Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was raining again.

What a rotten luck.

It hadn’t rained in the last few weeks, but the moment he needed the clear skies the most, the heavens themselves decided to spite him and let down their torrential rage against him.

Then again, hadn’t this been his luck in the last few days?

The last few years?

The last 20 years, perhaps?

Midoriya Izuku lowered his eyes, a hand clenched against the bundle he had been protecting from the water, the other running against his somewhat long and shapeless green hair.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, as if believing that by doing so he would be able to dispel the apathy slowly taking over him once again.

Mom would be so disappointed.

Or maybe not, Mom had always been the best at understanding his moods and trying to accommodate them.

Even when she had laid in her hospital bed, her clammy hands basically skin and bones.

She had smiled at him, her green eyes as vibrant as ever, not an ounce of regret in them.

‘No, don’t think about that,’ he told himself, pulling his phone from his pocket to distract himself and make sure it hadn’t been damaged by the rain.

2 new messages.

Kirishima Eijiro:

My old man said the furniture will arrive tomorrow morning and that you can contact him if you need anything else

Kirishima Eijiro:

And the others told me to ask for a pic as soon as you’re settled

Izuku stared at his phone, silent.

His brain told him he should respond, thank Kirishima-kun for his help, maybe text Kirishima-san who had used all his legal knowledge to settle Mom’s debts and ensured Izuku himself did not have any issues with the move.

He should send him a pic of himself standing at the shrine, sheltering from the rain.

Maybe it would make Kirishima-kun smile.

But Izuku didn’t feel like smiling himself.

So he reckoned he would only worry his friends again.

His friends who had done everything in their power to help him.

Again.

Despite their finals and responsibilities, Izuku’s amazing friends had been there to support him when his mom’s diagnosis came, had tried to help him graduate and covered for him when he spent most of his time at the hospital with her, reviewing their options.

Todoroki-kun had even used his father’s influence to have a personal nurse accompany his mom to their graduation. The nurse’s quirk keeping her stable so she could jump into his arms and smile wide as she congratulated him, tears filling her eyes.

Uraraka had held him in her arms as he crumbled when the doctors told him that the treatment could not save his mom, but it could give her a few more years of life.

Iida-kun had scolded him first when he told them all he was going to look for a part time job instead of seeking further education after high school, something at nights maybe, so he could spend all the time he could with his mother.

But he had also arranged a data sorting and filing job at his parents’ agency, short hours, very good salary and the most flexible hours anyone could ask for.

Momo-san had always arranged his and his mother’s accommodations when Mom decided she was done with her white hospital bed and the chemicals being pumped into her veins, and would rather travel around the country, enjoying all the things she had missed while her son had been too busy saving the world.

Even Kacchan had been there for him in his own special way, always bringing dinner for them because Auntie Mitsuki ‘had cooked too much that night’ and while his eyes never met Izuku’s slowly dulling ones, he made sure to hold his mom’s hands as he helped her to the dinner table and his voice never lost his loud enthusiasm as he answered her questions about his life.

Izuku could only feel grateful for them, in his own particular way.

He knew that the world hadn’t stopped for them like it had for him.

He knew they had their new college courses to study for, their agencies to sign into, their missions to complete.

And yet they had all found time in their busy schedules for him and his mom.

Even at the funeral.

Every single member of class 3-A had been there, silent, supportive, compassionate. His teachers, some 3-B students as well.

Izuku had sat there, in the mourning hall, with Todoroki’s warm hand in his, with Iida’s arm around his shoulders and Uraraka’s soft whispers in his ears.

Kacchan had held his mother’s hand, eyes set on Mom’s mourning photo, eyes moist.

At the time Izuku had wondered if Kacchan and auntie Mitsuki were the only ones who had actually known his mom, were ever going to miss her in the same suffocating way he would and his eyes had noticed towards the back a smaller woman with her pink hair pulled into a messy ponytail that seemed to want to approach him but hesitated, tears streaming down her tanned cheeks and lips that seemed to tremble as she whispered words he couldn’t hear.

He didn’t know who that woman had been, hadn’t seen her again anyways.

Hadn’t had the energy to think about her when his heart was broken and his whole world seemed to shrink into the small apartment where he and his mom had lived for over 20 years.

20 years.

A lifetime for Izuku.

Too little for his mom.

Tokoyami-kun had held him against the shower when he and his friends had broken into the apartment a week later to find him laying in his mother’s bed, asleep, unkempt, maybe too done with all he had lost to move.

Aoyama-kun had been the one who promised to clean up while he showered and Koji-kun warmed up something for him to eat.

Aizawa-sensei had dragged him out of the apartment a month later, his face grim, his eyes blazing as he demanded he didn’t give into his pain, that he fought like he had always done.

Even if he had gone silent when Izuku looked at him in the eye and asked him: ‘Fight for what, sensei? Everything I’ve ever cherished is gone.’

At least he had tried.

Izuku had to give him that.

And then Kirishima-kun had approached him, eyes hesitant, voice soft, as he told him he and Kaminari-kun had found a box of his mother’s belongings while they were cleaning up with Aoyama-kun and they hadn’t wanted to intrude but the documents inside looked serious and that he could help Izuku himself to sort them out, since his father was a renown lawyer.

And a whole story Izuku himself had never known had unveiled in front of him.

The first thing he found, among pictures of himself as a baby in the arms of a man he couldn’t recognize and hospital records spanning his birth, was his mother’s divorce certificate, dated to around the time Izuku himself had turned five and he had been sent to spend a - horrible - month at Aunt Mitsuki’s home.

Apparently his father had decided to extend the period he was supposed to be working abroad from 10 months to permanently at the time and his mother had sued him for family abandonment.

They had gone back and forth in mediation for weeks – according to the court records – until they settled in divorce and a sizable amount of child support he would have to pay every month.

In exchange, neither Midoriya Inko nor Midoriya Izuku would be considered part of his family anymore.

Izuku hadn’t had to think hard to realize exactly why his father – whom he couldn’t even remember most of the time – had decided to emigrate to the States without them.

It was around the time he himself had been diagnosed quirkless.

What an asshole.

He had then found police reports where his mother requested the Midoriya family stop trying to contact her or her child, citing security concerns - but she did accept that Izuku could be once more considered Midoriya Hisashi’s biological child.

This had happened around the time Izuku was 15, right around the time he had to move to the dorms.

He had wondered what had happened that his family had decided to contact them after almost ten years, but then he guessed his performance at the sports festival in his first year of high school was incentive enough.

He hadn’t been a quirkless child then.

And his mom had never even told him.

He could imagine she worried he was too busy saving the world – as she called it – to worry about a stupid man he didn’t even know.

Eventually Izuku had found his grandparents’ death certificates.

And then his father’s.

They had all passed within a year of each other.

Old age.

Sickness.

An unexpected casualty of a villain attack in New York.

From what Izuku could deduce by himself his father had died around the time his mom had been diagnosed, and around the same time All Might had claimed he had some things to do in America and had flown while promising to return as soon as he could.

Kirishima-kun had then gotten him in contact with his father who kindly and patiently explained the following processes to him, how to look for any other heirs the family had – there weren’t, Midoriya Hisashi had been too afraid to produce another quirkless child to ever have more babies – and how to report and claim his inheritance – the one in Japan, at the very least, because his father’s belongings in America were a whole different beast Izuku hadn’t felt inclined to fight for -, promising he would have to worry about nothing.

In the end, Kirishima-san had handed him two bank cards, one with his father’s and grandparent’s savings and another one containing all the child support payments his father had ever contributed – that his mother had refused to touch for years, apparently, saving it for Izuku’s future.

The amount as a whole was… substantial.

The Midoriya family, apparently, was either incredibly frugal or absurdly wealthy.

And then he was given the title to a house in Hanagouchi.

His grandparents’ home.

Izuku had sat in his small apartment, staring at the house, at the absurd amount of money, and then he looked at his worn and well loved furniture, at the pots and pans still in the kitchen his mother had used until they were basically raw.

At the patch in the carpet were he had spilled ink once and his mother had spent hours on her knees trying to clean up while muttering that their landlord would be ‘so disappointed’.

Kacchan had taken one look at the documents, at the pictures of the big house and even bigger garden, and had cursed his family until his throat went raw, explosions echoing in the small living room.

Todoroki-kun and Iida-kun trying their best to hold him back.

From the kitchen, Shinsou-kun had just hissed a soft: ‘Stop that!’ that had solved the issue. Then he had handed him a cup of coffee and looked at him with calm eyes before asking the question in everyone’s mind.

“What do you want to do with all of this?”

Izuku had stared at the documents in his hands and then at the small apartment that had long stopped smelling like his mom’s floral perfume but was still full of memories of a life he no longer felt he had, of the times he had been truly happy.

Kirishima-san then promised to help him end the lease – because Izuku had never even seen the landlord who actually owned the apartment in his life – and his friends had helped him pack his essentials, assuring him they would send the furniture he wanted to keep to him as soon as he was settled into the new home.

“Take it as a retreat!” Uraraka had told him, a wide smile on her face that couldn’t hide the concern in her eyes. “A change of air!”

Seven hours, two trains and a bus ride later, Izuku had found himself standing in the Hanagouchi Village Center where a kind, elderly man had greeted him with a wide smile – that grew with surprise when Izuku had introduced himself – and directions towards the old Midoriya house on the hill, just a 20 minute walk east.

15 minutes in was when the rain started and Izuku found himself standing inside a small wooden shrine, waiting for the rain to stop so he could finally see the house his family had hidden from him and his mother.

And maybe burn it to the ground.

He wasn’t really sure.

The village itself was the small little town in the middle of the mountains, crossed by a river that glinted silver in the light, the air was clean, the streets silent, the scent of flowers and cedar permeated the air.

His mother would have loved it.

Izuku hated how much his mother would have loved such a place.

The sky was getting dark and the rain didn’t show any signs of stopping and Izuku wondered if he would have to sleep inside the shrine for the night – and whether it would be okay with the local mountain god for him to sleep in there – when he felt a soft, almost inaudible gasp break the silence of the small room.

He turned, staring into the darkness that was the shrine.

Two pairs of wide, silver colored eyes stared back at him.

Chapter Text

Dawn greeted Izuku in the middle of hauling box after box to the front door, his phone against his ear. 

“Yes, Midoriya,” he assured, rolling his eyes for the third time. “No, Midoriya Hisashi has already passed away, I’m the son, Izuku.”

He listened to the old man’s questions and rantings about the prestigious Midoriya family and how no one had known Midoriya Hisashi had a son - well, no surprise there- but then the man promised he would come pick up the trash Izuku piled against the house’s entrance that very same morning and also asked him if he had things he would like to donate, just to set it on boxes marked accordingly and he would take care of them as well. 

He agreed, hanging up and slowly stretching his tired muscles, slapping his cheeks. 

It had been a long 12 hours. 

He had waited for the rain to stop for a while in that old shrine when he suddenly found himself face two face with two little boys, dirty, clearly too skinny to be healthy, huddling together for warmth. 

Apparently he hadn’t been the only one caught by the rain that day. 

The tallest of the boys had glared at him, hiding his little brother behind him, teeth bared, grey eyes narrowed.  

Izuku had stared at them for a moment, at their threadbare shoes and wet clothes. 

At the way their knuckles were bruised. 

“I’m looking for an address,” he said, both hands raised as he stared at them. They couldn’t be older than three, so tiny and alone in the middle of a storm. He didn’t like the sinking feeling that was settling on his stomach. 

He told the kids the address the village Chief had told him, staring as the kids whispered in each other’s ears, twin frowns on their faces. 

Then the tallest muttered for a moment and started giving him clearer and rougher directions. 

Izuku then realized he hadn’t been as far as he had imagined. 

He then turned to the children once more, torn. 

“He had pulled the dinner he had bought for himself along the way - just a pair of onigiri and a bottle of tea - and handed it to the kids, before turning and rummaging through his bulging bag, pulling out his faded but well loved All Might quilt and wrapping it around them both. 

The smaller kid stared at him, pale eyes wide, chubby cheeks flushed. 

The taller kid’s eyes narrowed in distrust. 

“In exchange for your help,” he had said, shaking his head.

And he was off, running in the rain towards his destination. 

Once at the house he had pulled the key out of his pocket and found the huge home from the pictures, with overgrown yards and stained windows. 

He had stared for a moment, feeling the rain soak his hair and run down his back. 

Before he had made his way in. 

Apparently someone - most likely Kirishima-san - had informed the village he would be coming, because the electricity had been restored to the house and with a flick of a switch Izuku could stare into the inside. 

The house was big, well lived and full of small trinkets and pieces that spoke of a life that spanned decades. 

Discarded padded jackets and old shoes at the entrance, half-read books in the living room table and embroidered cushions that dented where the owners had used to lean. 

Izuku had pulled off his soaking shoes and stepped into the house, checking each room slowly and methodically. 

It almost looked like a home where people had just left for the day. 

A tea set had been set in the kitchen, ready to welcome its owner back after a long day. 

The lacquered teacups glinted in the light, the teapot was pristine and bone white, but had obviously served its purpose for years. 

An antique.

One of the rooms had clearly been a study with a heavy wood desk and a cushioned swiveling chair, and documents and books littered the whole place. Something to do with weather and topography, his grandfather’s signature in almost every single one. 

Small frames with family pictures clinging to the walls. 

Izuku had stared at them for an hour, examining the faces that didn’t resemble his own. 

Looking at the black haired boy that slowly grew picture by picture, how those body shoulders filled out, how his thin lips parted to spew fire and how his chest broadened. 

His bright kimono was ironed to perfection for his Shichi-Go-San ceremony. 

Primary school graduation.

Middle school graduation. 

High school graduation. 

College graduation. 

Until he became a man.

The same man in his mother’s picture. 

He hadn’t known at the time, but Izuku felt the urge to pull the pictures down, so he did. 

One after another, the picture frames fell from his fingers and shattered on the ground one by one, faces scratched, smiles faded. 

He moved to the bedrooms and started throwing the pictures around as he found them, not even bothering to look at them, feeling those happy faces mocked him, laughed at him. 

He started pulling boxes from wardrobes, sneering at the expensive woolen coats and polished leather shoes that cost almost as much as his rent in the city, silk kimonos that his mind told him should belong in museums with their intricate embroideries and delicate textures. 

By then the carved clock on the wall had struck midnight and Izuku, alone, still wet and a little numb, saw it. 

A pair of ceremonial wedding kimonos, one for a man, one for a woman. 

The same one the man who had been his father had been wearing in that golden framed picture his grandparents kept in their bedroom, the one that had been cut so the man stood alone, holding the hand of a woman who couldn’t be seen anymore.

Only the white sleeve of her kimono remained, gently fluttering in the breeze. 

Izuku had felt his throat tighten, had felt how his whole body seemed to tighten with tension, how his vision blurred. 

By the time he was back on himself he had been surrounded by broken pieces of pottery and furniture and glass, his knuckles were broken and his blood was flowing freely onto the ground. 

The black wedding kimono laid in tatters at his feet, now never to rest against the white wedding kimono. 

He then stared at the white silk, perfectly folded inside the wooden box, imagining his mother’s youthful smile and how beautiful she must have looked at that age, wearing that kimono, free of the shadows that lurked in her eyes since Izuku could remember. 

He could  almost picture the sad disappointment that would cloud her vision if she saw him at that moment, if she could see the rage that had taken over him, on her behalf. 

His mother would have hated it all. 

“I’m sorry,  mom,” he had whispered into the night, tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He had finally taken off his wet clothes and pulled his hair back into a low pony tail, with tears still running down his cheeks and soft sobs escaping his chapped lips. 

He started to clean.

He picked all the pieces and shards from the ground, checked all the boxes and tried to imagine how he would feel using the things that could still be used in the house, if he could wear the cardigans or drink from the cups. 

Before stuffing them all into boxes to donate. 

Knowing he would be sick to his stomach surrounded by the memories of a family that had rejected him. 

That had erased him and his mother from their lives. 

No, he decided. 

He could take the house, the house could be changed. 

But he wouldn’t keep the memories of the Midoriya family. 

By five in the morning, his muscles started protesting and he decided he might as well sleep in the newly cleaned tatami room.

Only to realize he had given his quilt to the children in the shrine and all the other blankets were in a truck slowly coming. 

And the thought of using the futon neatly folded inside the rooms were his father and grandparents had slept for years sent a shiver down his spine. 

He sighed, grabbed a new shirt from his luggage and threw it on, pocketing the keys as he made his way to the convenience store at the edge of the village near the bus stop. 

He needed coffee. 

He wouldn’t sleep that night, he decided. 

And then at dawn most of his work had been done. 

He had arranged for a debris moving company to take the trash out and they would also take most of the things still usable in the house, if only to donate them to people in need. 

He knew that by noon his own things would arrive and he could start slowly building a place he could actually relax in. 

A place that wouldn’t make him so angry and bitter. 

He took another sip of his coffee then, looking at the pile of bags and boxes at the door, idly wondering what the villagers would think when they saw how he had emptied the house. 

Whether they would frown at him. 

Gossip.

And he was surprised to realize he couldn’t care. 

Especially when he saw the expanse of the gardens around the house, the rows of withered flowers and ornamental bushes carefully arranged around him, now dead with no one to care for them. 

His mind was taken back to the days his mother laid on her hospital bed, a tablet on her lap to entertain her as Izuku peeled fruit for her. 

She joked that the fruit of the city wasn’t as good as the one from the countryside and Izuku hadn’t known how she could tell the difference - he hadn't wanted to ask - and she would look for farming bloggers in her spare time, sighing about how she had always wanted to rent a small plot of land nearby when she retired, grow her own food, cook the most delicious dishes for her and Izuku himself. 

“You’ll see the difference then!” she had said enthusiastically, her smile wide. And she had started looking for recipes and farming methods and all the things she would need to prepare a feast for him, to celebrate his college entrance scores, as she had claimed he would get the best scores in the prefecture and would shine like the star she had always known he was. 

Izuku back then had nodded, his own smile indulgent, his hand tight against her own. 

They had both known she would never fulfill that little dream of hers. 

But none of them had wanted to say it outloud, indulging in that little fantasy to make their darkening days a little brighter. 

And as he looked at the land he now owned, almost picturing the potential his mother would have seen in it, the projects she would start, stars in her eyes. 

She would have loved this house. 

Which made Izuku even more determined to hate how it looked right now. 

He made a quick order on his phone for paint and woodstain and all the things that could change the existing structure into something different. 

He had the time, he thought. 

It’s not like he had any intention to finally go to college. 

His career prospects were limited and his heart was too heartbroken to ever think about his future.

He found a rusty hoe in the back of the property, sturdy despite the years of disuse, and prepared to start pulling all the carefully maintained flowers he could find when a small cough seemed to pull him from his darkened mood. 

He turned. 

The two little boys from the shrine were standing at the entrance of his property, holding his old quilt in their arms, their cheeks flushed, their eyes nervous. 

He blinked. 

“... hello?” he said, tilting his head. 

The taller boy took a step back, shoulders hunching. 

The smaller one’s pale eyes widened, a shy smile curling his lips. 

“Hello oniisan!” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “Aniki and I wanted to return your blankie!” 

Izuku looked at them, at the way they carefully held his quilt and then looked at his phone. 

7:00 a.m.

Who let these young kids go out so early in the morning on their own?

Were the rules in this small village different from the ones in Musutafu?

He approached the children, consciously wondering what he actually looked like right now, sweaty, visibly exhausted and wearing a mismatched shirt and pants, barefoot and caked in mud up to his ankles. 

The taller boy looked at him from head to toe, his nose wrinkling. 

Izuku’s eye twitched. 

He leaned down in front of the boys, slowly reaching for the quilt. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, trying not to spook the children. 

“Here,” the taller boy pushed a small back against his hand. “For the food.”

Izuku looked inside, confused, and found a few sweet potatoes. Tiny, with dirt still clinging to the skin, almost surely freshly harvested if the dirt clinging under the children’s nails was any indication. 

He frowned.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, looking at the kids. 

The boys looked at each other. 

The smaller boy lowered his eyes. 

The taller one crossed his arms over his skinny chest defensively.

“We don’t have parents,” he scoffed. “We don’t need them anyway.”

Izuku begged to disagree, but then again, under the morning light, he could see how skinny they actually were, their threadbare clothing and how their hair was dirty and unkempt. 

He thought about the house, now empty and in need of a lot of work. 

He thought about all the things he would have to do these following days, moving and renovating. 

He thought about the withered plants in the gardens. 

He thought about his mother’s kind smile and warm arms. 

He sighed. 

“What are your names?” he asked. 

The boys showed him twin expressions of confusion. 

The smaller boy’s smile widened. 

“I’m Misaki!” he introduced himself. “This is my older brother, Yutaka.”

“Miichan,” the taller boy, Yutaka, scolded. “Don’t be too trusting.”

“But Aniki gave us food! And a blankie!” Misaki argued, cheeks flushed. “He can’t be a bad guy.”

Izuku felt he was losing some unknown battle. 

“I’m Izuku,” he said after a pause. “Now we’re not strangers.”

Yutaka-kun’s eyes lowered, as if looking for a way to argue with his logic. 

Misaki-kun’s eyes widened in delight, small hands wrapping around his own. 

“Hello, Izuku’niichan!” he greeted warmly. “I’m Misaki!” 

Izuku felt his lips twitch. 

“Come on in,” he said, nodding. “I think I can wipe up something for you two.”

Chapter Text

The day didn’t start as Izuku had expected, sure, but his mother had always told him that a little bit of kindness could grow and bloom like a seed into something even he couldn’t expect.

So he had brought the two little boys home and while they showered the grime and dirt off he made a quick breakfast with what he still had from the convenience store.

He did take a second to thank his grandparents for lovingly saving all of their son’s clothing throughout the years, since he could now pull some sets out of the donation box he had set out by the door and give them for the children to wear.

It’s not like any of the members of the Midoriya family would mind.

They were dead.

And good riddance.

Misaki-kun had taken one look at the clothes, his eyes brightening, his fingers carefully touching the white shirt as if he could not believe how luxurious the fabric felt – Izuku himself hadn’t believed it when he had seen it himself, such a waste of money – while Yutaka-kun had frowned at his own set of clothing, embarrassment clear on his small face as he examined each piece.

Eventually the two got dressed – and both received his help with the buttons in completely different ways – and sat down to eat, eyes set on the spread that really wasn’t a spread, it was just porridge and milk, like it was a treasure and it made something inside Izuku twist a little as Misaki-kun eagerly ate his food, and Yutaka-kun lowered his eyes, taking small sips as if he needed to savor every single bite.

He tried to ask them about their home life, because they didn’t look like normal children.

But all he got was a gruff: “We’re orphans,” from Yutaka-kun and a small nod from Misaki-kun.

Orphans in such a small village.

From what the Chief had told him the day before there weren’t many families left in the village. Mostly old people who has grown up here and children whose parents were away working in the city and from the way the children looked, it seemed like none of these old people families actually took care of them when their parents passed away.

Not in the ways that mattered.

He felt himself frown.

He didn’t like the picture he was seeing.

Especially considering the way Yutaka-kun kept glancing at him from the corner of his eye, always protectively standing between him and his younger brother.

Except he wasn’t any younger.

Both children were four and three quarters – Misaki-kun’s words, not Izuku’s – which would mean they were twins even if one was half a head taller than the other.

Izuku took another gulp of his coffee – the second one in an hour – before he found himself sighing.

He didn’t know what he should do, even if he felt he should do something.

No, not really.

He knew what his mother would do in a heartbeat.

He shook his head.

“I’m new to town and I have to fix this house a lot,” he said after he saw the children were about to finish their breakfast. “Paint the walls, move boxes, weed the garden.”

Misaki-kun looked up at him, his wide silver eyes very attentive.

Yutaka-kun scowled for a moment, examining him from head to toe, as if trying to determine how much of a threat he actually was.

Izuku let them stare for a moment, knowing he must look like a picture.

The years without his quirk – not his, really, never his – had forced him to change his training regime, losing most of the muscle mass, the last two years of hospital visits and short travels around the country had become his priority so he had stopped cutting his hair and it now fell in unkempt curls around his face, his clothes were too big and hug loosely around his frame because he had found himself feeling colder than normal around the time he turned seventeen.

Another side effect of the loss of One for All, the doctors had told him.

He was suddenly aware he didn’t look like a respectable adult.

Not that he felt like one.

“I can offer you guys a room and three meals a day?” he said hesitantly, his voice breaking and he immediately felt regret because he didn’t really know what the hell he was going to do with these children? He knew for a fact his mom would have opened her doors – and her heart – to them in an instant, but he wasn’t his mother, he was barely processing he was an orphan himself and still needed to remind himself to eat and shower and now he wanted to be responsible for two more lives?

But he had spoke out already, how was he supposed to take it back?

Mom would be so disappointed if he did.

“Two meals and money,” Yutaka-kun said after a pause, finishing his milk and trying to look tough despite the milky white mustache that now covered his upper lip. “And we can leave whenever we want.”

Izuku felt his lips twitch.

“Deal,” he said, picking up the dishes and setting them in the kitchen sink.

He could wash them later, he guessed, or just throw them all because he would rather have his old plates and pots that his own mother had lovingly kept all their lives.

Now that was a good idea?

The kids would have fun smashing his grandmother’s antique china and he could probably use the pieces to line up his new and improved garden of spite later on.

With a smile that felt a little too alien on his face he directed the children to their first task of the day, pulling out the withered plants from the front garden – he had two gardens, two – while they waited for the moving company to bring his own stuff into the village.

Misaki-kun saluted with a wide smile before he rushed out of the house, followed in a more sedate pace by his older – by five whole minutes – brother.

Izuku pulled out his phone then.

Me

I’m at the new house now

He typed, paused for a moment and then decided to type once more.

Me

I cleaned the house last night and just had breakfast

And with a practiced move he sent his message to about half of his contact list.

His phone immediately started pinging in return.

Uraraka-san

Good to hear, Deku-kun! I’m eager to see the house when you are done moving!

Iida-kun
Great, Midoriya-kun! Were you caught by the rain last night? Did you shower when you got home? How is the moving going? Do you need any help? I can go there in a blink!

Todoroki-kun

Good

Kacchan
I’ll tell the old hag

Kacchan
Wait…

Kacchan
DID YOU SLEEP!?

Tokoyami-kun

My grandfather says it is watermelon season in the mountains, be sure to get something

Yaoyorosu-san

I’m glad to hear that Midoriya-kun!

Ashido-san

Send pics! I’m curious!

Aizawa-sensei

Papa is sleeping but I’ll let him know when he wakes up! I’m really happy Midoriya-kun!

Aizawa-sensei

This is Eri by the way!

Aoyama-kun

Wonderful news! What did you eat?

Kacchan
ARE YOU IGNORING ME?!

Kirishima-kun
Dad says the movers are about to arrive and that you can call if you need anything

Jiro-san

Don’t send pics yet, decorate first

Shinsou-kun

Send a picture of your hands

Kacchan
DEKU!!!

Izuku felt something tight inside of him relax just in time as Misaki-kun ran inside the house, arms outstretched, eyes wide.

“Izuku’niisan! There is a big truck outside!” he called, excitement visible in his face.

“Thank you, Misaki-kun,” Izuku said, staring at his phone for a moment as it vibrated over and over. “Let’s go check it out.”

Izuku decided he might as well ignore his messages for now – he didn’t want Kacchan’s concerned yells and Shinsou-kun’s perceptive requests right now – and he went to greet the movers with a grateful vow, watching as the team started unloading box after box into his front yard and the team leader vowed back, his paperwork at the ready.

“Midoriya-san, hello!” said the man with vibrant neon pink hair and spiral green eyes. “I hope you don’t mind we arrived a little early.”

Behind him, Misaki-kun was watching the truck in awe – it was a big truck – and Yutaka-kun slowly touched the wheels, testing their strength.

“Not a problem, sir” Izuku reassured, waving his hands. “There are still some pieces of old furniture inside but if you can just push them aside against the wall that would be just perfect.”

The moving team – a group of four people, mostly as young as he was except for the leader – looked at each other, then at the children standing by his side and then at the size of the house.

“If you are sure, Midoriya-san,” the leader hesitated.

Izuku nodded.

“To be honest with you, I’m not sure I want to keep those old pieces the house came with,” he explained.

The members of the team stared at him, eyes wide.

“A-are you sure?” One of them, a woman, asked, eyes once again straying towards the opulent two story house.

Izuku shrugged his shoulders.

“I am,” he said simply, not really in the mood to go on about his own sob story and his terrible family with these complete strangers. If they could take the cumbersome pieces of furniture Izuku had been too tired to move himself, it would be even better for him.

If not he was sure he was going to chop them into pieces and use them for kindling in the winter.

The team then nodded to each other, oblivious to Izuku’s inner thoughts, vowed towards him and made their ways into the home.

“Are you sure about that? Not keeping the things?” Yutaka-kun asked once they were alone in the entrance, arms crossed over his small chest. “This is one of the biggest houses in the village.”

“Is it?” Izuku asked, turning to look at him.

Yutaka-kun nodded, his frown deepening.

“Most of the shit inside must be expensive,” he told him, as if he was too dumb to know it himself. “And you are just throwing them away.”

Izuku felt a little touched by the boy’s obvious concern even if he tried to act brave and disinterested.

He shook his head.

“Somethings are not worth keeping,” he explained. “Sometimes, things are linked to memories that make people feel sad.”

Yutaka-kun seemed to think about it for a moment, his eyes lowering to his muddy feet.

After a while, he looked up at him.

“And the things in this house make you sad?” he asked, unsure.

Izuku nodded.

“Most of them, yeah,” he answered. “My own things are not as pretty or as expensive, but they make me happy nonetheless.”

“Like your blanket,” the boy reasoned. “Compared to the flowers Micchan and I are pulling out.”

Izuku placed a hand over his silver hair and the boy blinked, shocked at the gesture.

“Exactly.”

Izuku felt himself a little clumsy, cursing his inability to convey his feelings like he used to. He had never been all that eloquent, not like his mom.

Idly he wondered if inside of one of the moving boxes was the little story book his mother kept, full of stories she had written herself to explain the world to him.

He hoped it was around.

He guessed he could pass them on to the new kids, if only to keep a part of her alive?

If he actually kept them.

Which his mind seemed to tell him that he was.

What was his life even.

He helped the kids pull flowers and shrubs for an hour while the moving team worked, sometimes they would exclaim in awe from inside the house and giggle, while Izuku watched the kids work seriously, most likely because they had taken the idea they were working for a living quite seriously.

Misaki-kun grabbed the wilted flowers with both hands, pulling with all his might.

Yutaka-kun was already digging the roots of an ornamental shrub with a little metal shovel Izuku had found under the porch.

Izuku watched them, wondering what had happened to their parents and how come the government hadn’t moved to take them in and found a new family for them.

Had it been something recent?

Somehow the fact that the twins were four didn’t sit well with him.

But then again maybe it was his own childhood trauma talking, because he could vividly remember the time he had turned four and how his life had changed with a single piece of paper.

“Midoriya-san?” the moving team leader said after another hour his steps frantic and eyes wide as he approached Izuku and the children.

Izuku turned, blinking.

“Yes?”

The man paused, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief, eyes darting left and right.

“The team is done and I was wondering if it was okay for me to take the furniture you are not going to use?” he said hurriedly. “My brother in law in the antique business and I sent him a picture just to see if he would like one or two tables, he says these are all very expensive and is willing to pay whatever you want.”

Izuku stared, silent.

Money, huh?

He didn’t really need it, all things considered.

But then again, that something that was bitter and angry and sad inside of him seemed to surge towards the back of his throat and choked him for a fraction of a second.

He did promise the twins for wages, after all.

“I don’t mind,” he said softly. “You can tell your brother I’m fine with you guys just taking it all. Pay what he thinks is fair.”

From behind the team leader’s back, Misaki-kun tilted his head to the side while Yutaka-kun waved his arms, slowly mouthing ‘no’ at him.

The moving team leader grasped his hands for a moment, vowing repeatedly and then he stepped back, most likely to call his brother in law and strike a deal with him.

Izuku watched him go before pulling his own phone out of his pocket, staring at the messages insistently blinking back at him.

Kirishima-san

Midoriya-kun, Eijiro told me you made it home safely

Kirishima-san
Remember that if you need anything you can contact me any time

Shinsou-kun
I’m still waiting for that picture, Midoriya-kun

Kacchan

I’M GOING TO GO THERE AND BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!

Asui-san

Remember you need to send pictures when you are done

Izuku blinked.

Me
How much in trouble would I be if I say

Me
Took in a pair of orphan children in the village?

He typed, staring as he got an immediate reply.

Kirishima-san

Excuse me?

Kirishima-san

What do you mean orphans?

Kirishima-san

Take in orphans?

Kirishima-san

You haven’t been there for a day, Midoriya-kun

Kirishima-san

Why is Eijiro laughing?

Izuku felt a smile tug at his lips.

Me
I’m not so sure myself? They claim to be orphans and are all alone?

Me
Hypothetically speaking?

Kirishima-san

Hypothetically I would say you get all the information you can before taking them in

Kirishima-san

You are an adult now, Midoriya-kun

Kirishima-san

Which means you can be prosecuted as an adult

Oh, Izuku thought with disappointment. He had honestly thought Kirishima-san was telling him he could make his own decisions.

Apparently his new lawyer didn’t trust his judgment all that much.

Not that Izuku could blame him.

He most likely still thought of the teenager jumping head first against the scourge of the world without a care in the world.

Or maybe he thought of the young man who was so surrounded by grief he forgot how to eat or shower.

Either case, he didn’t seem to be all that trustworthy to take two children in and yeah, he couldn’t help but agree, to a certain degree.

A small, warm hand grasped his own, pulling Izuku out of his somber thoughts.

He looked down, meeting a pair of wide, eager silver eyes with his own dazed green ones.

“Izuku’niisan,” Misaki-kun said, pulling gently at his fingers. “Aniki and I are done!”

Izuku knelt down, confused.

“Done?” he asked.

The boy nodded, his pale curls flying around his face as he did.

“We pulled out all the row of plants from the garden and now Aniki is driving the moving people off!”

Izuku couldn’t help it, he turned towards the door where the team was now loading another ornate chair onto the truck and the team leader was vowing over and over to the small Yutaka-kun who stared at him, arms crossed over his chest, chin raised defensively.

He then handed a wad of cash to the child, his smile fond and happy, before all four of them vowed towards Izuku and they drove away.

Yutaka-kun then came back into the house, offering the cash towards him.

“Here,” he said simply. “It’s all there.”

“All?” Izuku tilted his head. “What’s all?”

“Your money?” Yutaka-kun’s nose wrinkled. “I negotiated the price with him, got you more money.”

“Aniki is really smart,” Misaki-kun nodded wisely, pride clear in his tone.

Izuku took the money, confused.

He really didn’t care about the money, he honestly would have given the furniture away himself if he could.

But then again.

He looked at the boys.

“Did you sleep last night?” he asked because suddenly his body seemed heavier than usual and he was sure, judging by the way the children’s shoulders were also slumping, that he wasn’t the only one.

Misaki-kun seemed to think about it.

Yutaka-kun looked away guiltily.

Izuku sighed.

“I didn’t sleep either,” he said, honestly. “Let’s take a nap and then we’ll go buy something for lunch?”

At such offer, the children turned towards him once more, identical eyes focused solely on him, as if trying to read any form of deceit from his face.

He stood once more.

“Come on,” he said, walking towards the now newly furnished house. “I’m sleepy.”

The little pitter patter of bare feet followed him in.

Chapter Text

Walking around town had made Izuku notice things he hadn’t noticed before in his haze of rage and spite.

The town of Hanagouchi was small, smaller than anything Izuku had ever seen before, with vegetation almost taking over some of the roads that led to the smallest farming houses. Most of the people in town left early in the morning, either to the fields or to take the bus that would drive them to the city and the rest of the day the town seemed like a desolate shadow of what it once should have been.

Also, there were almost no children in town.

Apart from Yutaka-kun and Misaki-kun, Izuku had seen three other children at most, very young, no older than three or four themselves and he had assumed the older kids must be in school during the day, but as he made his way back home from the store with the day’s dinner, he noticed no other kids wandering around or hanging out with friends.

As if they didn’t exist at all.

Misaki-kun and Yutaka-kun were already about to turn five – he needed to find their birth certificates at the very least, to know when their birthday was – and if there were no children in the village it would be hard for him to find a primary school for them.

And the closest city was an hour bus ride each way.

Izuku found himself sighing.

He had decided to take the children in, had even contacted Kirishima-san about it but now he wondered whether he could give them a good life, in a remote village without other children to socialize, without a school to learn from.

He could move back to Musutafu with them, he was sure Principal Nezu could help him find the best schools for the twins.

But then he thought back to his own childhood, his time in elementary school and middle school, as the only quirkless student in the class.

How the teachers pretended not to see how he was bullied.

How they called his mother to school more than once and called him a ‘troublemaker’.

Mom had made it all look so easy, back in the day, she would nod at the teachers, her face completely impassive as she was told, over and over, that Izuku was a problem, that he wouldn’t amount to anything in life, that she should reconsider their options.

And then she would take him home, her hand ruffling his hair, and she would tell him he was amazing and that no matter what others said, she would always support him and his dreams.

She tucked him into bed every night, came up with the most amazing stories that seemed to answer all his questions and held him in her arms when he felt the world was crumbling around him.

With his mother by his side, Izuku never felt alone.

He was always safe.

“What would mom do,” he muttered to himself, looking down.

A sweet potato slowly rolled towards his shoe.

Izuku found himself looking up at the trail in the dirt this little sweet potato had left and towards the curved back of the old woman slowly walking away from it, and him.

“Um, excuse me!” he called, picking the sweet potato up and jogging towards the woman, finally noticing the big woven basked she held in her skinny, trembling arms.

The woman stopped, her old sunset orange colored eyes focusing on him for a moment, then widening.

“Hisashi?” she asked, his smile curling her lips and making her wrinkles more pronounced. “When did you come back to town, boy? I haven’t seen you in years!”

Izuku did his best not to recoil, his eyes wide, trying his hardest not to crush the sweet potato still in his hand.

“Uh…” he hesitated. “I’m not Hisashi, I’m his son, Izuku.”

And the words still tasted bitter in his tongue, that man’s son, he was, but he really wasn’t.

The woman blinked at him, her incredibly long – for her age – eyelashes fanning the air as she did.

“Oh my!” she said, her smile even widening with delight. “I didn’t know little Hisashi Midoriya could have such a cute son!”

Neither did he, Izuku wanted to scoff, but then again, his mother raised him to be polite to his elders and he was sure this old woman he had never seen before was just trying to be nice to him.

He took a deep breath, trying his best to smile back at her.

“You dropped this, ma’am,” he said, showing the woman the sweet potato in his hand.

The woman blinked, eyes wide.

“Look at that! I did!” she beamed. “Allow me to introduce myself, little Izuku! I’m Ito Sumire, you can call me Grandma Ito, I was neighbors with your family back in the day.”

Izuku nodded, confused.

He hadn’t seen this woman around his house before but she clearly seemed to see the Midoriya family blood in him even when the village chief hadn’t.

“You don’t live there anymore, Mrs. Ito?” he said, a little uncomfortable with the interaction and trying his darn est to pretend he didn’t notice how the woman pouted with disappointment at his polite form of address.

“Oh no!” she said, shaking her head. “My old house came down during the last big fire and I had to move in with my son and his wife at the other side of the village, I’m afraid.”

“I see…” Izuku answered, more out of politeness than anything.

Idly he wondered if the woman would like his own house, considering he was planning to move back to the city with his new-found kids.

He was sure his grandparents would hate it.

But then again, if this old woman who could recognize him as Midoriya Hisashi’s kin at a glance had been in this town for a long time, maybe she could tell him a thing or two about the town itself? Help him make an educated decision?

He looked around, wondering whether it was okay for him to walk this woman home, whether the woman’s son or daughter in law would like a complete stranger interacting with her.

He guessed it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Say, Mrs. Ito,” he began trying to feign nonchalance. “I’m new in town, I’ve been here less than a week actually and I haven’t met many of the neighbors or… anyone in town really.”

Mrs. Ito looked at him for a moment, her smile growing dim.

“It must be quite different from what you are used to, Izuku-chan,” she nodded sagely. “This town didn’t use to be like this, back in the day.”

Her gaze drifted towards the mountains then, melancholy clear in them.

“We used to be a stop for the people who worked the mines up in the mountains,” she explained. “Farmers mostly, our town provided most of the food for the miners, a bit of entertainment.”

Izuku nodded.

“Then what happened?” he asked, dreading the answer he could already see coming.

“What happens most of the time,” Mrs. Ito sighed. “The mine closed after one of the many military conflicts, the miners left and our town started disappearing.”

Izuku listened attentively as the woman spoke about their thriving town and how the economy crashed around them. How many of their children decided to move out and look for work elsewhere at first, coming over on the weekends to tend to their fields…

How eventually even those children stopped appearing.

She then told him how the population disappeared, how most houses were abandoned when the old residents died.

How their little hospital closed and how the village government eventually decided to stop holding their local festivals until only the fall harvest festival remained, but with less glory than in the past, how once it had been a time of music and dancing and fireworks but now it was just a few of the elders who still remembered preparing offerings to the mountain god with the few vegetables they were still able to harvest.

“It’s better than letting them rot in the fields,” she sighed, wistful.

Izuku could almost picture it, seeing everything you held dear, the safety of your home slowly disappear with modernity.

How many of the elders stopped seeing their children.

Never saw their grandchildren.

He looked at the side of the mountain they were walking by, filled with small huts with overgrown vegetation and broken windows.

Pieces of lives that were long gone.

He could relate, in a way.

“What about the kids?” he steeled himself. “How do they go to school?”

Mrs. Ito snorted, her face showing her grim opinion.

“What kids?” she asked. “The only kids around at the ones their parents back in the city have left here with their grandparents so they can work without worries.”

“That’s common?” Izuku said, confused.

“More than I would like, yes,” Mrs. Ito said, shaking her head. “Eventually when they grow old enough to go to school the parents pick them up and disappear again. The village is lucky to see them ever again.”

That sounded… sad, to Izuku.

He couldn’t imagine leaving his own family behind for work and then not looking back, he couldn’t imagine ignoring his own mom, who had done so much for him all his life, just because the city had much more to offer him than this little town.

At the very least he would have taken her with him.

Mrs. Ito didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil as she enumerated the children she actually knew of.

The three year old that lived with old man Yoshida.

A four year old that was left to the Ikeda couple by their irresponsible mother who liked to dance and thought she would be a star because of her snake quirk the couple had thought was a blessing from their local god.

The one year old the Masuda couple were doing their best to raise with their limited resources.

And a seven year old Mrs. Ueno thought hung the moon in the sky and everyone knew had been abandoned by his parents because he should have been picked up by now.

Izuku listened, thought about it, frowned.

“What about the twins?” he found himself asking.

Mrs. Ito looked at him, her eyes wide.

“Twins?” she asked, confused.

Izuku nodded.

“Four years old,” he explained. “White hair? Yutaka-kun and Misaki-kun.”

The old woman’s face fell.

“Oh,” she said, eyes darkening. “The Amemiya twins.”

“Amemiya?” Izuku prompted.

“Terrible story, those two,” Mrs. Ito continued, her sadness apparent. “The parents were very excited to have them, proudly paraded them around the whole village the summer they were born.”

“And then what happened?” Izuku said, visibly confused.

“It happened a few months ago,” Mrs. Ito said. “The Amemiya couple brought them back into the village, said something about a diagnosis and just… left.”

Izuku felt something cold and heavy settling on the pit of his stomach.

A very familiar tale to him.

He forced the words piling behind his lips to come out anyways.

“Are they ill?” he said, his frown deepening when Mrs. Ito shook her head.

“No, not ill perse,” she said, her voice lowering to a whisper, her eyes darting from side to side. “They are quirkless, you see.”

Izuku struggled to swallow the bitter bile rising into his throat.

“And the parents just… left them here?”

“It happens more than I would like to admit,” Mrs. Ito sighed. “It’s hard for quirkless children to have a normal life and the parents felt it was too much of a hassle.”

“And what about the authorities?” Izuku asked. “Abandoning children just like that, it’s a crime.”

“The Village Chief tried to call them back multiple times,” the old woman said, her lips pulled back, taunt. “Even local police got involved but the Amemiya couple just disappeared.”

“And no one took the twins in?” Izuku asked, his mind unintentionally flashing back to the very few pictures his mother had kept of his father. Of his proud smile as he held Izuku in his arms, of the toys he littered Izuku’s crib with.

How his father disappeared from his life at the age of five.

When his diagnosis became irrevocable.

“We do what we can with what we have,” Mrs. Ito said, her tone bitter. “We feed the children when he see them and make sure they have somewhere to sleep but… well, this village is not what it used to be, Izuku-chan and resources are scarce.”

Izuku looked at her, really looked at the woman in front of him.

He noticed her deep set wrinkles and skinny frame, the way her back curved not from the weight of her basket but by age alone, how she seemed fragile and tired despite her earlier energy, how her clothing was all faded colors and patchworks.

He tried to imagine the kind of life this woman could provide for children like Yutaka-kun and Misaki-kun, who had been dumped into this remote place.

Who most likely had been loved once, had a family and a promising future, only for everything to be taken away from them.

Like it was once taken from him.

All by a piece of paper that stated they were less than.

He felt his fists clench.

He thought back to the fortune the Midoriya family had hidden from him and his mother, to the way this little town was slowly sinking into oblivion.

He didn’t think he could hate the Midoriya family anymore than he did.

He shook his head.

“Say, Grandma Ito,” he said absently, his eyes set on his shoes. “I’m cleaning up the old house, there is a lot I won’t be able to wear and I was wondering if you and your family would like some of it? It’s mostly clothes grandma and grandpa left behind? Some things of Dad’s?”

Izuku watched as the woman’s eyes widened for a moment, her thin lips curling in eager delight.

“Are you sure about it, Izuku-chan? Your family was really wealthy! Those things must be expensive!” she tried to argue, but Izuku could tell the offer was tempting to her.

He nodded.

“I’m sure, I’d rather nice people like you take them and give them a good use than watching them rot in that old house.”

Izuku felt a deep sense of spiteful satisfaction when the woman nodded repeatedly, grateful, when her hands grasped his own and she filled his arms with sweet potatoes – from her own garden, she assured, the sweetest and best of the bunch – and promised to come by that evening when he son came back from the fields.

Izuku smiled at her, patted her hand and watched her leave in a hurry, most likely already imagining the kinds of treasures she would find in the old Midoriya family house.

He could almost hear the proud grandmother he had only seen pictures of rolling in her grave, if she ever got one.

He hoped she did.

With a sigh he pulled out his phone, ready to send the information he had just gathered to Kirishima-san.

Now he had a last name and an approximate date for the police to search.

The Amemiya couple who had abandoned their children would be found, he was sure.

And they would pay.

Kirishima-san would make sure of that.

Just as he hit ‘send’ his phone started ringing and Izuku instinctively brought the phone to his ear, thinking Maybe Kirishima-san had more questions and had already grown accustomed to his newest client’s habit of ignoring his phone while he was out.

“Hello?” he said, placing the sweet potatoes he had just gotten into his backpack with the rest of his groceries for the day.

“…”

Izuku blinked.

“Hello?”

The sound of a deep breath was his only response.

He waited for a moment, thinking maybe someone had dialed his number by mistake.

The breathing continued.

Something rustled in the background.

A soft, almost imperceptible meow.

He took a small pause.

Decided to take a gamble.

“Aizawa-sensei?” he asked, a slow smile pulling at his lips when the rustling grew louder.

A soft cough.

A clearing of a throat.

“Hello, Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei eventually greeted, his voice low, steady, but behind all his stoic bravado, Izuku could hear a hint of nervousness.

He leaned against a tree, eyes set on the sky.

“Hello, sensei,” he greeted back.

Another bout of silence, one that Izuku waited out patiently.

“I wanted to check on you,” Sensei said awkwardly. “I’ve heard from your former classmates that you moved.”

“I did,” Izuku nodded, clearly aware sensei couldn’t see him, a little amused. “I’m remodeling my grandparents old house in Hanagouchi.”

“That’s…” Aizawa-sensei paused.

“Tokushima Prefecture,” Izuku finished for him.

“That’s nice,” Aizawa-sensei said at the same time.

Izuku chuckled.

“Thank you, Aizawa-sensei,” he said and honestly meant it. It was strange, knowing he was still in his old teacher’s mind despite how rude he had been the last time they met, but then again; Aizawa-sensei was always the kindest to him.

Despite his gruff exterior, the man held a soft spot inside for people like Izuku, it seemed.

“You suck at this,” another voice scoffed, startling Izuku for a moment as he heard more rustling, a hissed complaint, and suddenly the phone call turned into a video call and Izuku was staring at Aizawa-sensei’s embarrassed face and at Shinsou-kun scowling at him.

“Hello, Shinsou-kun,” he greeted. “You look good.”

“And you look like you haven’t had a good night sleep in a while,” Shinsou-kun said, an eyebrow raised. “How are you, really?”

Izuku wondered how come Aizawa-sensei let Shinsou-kun hijack his phone call, but then again, Shinsou-kun was Aizawa-sensei’s personal student, the relationship between them closer than anyone else.

“I’ve been remodeling the old house,” Izuku shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I sent you all pictures.”

“You did,” Aizawa-sensei nodded. “It looks good so far.”

“Yeah,” Shinsou-kun echoed. “Good.”

“It’s a whole process,” Izuku assured. “But as soon as I have more things ready I’ll…”

“What about your hands?” Shinsou-kun suddenly asked, eyes narrowing.

“… give you a tour…” Izuku trailed off. “What about my hands, Shinsou-kun?”

And before he could say anything else, he felt the cooling feeling of Shinsou-kun’s quirk enveloping him, his mind going blank and Shinsou-kun’s voice echoing inside his ears.

“Show your hands to the camera, Midoriya.”

Izuku scoffed but his body immediately moved on his own and he could see twin frowns of disapproval on Aizawa-sensei’s and Shinsou-kun’s faces when his bloodied and bruised knuckles came on display.

“How have you been remodeling?” Shinsou-kun asked, unimpressed. “By punching the walls?”

The other man’s quirk receded and Izuku was finally able to frown.

“Maybe…” he snapped. “And that was not nice, Shinsou-kun.”

“Sue me,” Shinsou-kun snapped back, arms crossing over his chest. “I knew you were hiding something with those pictures of yours.”

“You guys asked me for pictures of the house,” Izuku argued.

“I’m pretty sure your classmates want to see you in the pictures, Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei argued back, his own arms crossing over his chest, his hair slowly rising with his not-so-hidden fury.

“It’s nothing, really…” Izuku tried to defend himself.

“Which is why you will send videos from now on, right?” Shinsou-kun said, nodding to himself.

“What?” Izuku blinked.

“Or I’m pretty sure Uraraka and Iida will love to see the screenshots I just took from this,” Shinsou-kun continued, as if he hadn’t heard him at all.

“You can’t do that!” Izuku snapped, eyes wide.

“Try me,” Shinsou-kun threatened, a slow smile making his face look a lot more menacing – a lot more like Aizawa-sensei’s actually.

Izuku stared at the pair, so similar and so determined, ruthless in their visible concern for him.

His shoulders slumped.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Video it is.”

“I’ll be sure to watch it,” Aizawa-sensei nodded, satisfaction clear in his golden eyes.

“We’ll vote on paint colors or something, make it interactive,” Shinsou-kun promised.

“This is my house,” Izuku said, knowing it was useless. Especially when he received twin shrugs of their shoulders, in absolute synchrony.

“Irrelevant,” Shinsou-kun and Aizawa-sensei said at the same time.

Izuku wondered how long it would take before anyone from his old life came to the town unannounced.

He had a lot of remodeling to do, apparently.

Chapter Text

"Who is that lady, Izuku'niisan?" Misaki-kun asked one day as Izuku finished throwing away all pictures of the old Midoriya family. 

"Hum?" Izuku asked as he washed the dishes of the day's dinner, turning and finding the boy looking intently into his mother's smiling eyes. "That's my mom."

"She's pretty," the boy said honestly, tilting his head and letting his curls fall over his eyes. "Why isn't she here with us?" 

Izuku paused, a wet plate still in his hand, not sure what to say. 

From what Kirishima-san had been able to find out, the Amemiya family had been just as Ito-san had described. A normal rural family from Hanagouchi, young and full of potential, known for their weather manipulating quirks that had kept the fields well watered and the air fresh for generations. 

Children of the water god, the village called them. 

Blessed. 

But when the fields became no longer vital for the survival of the town and better opportunities appeared in cities, the family's political power also started to decline. 

What did it matter if the Amemiya family could water their crops with rain if, say, the Midoriya family could make a fortune with businesses in the city?

Eventually, only the Amemiya son, his wife and his aging mother were left. 

And when the twins that could turn their family's situation around were diagnosed a quirkless, it only stood to reason he returned to the village to leave his disappointing progeny in the care of his mother and left without looking back. 

Not really caring that his aging mother had been ill and didn't last for a month before passing. 

Not really caring that the village, already a ghost town full of elders that could barely support themselves could not care for his newly abandoned children. 

The twins' father, Amemiya Asahi, had been informed of his mother's passing at the time, but he had cited his work as his refusal to deal with the proper rites for his mother. 

And since the twins had been born in the village, just like him, tradition dictated that their household register could only be updated once they had their quirk. 

Which meant that in Hanagouchi village, Amemiya Asahi had two quirkless, legal sons. 

But in the national registry, Amemiya Asahi was single and childless. 

That had been six months ago.

The twins had moved into his home and had spent days decorating their own rooms - even if the usually ended up cuddling together on a single bed, hands holding each other's tightly - and their personalities were slowly starting to come out. 

Misaki-kun was very open, his eyes always wide, his lips asking many questions, the whole world his to discover. 

He was the one who reached for Izuku's hand and greeted the workers slowly clearing up the back garden and demolishing the sheds every morning. 

Yutaka-kun was more subdued, his eyes always onto his younger brother, vigilant, tense. 

He took his role as the older brother very seriously and had more than likely seen things he didn't want Misaki-kun to know of. 

So now he actually wondered how much Misaki-kun knew about death or how his grandmother had died. 

If she had been nice to them in ways their parents obviously weren't. 

He took a deep breath, placing a hand on the boy's hair and ruffling it, surreptitiously looking around to find where Yutaka-kun was. 

Ah, he was outside covering their newly planted apple tree with care. 

He did like it. 

Izuku put down the dishes and looked at Misaki-kun, still eagerly awaiting for his answer. 

He took a deep breath. 

"My mom is no longer here," he said, shaking his head as he pulled the boy's hair back from his face. "She passed away."

Misaki-kun looked at him, confused. 

"Like grandma?" he asked after a pause. 

Izuku thought about it. 

"Yeah," he nodded. "Sometimes people we love can't stay with us, so we honor them." 

And his eyes strayed to all the pictures of his mom he had proudly hung on the walls, to the closed butsudan where he lit incense for her every day, told her good morning and good night. 

Misaki-kun also looked at the butsudan for a moment, then at the smiling woman in the pictures, her arms around an equally smiling boy. 

He blinked. 

"Your mommy looks like you, Izuku'niichan," he said, his voice soft, his hand reaching for Izuku's in what had become an unconscious movement for him. "Very pretty."

Izuku squeezed his hand back, a small, sad smile on his face. 

"Thank you, Misaki-kun," he said back. 

"We'll ask the god to look after her," Yutaka-kun called from the entrance as he toed his shoes off, his hair falling into his eyes as he patted the dirt off his clothes. "Maybe send a little boat for her down the river in the new years."

Izuku blinked, confused. 

He had almost forgotten, the twins were part of one of the traditional families in Hanagouchi, most likely they had been taught the traditions, the rituals, maybe they even had memories of the festivals Mrs. Ito said the Village eventually had to discontinue. 

He found himself smiling. 

"I'd like that," he said, taking a cloth and wiping Yutaka-kun's face clean, his lips twitching when the boy's cheek became dusted in a soft shade of pink. "Thank you, Yutaka-kun, that's very thoughtful of you."

"Aniki is so smart!" Misaki-kun beamed with pride, his arms wrapping around his older brother's shoulders, his smile wide. 

Yutaka-kun sighed, patting the other boy on the head, his own lips curling into a fond smile. 

"So is Micchan…" he commended dotingly. "Micchan is the smartest."

Izuku watched with a small smile as the twins argued back and forth about their respective sibling's incredible attributes, praising each other over and over as their embrace grew tighter. 

Izuku could almost picture his mom watching them, her eyes moist, her cheeks flushed at their cuteness, surreptitiously snapping pictures of them with her phone. 

He took a picture himself, just for the fun of it, quickly sending it to his various friends with the caption: "Future Midoriya Yutaka and Midoriya Misaki"

And his phone imploded immediately. 

Uraraka-san
Deku-kun… are those…?

Kacchan
DEKU!??!? WHAT THE FUCK!?

Todoroki-kun
Ah, your own secret children

Todoroki-kun
So proud

Iida-kun

That's not funny Midoriya-kun

Ashido-san

What do you mean? The small one looks JUST like him

Iida-kun

??!?!?!

Kacchan
HE DOES NOT!! DEKU WAS CHUBBIER AND NOT AS UGLY AS A KID

Kaminari-kun

Awwww Bakugou thinks you were a cute child, Midoriya-kun!!

Ashido-san
Awwwwww

Uraraka-san

Pictures Bakugou

Kacchan
WHAT?!?! NO I DON'T !!!

Kirishima-kun

Dad says he's sending the paperwork to you next week

Kirishima-kun

Congrats, Midoriya-kun 

Uraraka-san

Huh?!?!?!?!?

Iida-kun
WHAT

Ashido-san
WHAT

Kaminari-kun
What…? 

Kacchan

DEKUUUUUUU!??!??!?

Todoroki-kun
I knew it…

Kacchan
THE FUCK YOU DID!!!

Izuku found himself chuckling, feeling a little relief that this little picture would keep his friends fretting for a while. 

Maybe until he felt ready to start sending videos of his progress like Shinsou-kun had requested.

Maybe until Aizawa-sensei decided to kidnap him and demanded an explanation. 

Whatever happened first. 

He stared at Kirishima-kun's reply for a while. 

The paperwork.

That meant Kishima-san had found the Amemiya couple - either alive or dead, Izuku himself didn't know - and had gathered everything needed to transfer the twins to his own family. 

Kirishima-san was definitely a prodigious lawyer, thorough and efficient. 

If only Izuku himself could be like him. 

It had almost been a month and he hadn't even told the twins themselves he had wanted to adopt them. 

Right…

He should do that…

Sooner rather than later…

Like, tonight would be a good time, right?

He turned to look at the twins again who were stil immersed in their little world, most likely planning a special trip up the mountain to visit the shrine and pray to the mountain god for his mom. 

With a sigh he directed them towards the back, dutifully helping Misaki-kun and Yutaka-kun with their clothes and making sure they got no soap on their eyes as they washed for the night, idly wondering if he should tell Yutaka-kun he should cut his hair before the boy attacked himself with scissors as he had probably done in the past. 

Accepting Misaki-kun's help washing his back and the clumsy way Yutaka-kun scoffed and told him he needed to wash his own feet if he ever wanted to go to bed that night. 

Compared to the first time he had tried to help the boys and Yutaka-kun stood like a shield between him and his little brother, he could see the relationship between them was progressing, and maybe the kids wouldn' take it all that terribly?

He honestly didn't know if the twins were as attached to the Amemiya name as he was to the Midoriya one. 

Which was not at all?

The only reason he hadn't changed his last name after his mom's passing was that he was still Midoriya-kun to the people he loved, that he had made a name for himself without any bonds to the old Midoriy family who had rejected him. 

That he knew for a fact his father and his grandparents hadn't been able to enjoy the glory of being related to Midoriya Izuku savior of the world for long. 

If at all…

And maybe inheriting the Midoriya wealth when he was back to being quirkless did make him snort a little in spite. 

And he couldn't deny that making a new Midoriya family inside Hanagouchi village full of quirkless members did bring him a sort of satisfaction. 

Especially when all traces of the old family disappeared from this land, from the memories of those around him. 

And only the wonderful Midoriya Inko remained. 

With a sigh he put the twins to bed, tucking them in and making sure they had water nearby just in case and he went to sit by the porch, eyes set on the night sky, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. 

"I'm doing the right thing, right Mom?" he whispered into the breeze, hoping beyond hope his mother could hear him. 

That she was still watching over him. 

And maybe also hating the idea of her knowing what he had become after she left. 

All the dreams and wishes she had for him and his future gone in the blink of an eye. 

"Nevermind…" he said to himself, eyes lowering to his folded knees.

He picked up his phone, watching the chaos that had unfolded after he dropped the bomb. 

Eventually all the other former 3-A students had been summoned and they had ganged up on Kirishima-kun so he could explain what he meant by 'paperwork' and some had even ambushed him on his way home from school.

Something Kaminari-kun had described in vivid detail, quite proud of himself. 

Another group had decided to go stop Kacchan from storming his way to Hanagouchi by himself because he had an exam the following morning and Todoroki-kun had assured him that Izuku would not open the door of the house if he just appeared, kicking and screaming as usual.

It was then that Iida-kun had explained, in no small detail, that no, Izuku didn't have secret children like Todoroki-kun had imagined - huh, Izuku had thought it was a joke, their thing after all - and that he was in his right mind, just trying to do good in his new home. 

Then they all sent him pictures of encouragement. 

All smiling faces - except for Kacchan's who was glaring from inside an icecube Todoroki-kun had definitely provided for the occasion and Kirishima-kun who was hanging upside down all thanks to Tsu-chan - and they wished him the best and wanted to learn more about their new nephews - or nieces, Ashido-san said, only to be scolded by the others - and maybe they could visit Musutafu soon?

Izuku sent his agreement, then wrote about his doubts, his fears, because he hadn't even told the kids about it, and there was a high chance that he would be rejected. 

What kind of sicko picked up kids he had met for less than a  month after all?

Izuku, that's who.

"You look like you are in trouble," a soft voice called from behind him, making Izuku turn his head. 

Yutaka-kun scowled at him, still in his pijamas, a blanket held in his hand. 

"Yutaka-kun?" Izuku said, confused. "It's kind of late for you to be awake, don't you think?" 

Yutaka-kun looked back at him, arms crossed, unimpressed. 

"Look who's talking," he scoffed, sitting by Izuku's side on the porch and slowly bundling himself with the new fluffy blanket Izuku had bought for him. "Do we need to hide a body or something?"

Izuku stared at him.

"Do you know what that means?" he asked, tilting his head when the boy's cheeks grew pink. 

"Not really, but it's what Grandma asked Dad when he brought us here to the village, so I'm guessing it's bad?" he said honestly, his face impassive. "Can't be good if it's linked to that asshole."

"Language, Yutaka-kun," Izuku admonished gently, doing his best not to smile. "And what makes you think I need to hide a body?" 

"The way you look at us," Yutaka-kun said instantly. "Like you really need to do something but you know we are going to hate you when you do it." 

'Like Dad when he abandoned us…' was left unsaid between them but still powerfully loud. 

Izuku took a deep breath, eyes on his coffee cup. 

"I do have something to talk to you two about," he admitted, wincing a little with Yutaka-kun's shoulders grew tense. "And it is about your dad."

"How long then?" Yutaka-kun asked then, eyes set on his own blanket, as if purposefully avoiding Izuku's gaze. 

"How… long?" Izuku repeated, confused. 

"Until you kick us out too?" Yutaka-kun said, his voice growing steadier. "You found out we are quirkless, didn't you?" 

Ah…

Izuku turned to him, his own body growning limper, more relaxed. 

"I did, yes," he said, nodding. "But it really is not what you think about."

"Oh really?" the child scoffed once more, his hair hidding his eyes from view. "You are not disappointed we are broken?"

Izuku thought about it for a moment, watching the boy almost hunch into himself, preparing himself for the rejection he could feel coming. 

He shook his head, choosing his words. 

"I think that would be rather hypocritical of me, don't you?" he said, his voice soft. "I'm quirkless too."

Shocked pale eyes met his own calm green ones. 

Yutaka-kun looked up at him, his eyes trailing over him, over his scarred hands and the marks on his face. 

It seemed like he was trying to find any lies in him, in the way he sat, in his eyes. 

"But…" he hesitated. 

"But…?" Izuku prompted, remiding himself he had to be patient. Yutaka-kun was a child after all. 

"But you are old," the boy finished, confused. 

Izuku couldn't help it, he winced. 

"Ouch," he said, placing a hand on his chest. "I'm not old, I'm 20."

Yutaka-kun's frown deepened, confused. 

"20 is old," he said, nodding to himself. "No one ever makes it to 20."

"No one…?" Izuku asked, now even more confused. "Who?"

"Quirkless children," Yutaka-kun replied, his face twisting as if Izuku was being particularly dumb. "No one ever makes it to 18, let alone 20."

And he counted with his fingers, whispering each number slowly, as if trying to make sure he said the right ones. 

"Oh…" Izuku said, his eyes lowering. 

He hadn't really known about that, back then. But then again, he had been the only quirkless child he had ever met until now and back in the day he had been a little too preocupied with the whole One for All thing to actually notice. 

If he would ever. 

But he still had never heard of any medical condition that could shorten a quirkless child's life. His mother would have told him if that was the case, and as far as he knew Yagi-san was also quirkless and he was already 60 and other than his battle injuries there was nothing wrong with him. 

So where did Yutaka-kun get that idea?

"Who… told you that?" he asked, one hand reaching for Yutak-kun's shoulder. 

"Grandma," the boy said simply, shrugging. "She said it was normal and that we should have fun with the time we had so no need to study or anything."

Izuku felt something cold and heavy drop onto his stomach. 

His coffee no longer as apetizing as before. 

He put the cup down, his now warmed hand reaching to hold Yutaka-kun's. 

"I was lucky," he said after a pause. "My mom was very good to me, she made sure I grew up healthy."

Something dark passed through the child's eyes then, pity maybe, envy, self loathing. 

Izuku's hand on his shoulder tightened gently for a moment. 

"And now that I can, I want to take care of you and your brother," he whispered, his nose sour. "So you and Misaki-kun can grow up just like I did."

The boy raised his face once more, his eyes wide, hesitant. 

"What…?" he asked, his voice breaking. 

Izuku felt his cheeks flush, his hands tremble. 

"It's what I wanted to ask you two, actually," he paused. "If you two woud like to come and live with me permanently, become part of my family from now on."

Yutaka-kun frowned, confused. 

"You want to adopt us?" he asked. 

"If that's okay with you two…" Izuku nodded. "The house is really big and… I'm also an orphan so I thought…"

"YES!" another voice called out, followed by the pitter patter of bare feet on the wooden floors and suddenly Izuku had Misaki-kun's arms around his neck and his soft face was buried on his shoulder. "Yes! Izuku'niisan! Yes!" 

Izuku wrapped an arm around the boy, holding him close, surprised. 

"Misaki-kun…" he whispered. 

"You are not lying, right?" Misaki-kun sobbed. "You really want to be a family with Yucchan and Micchan? You won't leave us behind?"

Izuku paused, feeling the tears soaking up his shirt, his breathless voice trembling. 

He then looked at Yutaka-kun who hadn't moved, his eyes moist, a tear rolling down his own cheek but his lips held tight. 

He let out a long sigh. 

"Yes," he said, offering his other arm to Yutaka-kun. "I won't leave you two, I promise."

It all happened in a second, maybe less. 

Misaki-kun's arms tightened around his neck.

Yutaka-kun launched at him, his own arms joining his brother's, his face burying itself in his free shoulder. 

Izuku held them both breathing in the soft scent of shampoo still in their hair, letting them cry their grief against him, trying to pass his warmth - or whatever was left of it - to them. 

His eyes strayed to the night sky. 

Maybe Mom wouldn't be so distressed if she could see him right now.