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Yamada Hizashi, on Christmas Eve of the year he turns 19, jokingly presents Aizawa Shouta, also 19, with a Totoro kigurumi.
Everything that follows after is pure chance.
--
Exactly two weeks later, a tired college student and part-time underground hero creeps out of his apartment and down to the mailboxes on the first floor of the building, because it is Friday, and he needs to get paid.
It is 9:40pm.
Midoriya Inko struggles to get her keys out of her purse, hoping not to wake the sleeping four-year-old whose head is nestled against her shoulder. He has been asleep for exactly 1 hour and 37 minutes, or, since just after the opening sequence of the second movie in the double feature they’d been treated to. Classics - My Neighbor Totoro first, for the younger crowd, and then a remake of King Kong vs Godzilla that Inko and Bakugou Mitsuki had enjoyed quietly shredding while their children snoozed in their laps.
Inko drops her keys. As she bends to pick them up, her son’s eyes open just a crack - he is not fully awake yet, still warm and content to be held. (This state will not last.)
The Midoriya’s next-door neighbor returns with his mail.
Aizawa Shouta does not regret his choice of clothing, because that would mean caring what people think. He does not, which is why he will be an underground hero. It also explains why he finds himself standing outside his apartment, wearing a Totoro kigurumi that was gifted ironically and accepted sincerely - it is the warmest thing he owns that doesn’t have any blood on it.
Because Aizawa doesn’t care what people think, he doesn’t know what his real smile actually looks like - it’s never been photographed, and mirrors are for mornings (mornings are not for smiling). And he doesn’t often find things to smile about. But when he looks over to the woman with her toddler, he indulges in a genuine one: the kid’s cute, he thinks, all curls and freckles on a chubby face. Most kids are cute when they sleep.
The boy’s eyes open a second time, wider as he returns to the waking world. And then, because of the late hour, the movie, a fleeting smile from a stranger in a costume onesie: Midoriya Izuku briefly experiences magic.
His eyes open wide. “ Totoro,” he whispers, as his mother carries him into their apartment.
--
It is not the only time that Aizawa Shouta crosses paths with the Midoriyas.
“Here,” the tired college student offers the single mother with a burst shopping bag and weepy toddler. “Do you want a hand?”
“Oh, could you, I just need a second to get him upstairs -”
“It’s not a problem.”
“I’m Inko, by the way. This,” she nods at the boy in her arms, who is crying silent, fat tears over what looks like a torn trading card. “You live next door, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m Aizawa Shouta. Uh. Nice to meet you, I guess.”
“Nice to meet you, Aizawa-kun. Thanks again.”
He tries a smile at the crying kid. It works, kind of. Izuku stares at him, tiny mouth open in a silent gasp, until the door closes.
--
Four-year-old Izuku accosts Aizawa while he’s out getting the mail again. The boy clings to his leg to hug him because that’s all he can reach.
“Totoro!”
Shouta is so confused that he just stands there, looking at the kid, until he remembers that he’d put on the kigurumi once he’d showered upon returning from patrol.
“Izuku, don’t just go up to people and hug them! I’m sorry, Aizawa-kun, he’s got no fear of strangers these days.”
“Totoro’s not a stranger!” Izuku yells into Shouta’s fleece-clad leg. “Totoro’s Totoro!”
Aizawa looks up at Inko and shrugs. “He has a point.”
He smiles then, because this is stupid and he’s just tired enough that it makes it funny.
Inko snorts a laugh when he looks up. “You actually do look it,” she explains, “With your smile and all.”
Aizawa has no clue what she means, so he rubs the back of his head awkwardly.
“We’d better go, Izuku, or Kacchan will have eaten aaaall the cereal and gotten the prize rings by the time we get there,” Inko says to her son, who dutifully releases Shouta.
“Bye, Totoro!” he yells as they walk away.
“Uh, bye,” Shouta waves.
--
There’s a knock at his door in early March. Shouta answers it - dressed normally in sweats and a long-sleeve t-shirt - and then is confused until he looks down, where Izuku is patting his knee.
“Totoro-san, Mama says to ask you if you want to come to dinner. She made too much and Kacchan can’t come eat it because he has the flu.”
His first instinct is No, because Shouta rarely accepts invitations to go out with his actual friends, let alone almost strangers who happen to be his neighbors. His second instinct is Yes , because scholarships don’t pay well and part-time hero work - underground hero work - pays worse.
He pivots out into the hall and knocks on the door next to his, which falls open.
“Uh, Inko-san…?”
The woman in question pokes her head around the corner. “Aizawa-kun! Oh good, I was hoping he’d be cute enough to get you to say yes.”
So she was actually offering. “Yeah,” Shouta says, “Should I bring something over?”
He winces, immediately regretting this. He has juice packs and crackers in his kitchen.
“No, I’ve made everything. Mitsuki usually brings wine and nothing else, so we’re all set,” Inko smiles. She looks a lot like her son. “Come on in when you’re ready.”
Shouta learns a lot about two people he’s barely met before over the next four hours.
Izuku shows him every single piece of All Might merchandise he owns.
For a four-year-old, it’s a lot.
For anyone , it’s a lot.
When Shouta looks incredulously at Inko she grimaces slightly and shrugs, in a “kids? What can you do” fashion. Aizawa dutifully bites his tongue, because he may not care what people think of him, but unleashing his opinions about All Might on a child would just make him a monster.
When Izuku goes to bed - after a yawned “G’night, Totoro-san” - Shouta doesn’t let Inko wave off his offer to help with dishes. She strong-arms him into accepting the leftovers in exchange.
It might be the longest conversation with an adult he’s ever had - older adult, he has to remind himself, because he exists in the limbo state of being one and not feeling it - outside of work. Maybe including it. It’s mostly small talk, but his hands are busy enough
How old is he? 19 , he says. Inko is 29. Izuku is four.
Family? Friends? Some . He doesn’t ask where Izuku’s father is. He hasn’t seen any photos of him in the apartment, no mention of him from Izuku.
What does he do? Study. Patrol.
Inko pauses.
“Patrol?”
Aizawa hunches in on himself, rubs the back of his neck. Smooth, underground hero. “I have a hero license. I’m just part-time while I’m in school.”
She touches his elbow. Her smile is small and bright. “You never said. Izuku would have been thrilled.”
“I’m underground,” he says mulishly. “My Quirk’s...not flashy. Works best when people don’t expect it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she laughs. “No one would believe that Izuku’s Totoro-san both exists and is a hero.”
He’s weirdly grateful for that.
--
He winds up babysitting.
The first time is a fluke, a favor, an offer to Inko that just falls out of his mouth without his permission.
“I’ll watch him.”
The next three months of on-and-off sitting are a combination of numerous factors including Inko’s insistence on paying him; her willingness to work around patrol nights; the convenience of being right next door; Izuku’s easygoing nature that lets Aizawa do his homework while he plays under the table. Also, the ready and honest excuse ( “Can’t, working” ) to get out of all the college parties Hizashi and Nemuri invite him to.
And Inko’s couch is good for napping.
And yes , ok, he likes the kid more than he lets on.
(Izuku still either doesn’t know his real name or doesn’t care. Shouta is greeted with “Totoro-san” every day.)
One night in May finds him sitting with Izuku on the couch, watching old hero cartoons because a thunderstorm is keeping Izuku awake and Shouta literally cannot commit more rules and regulations to memory without his brain crawling out his ears.
Aizawa had left earlier - when Izuku had insisted this was a slumber party now - and returned with his Totoro kigurumi.
Izuku, still four (“ going on five!” ) but not to be outdone, had disappeared into his room and reappeared in a goddamn All Might onesie.
It‘s fucking adorable, and Shouta hates it. He says nothing, instead offering the irresponsible choice of “candy or popcorn, kiddo?”
Izuku chooses candy, because there is a pack with All Might on it. He apologizes to Shouta for not having any Totoro themed food items, and crawls back into his lap.
They fall asleep on the couch. Shouta wakes at the sound of a camera shutter, and frowns loudly at Inko, who looks completely unashamed. “One more?” she asks. “Now that you’re awake.”
“These never see the light of day,” he growls.
“And you get copies,” she promises. He pushes the hood of onesie up to hide the worst of the rat’s nest that is his hair, and smiles.
It’s genuine.
--
In a flash, the agency he’s nebulously tethered to needs him across Tokyo on a near full-time basis, and he finds himself packing his apartment.
“You’re leaving?” Inko’s voice is shaky at his door. He looks at her, back at the duffel that holds the last of his belongings. The furniture is staying - it wasn’t his in the first place.
“Yeah,” he croaks, “Duty calls. Full-time. Undercover stuff.”
“You be careful,” She pokes him in the chest. “And eat . Real food. Not from a pouch, you dope.”
“Sure,” he says, before he finds himself in a rib crushing hug.
“God, did you grow again?”
“Shouldn’t have kept feeding me, Inko-san.”
She really does just burst into tears at that, laughing and hiccuping. “Sorry, sorry,” she wipes away tears that are instantly replaced. “It was just really nice to have you around. Like having a brother or a cousin. Y’know. Family.”
He doesn’t know. But he has enjoyed this strange brush with a life he’ll never have.
“I should probably say goodbye to Izuku-kun if he’s around.”
Inko nods vigorously, almost forcing herself to calm down. “Yes, absolutely, I’ll get him.”
Izuku cries a little, but pushes through. “Bye, Totoro-san,” he whimpers, and Shouta does not tear up when he slings his duffle over his shoulder.
“Keep in touch?” Inko asks. Shouta grimaces.
“I can try, but…”
“Undercover,” Inko whispers. “Right.”
Aizawa nods and shrugs. “I’ll do my best,” he says, “Bye, Inko-san, Izuku-kun.”
And he walks away.
He never does get those photos.
Two months after he moves, two days out from under a four week undercover mission, he fumbles his phone and shatters it.
It’s not until he finds out his backup is corrupted that he realizes he doesn’t know Inko’s last name.
--
It’s 9:40 am on a Friday morning, just over ten years later.
Aizawa Shouta is meant to be overseeing a study hall (because All Might has dropped both their lesson plans in a fountain, and it’s Friday, so Shouta doesn’t want to print up a new one) but the students are less than discreet when talking about weekend plans. Or talking to All Might, who, while retired, is no less animated when illustrating a point.
Aizawa isn’t listening. He’s enjoying himself for once, and listening would probably put a damper on that for everyone.
It’s a combination of little things - chance, one might call it - that lead to what happens next.
Aizawa Shouta has gotten better about smiling in the last ten years. He does it far more often than people think - he’s just good at hiding it behind things: books, coffee, his capture weapon.
Eventually, though, someone always saw, and wondered if they were seeing things.
Today, a few minutes before the bell rings, it’s Midoriya Izuku’s turn.
Aizawa tunes into the conversation just enough to huff a laugh into his coffee, still looking down at his grading. The mug is just low enough to show off a genuine smile, just as Izuku’s eyes slide from All Might to Aizawa, and the boy freezes -
“ TOTORO!” he yelps.
Aizaw’s coffee ends up all over his desk, destroying his third gradebook this year.
He coughs, spluttering, while All Might blots at the mess with tissues - when he still hasn’t stopped coughing by the time All Might gives up the gradebook as lost, the retired hero swats Aizawa on the back, which fortunately has the intended effect of breaking the cycle instead of his ribs.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa rasps into the stunned silence, “Please keep outbursts to an acceptable indoor volume.”
The bell rings.
He stands to leave, All Might following him and muttering about paging a cleaning bot about the coffee spill. Aizawa doesn’t care, really. Hizashi’s left him to deal with worse, he can handle a little coffee payback.
Midoriya hasn’t moved a muscle by the time Aizawa reaches the door.
Shouta doesn’t want to think about it.
--
On Monday Midoriya accosts him in the teacher’s lounge. Someday Aizawa will find out why he’s so damn comfortable - when the kid is never comfortable, anywhere - barging in here (and if it doesn’t have anything to do with All Might he will eat his scarf ) but today is not that day.
No, today is when Midoriya hands him an old envelope emblazoned with an online printing service logo, and looks around before he says “Mom says she promised you copies…?”
Aizawa freezes, halfway through opening the envelope. No way.
Midoriya’s eyes flick from his face to the envelope and back again. “Did you not...want them? I can understand if you don’t, I mean they’re like ten years old at this point and boy was that a weird thing to say to my mom when I went home like ‘hey mom I missed you what was Totoro-san’s real name’ -”
It’s cute when a four year old rambles. It’s unnerving when a fifteen year old does.
“Midoriya. Shut up a minute.” There’s not really anyone else here - just All Might in the corner, pretending not to listen. He can handle All Might. Has handled, past tense, All Might.
The photos are old, slightly faded by the years. But no, there he is, little baby Izuku in his All Might onesie, asleep and drooling on a slightly-less-baby-but-also-asleep-and-drooling Aizawa Shouta in a Totoro onesie that had since gotten shredded in the wash: a little over two years ago now, and Shouta had been irrationally devastated.
The second picture solves a ten-year-old mystery.
“You really do look like a Totoro when you smile like that,” All Might says over Aizawa’s shoulder.
It takes everything in him not to instinctively jerk an elbow into All Might’s gut for sneaking up on him. Then he registers what the blond said, and briefly wishes he’d let instinct take over.
“Really.” he says, sounding unimpressed while ignoring the proof in his hand.
“Really really,” All Might responds. “How old are you there anyway? You still have baby fa-”
“Midoriya get to class,” Aizawa growls, eyeing the clock. Is he allowed to headbutt the Symbol of Peace in the teacher’s lounge?
“Yes sir!” Midoriya snaps to attention and dutifully scoots out the door - until he sticks his head back in.
“Mom says you and All Might have to come for dinner on Friday and-she-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer-see-you-in-class-bye-” and with that Midoriya is gone, probably sprinting (if not out and out using Full Cowling) to get to class on time.
“So...Totoro-san, huh?”
“If you breathe a word to anyone else I will kill you.”