Chapter Text
Midoriya Inko was a would admit that she was a worrisome person, as it came with being a single mother. All in all, it was mostly when it came to Izuku, but it happened easily when it concerned any child as well. Sometimes, she was too easily affected by the stories of strangers as well.
But she knew that it just wasn’t normal to leave a child alone in the heat of the park unsupervised for this long.
Inko didn’t even know how long he had been here before they found him. Her usual optimism and trusting ways faltered slightly as she waited for a guardian to come fetch him.
They were sitting fully visible on a park bench, waiting. Izuku’s legs had been swinging contently in the beginning, but as time went on he must have felt that something was amiss. He was still speaking about heroes with little Hitoshi, but his gaze was concerned and his tone gentle.
It wasn’t a big park either, not really. Sure, it felt like a forest for the children, but an adult could easily see the other side of the park if there weren’t any trees in the way.
The things Shinsou had said about Hide and Seek just wasn’t logical. Had she just misunderstood? But that didn’t explain why this little boy was here without his parent.
A recurrent thought popped into her head over and over, but she couldn’t just push it away anymore: The parents may have abandoned their son.
Sadly, it wasn’t as unusual as she would have wanted it to be. Ever since quirks had become part of the everyday life, it had been made part of the social status as well. Jobs could be acquired by a good but irrelevant quirk, and being quirkless usually was shameful for the family, since quirkless people was almost guaranteed to live a harsh life.
Cases of ‘Missing Children’ or plain abandonment had nestled it’s way into their society, and the cases were not that few.
Inko would never forget the horrifying letter she had received shortly after her little sweetheart had been diagnosed as quirkless.
She had never told Izuku about the incident, but with a wave of disgust she had called the police seconds after reading proposals of how to dispose of what the letter called a ‘skeleton in the closet’, and ‘bearer of ill repute’.
It took a while to get the picture out of her head, especially when people frequently sent her flower to account for her ‘loss’.
Like a slowly flowing syrup, those disappeared at last. Not before Izuku had been able to see them, though.
The memory gnawed at her now, not letting her usual optimism for things take the control when the mere possibility of such a thing wasn’t out of the question.
When the only light in the park at last came from the street lights, Inko judged it to be unsafe to stay there with two children any longer, and she had to ask.
“Hitoshi-kun, you said your parents weren’t here. Are they looking for you?” Inko chose her words carefully, not wanting to scare away the little boy.
Please let me be wrong.
A pause.
How could a single move of someones head break her heart?
“Will they come back?”
Please, just this once, let me be wrong.
How could a single move of someone's hand fill her with such rage?
She barely noticed her own echo. “What do you mean with 'usually' ?”
If this was all just a big misunderstanding, if she worried the parents, she would have to apologize later, for now though? She had to take care of him.
Within a moment she had decided she’d take care of this child, and call the police when they got home. First, they’d have to stop at a supermarket, they had groceries to buy, and children to feed.
Hitoshi must have died. How else could he explain that he suddenly was in heaven? Because there was no way that the people he had met today weren’t angels.
But, a treacherous voice whispered, that’s just because you haven’t told them about your quirk yet. You’re tricking them. You’re exactly the kind of person everyone says you are.
He would never be able to make real friends, would he? Whenever he saw a movie, keeping secrets seemed to be unacceptable, so he had already broken the first rule. There was probably some unwritten rule about taking advantage of kind-hearted people too so that they would talk to him. Talking to someone like him wasn’t fair to ask of them. So he remained silent, pretending with each movement, lying.
Hitoshi quickly shook the thoughts out of his head.
Screw what was right, he just wanted to enjoy this while it lasted. He would probably not get another chance.
So when Mrs. Midoriya crouched down and reached out her hand, her eyes mirroring nothing but kindness, sympathy, he accepted it and listened.
The warning he had heard from his parents, one of those first times he was left in the park, echoed in his head. Don't trust strangers. Hitoshi, though, couldn't really care less about the consequences for the moment.
All he cared about was the ice cream in his stomach, somehow warming him just as much as the caring hands that gently held his. He cared about San's smile, his bubbly laugh, and his kind words.
Although the evening had crept over the sky, leaving dusk and darkness in its wake, all Hitoshi could see was dazzling stars, reassuring him that everything was going to be fine, that they would take care of him.
'Hoshi', San had called him.
Star.
…
Hitoshi decided he really liked stars.
He followed the light, and somehow ended up in a small car, with a warm blanket wrapped around him. He decided he didn't really mind at all, and that it was the perfect place for a nap.
The hushed but kind voices lulled him, and the low, steady rumbling of the car rocked him to sleep like no parent ever had.
He felt relaxed, and despite his previous experiences showing otherwise, he slept through the whole way back. He slept when Inko bought groceries, when she cast worried looks at his malnourished body, and when Izuku muttered possible explanations to himself.
Fuyumi broke a sigh of relief, feeling like a weigh had finally been lifted from her shoulders.
It was the first time since the incident that Shouto had gone to sleep with a smile on his face, and she felt like her luck might finally have changed.
Mrs. Midoriya from the park had sat with Fuyumi the whole afternoon without a single complaint. Not only did Fuyumi receive advice on how to manage, using the excuse that her parents were usually busy from work, but they had also exchanged stories.
Mrs. Midoriya had told Fuyumi of her child, and Fuyumi had in return talked about her siblings. It was not until she nearly mentioned Touya that she realized she had been at such dangerous ease with the woman. Though she knew the secret had to kept, she wanted to continue talking.
She had frozen up in the middle of a sentence, and didn’t know how to continue. She just couldn’t let go of any more information, especially the kind that bordered on classified.
So, Fuyumi did what she usually did, she avoided the problem. Awkwardly, she looked at the time and excused herself, calling for her little brother. Mrs. Midoriya didn’t seem to mind, instead she scribbled something down on a small piece of paper and tucked it into the palm of Fuyumi’s hand. She hadn’t looked at it, just waved back to Mrs. Midoriya and the two children at her side. Shouto would have seen it, and he had since long known how to read.
But now, with Shouto sleeping peacefully in his hospital bed, she dared to take a look.
If you ever need help, or just want to talk:
A phone number was hastily written with a messy handwriting. Objectively, it was just a note. To Fuyumi? It was priceless. She clutched it against her chest for a solid minute, regaining her composure as to not wake Shouto. With a hand over her mouth, she texted the number.
Thank you.
The responsibility did lay with her, now that Touya and mom was gone. It was the least she could do. But was it so wrong of her to take a little advice when offered?
Shouto had been reluctant to leave, and Fuyumi knew she could never thank these people enough. They had opened her little brother’s shell and breathed life into him. He talked, he waved them goodbye, he smiled. His eyes were still unfocused, but not so dim. He had surely regained some energy, as he hadn’t just picked at the soba today. Well, none thanks to Fuyumi, but she could still never have been more proud.
What’s more, when Fuyumi had yet again tried to make small talk in the small and lifeless hospital room, asking if there was any specific flower he wished to have at his side, he had nodded. He had hesitated, and it was just a nod, but then he talked to her, too.
“I would like broccoli, please.” He had said with determination, and Fuyumi didn’t care that it wasn’t a flower, because she would do everything for her brother to have a bouquet of broccoli in his room when he woke up.
She brought out her texting app again, and before she had thought about it she’d sent a message to ‘Touya-nii’, asking if he could buy some on the way home. It took a moment for her to remember the situation, and she took a shaky breath.
Standing up, she put her wallet into her purse. “I’d better get going, then…”
She doubted she would find broccoli among the hospitals own flower shop.
Wifts of dreams passed hazily by, but not strong enough to remember. Motoric sounds slowly invaded his sleep, but not distracting enough to get him more than halfway awake. I don't want to wake up , he tried to insist to his inner self. I don't want to wake up.
Luck was, like most days, not on his side as the previously rhythm of the motors gave way to a huge screech. No no, I want to stay asleep!
He groaned internally. When you were thinking that, it was already too late, but he hadn't been able to have such a decent sleep since… Well, for as long as he could remember.
That wasn't the important thing, though. It was the dreams. I managed to dream of sun and stars, and it felt realistic. But now that was over, and no more nice smiles would greet him. Heh, it would be far worse than that if he didn't wake up soon.
But it didn't make sense.
Because, in the dream, he had followed the light into the car.
But when he dared to open his eyes, albeit only in springs, he was clearly still in the car. To his surprise, he found a star sitting right next to him, asleep. I wonder what he is dreaming. Can stars dream?
Seeing his green hair turn when he twisted and tossed, a thought once again popped into his head, following a muffled chuckle. Can a broccoli dream? There was just an uncanny resemblance!
If it was real, that is.
Either, Hitoshi had managed to get himself wrapped up in a blanket, filled with warmth and kindness, reveling in the light of San's star-speckled eyes closed, dozing at ease. Either, this was all real, and he had encountered a miracle. That, or the more viable option.
That, or Hitoshi had finally crossed his breaking point and gone mad like most who knew his quirk feared for.
The second one was more plausible, because even if it was unfair that he never got the chance to prove himself, it didn't matter anyways. Hitoshi had been told enough times that he knows with certainty he's, in fact, a bad person.
He's bitter, and he knows it, but how else should he react to a situation?
When he had started school, he had pushed away the only person who was intrigued to see who Hitoshi really was, behind the barrier of gossip and rumors. Sorry for being paranoid, Masaki. He didn't know any better.
He always got odd looks when he could create a lie on the spot without breaking face, but that's what living in his house had taught him.
He didn't know how to interact with people correctly, because solitude had been used as a punishment against him for being born.
So what if he wasn't good? So what if he didn't listen in class, didn't care about his classmates, and had tried to speak back when someone was wrong about him. He was never going to be a villain, never in his life, but he wasn't going to be nice about it. Screw being nice, he was on his own if he wanted to prove himself.
Except... San had somehow with the power of nostalgia and stars brought Hitoshi back in time to when he still thought it mattered. He brought down all of Hitoshi's defences with a single smile, and now Hitoshi didn't want to build him out.
Damn, if he was delusional, this was going to hurt. Not that I'd know. But, delusions must be a little like dreams, right?
So, still strapped to the car with the seat belt he leaned over, which was easy considering how tall he was compared to his age. San was the opposite, so tiny, just like a broccoli.
Broccoli boy with broccoli hair. If he wasn't real, Hitoshi wouldn't be able to touch him, right? So naturally, he poked San on the cheek, and he didn't disappear into thin air. So then he poked him again. Finally, he dared to feel the fluffy hair.
It
Was
So
Soft.
Hitoshi would have liked to pet that hair for the rest of his life, but sadly, San seemed to stir at the touch, and Hitoshi found himself in a very embarrassing situation. So he did what he was best at, the took a nap. That was what he pretended to do, at least Collapsing to San's shoulder, a bit ruffled by the way he acted so familiar with this new/old friend. He immediately feigned to be fast asleep, avoiding confrontation of why he was petting San like he would a cat. He liked to pet cats.
He wanted to see San's reaction, so he didn't completely close his eyes. The little broccoli rubbed his eyes sleepily with a yawn (Hitoshi had to hold himself back from joining him) , stopping when he looked at the weight lying on his shoulder.
His eyes widened when he saw Hitoshi, but instead of the expected dismissal, San's face broke out in a giant smile. Hitoshi could feel his cheeks gain heat at the pure happiness San had over seeing him.
What really surprised him was that after a second of smiling at him, San leaned back onto Hitoshi's shoulder. They were now leaning on each other, San's head on his arm and Hitoshi and his shoulder. San was warm, and even though a blush tinted his cheeks, he could feel his own lips curling. He hadn't even realized how much he'd missed physical contact. It was comforting.
Hitoshi had begun to hear the rhythmic breathing and faint snoring when the door to the car opened. Hitoshi hadn't been able to fall asleep again, but he had relaxed into the warm embrace. When he heard the click of the car door opening, he sneakily watched with nearly-closed eyes.
Mrs. Midoriya poked her head through the door with a gentle smile at her lips, tugging at her cheeks even more when she saw Hitoshi and San curled up together, Hitoshi protectively wrapped around his star, but at the same time had a hand clutching San’s All Might hoodie for comfort. When had that happened? It was nice, though.
Mrs. Midoriya’s gaze softened into something sadder, sympathetic when her eyes lingered at Hitoshi, but disappeared soon enough as she brought up a phone again.
Mirth glittered in her eyes when an audible click was heard again, just as it had been earlier that day. Hitoshi stopped himself from blinking in embarrassment, refusing to blow his cover. Would they be mad at him for pretending to sleep, maybe even suspicious?
...Somehow, seeing Mrs. Midoriya release Hitoshi’s seatbelt and gently nudge him out of his ‘sleep’, he doubted it. Still, he couldn’t relax. What if they’re trying to trick you? One voice clawed at him. What if you hurt them? Another one stung. It was logical to be suspicious, and he wasn’t going to talk anyways. He was going to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime chance, and then he would be back to the gloomy everyday routine of silence and isolation before anyone he knew it, so why did it matter if he smiled back at the friendly smiles now?
Instead of a smile breaking out on his face as planned, a yawn slipped out. Well, close enough? Either way, San was rousing at his side, stretching heartily. When a bit of fog had cleared out of his eyes, they found Hitoshi, and focused on him with a glow. Hitoshi could only stare back with wide eyes. “Hi!” he enthusiastically said, just as happy to see him as before. Hitoshi opened his mouth to answer, but then just waved at San. San looked puzzled for a bit, but luckily just moved on. Now, San had seemed to get a whole new energy.
“It’s so gr-great that you- that you’re here, Hoshi! Ah, is it okay if I c-call you Hoshi?” The words were few, but came at an incredible speed for his age, and yet Hitoshi had barely nodded before San had lit up and continued to talk.
“Great, t-then! Hoshi, do you want to sleep on the bed or the f-futon? Oh, but if we ask mom we might be allowed to sleep on the couch, it’s really comfy, and we can- we can w-watch TV, but I still have an old sleeping bag, too. Ah, maybe we can try it all? L-like having a pillow fort slumber party, b-but with futons and sleeping bags instead of pillows, and with just the two of us, " San got out in a single breath, painting a homely picture of warmth and snuggly blankets that Hitoshi could practically feel.
He stopped for a second as his eyes widened, and then he talked a little lower and slower. "R-right, my teachers tell me I’m irritating like this, muttering and r-ranting you- you know? But mom says I just think so much. Sorry if -if I’m irritating you, Hoshi!” he said, scratching the back of his head apologetically.
Please don't stop, was all Hitoshi could think. It felt so… Natural? Welcoming? Like home? He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something relaxing about being near San. Like an air of nostalgia? Possible from their first meeting being before everything went to hell, (Hitoshi can swear if he wants to! He's turning seven soon.) and somehow San connected with that old Hitoshi, the weak, naive, but still fundamentally good and trusting child. The child that seemed to still be within him.
The thing is, he couldn't explain how he felt even if he against all odds found the words for it. So, again, he had to convey his feelings with just a determined shake of the head and looking into his eyes. Surprise flickered all over San, so to emphasize what Hitoshi meant he gave a thumbs up.
That made, to Hitoshi's happiness, San give a surprised laugh, then turn toward his mother. "Mom, h-how long can he stay? I-I, uh, I want him to stay with us." he said while he was moving towards the car door on Hitoshi's side. Hitoshi moved out too, letting San hop out behind him. He had just gotten out when San asked his mother if Hitoshi could stay . His eyes widened, and he shot an uncertain glance at Mrs. Midoriya. What will she think? Was he being rude?
Mrs. Midoriya knelt down to the same level as Hitoshi and San and spoke to them gently.
"This is a difficult situation. Hitoshi-kun, as I told you before, the nearest police station is two hours away, and it's already past your bedtime. I will call as soon as we get inside, but we won't visit until tomorrow. Well, the rest… The rest will be decided then, okay?" When she mentioned it, Hitoshi could remember hearing her explain something like that before. Maybe he should listen more closely.
She waited until she got nods of approval from both of them before continuing. "Don't hesitate to ask for anything, and make yourself at home, okay? Both Izuku and I will be here for you-" the point was enforced by San's vigorous nodding. "and I promise to make sure you're safe."
Hitoshi blinked away a stinging in his eyes and stashed away the words deep into his heart. They would be able to warm him on any bad day, when this was over. He would always remember them, and this. Their compassion.
Suddenly, his nose was a little runny. He was about to wipe it with his arm when Mrs. Midoriya gave a mild protest ( ah, wait a bit) before simply pulling out a family pack of tissues from her purse, saying something about how everyone in their family were the same when it came to that in a reassuring voice.
Somehow, it only made his eyes sting more . Hitoshi sniffed.
Either way, he took one and followed Mrs. Midoriya from the car. They had parked in the parking lot connected to the rows of houses that Hitoshi could (barely) make out through the darkness.
The street lights lit up the short walk there, but San and Hitoshi walked close together and their hands had found each other at some point. Mrs. Midoriya walked behind them patiently, herding them like baby chickens.
They are really going to let me stay with them , he realized. The thought was comforting, but brought a wave of nervousness, too.
Would he let them down? Scare them? Irritate them? Will they hate me when this is over? Will-
The wind blew into the leaves of a bush close to San, making him jump. He huddled closer to Hitoshi, clamping his hand for safety. Somehow it made Hitoshi less nervous.
San hid his face in his hand. "S-sorry, I didn't see w-where the sound came from. That can- that can make me nervous sometimes."
San was nervous too, even if it was for a different reason. Hitoshi wasn't alone with it.
They continued to hold hands through the darkness, only letting go when they reached the front door to an apartment, most likely belonging to the Midoriya's. Mrs. Midoriya scrambled around in her purse for a moment, before pulling out a key and unlocking the door. The hallway was hidden away in darkness until a switch was turned with a click.
The lamp flickered to light, revealing a ‘Welcome home!’ doormat, coats and scarves neatly slung over hooks on the wall, along with a chair next to a wooden shoe stand. Hitoshi watched the familiarity between Mrs. Midoriya and her son as San sat down on the chair and pulled of his sneakers with the help of Mrs. Midoriya’s help, who crouched down and gently pulled them off. Hitoshi didn’t know what part of the scene that was so… So loving? It was just something warm and trusting that made his heart sting with longing , because Hitoshi wanted to be like that.
Then, as if San had heard his thoughts, his very feelings, he turned his head towards Hitoshi (as if he was someone who deserved to be looked at with that happiness) with a smile. “Are you coming?” he asked, as if it was all obvious. Obvious that Hitoshi was welcome, and belonged there. Hitoshi hadn’t even noticed that he had stopped. The warmth that bloomed from his chest made his eyes sting, and Hitoshi nodded hastily, and cautiously made his way into the house, the home (oh what a difference there was between those words).
“Come on in, I’ll help you get those shoes off, and then I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Does that sound good?” Mrs. Midoriya asked softly, crouching down to be at the same level as Hitoshi.
It sounded perfect.
Hitoshi tried to enforce that feeling in his next nod, and judging from the soft sparkles in Mrs.Midoriya's eyes and San’s little giggle, Hitoshi thought he succeeded.