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It is storming. It is storming more than it has in months. The wind howls through the school grounds and the rain beats against the windows, deafening and calming in equal measure. Izuku is wrapped in an oversized sweatshirt, taking shelter from the rain in his dorm room.
“Wait, I thought that was glycolysis.”
Iida sighs and points at another note on the page. “No, that’s the Kreb’s Cycle,” he corrects, and circles a few words. “They’re very different things, Midoriya. You need to remember this. It will undoubtedly be on the test.”
Izuku lets his head fall back against the wall with a moan. “This is stupid,” he says. “I can’t focus right now, anyway. Let’s do something else.”
“Midoriya,” says Iida, raising an eyebrow in that disapproving way of his. “The test is on Monday.”
“I know, but—”
A heavy knock at the door interrupts him and Izuku sits up straight, turning to exchange a glance with Iida, who shrugs and adjusts his glasses. With some difficulty, Izuku extracts himself from the mess of papers on his bed and moves to answer the door.
“Todoroki,” says Izuku, and gapes. “What the—”
“Hey,” says Todoroki, smiling as if he is not absolutely soaking wet, water dripping down to puddle on the floor at his feet.
“Todoroki!” shouts Iida, and in a moment he has grabbed Izuku’s towel from its hook and thrown it around their dripping boyfriend. Todoroki smiles sheepishly and sits down on the floor of the room, and it is only then that Izuku registers that he is cradling a large cardboard box in his arms, his overshirt draped over the top.
“You should really be more careful, Todoroki,” says Iida sternly. “Bring an umbrella or check the weather before you go out. This is how you catch cold. Honestly, sometimes I think neither of you knows how to care for yourselves.”
Todoroki laughs, and Izuku feels a thrill run through him at the sound. How long had it taken them to coax just a smile out of him, let alone laughter? “Maybe we don’t know,” says Todoroki, surrendering himself to Iida’s fretting. “That’s what we have you for.”
Iida flushes bright red. “Oh,” he says. “Well. Well, you should still…you should still both try harder to look after yourselves. As rising heroes you’ll need to—”
“What’s in the box?” interrupts Izuku.
Todoroki smiles again and sets the box down gently, lowering himself to sit cross-legged before it. His clothes drip water onto the floor beneath him and a dark spot forms on the rug where it’s beginning to get rather soaked through. “Come here,” says Todoroki, voice quiet. “Look.”
Izuku shares a glance with Iida. He shrugs and together they join their boyfriend on the floor.
Slowly, and with a glint in his eye, Todoroki lifts his shirt off of the box. Izuku leans over to peer in, curls brushing against Iida’s head as his boyfriend moves to do the same.
Inside the box is a puppy.
“Oh my god,” says Izuku. He darts a glance at Todoroki only to find him grinning. “Oh my god is that a dog?”
“Todoroki!” Iida sounds affronted, even as he’s letting the puppy lick at his fingers. “Where did you get this? None of us are equipped to care for—”
“I found her,” says Todoroki. “She was in this box on the side of the road. She was soaking wet and freezing. I don’t know how long she’s been there. I think if I hadn’t picked her up…” He doesn’t finish, but the nevertheless the words unsaid hang heavily in the air between them.
“We’re allowed to have pets, though,” Izuku reminds them after a moment. “I mean, Kouda has his rabbit, right? So there’s no rule against pets.”
“Midoriya,” frowns Iida. “There is a big difference between a rabbit and a dog.”
“So what do we do?”
The moment stretches. The three of them watch the puppy as she paws excitedly at the walls of the box, trying her best to get out. She’s small, probably no more than a month old, and covered in a thin coat of chocolate-colored fur that’s beginning to fuzz out from her body as it dries. Her eyes are wide and, oh—they’re heterochromatic, just like Todoroki’s.
The dog lets out a yip and Izuku can’t help himself. He reaches into the box and scoops her up. She weighs almost nothing, even soaked as she is, and as he brings her to his chest her tail wags excitedly back and forth.
“Hey, there, little one,” says Izuku softly. The dog wiggles back and forth and licks at his chin. “Why were you all alone?”
“She is very cute,” admits Iida, reaching out cautious fingers to stroke at her head. The dog shivers at the touch and tries to gnaw on his thumb playfully. Iida makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat and his disapproving frown pulls upwards into the beginnings of a smile.
“See,” says Todoroki, and there’s an expression of fondness on his face. “She’s just one more stray.”
“We have to keep her,” decides Izuku. “I mean, we have to. She’s so small, she needs us. Iida, please?”
Iida stares at the dog for a long moment, conflict apparent on his face. Then he heaves a long sigh as the dog wiggles excitedly and kisses his palm. “Fine,” he says. “But we’ll have to get permission from Aizawa-sensei.”
“Yes,” says Izuku, and shares a grin with Todoroki.
“First, though, you need to get dried off,” says Iida, directing a pointed look in Todoroki’s direction. “Go on, get showered and we can deal with this afterwards. Also, give me a hand towel for the dog.”
Izuku sits patiently on the floor as Todoroki heads for the bathroom and catches the hand towel when it’s thrown his direction. Then he pauses, holding the towel uncertainly in one hand with the other cupped around the dog’s body.
“Uh,” he says. Iida raises an eyebrow—the eyebrow that means he’s being laughed at—and takes the dog and the towel from his hands.
“Like this,” says Iida, wrapping the dog in the towel like a large fluffy sushi roll and rubbing at her fur. The dog lets out a happy sort of yipping noise and wiggles even harder. She makes a funny picture, just her head and tail sticking out of a smothering mass of towel, the latter wagging back and forth excitedly.
“How do you know what to do?” asks Izuku, though honestly he should stop being surprised when Iida is prepared for every situation.
Iida stops to push his glasses back up his nose and then resumes his gentle rubbing of the dog’s ears. “We had a dog when I was younger,” he says. “She wasn’t a puppy, but she was on the small side. Tensei used to make me help him bathe her.”
Izuku isn’t surprised that Iida used to have a dog. It just seems to fit, somehow. In any case, it’s a relief to know at least one of them knows what they’re doing. As a young child, Izuku had begged for a pet, but his mom had gently but firmly reminded him that, without his father there, and with her working and him at school, no one would be present to care for a pet. He’d been upset, though he’d known it was true, so she’d gotten him a goldfish. He’d appreciated the gesture but caring for a goldfish is nowhere near the same as caring for a dog. And he seriously doubts Todoroki’s ever had any sort of pet; Endeavor doesn’t seem the sort to allow animals in his home.
(What kind of freak doesn’t like animals? Izuku thinks bitterly, even though he knows the answer to that. Someone like Endeavor is exactly the kind of freak to dislike animals.)
“We need a name,” says Izuku suddenly.
Iida nods. “Yes, and we’ll need to go get supplies. I hope you realize there’s a lot involved with raising—”
“Sachi.” Todoroki is standing in the open doorway of the bathroom, rubbing a towel through damp hair and smelling strongly of Izuku’s shampoo. (Later, Izuku is sure, any of their classmates who notice will tease them both mercilessly, and he winces at the thought but puts it aside.)
“What?”
“Her name is Sachi.” Todoroki says it with finality, like he’s already decided and there’s no changing his mind. “Meaning happiness and good luck.”
“She can be our good luck charm,” says Izuku, leaning over Iida to allow Sachi to lick his nose. She happily obliges and Iida finally releases her from her towel prison, setting her gently in Todoroki’s lap as he moves to sit with them.
“Well, dogs are proven to bring happiness,” agrees Iida. “I say it fits.”
“Hello, Sachi,” says Todoroki, stroking the soft fur on her head. “Welcome home.”