happy to be here, Mr. Shio,” Tensei said. That’s right. Shio. Shouta was horrible with names. 

“I’m sorry you couldn’t have been fully aware of your mission beforehand,” Shio said. There it was, again - Shio’s body language said he was sorry, but his eyes held no remorse. They were like the eyes of a doll. Shouta noticed that Tensei’s smile seemed a bit fixed, as well, and Hizashi looked a bit uncomfortable. “Privacy issues, and we couldn’t let our intentions be leaked to the public and back to the group itself, that would defeat the entire purpose. You all understand, I trust.”

“Yes, sir,” Vlad said dutifully, and Shouta realized it was the first time he’d heard the man talk since they’d arrived. 

“Good man!” Shio said jovially. 

Why were his eyes so empty?

“The details of the mission, sir?” Tensei prompted.

“Oh, yes, right, of course,” Shio floundered, reaching into his desk and taking out a manilla folder filled with papers. “You’ll each have alternate names and identities to go by, of course, for your personal safety, and your hero names and personas won’t be leaked to the public if we can help it.” The group of four nodded gratefully. 

“Your identities,” Shio said, handing out papers to each of them. “According to the group, you are four members of another widespread, albeit underground, group coming for a transaction of goods and money. Your mission is to collect as much information as you possibly can in the limited time you have and to… so to speak… cut the group off at its head.”

“You mean...” Hizashi said quietly. 

“If, in that time, you manage to take out the head of the group…. He would not be missed, and this whole thing could be finished a lot faster.”

“You…. want us to kill a man.”

Shio ignored Hizashi.

“Ingenium,” he said, and Tensei straightened. “I understand you care very deeply about this case.” Tensei nodded.

“I do.”

“And your motivation for this? Just so everyone in the room knows what they’re getting into.”

“They… have a network of children - homeless children, abandoned children, Quirkless kids, those without money or family…. They are using them to distribute substances around the city, and punishing those who do not meet their quota.”

“And how do you know this? How did you come across this case in the first place?” Shio asked, as Shouta felt his blood run a bit cold. Quirkless kids. Kids without families. That was Izuku down to a T. Would they have taken Izuku, had they come across him? 

“I came across a child six months ago,” Tensei said, and his voice sounded mechanical and choked. “He was beaten almost to death, bleeding in more places than I could count and terrified. I tried to get help for him from an ambulance, since I was unable to run him to it myself because of the extent of his injuries, and he told me…. What he could.” Tensei swallowed. “The ambulance didn’t make it in time. I promised him that I would take down their organization, and that is what I am doing.”

“And I am confident that you will succeed in this,” Shio said. “Which brings us into our next point - who would be most successful for the gathering of information, and who will be most useful in taking out the leader himself.

“You, Present Mic, obviously have the advantage of charisma, and they’d be remiss to assume you’re harmless-”

“But how are we supposed to gather this information? From a computer? Files? Keep our ears to the ground and hope to hear something before we have to take out the leader?” Tensei asked. 

“I’m getting there, Ingenium,” Shio said, plastic eyes narrowed. “As I was saying, Mic is an easily trustable individual. Vlad is intimidating in nature and stature, but he has the air of someone you would respect. That could come with its own advantages as well. Ingenium’s face is not as well-known as his hero uniform, so he should be fine but, no offense intended, he is not the best in the areas of stealth. Really, the same thing goes for Mic. And with the instinct to trust Vlad comes the need to fear him.” 

“I’m not sure I like where this is going,” Hizashi said. 

“Eraser,” Shio said, turning to Shouta. “You have physical limitations because of your appearance and your injury, but you are naturally unsuspecting looking because of your age and frame, and I’m sure you can act decently. Add to that, the fact that you are, as I’ve begun to notice, naturally observant.” Shouta frowned. “You have not stopped looking at me with distrust for this entire conversation. I trust you have a good guess as to why?” All eyes in the room turned to Shouta. Shouta shifted slightly. 

“I am not sure I would be able to share that without being fired.”

“No, please,” Shio said, and his smile now looked dangerous. “I give you my permission.”

Shouta sighed.

“You’ve shown emotion such as any other human being would,” Shouta stated, and his voice felt monotone. “You’ve smiled, and joked, and shown remorse and regret. Your body language shows these emotions, but...” Shouta swallowed. “Your eyes are dead. The only time you’ve shown true emotion is when you were…. angered. When Tensei interrupts you, you look displeased.”

“And your conclusions?”

“You adopted those emotions to fit in the room. That’s fairly obvious,” Shouta continued. Every movement felt robotic. “But you did not feel them yourself. I think you’re a sociopath.” Shio’s grin had too many teeth.

“You’ve come to this conclusion, and yet you aren’t scared,” Shio noted. 

Shouta shrugged.

“I also know you’re a hero,” Shouta said. “I am not scared that you will hurt any one of us. Your expressions are… off-putting. But you aren’t frightening. Having a problem doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“I’m not a sociopath. I’m just a decent person,” Shouta said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, but you have trouble conveying emotion too, don’t you? See, I’m observant too. It’s why I’m good at my job.”

“I’m here to complete a mission,” Shouta said. “Not to talk about the oddness of certain parts of humanity. Get to the point, please, sir.”

“Fine,” Shio said. “Hizashi, you will be finding out as much as you can from members of the gang. Kan, you will be there in case things go sideways and they need protection. Tensei, you will be there as an escape route.”

“And Shouta?” Hizashi asked faintly. 

“Shouta,” Shio said. “You, my boy, have the most important job of all.” Shouta felt that familiar dread begin to pool in his stomach. “You will steal files from the leader’s personal offices. And you, my friend, will be the hand holding the weapon that takes the leader down.”

~-~

Shouta felt numb as he went through the motions. Someone shaved his face. They tried to cut his hair, but he didn’t let them near him with the clippers. They tied his hair up into a half knot on the top of his head, a layer of hair still falling down to his shoulders. They put him in a navy blue v-neck, long sleeved shirt - and Shouta thought it might have been the first time he’d worn something besides red and black in years - and a pair of black jeans. The shirt was itchy, and they wouldn’t let him rip off the tag. They clipped his nails short and scrubbed his face and hid the red of his irises with brown coloured contacts. 

He looked… different. And he didn’t like it. With his hair back and his face shaved, it only made it more obvious how young he was, with the slightly roundness to his eyes and the softness to his jaw. His face was wider looking than it usually was, and he looked…. Overwhelmingly young. He was tall, and he was lanky and scarred and experienced and intelligent, but in that moment, he looked a bit like a teenager. 

He hadn’t liked looking like a teenager when he was one. 

This mission was shaping up horribly. 

And to top it all off, he would have to end a man’s life by the time the mission was over.

That had been one of things he was worried about. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Hizashi reminded him. Shouta was sitting in front of a large mirror, and Hizashi’s hand was resting on his shoulder. Gentle pressure. Grounding. Shouta took a deep breath. “I know you haven’t…. And Ingenium, me and Vlad are perfectly capable of taking the leader out ourselves, hell, you’re not obligated to go on the mission if you don’t want to!”

“This will give me a lot of experience,” Shouta stated. “It will get me a lot of money. I’ll become a more well-known hero in the agency. And I’ll be able to stop children from being hurt. I am obligated to.”

“Shouta-”

“I’m not naive, Hizashi,” Shouta said. “I knew I’d end up seeing someone die in this business sooner or later. I knew I’d end up hurting someone or killing someone with this job. I am fully aware I am under no obligation to do this whatsoever. I’m doing it anyway.”

“Just...” Hizashi sighed. “You might - we might not get a chance to back out once we’re undercover. You understand that, right?”

“Are you going to back out?” Shouta asked, turning back to look at Hizashi. The other man’s silence was answer enough in itself. “Then I’m not going to, either. End of discussion.”

“Alright,” Hizashi said. “Once you’re done here, we have to meet with Shio again.” Hizashi frowned. “How’d you know he was a sociopath?”

Shouta shrugged.

“Kids used to call me one in school. I didn’t know what it was, so I researched it.” Shouta frowned. “What’s his Quirk?”

“I think it’s called Numbing,” Hizashi said. “He can numb injuries or entire people so they can’t move. He’s like a living shot of lidocaine. From what I’ve read about him from back when he was an underground hero, he can’t feel pain. At all. Nothing. He was a very effective hero. I…. suppose the numbing of his own pain also came with...” 

The numbing of emotions.

“A side effect of his Quirk,” Shouta noted. “That…. Makes sense.”

“It does,” Hizashi said. “It seems like a horrible way to live your life, though.”

“It is,” a voice from behind them said. Shio, standing in the doorway. “You were taking a while. Thought I might see what the hold up was.” He turned to Hizashi. “You’re dismissed. I need to have a discussion with Eraser.” Hizashi froze.

“I’m not sure if that’s-”

“It won’t take long,” Shio cut in, slicing through Hizashi’s statement as easy as a knife through butter. “You’re dismissed.”

Hizashi nodded, leaving the room quickly. 

Shio leaned against the wall across from where Shouta was sitting.

“It is,” Shio said. “A horrible way to live, I mean.”

“I imagine so.”

“Oh, dear, boy, it’s worse than any mind can begin to comprehend, ” Shio said. “My Quirk made my life end at five years old. I am worse than a sociopath, Eraser, because I cannot feel anything . I can’t love. I can’t feel remorse. I feel no pain, no warmth, no cold. My nerve endings are dead. My mind is a haze, covered in a fog, and the only thing that pierces it is anger. Hatred. Annoyance. I like to think that’s what drove me to become a hero. Hatred toward the people who were cruel.

“I am a husk of a human being, Eraserhead. And I will feel no sadness should you die. I will feel no joy should this mission succeed. But if you fail, ” Shio continued. “I will be angry. Because I can feel hatred, and I hate failure. You got into this agency because you were one of the best in your class, and I truly believe that you could do justice toward this mission and all of those children. But if you need to back out, I will respect your decision and choose another stealth hero to take your place. But this is your last chance.”

~-~

Auntie Nem was great at watching him. She tried to play games with him, watched TV with him, smiled at him and talked to them. But Izuku didn’t want to talk, he wanted his unkies to come back, and he wanted his tummy to stop aching and he wanted to see if they were okay and if they were going to come back to him. 

But Auntie Nem said that they weren’t allowed to talk to anyone until they were home safe. Said that Izuku couldn’t be near them, because it might be dangerous. Said that Izuku would just have to wait. 

Izuku’s tummy wouldn’t stop hurting. He went to bed early, after dinner the first night. He’d barely been able to pick at his food without his stomach pulling painfully, and he ended up curling up into a compact little ball under all his blankets once he reached his room. When Izuku fell asleep, he felt unbearably warm.

~-~

Shouta was given a small knife, a drug to ease anyone in his path into sleep, a small first aid kit, and a new pair of goggles - which he declined. All of this was hidden in a small space compartment in his suitcase. No utility belt. Couldn’t risk looking dangerous. 

Shouta’s surname was Amano, and that was the only name he was to give the group. Hizashi’s surname was Smith, as he was posing as an American - probably because he knew English and because of… other obvious reasons. Hizashi was a bit put off by having to pose as an American, but he understood that it was so he could keep his real identity as far away from this mission as possible. 

Tensei was Abo, and Vlad was Iro. Because of their broader frames, they were posing as protective detail - which is, basically, the role they were taking in this mission. 

The mission was supposed to take place an hour out of the city, and it made Shouta feel uncomfortable knowing that people like that had been so close. 

They were dropped off several miles away from the group’s main building, left to walk so that they didn’t see their car. The building itself was unsuspecting in nature - a fancy, private institution with slick metal beams and regularly cleaned glass. Shouta knew that this wasn’t where the actual substances were produced  - merely where the business actual business took place. And where many of the members lived. Including the leader. 

Not even Ingenium knew where the drugs were made, and he had been keeping an eye on the group for half a year. Nothing concrete to get an arrest. Until now. The leader was considered a villain, now. A very dangerous villain with good lawyers and enough money in his pocket to get out of any problem he found himself in.

And Shouta was expected to kill him.

Shouta walked forward, the small group stepping into the building. Tensei’s hair was hidden by a hat, eyes changed by coloured contacts. Vlad was donned in a t-shirt and jeans. Hizashi had on a black button up suit with a red tie and polished shoes, blonde hair cascading down his shoulders. 

They certainly didn’t look like their hero personas. Shouta just hoped it was enough. 

It had to be enough. 

There was a smart looking woman with a kind smile behind the desk. Her smile was kind, but her eyes were calculating. Intelligence hidden behind a pretty face. 

“Can I help you?” the woman asked. Hizashi stepped forward, arms crossed, looking casual, like this was an every-day thing. Shouta wished he could share the sentiment. 

“A meeting over the transaction of goods,” Hizashi said. “Smith, Amano, Iro and Abo.”

The woman raised an eyebrow.

“Understood,” she said. She glanced at Shouta. “Your friend is awfully young to be involved in a meeting .”

“He’s with me,” Hizashi said. “Your boss gave him the free pass to watch over the meeting. There shouldn’t be a problem.” Hizashi tilted his head to the side, and, though he didn’t show it, Shouta could tell he regretted being so rude to the young woman. “Unless you want to make it a problem?”

“Of course not, sir,” the woman said, and her eyes took on that calculating gaze again, and Shouta knew that the woman was dangerous. 

The front desk attending seemed deadly. He didn’t want to see anyone inside the building. 

They’d been told to expect dangers that they hadn’t even thought of. That this was an elaborate, old, thought out business, and that it had taken months to plan out and infiltrate. 

Shouta wondered if there was a weapon under the woman’s desk, or if her Quirk alone would be enough to kill all of them without a fuss. 

They were led to the elevator by a stocky gentleman in a black shirt and black jeans that practically screamed security guard. The woman stayed behind the desk, perfect nails filed down to a sharp point, painted a blood red, fingers clasped. Waiting for the next person. 

Would he see that woman again, when they left here? Would they leave this building now that they were in it?

The answer to that question was more unclear than he liked. 

The elevator was sleek metal and marble flooring that seemed too heavy for something that was supposed to support five people. The man in black didn’t push a button, didn’t make any sudden movements, didn’t do anything to indicate that the large metal contraption should start moving to this or that floor. They were in there for a moment, just long enough for the doors to close behind Vlad, and then the elevator was going down. They were on the ground floor and the elevator was going down. 

That took out several means of escape, though it wasn’t entirely surprising. Of course the super secret organization had an underground portion. Why wouldn’t it? 

There weren’t any windows to escape in, now. No fire escapes. And the elevator was, rather quickly, going down level after level, which meant stairs wouldn’t be much of an option either. 

When they’d been in the elevator for over a minute, Shouta started to feel claustrophobic. He wanted to hold Hizashi’s hand, but no - they were undercover. There could be no hand holding. Amano was not particularly close to Smith, so Shouta couldn’t be close to Hizashi.

Look young. Unsuspecting. Curious. Maybe a bit of an idiot - Shio’s voice flashed through his mind. In my experience, people are more likely to let something slip if they think you aren’t intelligent enough to understand what they’re saying. 

Shouta glanced around the elevator, mouth feeling a bit dry, and rocked back and forth on his heels. Curious and ignorant. He could do that. 

His eyes glanced over to Hizashi, and the other man’s face was an impassive mask, nothing penetrating through, though his eyes - just barely visible at this angle through his glasses - looked a bit amused. 

The elevator dinged, and Shouta felt all of the air rush out of his lungs as he and the rest of their group exited the contraption. There were long silver hallways splitting in two directions, and even more silver hallways split up from those. It was almost like it was designed to be confusing. It probably was. 

Each person that walked up and down the hall held a small, thin, simple tablet. On the tablets appeared to be several dozen buttons, and their eyes never left the small screens at the top, green arrows pointing them along. Did this leader’s own people need a GPS to navigate his building?

He needed to get one of those tablets if he was going to complete this mission. 

If he was right, their so-called ‘transaction of goods and money’ would take less than forty-eight hours. The mission would, hopefully, end right on his birthday. Hopefully. 

Shouta wasn’t sure he’d be able to celebrate his birthday if he was successful in what he was assigned to do. How could he celebrate, go to the movies and out to dinner and laugh with his friends and tell stories to Izuku if he knew that, less than a week prior, he had ended a man’s life? Even if said man was the scum of the earth. 

The security guard led them down the long, winding silver hallway, taking several twists and turns as he did, to a single room acquitted with four small twin beds. The room was dusty, and the beds were plain, rough sheets fitted onto stiff mattresses. 

“This will be your room for the duration of your stay,” the security guard said. “When we’re ready for you, you’ll be summoned.”

Hizashi nodded, and the security guard left the room, closing the door behind him. When Tensei checked the door, it was locked. 

Rich, powerful, and paranoid. That wasn’t a good combination. 

Hizashi opened his mouth to say something, and Tensei and Vlad shushed him at the same time. Shouta dragged a hand across his lips and flicked his fingers in a ‘lock it and throw away the key’ gesture. Tensei and Vlad started checking the walls for cameras while Hizashi checked the mattresses and blankets for bugs. Nothing so far. Shouta glanced over the room, eyes coming to rest on the single, circular light on the ceiling, covered by a plastic dome. 

He snapped his fingers and three pairs of eyes came to look at him. Shouta pointed up at the light and Vlad nodded, walking forward to unscrew the dome from the light fixture. And right there, dangling from the light bulb by a wire, a small circle of copper. A bug. 

‘Watch what you say,’ Hizashi mouthed to the others, and the other three men nodded. They couldn’t destroy the bug, not without anyone finding out. That just took away another advantage - safe communication. 

No cameras though. 

‘Paper?’ Tensei mouthed. Shouta was getting increasingly grateful that he could read lips. Hizashi shook his head. Vlad frowned, before pointing at the fine layer of dust on the floor. They gathered in a loose circle on the floor, a large stretch of dusty space between them. It made Shouta wonder when the last time someone stayed in this room. 

TABLET, Shouta wrote on the floor. Hizashi nodded.

‘ Hallways change’ , Hizashi mouthed.

‘ Guard? ’ Vlad.

‘ Door’s locked, ’ Tensei reminded them. Right.

‘ Vlad could break that door down easily if he wanted to, ’ Hizashi mouthed.

‘ If I had to, ’ Vlad mouthed. ‘ But that would blow our cover. Only if we have to. Eraser still has to do his part. ’

Steal files. Kill a man.

WHEN SUMMONED, STEAL TABLET

MAP OUT AREA

TONIGHT STEAL FILES

FIND OUT WHO THE LEADER IS AND WHERE

‘ That’s the agenda, ’ Shouta mouthed. ‘ That’s what I’ll do. ’

‘ And if things go south? ’ 

‘ Hope that doesn’t happen, ’ Tensei mouthed. 

~-~

Izuku’s head felt uncomfortably hot, and the aching in his stomach wasn’t letting up. He’d slept through the night, and Unkie Sho and Unkie Zashi still weren’t home. 

“Come on, Izuku. Time to get up for school,” Auntie Nem said through a yawn. Izuku didn’t move. He thought if he moved he would start crying. It all hurt so much. “Izuku? Come on, tiger. It’s time for school. You get to see your friends.” She was trying. He didn’t want to bother her or hurt her feelings. He sat up, and his stomach cramped tightly, and he had to stop himself from crying out. “Izuku? What’s wrong?”

“Tummy ache,” Izuku said. 

“Oh. Do you think you can go to school, or do you need to stay home?”

“School,” Izuku said. Auntie Nem was tired. She wanted to go back to bed. She wouldn’t be able to do that if he stayed home sick. 

Auntie Nem frowned. 

“If you say so, Zu.”

He was at the school in his classroom an hour and a half later. Auntie Nem had bought him a sausage biscuit from McDonalds, but he could only pick at it. 

“Hey, Zuku,” Ochako said, coming to sit beside him. Izuku hummed. He had his head resting on his crossed arms, and he was trying not to move too much. It hurt too much for normal movement. He just wanted to hold still and wait for it to pass. Denki sat down next, and then a sniffling Hitoshi. Then Mei came barreling over the table in her regular fashion, sitting in the chair across from him.

“What’s wrong, Zuku?” Denki asked. Izuku shrugged. He didn’t know. All he knew was that his head hurt, and his heart hurt and his tummy hurt and he wanted to cry. 

“H-h-hurts,” Izuku stuttered. 

“What hurts?” Mei asked. “Are you sick?”

“ I don’t know! ” Izuku wailed into his arms. Ochako reached over, pressing a hand to where a bit of his forehead was visible, and Izuku leaned into the cold touch. 

“Head’s hot,” Ochako noted. “Maybe you should go to the nurse.”

Izuku cried into his arms, hot tears staining the sleeves of his uniform. 

“Uh oh,” Mei said. Had Izuku looked up, he would’ve seen a panicky Hitoshi, an utterly lost Denki, a confused Mei and a concerned Ochako. Five year old children really weren’t equipped to deal with this type of situation. 

“I’ll get a teacher!” Ochako said determinedly, running off to do just that. Izuku cried into his arms harder as Ochako left and the world dissolved into bright light and confusion. 

~-~

Shouta was sitting beside Hizashi on one of the twin beds. Tensei and Vlad were laying down on the two twins beds across the room, Vlad staring up at the ceiling sullenly and Tensei with an arm resting across his face, presumably catching up on some sleep. And Shouta was sitting next to Hizashi, and their shoulders were touching but he couldn’t get too close, couldn’t hold his hand because they couldn’t risk the chance of someone watching. 

Shouta sighed, his head falling back against the wall behind the bed. Hands on elbows. Tap tap tap.

He hadn’t realized how much he depended on the little touches from Hizashi when he was anxious until now. A hug, a hand on his shoulder, intertwined fingers or a kiss on the forehead. 

He felt a small tug on the sleeve of his shirt, his arm pulled down from where it was tapping at his elbow, and then Hizashi’s pinkie finger was entwined with his, hidden in the gap between their legs. Shouta’s shoulders slumped and he relaxed against the back wall. 

There was still a thrumming in his chest, anxiety making the world go slightly fuzzy and his head hurt, but he wasn’t alone. He knew he wasn’t alone, and that made all the difference.

There was the sound of a key grinding in a lock, followed by a low beep and Hizashi and Shouta’s hands flew apart. Tensei and Vlad sat up quickly, each of them scrambling to stand in the middle of the room at attention. The door slowly creaked open and the guard from earlier stepped inside.

“Your meeting begins in twenty minutes,” the guard said in a monotone voice. “Make yourselves presentable in the next ten. It will take approximately five minutes to walk from here to the meeting room today. That is where the boss will meet you. I’ll be waiting outside the door.”

The door slide closed again, but it wasn’t locked. Vlad straightened up his shirt, Tensei straightening his pants and making sure his cap was fitted firmly on his head. Hizashi ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out the messed up parts, and Shouta tucked stray strands of hair behind his ears, running a hand along his jaw to make sure he didn’t need a shave. 

Exactly ten minutes later, the door was opened again, the same bored looking guard with the monotone voice waiting outside. He gestured for the group to follow him and Hizashi, Tensei, Vlad and Shouta acquiesced, Shouta and Hizashi walking side by side a good three feet behind the guard and Tensei and Vlad flanking them. 

There were so many twists and turns leading to the meeting room that it made Shouta feel dizzy, but the guard seemed sure of every stride, eyes never leaving the tablet in his hands. The little green arrow, pointing him along. Every once in a while, Shouta will hear a loud crack followed by a sharp dragging noise coming from the walls and it always makes his stomach turn. The walls were rearranging themselves . The hallways were moving. 

The silver door to the meeting room was just like the door to their temporary bedroom, only the contents behind the door were much different. Deep red walls and expensive paintings, dark hardwood flooring coated in wax and a heavy wooden table that gleamed. The table alone was probably worth half his salary.

Seated at the end of the table in the most dramatic fashion imaginable was a man with long hair thrown into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had a goatee and cyan blue eyes glinted in the dim light. He had on a white collared shirt and ironed slacks. The man was just as unnerving as Shio - but different as well. Shio had no emotion in his eyes. This man had his emotions hidden behind a solid brick wall. And he would have  to kill him.

“Gentlemen!” the man cried in the same jovial matter Shio had. “Please, sit. Unless, of course, your protection detail wants to stay by the door?” Hizashi nodded at Tensei and Vlad before taking a seat at the table, gesturing for Shouta to take the one next to him. “So glad to have you here with us, Mr. Smith. Mr…. Amano, was it?” Shouta nodded. “Pleased to have you witness this event as well. Learning the trade, I take it?”

“Something like that,” Hizashi cut in before Shouta could answer.

“Ah, insider’s secret, yes, I understand,” the man said, eyes glinting oddly. 

“You seem to know our names, but we don’t know yours,” Hizashi noted. The man grinned.

“That’s a bit of an insider’s secret too.”

“Understandable,” Hizashi said with a grin. “So. Let’s get right down to business, shall we?”

“I actually have quite a few questions myself, before we begin,” the man said. “I think it is only fair, considering I’m letting you into my building. My home, more like. Not many get that privilege, you know.”

“Go ahead,” Hizashi said, smile now slightly strained. 

“I’ve never heard of your group,” the man noted. “And I know every group. I know about every crack house and every low level drug dealer and any gang that might happen to stumble into this city. I have eyes everywhere, you know. It’s just odd to me that you managed to slip under the radar for so long without my notice, underground or not…. What with you being so widespread, and all.”

“We’re a different kind of underground,” Hizashi stated. As Hizashi and the man talked, Shouta took it as an opportunity to look around the room, trying not to let his real intentions be known. A desk, in the corner, which he would look through at a later date. No file cabinets, but there appeared to be a thin laptop on the desk. Had the man stored his files on the computer, perhaps hidden by a firewall? If that were the case, all he’d have to do is get a flash drive - 

“You’ve got a curious friend,” the man noted, and Shouta was pulled out of his thoughts. 

“Well,” Hizashi said, laughing awkwardly. “You know how people his age can be. They can never keep their eyes to themselves.”

“Is there something interesting about my office that has…. Caught your attention, Amano?” the man asked, leaning forward slightly. He’d have to kill this man later. But now now. Not now. He was too at ease - he had something waiting, something that would catch him and stop him before he could make a sudden move. 

“It’s…. A nice…. Office,” Shouta said. “I like it.”

“I see,” the man said. “Well, it’s an interesting, very well-made space. Though it gets redecorated more times than is decent to mention.” Hizashi laughed politely, but Shouta felt a bit too awkward. “Tell me, Amano - are you a gan of redecoration?” Redecoration? The drug lord with child slaves wanted to talk to him about redecoration? 

“I…. suppose it’s nice,” Shouta said, tapping his fingers on his knee. “It’s fun to do. Sometimes.”

“Right you are!” the man said. “Though I admit, it can be a bit of a drag when you have to do some of the heavier lifting. Very exhausting.”

“... yes.” 

The man tilted his head to the side.

“Not very talkative, are you?” the man noted. 

“No.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I tend to talk too much to fill up the space. Makes things feel light, which is important, as you know, what with our jobs.”

“Right,” Hizashi said quickly, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “Speaking of jobs, we do need to get this meeting started, you understand.” 

“Oh, yes, of course, all business,” the man said, sitting up straighter in his chair and clasping his hands in front of him. “Of course, just name your set amount for your own distribution, and I’ll name a price.”

“And the prices will be fair, I hope?”

“My prices are always fair, Smith,” the man said. “I can promise you a large sum of money following your selling of this product, no matter what price I offer nor what amount you buy. That’s a guarantee.” No wonder this man was so wealthy….

“Excellent,” Hizashi said. “Let’s start this off at…. Two million seven hundred thousand yen.”

“Well, that can easily be done,” the man said. “At average price for distribution, that would more than likely bring you up at…. Five million yen, or so. Although most people are willing to pay more, you can expect at least five million yen. Yes?” 

Hizashi hummed, and Shouta thought he might be stalling. “Well, let’s see….”

Shouta started glancing around the room again, trying to make it look like he was appreciating the furniture. Desk. Computer. But was there a door ? A door to an attached bedroom, perhaps?

The man had called this building home. That suggests that he spent a lot of his time here, and lived here. So his files must be hidden here as well. And there wouldn’t, realistically, be a safer place to hide them than an office, which is what this room appeared to be, or a bedroom. But how was he supposed to find the bedroom, if the hallways moved? He’d have to hope there was something incriminating in the computer, enough to get his organization taken down and those kids help. And he’d have to hope he could find some way to find that man’s private quarters by the end of the night so he could complete the mission he was sent here to do. 

Did the rooms move with the hallways? Probably not. So it should be fairly easy to find the room he needed, should he find some way to figure out the layout of the actual building. All the doors looked the same. 

He tried to remember the hallways. The hallways that were constantly shifting. He had already established that the rooms couldn’t move so, logically, the elevator probably couldn’t shift either. When he’d walked in, the sun had just begun to tip into afternoon light. It had been shining on his back. When he’d gone into the elevator and turned around, he had been facing West, then. 

The hallways were winding and shifting, but if he could find the elevator, he could figure out where West was, and if he could figure out where West was, he could make his way through the building. Which just left the issue of finding the elevator. And the locks. 

This was going to take a while. 

“Alright, then!” the man said, standing up quickly. “I’ll have your order shipped here by tomorrow morning, and then you can be on your way. You don’t mind staying here for the night, I hope?”

He did mind. He minded quite a bit, as a matter of fact. 

“Of course not,” Hizashi said, smiling courteously. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Same to you,” the man returned. And then the security guard was back, leading them to their room, and they were gone. 

The hallways had moved again. It was definitely someone’s Quirk. Now, instead of a branched off hallway going in two directions, there was a single hallway going straight ahead. 

The clicking of the heels of shoes on linoleum and the shine of silver hallways made Shouta’s brain feel foggy. The guard had the tablet out, like before, glancing at the same little green arrow as he walked. Every person in the hallway had a tablet in their grasp, letting it guide the way. 

No one seemed to let the tablets out of their sight. How was he supposed to obtain one?

They were led back to their bedroom.

“Dinner is obligatory, and it will start at six P.M. and end at seven,” the man said. “I will lead you to the mess hall at that time.”

Hizashi nodded and the man left, the door clicking shut behind them with the grinding of a key in a lock and a low beep. Vlad confirmed what they already knew - locked. They couldn’t speak freely, and there was no escape. They were stuck.

‘ Steal a tablet at dinner. Get info from other people in the mess hall. I’ll take care of the rest ’ Shouta mouthed, and the rest of the group nodded in understanding, some more hesitantly than others. 

No backing out now.

~-~

“Izuku?! Izuku?! Oh my God-”

“Miss. Kayama, please, calm down-”

Nemuri spun around, jabbing a finger at the young nurse’s chest.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she snapped. Izuku. Her nephew. Her little knight in shining armor, her little tiger , who she was supposed to be responsible for while his uncles were doing who knows what who knows where-

Was laying on a nurse’s cot, face contorted in pain even in his sleep, curling up onto his side. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, and his forehead was sweltering hot. 

God, Izuku needed to go to the hospital. 

But he wasn’t in the hospital. He was in the nurse’s office.

“Why is he here?!” Nemuri demanded. “He should- he should be getting medical treatment! He should be in a hospital, getting blood tests and pain medication!” She pointed a finger at the pained little boy. “ Why is he still here?! ”

“We can’t just call an ambulance for a stomach ache, Miss. Kayama, you have to understand that we have protocol, you’ll have to take him yourself-”

“Take him myself?” Nemuri echoed in disbelief. “In traffic? Are you kidding me? It would take an hour just to get to the hospital!”

“You can call an ambulance once you’ve checked him out of school,” the nurse said, handing her a clipboard. “Sign here, please.”

Nemuri glanced back at Izuku and, hand shaking terribly, signed the paper. 

~-~

The cafeteria was rows and rows of steel tables, steel trays and steel forks on steel plates. Next to every lunch tray sat a tablet, and every tablet was powered down, the little green arrow on the top completely absent. 

The guard that had led them to the mess hall departed as soon as they arrived, probably assuming that there was no way four outsiders could cause trouble in a room full of people without getting apprehended. 

They waited in the line for food, and Shouta was reminded distinctly of high school. He hated highschool. 

They sat at the first empty table they came across, Shouta glancing around the room for unattended tablets or ones that were left without a watchful gaze lingering on them. Nothing, nothing….. There.

Two tables down. A plastic tablet, the corner of which was hanging precariously off the table. A tablet that, should he be careful, would be easy to take. Shouta set down his food, jerking his head in Hizashi’s direction before tilting his head in the direction the tablet rested. Hizashi nodded, standing from his place on the table and walking over to the other table with him.

Because it was Hizashi, it didn’t take long for the man to strike up a conversation. When everyone’s attention was focused on Hizashi, Shouta’s hand slowly crept closer and closer to the tablet. It was easier to grab because of the corner, hanging off the edge of the table. Just barely…..

Shouta quickly tucked the tablet under his shirt, turning on his heel to walk back to his own table. His heart was beating rapidly and his limbs felt stiff, his knee smarting with pain. That was over. Now he just had to do what came next.

~-~

The door to their room was unlocked with a bobby pin and a well placed blow to the hinges with Vlad’s Quirk. It wasn’t quite dramatic, liek Shouta had been expecting - no siren, no alarm, no quickly approaching running footsteps. It almost felt too easy. 

Hizashi ran toward him before he could exit the room and grabbed his wrist, pressing two items into his palm. A harddrive, probably for whatever was on the computer, and a small silver knife with a leather handle. Simple. Efficient. Both items had been carefully hidden in the small compartment in Shouta’s suitcase. 

Before he could pull his hand away, Hizashi’s hand clasped tighter around his wrist, and he raised an eyebrow in question. Can you do this? Was the question left unsaid. 

Shouta nodded, pulling his hand out of Hizashi’s grasp and shoving the harddrive into his pocket, the small knife never leaving his hand. 

This was where he had been meant to come in all along. The stealth hero. Quiet with quick reflexes. He could see why he was good for the job. 

He glanced down at the tablet. 

Several dozens of buttons, all with different initials, but one button caught his attention the most. MR. Meeting room.

The little green arrow guided his way down the silver hallways past dozens of identical doors before stopping at one silver door in particular. Another bobby pin in a lock and a tablet scanned across the digital lock granted him access to the same red-painted room with its dark flooring and heavy wooden table. 

And there was the laptop, sitting on the desk. Shouta hurried toward the desk, opening the device quickly and opening the files. Lesser official documents, but still enough for substantial evidence - Shouta put the harddrive into the slot on the side of the computer and transferred the files into the little plastic wedge. 

Heart racing and hands feeling sweaty, he did another sweep of the room. He grabbed the knife and twirled it through his fingers nervously with practiced ease. A door. A hatch. Anything. 

And there, behind one of the large paintings, he sees a faint light shining through - and there was no way that this man had a hidden room behind a painting. 

But when he eased the portrait to the side, what he found was an aged mahogany door, and it was such a stark contrast to the plain, identical doors that lined the hall it made his head spin. A hand reached out to ease the door open, the cold of the knob feeling like it was practically biting into his skin, and….

There was the man from earlier. The man with the ponytail, sleeping in a king sized four-poster bed, his lamp still on. On the floor, a dirty shirt. On his bedside table, a picture of a pretty girl. It was all so overwhelmingly human that it made Shouta’s insides twist uncomfortably.

He is responsible for the death of a child, Shouta thought. Him. it made it easier to lift the knife and slowly, through gasping breaths and shaky knees, walk towards the man’s bed. The metal of the knife glinted in the light of the lamp. Shouta felt like he might be sick.

And just before he could bring the knife down - a loud, pierching, vibrating screech that shook the floor. The knife dropped from Shouta’s hands, flying up to cover his ears as the scream grew in volume and pitch. The picture frame of the pretty girl on the nightstand shook so much it fell on the floor and shattered into a heap of glass.

The screech cut off abruptly, and right after his hands fell from his ears there was a heavy body knocking into him, taking him to the floor. Shouta tried to sit up to fight the man off, but then there was the feeling of metal biting into his neck. He felt a sharp sting, and a drop of blood dripped down onto his collarbone. 

“Well, well,” the man said, pressing the knife in more insistently. “I knew there was something off with your group. I knew it. I knew it, I knew it! ”

Shouta tried to reach up to push the knife off, but the man tutted, pressing it into his skin harder.

“Sharp knife, friend,” the man said. “Wouldn’t want to … slip. ” Shouta tried not to breathe too suddenly. 

There were panicked voices, now, and the sound of Quirks being occupied. A woman’s terrified cries. Shouta’s own panicked breathing. He felt like the walls of the room were closing in on him. Because they were. Walls dragged against carpet that dragged against the floor, a loud scraping symphony that was hell on his ears. The man’s grin widened.

“I should get rid of you,” the man said. “Get rid of those who want to kill me so I can get on  with my business. But maybe I’ll give you a…. Reminder...” 

The tip of a knife, just barely touching his skin but enough to split it. Three lines, two horizontal and one slash connecting them. A Z, carved right between his collar bones. Deep enough to bleed and just enough to leave a noticeable scar. But it would be okay. He had other scars. He’d be okay.

Tensei barreled into the man just before he could carve something else. 

“Z-z-zashi!” Shouta cried, sitting up. “Zashi! Where’s Zashi?!” Tensei frowned, looking pained.

Fifty feet away, Hizashi Yamada lay still, a pool of blood gathering under his head.

The next morning, mid-day, Izuku rode from school in an ambulance and was immediately rushed into emergency surgery.

And Shouta Aizawa lay curled up in the corner of a hospital waiting room, knees gathered close to his chest and head tucked against them, harddrive burning a hole in his pocket, a bandage on his chest and the beginnings of stubble once more lining his jaw.

His birthday was in a few hours.

Happy birthday to him.

Chapter Text

“Shouta. Shouta, come on, we have to get up,” Nemuri said, tapping at his knee. Shouta curled farther into himself in the corner of the waiting room. “Shouta, come on, we need to go, you have to get some sleep and some food. Sho? Can you hear me?”

Shouta could hear her, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer if he tried. It was like there was something lodged in his throat, preventing speech and making it hard to breathe. There was still adrenaline from pain and panic thrumming through his veins, still blood staining his hands and making his hair stick to his neck, but it was fading and was quickly benign replaced by a sense of overwhelming dread and pain. 

His knee was aching. As was his head. There was a sharp, throbbing sting just where his neck met his chest, the letter ‘Z’ carved into his skin, only covered by a sterile white bandage. When the medics had been called and they’d found him, he’d been in shock, dragged out of the man’s private quarters and taken into the mess hall by Tensei. They’d cut off his shirt to have better access to the wound. Now all he had was a red-stained undershirt and a pair of jeans, and it was freezing. 

He didn’t know what time it was. Time had seemed to melt together, after a while. All he knew was that it was late and he was tired but his own anxiety over Hizashi and Izuku wouldn’t let him sleep, wouldn’t let him think. They’d found Hizashi in a pool of his own blood, and no one would tell him anything. Izuku had been in surgery for the past few hours. He could lose everything that meant anything to him just like that, when he least expected it, and he wasn’t even sure how it happened. He felt like the moments after you get punched in the face - dizzy, disoriented, confused. Shocked. Hurt. 

Nemuri tried to prompt him to stand again. Shouta didn’t even know if he could move. Everything felt so slow and thick and empty and full. Like he was floating, or like he was drowning, or like he was somewhere right in between floating or drowning but he still couldn’t breathe.  

It was like he was going through the five stages of grief, and they weren’t even dead. He’d hugged Izuku goodbye, just yesterday morning. He’d kissed Hizashi goodnight the night before that. He’d talked and he’d loved and he’d laughed and he hadn’t even known that this was what was waiting for him. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t known those moments might have been his last, he hadn’t known, but they might have been, and Shouta hadn’t even gotten the chance to make the most of them and to cherish them and now he might not get anymore chances. 

“Sho?” Nemuri said, again, and her voice was softer now. “Come on, Sho. Let’s go home. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.” Liar. 

Shouta nodded, but it was like his legs were weighed down by bags of flour. When he tried to stretch them out in front of himself,  it was like it took an inordinate amount of energy, his back hitting the wall behind him with a thunk. 

His throat felt dry. He swallowed thickly. His eyes were burning, like the moments after he used his Quirk. 

“Explain….” He rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead. It was so, so cold. His head dipped forward onto his chest, chin brushing against the rough white bandage adjourning the bottom of his neck. “I don’t think I… explain...” 

“Izuku and Hizashi?” Nemuri guessed. Shouta nodded, sniffing. “We don’t know anything about Hizashi yet, only that he got injured in the field. They haven’t sent a nurse back to tell us anything yet. And Izuku….” Nemuri’s voice took on a choked quality. “God, Shouta, I’m so sorry.”

“What… what happened to him?” Shouta asked, voice cracking slightly. He wasn’t sure if he’d like the answer. 

“I… I didn’t notice - God, Sho, I’m so sorry, I should have noticed... ” She took a deep breath, wiping under her eyes. Her mascara was smudging. It was hard to look away from the dark smears under her eyes. “T-the doctors say he had appendicitis, and I didn’t notice he was hurting, he told me he was hurting but he made it look like it wasn’t that big of a deal and I was tired so I sent him to school anyway, and I know that isn’t an excuse but I did, and I got called to the school after a few hours and they said he had a high fever and he couldn’t stop crying and he just - he just passed out, right there, and… we got an ambulance, and his appendix just….. Burst on the way to the hospital. They say that appendicitis is rare, at that age, but the chances of rupture are higher, and…. H-he’s still in surgery, right now, and…. They just aren’t sure, Shouta. They could go in there and clean everything up and stitch him back up but if he gets an infection… they just don’t know.” 

Shouta nodded, and he didn’t know why, but the information made him feel lighter, somehow. Like he wasn’t in the dark anymore. 

“And they don’t know about Hizashi.”

“ We don’t know about Hizashi,” Nemuri corrected. “Because they haven’t sent anyone to tell us yet. I’m sorry, Sho.” Shouta nodded, again. The slight fog that had been over his mind cleared, just a bit, and he felt tired. Exhausted. He reached an arm up, running through the hair at the back of his head and pulling sharply, right at the root. Stay here. Stay awake. 

A small hand clasped over his arm, releasing his grip from his hair.

“Don’t do that,” Nemuri said, holding onto his hand with both of her own. There was dried blood from his hair under his fingernails, almost brown in colour and uncomfortable. Nemuri’s eyes widened when she saw it. 

Shouta tapped the bandage on his chest lightly in explanation. 

“You need a shower,” Nemuri said, voice unwavering and the set of her jaw determined. “And a change of clothes. And some food in your belly. Come on, Sho. Hizashi would probably kill you if he saw you like this.” 

“My… legs are heavy. I am… tired. I don’t think I can...”

“Then I’ll help you. Okay? I’ll help you. But you have to get up, Sho. Okay?” Shouta nodded, and Nemuri helped pull him to his feet. Despite Shouta being at least four inches taller than her, she made it look far too easy. “Food first,” Nemuri said, grabbing his arms and leading him along, even as he stumbled over his feet. “McDonalds alright with you? I have, like, a thousand yen on me.” 

They went to the nearest McDonalds, the teenager behind the register’s eyes widening at the sight they made. A tall woman dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie with tangled hair and smudged eyeliner and a tall, unshaven man with a blood stained undershirt and a bandage adorning his chest. They made quite the pair. 

Nemuri ordered him a large burger with everything, a strawberry milkshake and a large fry. Nemuri grabbed a chicken sandwich and a medium fry with an iced coffee that probably wasn’t recommended for this time of night. 

Shouta wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat all of the food in front of him without being sick. Nemuri seemed to know it too, but Shouta knew she would be happy so long as he ate something, whether he finished his food or not. 

“What time is it?” Shouta asked, biting into a fry. His hands looked dirty, and there was still blood under his nails. He couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“Late o’clock,” Nemuri said, taking a sip from her coffee. She glanced at her watch. “Ten P.M.”

“My birthday is in two hours,” Shouta stated. Nemuri nodded. “And it’s selfish. With what’s happening. But my mind keeps going back to that. My birthday is in a couple hours, and I might lose everything. I… don’t know what I did to deserve that kind of karma, but it must have been horrible.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Nemuri stated through a mouthful of chicken. “Things like these just happen sometimes. There’s nothing anyone can do about it. That’s just the way life works.”

“I wish it wasn’t.”

“I know, Sho. I think we can all safely say life has fucked you over at this point, huh?”

“We were planning on adopting Izuku, I think,” Shouta said. His voice sounded empty. Like all of his grief and confusion and adrenaline and shock and mourning had been scooped out of him and bagged up and thrown away in that waiting room, and now there was nothing left. “After we’d had him a few more months. Getting married, so we could. This mission was really going to help with that. With paying off our debt.”

“God,” Nemuri said, setting down her burger. “God, Sho, that’s… I’m sorry.”

“It’s the way life works, right?” Shouta said dryly. He drank from his milkshake. “Nemuri… if they die-”

“They aren’t going to die,” Nemuri said. “They won’t. Okay? They’re going to come out of this okay, and we’re going to laugh at how worried we are in a couple years, and Izuku is going to show off his appendectomy scars and pretend he got them - fighting a bear, or something, and we’re going to tease him about it until the day we die and everything is going to be fine. ”

“We don’t even know what’s happened to Hizashi,” Shouta said. “And even the doctors aren’t sure about Izuku. Just… Nemuri. If they die, I won’t have anyone left except you. Okay? Do you understand? My parents are gone, my sister, my nephew, my boyfriend, everyone would be gone, and you’d be the only one left. So you can’t die too, alright? You- you have to stick around. Okay? Don’t- don’t leave , alright, don’t leave or die or anything just-”

“I know,” Nemuri said. “I understand. Okay? I understand. I get it. And it’ll be okay, alright? They aren’t going to die. Don’t-” her face became pained. “Don’t release that negativity into the air, or something, okay? Everything is going to be okay. And…. I’m not going to leave you. Okay? I won’t leave you.” Shouta nodded, chest feeling just a little less tight, and he finished off his burger, grabbing a handful of fries and trying to finish those too. “Wanna take the shake to go?” Shouta nodded, grabbing his milkshake, and Nemuri left the remainder of her money on the table, the two throwing their trays away on the way out the door. 

That numb feeling was back, and he welcomed the exhaustion as he kicked off his shoes at the door of his apartment, tearing off the stupid, stupid socks as he did and tossing them aside. His leg hurt, so he tossed back a couple painkillers and replaced his pants with pajama bottoms, fitting the leg brace over his knee. The shirt he didn’t bother with, tossing it into the bin at the earliest convenience. Nemuri took refuge on his couch, wrapped in a blanket and hugging a pillow close to her chest. 

He wouldn’t bother with the shower until morning. Knowing his luck, he would fall asleep and bust his head on the tile. 

He dragged two weighted blankets out of the hall closet, tucking himself under them and curling up into a ball. He tried to imagine the weight and warmth was Hizashi, hugging him close and snoring in his ear because he had to be loud and mildly annoying in his sleep, too.

It was too quiet. And his bed still felt far too empty.

He wished he could say he got a good night’s sleep that night. 

~-~

His arms felt like lead when he washed them the next morning. The water falling against the tile felt too loud, the smell of soap too overwhelming, his own hands running through his hair like millions of tiny daggers running along his scalp. When the water started to sound like the buzz of clippers, he quickly turned it off, taking a moment to lean against the wall of the shower stall.

Too loud. Too sharp. Too much. 

Too cold. 

Everything felt too cold. Even when he went back under the spray, the cold water practically non-existent and the hot water steaming, it still felt too cold and too heavy. Like chilled, liquid metal had been injected in to replace the marrow of his bones. 

He chose the most comfortable clothes in his closet because he didn’t think he could handle wearing anything scratchy or uncomfortable that day - a pair of exercise shorts and a baggy hoodie that had a weird fishing logo on it that had appeared in his closet one day without much reason. He hated socks and shoes on good days, so he decided not to bother with them and grabbed a pair of flip flops despite the chilled weather. 

When he left the bathroom, Nemuri was sitting up in the living room, the dark smudges under her eyes cleaned away and replaced by fresh lines of eyeliner, hair free of tangles and wearing tight white pants and a flowy black shirt. She was scrolling through her phone, frowning as she did, but looked up when he walked into the room.