Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The package arrived that morning. It looked like one of dad's photographs, the ones he took on his travels and sometimes sent copies of to them. Inko had put them up on the walls around the house, black-and-white pictures from all around the world, speckled with secret little spots of colour. His dad's photographs were really pretty, Izuku thought, even though they were just a hobby related to his actual job.

"Is it from dad?" Izuku asked and peered at the package his mom set on the living room table as if he could see right through the cardboard. He bounced a little on his knees, eager to see where his dad had been and what fragment of the world he'd thought worth sending to them.

Inko gave a quiet, small laugh. "Yes, it's from dad. Just hold on a moment, Izuku. Let me open it first." Carefully she tore the package open, picked up a framed canvas inside, and then let out a soft breath. "Oh," she said in wonder.

Izuku understood why, a few seconds after, when she tilted the canvas towards him. It was a black-and-white picture, taken somewhere deep in the untamed forests of Canada, and in the midst of Aunt Mitsuki's pale wolfhounds stood a small, scrawny boy, his hair white and tangled. He was looking out of the photo, eyebrows and mouth twisted down in a scowl, and the only speck of colour was his eyes, red like carmine.

"Wow," Izuku breathed, incredulous and proud that his dad had taken something like this. "It looks really pretty!"

"It does," Inko agreed and then sighed a little wistfully, leaning her cheek on her hand. "Your father is such a talented man."

She pulled out a folded letter that'd been in the package. Her eyes skimmed over it and her face lit up. "Oh, it's from Mitsuki!" she said suddenly, sounding pleased and surprised. "And that must be Katsuki!"

"Katsuki?" Izuku asked curiously. His eyes flicked to the boy, somehow feeling like he was staring at him out of the photo. In spite of his irritable, almost hostile, expression and gaunt frame Izuku couldn't help but think he looked pretty, with thin lips and thin nose and thin eyebrows. Absently he skimmed his fingers over the canvas. He looked nothing like Izuku. "Are his eyes really red?"

"Uh-huh," Inko said. "Mitsuki and Masaru picked him up in a Canadian orphanage. Mitsuki said he's Japanese."

"Wow," Izuku breathed again. He wondered if his red eyes were related to his quirk, maybe something to do with fire or blood, or if it was something else. Then he looked up. "Wait, Auntie took him in?"

Aunt Mitsuki was always nice to Izuku when they saw each other, treating him with open and unreserved affection, and he'd wondered why she'd never had kids of her own. She'd laughed a little sadly when he'd asked and said she was just so busy she'd never had the time. Afterwards Izuku had felt vaguely guilty - like he'd asked something he shouldn't have - but he'd still thought it a shame. Maybe Aunt Mitsuki's child could've been his friend.

"Yes," Inko said. She bit her lip, worried over something, but said nothing else. She smoothed down Izuku's hair, a gentle smile on her face.

"He's Japanese?" Izuku asked, folding his arms around his legs, chin resting on his knees. "Why was he in Canada?"

"Mitsuki didn't say. Maybe she doesn't know." Inko frowned, eyes anxiously flicking over the letter. "But she asks if we can visit them. She's busy with research and would like help with Katsuki."

Aunt Mitsuki wasn't known to ask for help even if she was busy. She must really need it, Izuku thought, and brightened. "We should go, mom! It'd be nice to see Auntie and Uncle!"

Inko worried her lip some more and then asked in a gentle way, "But not Katsuki?" and Izuku jolted in surprise. He hadn't even thought about that.

He looked at the photo again. The carmine eyes glared out at him; he looked wild, like something born out of the forest. Izuku lowered his head and shyly murmured, "You think he'd like me?"

"Oh Izuku," his mom said and pulled him into a tight hug. "Why wouldn't he like you? You're the sweetest, brightest boy there is. Katsuki would be lucky to have you as a friend."

Izuku didn't share his mom's confidence. All of his classmates either ignored him or bullied him but he hadn't told her that. He slanted a hesitant glance towards the photo. He didn't have any friends, no one his age to talk to, and he thought he maybe really wanted to be Katsuki's friend.

There was something about him - something about the slant of his shoulders or the tilt of his head or the look in his bright red eyes that attracted Izuku's eyes over and over again.

But nothing said Katsuki would want to be Izuku's friend.

Something seemed to occur to Inko and she pulled back. She held his face in her hands and smiled. "Oh, he'll be like your brother then if you become friends."

The word rattled in Izuku's mind for a moment before it settled. "Brother," he repeated, and blushed. It sounded nice. The only people who treated Izuku nicely were his family. If they were brothers Katsuki might treat him nicely too.

"Do you think," Izuku asked and looked down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Do you think he'd like to be my brother?"

Inko smiled, smoothing her hands over his hair. "Well, we'll just have to ask him, won't we."

After a week of packing and hectic preparations they were in Canada, and Uncle Masaru picked them up from the airport. He dropped down into a crouch to ruffle Izuku's hair and then put their bags in the car.

Izuku sat in the backseat, exhausted after the long flight, his hand a little numb. Inko had kept a tight grip on it, telling Izuku every five minutes or so that they were going to be just fine and to relax.

Izuku curled up in the seat, head resting against the window. He was half-asleep in minutes, even as he tried to stay awake, the All Might figure clenched tight in his fist. He'd held onto it throughout the flight and had offered it to his mom, too, when she'd looked pale and generally distressed.

Masaru and Inko were talking quietly and snatches of their conversation ebbed and flowed in his conscious like half-dreams.

"Is Izuku still shy with other kids?"

Inko exhaled shakily. "Yes. I kept hoping things would get better after kindergarten but. No one ever asks him out to play and he never invites anyone to play. I hope he and Katsuki can get along," she added with anxious hope in her voice. "It'd be nice if Izuku could make a friend."

Izuku thought so, too, and it'd ease his mom's worries.

"Didn't Mitsuki tell you?" Masaru asked, something careful and troubled in his voice, but he often sounded troubled, more similar to Inko that way than his confident wife.

"Tell me?" Inko asked, the tentative hope drowned beneath the sudden flood of anxiety. "Was there something she didn't tell me?"

Masaru coughed. "Well... Katsuki is--"

"Is there something wrong with him?"

"He's just a little... intense. Even Mitsuki hasn't been able to tame him." He gave a laugh but Izuku, who became shy and timid around people who were intense, did not find this very reassuring.

When Masaru spoke next he sounded grave and old; Izuku had never heard him sound like that. "Look, Inko, that child has gone through a lot of rough things. Things that no one, least of all a child, should go through. He's never learned how to socialise properly. Of course we hope that he and Izuku can get along but... I'm worried." He let out a deep, heavy sigh. "I'm worried he'll be too much for Izuku. Maybe if Izuku was more confident..." His voice trailed off.

"Oh," Inko said, troubled and uneasy. "Should I have not come with Izuku? I want to help, I really do, but you know I don't want my child to get hurt."

"I understand," Masaru said, always ready to compromise, to soothe and placate. "If it comes to that, you can stay in a hotel. We'll pay for you, of course. It was us who invited you." After a moment he added, "Hisashi is still staying with us. If nothing else I'm sure you'll both be glad to see him. It's been almost a year since he was last in Japan, hasn't it?"

Their voices grew more indistinct, and Izuku thought about his dad and Katsuki - the other someone familiar he didn't quite know and the other a stranger he wanted to know - and dreamed of pale shadows running through pines.

He woke up later to the sound of gravel rattling beneath the undercarriage. He lifted his head and blearily looked up through the window. They were driving down a forest path, the sunlight flooding through the green canopy of leaves and needles, speckling the ground with fragments of gold. The shadows shifted, as if in a dance.

Then they turned along a widening curve and he caught a glimpse of the house, the white-framed windows like pools of light in the sun.

Inko turned around in her seat and smiled fondly when she saw Izuku awake. "Did you sleep well, Izuku?" At his nod she went on, "You woke up at the perfect time. We're here."

Izuku sat up, tense and still. He felt restless, his insides knotted with apprehension. He thought about Katsuki - about Masaru describing him as intense. He wondered what it meant, would Katsuki be similar to all the kids who bullied him in school.

He hoped not. He wanted them to be friends. For the past week he'd kept looking at Katsuki's picture when he hadn't been doing his homework or playing, had imagined what he'd be like, if he had a quirk, and if he could show him. When his mom had seen him repeatedly staring at the photo, she'd laughed and asked if he wanted it in his room. He'd agreed nervously, thinking of it like his All Might posters.

The car stopped.

They got out and the first thing they heard was a young boy shouting: "Fuck off, you old hag!"

Izuku flinched, Masaru looked troubled, and Inko looked shocked.

"Don't you fucking use that tone with me, brat! And mind your fucking language!" It was Aunt Mitsuki's voice. "Put those goddamn shoes on before you go out, how many fucking times do I have to tell you!"

There was no answer. Instead, something small and fast and pale darted over their heads, landing on the roof of the car with a loud thump. A scrawny figure stood up against the sun, and Izuku's breath snagged and caught in his throat. Sunlight glared off ash-white hair, the red eyes dark in shadow. Katsuki glared down at Izuku and he felt trapped beneath that glare.

So cool, he thought.

And then Mitsuki shouted, grasping the rail of the balcony, "Stop that fucking brat!"

Katsuki looked over his shoulder, clicked his tongue, and jumped off the car. When he landed Izuku reached out instinctively and gripped his arm.

"Um," he started to apologise, flustered, but never managed anything else. Katsuki whirled on him, red eyes intent and furious, his crackling fist high. Izuku shut his eyes, bracing for the punch, but instead he was slammed to the ground and Katsuki rendered him effectively motionless with his own weight.

"Izuku!" Inko cried out in distress.

Winded, heart pounding with awe and unexpected terror, Izuku stared up. Katsuki glared down at him, long pale lashes lowered, eyes glinting red.

"So cool," Izuku breathed unconsciously and Katsuki's eyes narrowed.

"Hey," he said, "you're real fucking weak, aren't you?"

"Eh?" Izuku said, startled he'd been addressed, and panicked because he didn't know any English yet, and belatedly realised he'd spoken in Japanese. "Eh, um, I'm - I'm sorry?"

Katsuki glared some more, and then clicked his tongue and stood up. Inko rushed to Izuku's side and gathered him up in her arms protectively. Izuku couldn't spare her a glance to reassure her, his eyes fixed on Katsuki.

Mitsuki, who'd jumped off the balcony and stridden over, grabbed the back of his shirt before he could run off. He snarled like a small, pale, vicious wildcat.

"Let go, you old hag!"

Izuku looked on, horrified, because no one talked to Aunt Mitsuki that way but she only sighed, looking exasperated and displeased.

"Hold on, brat. Before you go off anywhere you have to apologise to Izuku."

"Huh?" Katsuki stopped struggling and looked up as if he'd never heard anything more stupid in his life. "The fuck I have to! It was his fucking fault for touching me!"

A shadow passed over Mitsuki's face and then was gone. "Look, brat, you're the one who tossed him to the ground. Now apologise."

Katsuki gritted his teeth and glared over them all with dark resentment. Then he grumbled, "Fucking sorry," as if those two words were something foul and rotten he'd had to spit out.

Izuku stood up on shaky legs. His mom's grip on him shifted and she clutched his shoulders as if to keep him within reach. "It's fine!" he said hastily. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have touched you if you don't like that."

Katsuki didn't look appeased by his apology. If anything he looked more annoyed. "Who the fuck are these people anyway?" he demanded.

"Mind your fucking language!" Mitsuki hissed, exasperated. "They're guests. This is my sister, Inko. This is her kid, Izuku."

Then she visibly hesitated, which was unusual for her, and looked over their heads at her husband before she resolutely went on, "He's going to be your brother. So you have to be nice."

Inko gave her sister a wide-eyed look of horror as if she hadn't been saying the same thing just a week ago. Izuku gripped the hem of her shirt between his fingers and tried to make himself small.

"Fuck I have to," Katsuki muttered, voice and eyes distant like he was thinking of something else.

Then he wheeled on Mitsuki, the collar of his shirt stretching as he did. "Brother?" he asked like it was something he'd never heard of before and therefore didn't trust it.

"Yeah. Brother," Mitsuki said decisively.

Katsuki looked at Izuku from head to toe with a speculative gleam. Startled with the intense, keen attention Izuku flinched and fought the urge to hide behind his mom. "Does that mean he's mine? Like the dogs."

Izuku blinked, bewildered and unsure what to feel about this sudden equation to dogs, and his mom made an offended, upset noise.

Mitsuki spoke before she could. "The dogs aren't yours but yeah, sure, however you wanna put it. As long as Izuku is fine with it."

Then they were all looking at him, waiting for his answer, but Izuku could only look at Katsuki, amazed and completely intimidated. He felt intense was a bit of an understatement to describe him. Violently explosive seemed more accurate. He was honestly a little - terrifying and Izuku strongly suspected he didn't exactly see him as a person. He was too much, too loud and abrasive and self-assured. Nothing like Izuku.

Thousands thoughts flitted through his mind at once; his classmates who ignored him until they found a reason to jeer at him, the hours and hours of playing alone in his room or with his mom if she had the time, and the countless times he'd wished he could have a friend.

He thought how Katsuki had jumped to the roof of the car, how he'd changed from a punch into a throw in a split second, and how he'd rendered Izuku still with nothing but his body.

He was so cool. Izuku wanted to be more like him.

"Izuku," his mom said, low and careful. "If you don't want--"

Katsuki picked up her words, too, Izuku could tell because his face closed off into a mask of disdain and anger, and in that moment Izuku said: "I want to."

He looked up at his mom, face set and shining with determination. "I want to, mom."

Katsuki didn't look particularly happy about Izuku's declaration. He scowled and looked away. "We done here or what?" he asked, seemingly bored.

Mitsuki huffed and dangled his shoes in front of his face. "Yeah. But take your damn shoes for once."

"Don't be a nag," Katsuki said but took them. He didn't put them on. The instant he was let go he took off running, bright and fast like a firework whistling to the sky. He grinned at Izuku on his way past, wild and sharp and self-assured in a way Izuku didn't think he could ever manage. "Think you can keep up, pipsqueak?"

For a second Izuku hesitated, looking around at his mom and aunt and uncle, and then he took off after Katsuki and called him to wait up. A few seconds after the dogs followed them, running ahead and around and behind them like flitting pale shadows.

Katsuki ran ahead, a bright pale blur under the swaying shade of trees, and Izuku's breath hitched in his chest as he struggled to keep up.

He was so fast, too fast, and he didn't look behind him once like it didn't matter if Izuku followed or not.

He hated it but he didn't call him to wait again. He could barely breathe through the burn in his throat, the sting in his side. He ran, never losing sight of Katsuki, his hair flashing bright in patches of sunlight.

He thought, he had a brother. This person was his brother.

It was a little overwhelming.

Katsuki had almost forgotten the kid by the time he reached the river, his thoughts occupied with how he was going to practise his quirk. The dogs stopped at the shoreline, panting and pleased after the run, and settled down on the grass to lounge in the sun. He remembered him, a minute or two later, when the kid finally caught up and stopped, leaning on his knees and gulping down laboured breaths. Katsuki eyed him dubiously and thought he was as weak as he looked.

Still, Mitsuki had said he'd be Katsuki's brother, whatever that meant, and that meant he was his and he would do what Katsuki wanted. He just hoped he wouldn't be entirely dumb or useless.

The kid looked up, face flushed and sweaty, and offered him a tentative smile as if it was a secret he wasn't sure the other person was willing to accept. "You - you run really fast, Kacchan," he said, and Katsuki stopped and stared.

"What?" he said.

The kid blinked, seeming confused and flustered. "What?"

"The fuck is Kacchan?" Katsuki demanded.

The kid abruptly blushed, freckles drowned beneath a flood of scarlet. "Oh, that's - that's just a nickname," he said in a voice fraught with sudden anxiety. Really, it was kind of grating how fucking timid he was. "Did - did you not like it? Should I call you Katsuki? Or something else if - if you want?"

Katsuki had lost interest promptly after getting his explanation. He stared blankly somewhere over the kid's shoulder while the kid fidgeted nervously. The adults and some other kids at the house, and later in the orphanage, had called him all sorts of names. Katsuki didn't care.

He turned away. "Whatever."

He jumped up over the river and landed neatly on a rock jutting out of the water. He used his quirk to propel himself, to move faster and higher. The first time he'd done it he'd landed face first in the snow.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and turned to look. The kid was looking at him with wide, limpid eyes. "So cool," he said again in hushed tones, and Katsuki frowned. The kid took a step forward as if he couldn't help himself, shoes almost touching the water. "You have an explosion quirk, Kacchan?"

He'd just seen him use it so what was up with the useless, dumb questions?

With a blast Katsuki jumped to another rock twenty feet away. The stones were slippery, smoothed over years and years under the relentless grind of water. "Yeah," he said gruffly.

"That's amazing!" the kid chattered, some of the timidity easing out of him the longer he went on.

It wasn't. If he slipped even a little it'd be effectively useless, the blast either too large or too weak, the recoil was a bitch, and if he used it too much his hands began to throb and his skin chafed, but Katsuki was going to make it amazing.

The kid squatted down by the shoreline to watch him and made soft cooing noises every time Katsuki jumped from rock to rock, twisting and flipping in the air. The water beneath him and the sky above him turned over and over in glittering blue loops.

He heard the kid sigh wistfully. "You have such a cool quirk, Kacchan." Then a little more hesitantly: "I wish I could've had a quirk, too."

Katsuki stopped on a rock on the other side of the river. He looked over at the kid; his head was bowed and he fiddled with the pebbles on the shoreline.

"You're quirkless?" Katsuki asked, and thought about blue eyes and blonde hair.

"Yeah," the kid said, voice wavering on the word. "My little toe is double-jointed. Um, it's congential and pretty rare these days," he said, babbling on as if it helped him calm down.

The kid was quirkless. He had even less than Katsuki who'd never had anything.

The kid hugged his legs, chin resting on his knees, and then he looked up in a panic. "Um, do you - do you still want to be brothers with someone like me? Even though I don't have a quirk? I mean, I understand if you don't, I just--"

Katsuki tuned out the rest of his prattle. He measured the distance with a critical eye and then jumped over the rushing river, and it was the longest jump he'd attempted so far. He rose high with the propulsion of his quirk, flipped around in mid-air, and landed neatly behind the kid. He turned after Katsuki, eyes soft and bright as he looked at him.

Katsuki didn't know what to make of it. He scowled and squatted down in front of him.

"How do you write your name?" he demanded.

The kid hesitated for a moment, and then frowned and began to draw letters in the dirt in slow lines as if he wasn't sure of them.

Katsuki said, "Not fucking romaji, dumbass. I meant kanji."

Blinking, the kid asked, "You - you can read kanji, Kacchan?"

"I read the dictionary," Katsuki grunted. Mitsuki had bought it for him. She'd also bought him Japanese textbooks so he could study and reading them he'd realised Japanese was a dumb language. It was all about humbling yourself and being polite and vague and unobtrusive. But he had to learn it if he wanted to go there. And Katsuki was going. He had a plan.

"You really read the entire dictionary? That's amazing, Kacchan."

Was it? Katsuki didn't know. He'd just done it.

"There," the kid said, pleased and chronically nervous, finished with his name. "Midoriya Izuku."

Katsuki stared at the four characters, conjuring up the definitions he'd read in the dictionary. He traced the lines of 出久 and then snorted. He stood up. "Okay. I'll call you Deku."

"Er," Izuku said, sounding unsure. "Deku?"

"Yeah," said Katsuki, and couldn't believe he'd have to explain the intricacies of the Japanese language to him. "Like blockhead, good-for-nothing." He shrugged. "Useless." It was almost poetic, his name.

Face flushing with emotion, Izuku looked crestfallen and hurt. He smudged his name in the dirt. "That's - that's not very nice, Kacchan."

Like Katsuki cared.

Without thinking he reached out, sank his finger's into his hair, and ruffled it, a bit roughly, like he did with the dogs when they looked like they wanted it. Izuku's hair was a little like their fur, too, thick and tangled.

Izuku looked confused but tentatively pleased with his gesture, much like the dogs, a faint blush on his cheeks.

Katsuki grinned. "Then you just gotta stop being useless, Deku."

The boys returned before dinner, and Inko could finally relax when she saw her child unharmed. The boys ran up to the house, Katsuki ahead with the dogs and Izuku several feet behind. When he caught up he gave a tentative, breathless smile and looked up at Katsuki with nothing but sincere adoration.

Inko despaired.

It wasn't - She wanted Izuku to have a friend, she did, but Katsuki hadn't given the most personable first impression, too violent and coarse, nothing like her sweet Izuku, and Mitsuki hadn't exactly reassured her.

"Mi-Mitsuki!" she'd wailed as soon as the boys were out of sight. "You didn't say he's violent!"

Her sister had waved this away. "Oh that? That was still nothing. You should've seen him when he first came here. He didn't even use his teeth or his quirk!"

"His teeth? His quirk?" Inko had repeated, feeling faint.

She didn't want to think she'd brought her child halfway across the world just for him to get bullied by the very boy he'd so looked forward to meeting. It'd been cute, the way he hadn't been able to stop looking at Katsuki's picture and the shy way he'd accepted her suggestion to hang it up in his room.

Fretfully Inko returned to the pans and pots on the stove, bringing utensils and vegetables to her with her quirk. Masaru had said Katsuki had gone through horrible things, and she sympathised with that, she wasn't heartless, but she couldn't help but wonder what kind of terrible people had brought him up for him to turn out that way.

She was worried. Her Izuku was so kind, so willing to give his heart away, always so sensitive towards others and their needs. Inko thought about that look of adoration on his face, and he'd only known Katsuki for a few hours. She hoped his heart wouldn't get trampled on.

"Damn Mitsuki, not telling me everything," she muttered.

The boys came into the kitchen, Izuku's familiar chatter mingled with Katsuki's noncommittal grunts.

"Hi, mom!" Izuku said, and immediately launched into a tale about all the things they'd done at the riverside, praising Katsuki with breathless wonder every second sentence. Inko cut up the vegetables and listened attentively to detect if something else had happened that Izuku wasn't telling.

"Really?" Inko asked when he winded down. "You two must be hungry after all that."

Then she hesitated, and looked to Katsuki. He stood on the other side of the counter, eyeing the pots with dark suspicion. Inko didn't know what to think about this boy who looked beautiful and fragile with his pale hair and pale skin and pale eyelashes and who talked in a very insensitive, impolite way. And the way he acted...

Sensing her stare, Katsuki looked up with a suspicious glare and incongruously Inko thought it strange that the wolfhounds liked him so when he was more like a cat. Bristling and mistrustful of anyone who came too close.

Suddenly she felt incredibly guilty for her ungracious thoughts when her Izuku, who'd been the one tossed to the ground, could chat away happily with him and already adored this odd, hostile boy.

Fiddling with loose strands of her hair, Inko asked haltingly, "Are - are you hungry, Katsuki? Do you like cold soba noodles?"

He shrugged and eyed the pots. "Mitsuki's a shit cook," he declared, seemingly apropos of nothing.

Flustered, Inko didn't know what to say. Her sister was wonderful - intelligent and beautiful and confident - but cooking wasn't one of her many talents. Still, the way Katsuki had worded it left her helpless and speechless.

Should she reprimand him for his language? She wasn't used to reprimanding children. She rarely - if ever - had to reprimand Izuku.

Her son saved her from her indecision. "Don't worry, Kacchan!" he chirped in, beaming at him over the counter. "Mom's a really good cook!"

Katsuki seemed to accept his opinion, and then he wandered off when Mitsuki yelled, "Did the kids come in? Don't walk around the goddamn house with your dirty feet, Katsuki!"

"Did you have fun, Izuku?" Inko asked even though she'd gotten a fairly good idea from his excited chatter. She just wanted to make sure.

She wished her husband was there - Izuku had always been more similar to him than her - but Masaru had said Hisashi was strolling outside taking pictures.

Izuku looked up, eyes lit up in that way when he talked about All Might. "Yeah, mom. Kacchan is really amazing, even his quirk is amazing, you should have seen him practise. And he knows I'm quirkless but he's still willing to be brothers with me."

He was beaming, cheeks pink, and tentatively Inko let herself think that perhaps it hadn't been a terrible mistake to bring him here after all.

Hisashi trudged back to the house when the sun had set and it'd become too dark to take decent photos. The house appeared just beyond a bend, all windows lit up. He knew Inko and Izuku were visiting, Masaru and Mitsuki had both mentioned it, and he knew - he should've been there when they arrived, should've picked them up at the airport, his son and his wife.

But then, he supposed, he should've done a lot of things differently.

It was... difficult, made more difficult the more time passed and all Hisashi could see when he looked at them were the years he didn't know. Izuku was already eight when Hisashi still remembered him as a toddler, bright and shy and kind-hearted and so like his mother it sometimes startled him.

He stopped inside to take off his shoes. The entry was dim, illuminated by a single lamp in the corridor. He heard steps, quick and quiet, and recognised them as Katsuki's.

The steps stopped. Katsuki stood against the low light, face in shadows, eyes dark like old blood. "Outta the way, old man."

"Off to sleep?" Hisashi asked mildly. He didn't stand, looking up instead of down, and Katsuki's mouth twisted into a frown.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, looking somewhere past his ear.

Another set of steps hurried towards them. "Kacchan! Where are - dad?"

Hisashi's eyes slid almost involuntarily from Katsuki to his son. It'd been almost a year since he'd last seen Izuku and the sight of him was always like a quiet, small shock. He stared, wide-eyed, and Hisashi smiled. "Hi, Izuku. It's been a while."

Izuku took a hesitant step closer, eyes darting from Katsuki to Hisashi. After a moment he smiled shyly back. "Hi, dad. I was wondering where you were. Mom's been worried when you took so long."

He finally got up, wearily, as if his bones weighed too much for him stand. "Is that so? I better apologise to her."

He ruffled Izuku's hair. His expression was cautious like he didn't quite know him but wanted to please him all the same. Hisashi could feel a familiar, dull ache in his heart over the years when he hadn't been there. Not for his wife or his son.

"I'm going," Katsuki tossed over his shoulder, indifferent and impatient. "Night."

"Wait, Kacchan--"

He slammed the door.

For a moment Izuku stared at the door, upset and trying to hide it. He slanted a hesitant glance Hisashi's way. "Does Kacchan sleep outside?" he asked, sounding dubious and worried.

"No," Hisashi said. "He sleeps in the garage with the dogs."

Absentmindedly he looked into his son's incredulous face and thought about the one time when Mitsuki had asked why Katsuki seemed to be more polite to him. He didn't think he was, wouldn't have called it that, but suspected it was because he didn't try to change his idiosyncrasies or express dismay over them.

"In the garage?" Izuku repeated, worrying his lip. "Doesn't he have a bed? Won't he get cold?"

"He doesn't want to sleep in it. Mitsuki tried. And he has the dogs to keep him warm."

Izuku trailed Hisashi into the living room, muttering under his breath, and he caught snatches of Katsuki's name. Hisashi lifted the camera dangling around his neck and set it on the table with a quiet clink.

"How have you been, Izuku?"

Izuku abruptly stopped mumbling and looked up, startled he'd been asked, and then averted his eyes. "Ah, um, fine. And you, dad?"

He always hesitated on the word dad, unused to saying it.

"Fine. I was in Alberta. I took pictures of the migratory birds," he said, and thought of the cranes and the herons and their mating dances. He'd been with his team of biologists who studied the manifestation of quirks in wildlife but there hadn't been many to document.

"Cool," Izuku said with quiet, curious interest. "Can I see them when you have time?" Then his whole face lit up. "Oh! That picture you took of Kacchan, the one you sent to us, it was really pretty! I have it in my room!" Abruptly he blushed. "Um," he said. "Don't tell Kacchan, okay?"

Hisashi ruffled Izuku's hair again and nodded solemnly. "I won't let him know."

Inko walked into the living room. "Izuku? You should go take a bath. It's--"

She stopped, eyes wide with startled shock as if she hadn't really expected to see Hisashi even though she'd known he was there. "Hisashi," she breathed.

Cautiously she walked over to them and for a moment her hands hovered in the air, unsure how or where to touch.

Hisashi smiled, tired but fond. This was the woman he'd married, all those years ago. This was the woman he loved. "Hello, Inko," he said, and she blushed at the warm, tender tone in his voice as if she was still twenty-two and they'd just married.

"Oh Hisashi," Inko said, eyes glistening. "It's been so long." She hugged him then, arms tight around him. Hisashi smoothed his hand through her hair. "How have you been? Have you been sleeping well? Have you been eating well? And don't try to evade, I know how you get when you focus on your work."

"Everything's been fine," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

"Um... I'll go take a bath. I'll talk to you later, dad," Izuku said, grinned fleetingly, and then hurried down the corridor.

"Oh I'm so glad you're here, Hisashi." Inko lifted worried, green eyes up to him. "I wanted to ask you about something," she said, quiet.

Mildly he asked, "About Katsuki?" He smiled when she looked surprised and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

Inko stepped away, wringing her hands. "I know it's terrible of me, Masaru said he's gone through something horrible, but I worry about Izuku."

Ever since Izuku's birth Inko had placed their son first. Perhaps that's why it'd always been easy to leave; they all had something more important.

"When we arrived he tossed Izuku to the ground! You know Izuku is smaller than other children and he doesn't know how to fight. And the way he talks and acts..."

Hisashi slanted a glance towards his camera and thought about the one and only picture he'd gotten of Katsuki because he'd been unaware of being photographed.

Afterwards he'd almost smashed Hisashi's camera.

He remembered what Katsuki had yelled in that moment, snarling like a wild animal. "The fuck are you taking pictures for, fucking pervert?! For fucking wank off material?!"

Sometimes he said quite disturbing things, for a child his age, Hisashi could see that.

"And Izuku, he - oh Hisashi, he already adores Katsuki. You should have seen them when they came back from the river."

Hisashi looked at her, the worried twist of her hands, the tearful green of her eyes. "What is it you want to know, Inko?"

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. Then went on stubbornly; "Is he safe? Can I leave my son alone with him? What is it that Katsuki's been through exactly?"

Hisashi didn't think Katsuki was safe, not because of his volatile temperament or his inclination towards violence when triggered. Inko was a wonderful, devoted mother but she often was more concerned about the physical - the scrapes and bruises she could see - than what she couldn't see.

Hisashi worried about Izuku's heart.

He let out a deep sigh. "I think it's safe. And I'm sure Mitsuki will tell you more about Katsuki tonight. She has her suspicions."

Inko didn't quite relax but she smiled through her worries and asked if Hisashi wanted some cold soba noodles.

He agreed, and abstractly thought about home.

After his mom had stopped by in his room to bid him goodnight, Izuku gathered up the blanket and pillows and attempted to sneak into the garage when he noticed all the adults outside in the balcony. He heard them talking, and then he heard Katsuki's name, and stopped.

Eavesdropping wasn't very heroic, Izuku knew, but he clutched the blanket and pillows tightly to his chest and tiptoed close to the open doorway. A warm breeze wafted inside, carrying their voices. Izuku squatted down against the wall and listened in.

"...kids don't just end up halfway across the world in foreign orphanages," Mitsuki was saying wryly.

"Then... then what are you saying, Mitsuki?"

His aunt sighed, and Izuku moved his head a little to peek through the glass. She ran a hand through her hair, eyebrows pulled down in a frown.

"Child trafficking."

Izuku wasn't sure what the word meant but his mom gasped in dismay, her hand over her mouth and the other held safe in his dad's hand.

"And it's not just that a Japanese kid was in an obscure Canadian orphanage," Mitsuki went on. "He showed up there almost a year ago and the caretakers said he was found on the side of a road. I checked up on things and Katsuki doesn't have any records. It's like he doesn't exist."

Mitsuki paced the balcony in the free space between the tables and the chairs, bare feet quiet on the boards. "And the thing is, if it is child trafficking that means there are probably other kids."

His mom's hand trembled and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Izuku's chest constricted, seeing her distress, from the peculiar weight of the conversation.

"There is..." Hisashi said, and paused. Then he went on: "When I took a picture of him he asked if it was for masturbation. If we assume it was child trafficking they were probably filmed or photographed."

Inko made a horrified little sound. Mitsuki stopped, closed her eyes, and shuddered.

"God fucking dammit," she snarled under her breath. "You know, he has fucking scars on the soles of his feet. Like some dumb sick fuck was using his feet to put out their goddamn cigarettes. I don't know if it happened at the orphanage or wherever the fuck he was before that."

"This is still just conjecture," Masaru said, and leaned forward in his chair to touch Mitsuki's hand. She allowed the touch for a moment and then pulled away. "Unless Katsuki tells us what he's been through we can only guess."

"I've asked him but he doesn't say anything," Mitsuki said. "When I ask where he was before the orphanage he just tells me he doesn't know, doesn't remember, 'it's none of my fucking business.'" Suddenly she gave a harsh laugh. "It pisses me off that there's nothing I can do even if I'm right. If Katsuki doesn't say anything, there's no evidence and no evidence means no crime happened."

Then she looked at them all; Izuku had never seen her look so helpless. "You know, that kid, he's a genius. I've had my colleagues in Cern give him private lessons through video chats and he picks up most things like it's nothing." She took a breath, eyebrows furrowed, and ran her hand through her hair in agitation. "I just worry that with his genius and his personality and what he's gone through he'll never be able to relate to kids his age. He'll never have friends. And I don't - I just don't know what to do."

Izuku didn't listen more. He crept away and their voices faded. He hadn't understood everything they'd said but he'd understood one thing. Someone had hurt Katsuki and he hadn't had a hero to save him. Izuku had never really considered it possible, that there were people even heroes couldn't save. His chest ached and he didn't know what to do.

The garage was dark when Izuku tiptoed inside. He saw the pale shapes of the dogs, curled around each other in a pile. They huffed and lifted their heads when they heard the door creak and then settled back to sleep when they saw him. He walked closer. Katsuki was nestled in the middle of them, pale strands of hair the only part of him visible.

"Kacchan," Izuku whispered.

Katsuki turned his head, instantly alert, and glared at him with narrowed, red eyes and Izuku almost faltered. "The fuck you want, Deku?" he asked, voice rough with sleep.

"I--" Izuku said, and his voice wavered hesitantly. "Can I sleep here with you?"

For a moment Katsuki was quiet, regarding him blankly, and then he nestled back into one of the dogs, Ruska. "Whatever. Just keep your mouth shut or I'll beat your ass."

Izuku settled down close to him. The floor was hard and cold but the dogs and Katsuki were warm. He kept looking at him, the back of his head, the fair gleam of his hair in the darkness. Slowly he realised that even though Katsuki hadn't had anyone to save him he'd still saved himself.

He was amazing, this boy who'd promised to be Izuku's brother.

Izuku fell asleep to the sound of the dogs' quiet breaths.

Katsuki's breaths.