Archive of Our Own

When Aizawa Shouta tore out of the car and into the station, the sun had long set. He had been patrolling as usual when he had received the call and, after waiting for his replacement to arrive, hopping into the nearest taxi he could find driving that late.

He didn’t have to look at his watch to know it was some ungodly hour in the morning. Thankfully it was a Sunday morning, so at least he didn’t have to drag his body to work later.

The police officer on duty jumped a little in shock when Shouta slammed through the doors. He quickly motioned for him to follow, and Shouta stalked after him down the corridor.

Being a hero meant facing danger. It could mean losing lives. Shouta knew that, of course he did, learned it in high school and taught it daily. But that didn’t mean that at times like this, his heart agreed to beat normally in his chest, or that his mind wouldn’t be swarmed with worry, teeth gritting like it would change something, anything.

Tsukauchi was waiting for him when the police officer showed him into a room. Shouta knew Tsukauchi had to keep the details brief over the phone. You’d never know who might be taping the line, not to mention he probably had a lot of paperwork to get through.

“Where is he?” Shouta gritted out.

“Sit down, Aizawa.” Tsukauchi put down his pen and shuffled some papers around. His gaze softened when he saw the stubborn look in the other man’s eyes. “Please.”

Stiffly, Shouta sat. He squinted to read the papers on Tsukauchi’s desk, but they were all legal jargon. Nothing much about him. Or at least he thought so, from what little was visible under Tsukauchi’s arms.

“Where is Hiz- Present Mic?” Shouta repeated the statement flatly. It wasn’t even a question. Not when a strange electricity was buzzing just barely under his skin, needing to know if his best friend was safe or not. “You said he was unharmed, but hit by a quirk.”

“That’s right.” Tsukauchi looked like a man holding a lit match next to a powder keg. “But this quirk might need a bit of...warning.”

Shouta raised his eyebrows. With all the weird quirks he saw on the daily he severely doubted that any needed him to be ‘warmed up’. Tsukauchi sighed.

“Aizawa...what do you know about Present Mic’s childhood?”

Shouta blinked. “His childhood? What, was he hit with some agre regressing quirk?” From Tsukauchi’s expression, he knew he must have gotten it right.

He mirrored Tsukauchi’s sigh. Hizashi had always been vague about his childhood, never giving many details. From what Shouta had gathered, a few years after Hizashi had burst his parent’s eardrums from his quirk, he had been placed in a foster care.

“From the reports I’ve been able to gather, it seems that this is not a very good age for him to be stuck at. It says here he was transferred repeatedly from foster home to foster home until he turned seven, where he lived with the Yamadas.” Tsukauchi said. “We have the villain in custody, but seems like his quirk is irreversible by quirks like yours once it’s been done. Effects last 48-120 hours. From what we’ve gathered, he should be six years old currently.”

“I can take care of him. Mic. For now.” Shouta blurted out. His brain caught up a little late. The rational part screamed that he didn’t know anything about children. Another equally loud, insistent voice reminded him that this was Hizashi, would he really feel safe leaving him with someone else?

“Mr and Mrs Yamada live a day’s train ride away, and if the quirk doesn’t last more than a week I don’t see the point in him having to make that trip.He doesn’t remember them, anyway. I don’t care what’s happened, he can stay with me.”

“That would probably be best.” Tsukauchi agreed. He handed Shouta some paperwork. “Fill these in and you’ll have custody of Mic until he returns back to normal.”

Five minutes later, Tsukauchi led Shouta through a maze of corridors to where they were holding Hizashi, stopping outside of a glass wall overlooking a white room. Shouta turned to look.

Even at that age, Hizashi’s bright yellow hair stuck up like a canary. It was considerably shorter than its length now (or back then, these tenses were going to get messy, Shouta’s head was already swimming), which allowed Shouta to see his white hearing aids clearly. He was dressed in a simple shirt and shorts the police probably had lying around for a while, if the faded colours were anything to go by. He was smiling, wide eyes taking in the empty room. Some crayons and an activity book were left on the table in front of him, untouched.

Objectively, he was adorable.

Logically, there was something strange about this situation.

“It’s ass o’clock in the morning, why is he still awake.” Shouta said flatly.

Tsukauchi gave a half grin half grimace. “You should have seen him, actually, when we found him. He was posing for the police and everything. Even at that age he was always smiling, huh.”

“I’ll see it later,” Shouta said dryly, mentally calculating what time the news segment might be replayed. But he supposed it would show up on the internet fairly quickly, and dedcided he’d have time to have a closer look when he got home. They stepped inside.

“Hello!” A bright voice immediately piped up. “I’m Hizashi.”

Just Hizashi? Shouta wondered a bit at that but quickly remembered that this six-year-old Hizashi would still need another year to meet the Yamadas. Maybe Hizashi didn’t know his birth name. He knelt on the floor by the table so he was eye to eye with young Hizashi.

“Hi Hizashi, I’m Shouta. I’ll be taking care of you from now on, okay? You have nothing to worry about.” Hizashi’s eyes went impossibly larger and he smiled so wide it had to hurt. He launched himself straight at Shouta, short arms barely reaching around his neck. The erasure hero’s hands flew up in shock. He took a moment to process how small and skinny Hizashi’s arms were.

“Thank you mister Shouta! I’ll be good, I promise!”

Hizashi’s voice sounded, well, normal. Shouta wondered if Hizashi had learned to speak very softly with his quirk, or if he had his quirk under control at age six. It was practically unheard of to have such good control of one’s quirks without other...factors. His stomach seemed to turn and he abandoned the line of thought for now.

Shouta sighed as he untangled the boy’s arms from his capture weapon. At first, he had been worried about how Hizashi would be as a child, knowing the briefest sketch of his history, but it seemed that his fears were unfounded. Despite whatever he had gone through, Hizashi had been the brightest, friendliest person Shouta ever met when he had first transferred to the hero course, and it seemed like nothing had changed.

“I know you will be.” He tried his best to smile the boy, hoping it didn’t come out too awkward. Hizashi had been looking just a little disappointed to have his arms removed from Shouta’s neck, but at the sight of the smile Shouta usually reserved for alley cats when they came to greet him or the rare times he thought his friends weren’t looking, the boy brightened up once more. “Let’s get you out of here alright? You must be tired.”

At that, small Hizashi shook his head violently. Shouta snorted. It wasn’t so easy to fool him, he could see the tell-tale signs of eye bags under Hizashi’s eyes that he had become accustomed to looking out for over the years. But if the kid didn’t want to admit it, Shouta wasn’t going to say anything.

After saying his thanks and goodbyes to Tsukauchi, Shouta took Hizashi’s hand in his and led the way out of the police station. He didn’t want to spend money on a taxi when home was so nearby, so he settled on walking.

A few blocks down, Hizashi’s footsteps began to slow down. Shouta looked down at the boy, fighting hard to keep his eyes open. Carefully, he lifted Hizashi by the armpits, nestling him in his arms. This time, the boy was too tired to complain and by the time they reached Shouta’s apartment, he was fast asleep.

Shouta looked down at Hizashi, asleep on his shoulder. His face was peaceful, without the lines of worry that had been etched there over the years. Shouta noticed Hizashi had drooled a little on his shoulder, and he suppressed a huff of laughter. He wasn’t really one to deal with kids, but it seemed like Hizashi wouldn’t be too bad.

He took a moment to shut the door behind him quietly while balancing the sleeping child in his arms, quietly kicking his respect for parents up a notch for dealing with this balancing act. A soft padding of paws saw his cat, Mochi, staring up at him. Mochi gave a small meow, ears twitching curiously.

Shouta put a finger to his lips and shushed the cat. The cat obediently shushed up. Yawning, Mochi padded away.

Shouta’s apartment was nice enough, he supposed, though Hizashi and Nemuri would beg to differ. Granted, he may not have many decorations, but he had all the fixtures. He slowly placed Hizashi on his bed, unmade since the morning, and tucked him in. Immediately, Hizashi’s fingers curled around the blankets, responding to their weight.

Softly, Shouta grabbed the spare futon from his cupboard before headed for a quick shower. By the time he wiggled into the futon in his pyjamas, it was 4 a.m.. If he was lucky, Hizashi would sleep till 9 at least. Groaning, Shouta took way too long to locate the alarm app on his phone and placed it beside him on vibrate so it wouldn’t wake Hizashi up in the morning.

Shouta was frying bacon when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Turning around, he came face to face with a very sleepy looking Hizashi. Shouta took the bacon off the pan and turned off the stove.

“Good morning Mister Shouta,” slurred Hizashi. Shouta gave an amused snort. In one ear, his hearing aid seemed crooked.

“Good morning Hizashi,” he replied, reaching out to slot the boy’s earpiece properly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Guiding him to the bathroom, Shouta rummaged through the drawers for an extra toothbrush. Realising he didn’t have spare sets of clothes that would fit Hizashi, he began to mentally plan a shopping trip once breakfast was finished.

“Mister Shouta, I smell bacon!” Shouta bit back a grin at Hizashi’s large green eyes staring hopefully up at him. Puppy eyes from tiny Hizashi must have been severely amplified in power. Shouta was sure that if secondary quirks were a thing, Hizashi’s would be puppy eyes.

“Mmhmm,” Shouta replied. “And just ‘Shouta’ is fine, Hizashi. Hearing you call me mister sounds weird.”

Hizashi stiffened up just a little, a movement Shouta wasn’t sure he had imagined. “Okay Shouta! I’ll do that!”

Hizashi, it turned out, was a really fast eater. And once he had finished, he started to talk. He was hesitant at first, but grew more bold when he realised Shouta was indeed listening to what he talked about, a dry comment here and there.

Once Shouta had placed his fork back on the empty plate, Hizashi immediately picked up both plates and scurried into the kitchen. Shouta blinked, unaccustomed to having his plate swiped off so fast. Curiously, he got up and followed Hizashi into the kitchen where the sound of water had started up.

Hizashi was up on tiptoes, washing the dishes in the sink. Except, he couldn’t really reach the sink. He must have stretched far enough to on the tap, but it looked like he was hanging off the sink for dear life rather than actually washing the dishes. Shouta walked in. “Hizashi, what are you doing?”

“Washing the dishes!” Hizashi chirped back. “It’s the only thing I can do to earn my keep miste- Shouta.”

Earn his keep? Shouta frowned. Why did a six-year-old think he had to earn his keep? Gently, he switched off the tap and met Hizashi’s bewildered expression. He squatted down in front of him.

“I guess I didn’t really get to explain this last night,” he started. “But when you’re staying with me you don’t have to earn your keep, Hizashi. Let me take care of you.”

Hizashi looked like he wanted to protest. “But-”

Shouta shook his head, gently extricating the sponge from Hizashi’s hands. “How about you wash your face a little, hmm? Let’s go out and get you some clothes.”

There was a conflicted look in his eyes, but Hizashi eventually decided to listen to Shouta. He ran off to the bathroom where Shouta had placed a small step stool and towel, leaving Shouta to finish washing the dishes.

On the way to the nearby mall, Hizashi clung tightly to Shouta’s baggy track pants as they stood in the train. It was just a few stops, so it didn’t take them long to reach.

The first thing Shouta did when he reached the mall was to head straight over to the directory, because Shouta wasn’t an idiot. He had no idea where most things were in the mall, especially not the children’s section. Locating it quickly, he held Hizashi’s hand tightly as they made their way to the department store.

Hizashi’s eyes were wide as they took in the mall. Shouta supposed it wasn’t the smallest of malls, but he also couldn’t be sure how often Hizashi had been brought out, if the death grip he kept on Shouta’s hand was any indication. He frowned. Something at the back of his mind was telling him something was not quite right, but he shook it off once they got to the top of the escalators.

Walking to the right, Shouta was surprised when he felt a pull on his right arm. Hizashi was rooted to the spot, eyes trained on a nearby crepe stand. He always did have a sweet tooth, Shouta thought affectionately.

“Let’s get one later, after we’ve finished the errands.” Hizashi had looked at Shouta like he had hung the moon in the sky, squealing with delight.

When they finally reached the department store, Shouta stood there and stared. “Why are there so many different designs,” he said to no one in particular. Hizashi, gripping Shouta’s leg, giggled. Faced with an ambiguous scenario, Shouta decided to approach it the only way he knew how to. With rational, logical steps.

First, gather intel. Hizashi’s hand in his, Shouta circled the entire area once. There were children’s clothes for everything, with practically every pattern and design and cartoon character known to man on at least one item of clothing.

Second….figure out what to do with the intel. Shouta’s eye twitched as he realised he had no idea what to buy. Nemuri had told him multiple times he was completely hopeless at fashion, which was why he had decided to just stick with the tracksuit, because it was a matching set which meant that whatever Nemuri said, it had been designed to match.

Oh. Matching sets. Shouta’s eye caught on a shelf with clothes sold in shirt-pants pairs that looked like they could fit Hizashi. He grinned.

In the end, Shouta picked out four different sets of clothes in the brightest colours available. While he had pondered over this momentous decision (Shouta! Buying clothes that weren’t dark and depressing!), he had encouraged Hizashi to explore some things nearby. After picking out the clothes, Shouta made his way over to where Hizashi was poking around action figures.

He wasn’t the only one there. A few other children squealed in excitement as they rooted through the merchandise to find their favourite heroes. Figuring he’d just scare the kids, Shouta hung back and decided to watch the scene from a distance. With that, he headed for the cashier while keeping an eye on Hizashi.

Standing in line, Shouta squinted to make out the two figurines Hizashi held in each hand. He couldn’t hold back a snort when he realised young Hizashi had picked out two blond heroes, just like him. Shouta could make out the distinct red, yellow, and blue in one hand and in the other…

Huh. Of course. Of course someone as self-absorbed as Hizashi would pick out himself.

Okay, Shouta smacked himself mentally. Not self-absorbed, but confident. Though the two might seem to overlap at times, he’s known Hizashi long enough to know which he actually was. Shouta just hoped Hizashi didn’t realise a miniature of his face was staring back.

Young Hizashi looked at the figurines with curiousity. They weren’t heroes he’d ever seen before.

“Isn’t All Might the coolest!”

A young girl holding an All Might plushie smiled at Hizashi. Imagining a plushie of himself, Shouta shuddered. Paying for the clothes, he mindlessly wondered if his cat would like something that. He’s seen the All Might chew toys, though he wished he hadn’t. This, this was also why he was an underground hero.

“A-All Might?”

“Yeah! He’s got super strength, and he can punch really hard!”

A soft laugh from behind him in the queue. “You son’s really adorable, isn’t he.”

Shouta turned to see a young lady looking fondly in Hizashi’s general direction. Not knowing what else to say, he grunted.

“I can see you’re getting him some new clothes, and just nice too-”

Shouta could feel the hairs on his neck standing at that casual comment. “He’s not my son,” he replied flatly. “And I’d appreciate it if you left us alone.”

That shut her up pretty fast.

“Naw, Present Mic is cool too!” A new voice had joined the conversation. “He’s got the most powerful voice in the world!”

Shouta’s head snapped up. He knew Hizashi hadn’t had the easiest childhood with that, and Hizashi just stood silently, staring at the figurine while the other two children argued about who was better. He was just collecting the bag when Hizashi spoke again.

“It sounds like he’s got a...a dangerous quirk.”

The two children fell silent and stared balefully at him. Kids were just small adults, and Shouta knew what the look they gave him meant. One of the fastest ways to alienate kids was to insult their heroes.

“If a person uses his or her quirks for good, they’re a hero.” Shouta said as he made his way over. ‘“Let’s go, Hizashi.”

Three surprised pairs of eyes stared as he motioned for Hizashi to follow, tilting his head towards the crepe store and giving a small smile. Immediately, Hizashi’s face cleared up. He replaced the two figurines on the shelves and ran to grab Shouta’s hand.

Before heading there, Shouta gave Hizashi a change of clothes in a nearby restroom. He had seen how out-of-place Hizashi had looked among the other children, and he was not going to have him stand out more than he had to in those tattered clothes.

When Hizashi walked out of the cubicle to where Shouta stood waiting in a fresh set of clothes and a bright smile, the earlier incident completely faded from Shouta’s mind.

Crepe and shopping in hand, Shouta and Hizashi quickly boarded the train back. He wanted to minimise the time Hizashi spent in public, lest he be recognised by some pesky media person or worse, by a villain.

Shouta shuddered at the thought.

“Sir, would you and your son like this seat?”

A young man was standing up from one of the priority seats of the train. Shouta frowned. Hizashi was rather scrawny for his age, but surely he didn’t look that young? He glanced down at the boy, who had one hand in Shouta’s and the other grasping Shouta’s leg.

Well, it’d be a pity to let this man’s good intentions go to waste. Shouta motioned for Hizashi to take the seat, who crawled into it without hesitation. The boy flashed the young man a shy smile in thanks and the young man practically melted as he cooed over how cute Hizashi looked. Then he turned his attention back to Shouta with renewed interest.

“How old is he, if I may ask? My wife and I are planning to have children and -”

“He’s...not my son.” A wave of deja vu and Shouta grimaced. Were people normally this nosy about every kid they met. Really.

“O-oh, I see,” an awkward pause as the man looked from Hizashi to Shouta. He didn’t seem very deterred, however, and continued to bombard Shouta with stories about children until, thankfully, it was his stop. Hizashi and Shouta quickly made their way through the gantry and back to Shouta’s apartment.

Lunch was a simple spaghetti dish Shouta whipped up, Hizashi hovering around and watching curiously. Shouta had carried Hizashi to allow him to place the raw spaghetti into the pot of boiling water, who had squealed with delight. In the afternoon he gave Hizashi some books to read while he graded papers, and soon Hizashi had drifted off at the table.

Shouta leaned back with a sigh. His phone buzzed. Nemuri would be over soon to watch Hizashi while Shouta was out on patrol.

He glanced over at Hizashi, now fast asleep with his face resting on the open book, breath blowing at a stray page. Almost instinctively, Shouta reached out a hand to stroke Hizashi’s hair gently.

Honestly, he hadn’t known what to think when the police had called to inform him his best friend had been turned into a child. His first instinct came in the form of claws, a deep anguish from within to know if his friend was safe. After that though, he had worried about how he would be.

At first, Shouta was sure he’d be the same loud, confident child as he would later become as a teen. After all, Hizashi had perked up the moment he’d had company in the room.

He wasn’t that loud, something that struck Shouta as a little strange. But he supposed some children just grew into themselves in their own time. And that aside, Hizashi had basically been the perfect child: cleaning up after himself, never straying too far from Shouta, willing to read in silence while Shouta had graded papers.

Heck, even grown up Hizashi wasn’t this quiet in the staff room. He’d be muttering under his breath about his student’s stupid mistakes, pen scratching noisily as he left red marks everywhere.

Come back soon, Hizashi, Shouta sighed, returning to his ungraded stack of papers. He’d deny it to hell and back, but there was always something comforting in knowing his best friend was just a call or a text message away. Hizashi had been a friend, but more so, he’d been Shouta’s constant for so many years. To have that taken away left Shouta slightly breathless, a little disoriented in a world he’d defined with his best friend a crucial part of it.

To see him as he had been so long back seemed like an invasion of privacy. It wasn’t something Hizashi had talked about in detail, so Shouta always assumed it wasn’t his place to pry.

The students had been told Mic was on sick leave for the next few days or so, and the specifics of his condition were known only to a handful of the staff. Still, Shouta braced himself for the inevitable questions the students would fire at him come Monday. He sighed. Not to mention Nemuri when she arrived.

The doorbell rang. Well, speak of the devil.

Padding across the hallway to open the door, he heard Hizashi wake with a start behind him, letting out a soft snort. The moment he clicked the lock open, the door was flung open in his face by Nemuri who had already scrambled out of her shoes and run into the apartment.

Shouta shut the door.

“Shouuuuuutaaaaa! I can’t believe you didn’t send me any pictures!” Nemuri cooed over Hizashi, still rubbing away at his eyes. “He’s adoooooorable!”

Hizashi shook his head to shake off the residue sleep and blinked up at Nemuri. He giggled, smiling broadly. And to think Shouta had been a little worried about leaving him alone with Nemuri. They’d get along fine.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m away,” Shouta warned, winding his capture weapon around his neck. “There’s leftovers in the fridge you can heat up for dinner. I’ve locked the alcohol cabinet, just so you know.”

Nemuri snorted. “You make it seem like I have no control. He’s a kid, Shouta, I’m not going to drink when I’m taking care of a kid. Contrary to popular belief, I am not actually an alcoholic.”

Close enough, Shouta muttered under his breath.

Nemuri, making sure Hizashi’s line of sight was hidden by her body, smiled and flipped Shouta off.

He rolled his eyes. “You two be good while I’m gone. Hizashi, listen to Nemuri okay?”

“You’re leaving?” Hizashi cried in alarm, sliding quickly off his chair and running to grab onto Shouta. “Don’t leave me, Shouta.”

Why did he have to make this hard. Shouta patted Hizashi on the head, suddenly feeling almost as reluctant as Hizashi did to leave. “I’ve got to go to work, Hizashi. I’ll be back really soon, okay? Nemuri will take care of you.”

Reluctantly, Hizashi allowed himself to be pried away by Nemuri. “Hey sweetie, don’t be sad alright? Shouta will be back soon - hey, no - Shouta!”

He was already out the door. If he hadn’t left then, he may not have left at all, and his agency wouldn’t be so forgiving if he missed his patrolling again. Probably.

Okay, even he had to admit to himself that that was a terrible lie. His boss had been trying for months to get him to actually use his days off, first so they didn’t have to pay him extra and second so he wouldn’t overwork himself.

But there was something about Hizashi that unsettled him. He needed some fresh air and time alone to think. Tsukauchi had called earlier to update him on details of the incident they’d since figured out. Apparently what was supposed to be a lone-wolf burglar had turned out to be a duo, which Hizashi had anticipated and quickly discovered. He hadn’t expected the duo to actually be a trio, and the last member had snuck up on him just as he had wriggled out of the other’s grip. The police had caught the third and first member, the second was still at large.

Shit. If the third villain had had a different quirk….Shouta didn’t want to think about it. He let out a deep breath. Kicking some villain-ass might also be a good way to let out some of the stress he hadn’t realised he’d had.

The day’s patrol went smoothly. Other than a purse-snatching burglar, there hadn’t been any serious threats.

When Shouta arrived home, Hizashi was already asleep. Nemuri nursed a cup of hot chocolate (the expensive one Hizashi had bought for him last Christmas, Shouta noted) as she watched some dating variety show. Mochi was curled into a ball a few feet from her.

“The hot chocolate’s good,” Nemuri said, not looking away from the screen. Shouta snorted.

“Hizashi’s been trying to get me into hot chocolate.”

Nemuri smiled wryly. “Is this about the caffeine intake again? You’re a teacher, you should know that much coffee isn’t good for you.”

“Heroics isn’t exactly biology.”

A snort. “Bullshit. I’ve seen your lesson plan on morphological-type quirks. Hizashi’s an English teacher and he take this caffeine thing much more seriously than you do. You’re going to die of a heart attack and the coroner will find that you have coffee instead of blood and prove us all right. Hizashi won’t stop crying for months and it’ll be all your fault. I’ll have to change my hero costume to black in your honour, and you know I don’t suit black.”

Shouta hummed noncommitedly. “How was Hizashi?”

“He was alright,” Nemuri began, muting the television. Shouta flopped on the couch, joining her. “Was rather grouchy, though. And insisted on trying to wait for you to come home, but fell asleep just a while ago.”

“Grouchy?”

“Probably didn’t get enough sleep the previous day,” Nemuri mused. “Children need a lot more sleep than you usually get. Aw, don’t look at me like that. Everyone knows the only reason why you carry a sleeping bag with you in school is cause your two jobs don’t really let you sleep like a normal person. You know, you could stand to ask for more reasonable patrol timings like a normal person.”

Shouta wanted to argue but stopped himself. The rest of the teachers who still conducted patrols usually took the early evening, not in the dead of the night like he did. Nemuri knew full-well he took that shift first to avoid unwanted attention and second, crime rates had been spiking around those times lately.

“Oh well, I’d better head home.” Nemuri turned her phone screen to Shouta with a grin. “I’ve got plenty of cute pictures. He’s so adorable!”

“Thanks for coming over.” Shouta said.

Nemuri huffed and gave Shouta a friendly smack on the shoulder. “Of course.”

After she had left, Shouta took quick rinse before falling onto the futon and slipping off into sleep.

Shouta awoke with a start at his alarm. Grabbing blearily through sleep, he cursed when he saw the time. Strangely, he didn’t remember pressing snooze, but there again he hadn’t been that bone-tired for a while. It hadn’t even been that tiring a patrol. He glanced at Hizashi, sleeping peacefully on his bed and smiled.

Maybe he was getting old.

He quickly got changed, and managed to half-wake Hizashi to get him ready. Leaving him alone at home while he went to UA wasn’t an option. Maybe he could leave him with Nedzu, or Recovery Girl while he worked.

Shouta cursed mentally when he remembered that Recovery Girl was on a trip to Hokkaido where some UA alumni had gotten severely injured. Not the nurse’s office then, he didn’t even know who’d take over for the time being. Conditions were not ideal for bringing a child to work.

His mind travelled to the staff lounge, with the comfortable couch he often napped on. There were snacks and a drinks dispenser. Hmm.

Despite the late morning, Shouta arrived at UA on time. He’d managed to get Hizashi into a hoodie, and miraculously didn’t attract that much attention when he walked into school. Asleep on his shoulder, Shouta knew Hizashi had probably drooled all over him again, having attracted some curious stares on the train ride over.

Or maybe people had found it suspicious for someone as bedraggled as him to be carrying a child. Shouta wondered idly if the police had received such a call about him before. He knew Gang Orca got that regularly enough.

Quickly, Shouta asked Nemuri to watch over Hizashi while he was at homeroom. She had a free morning, so she readily agreed to bring her work into the teacher’s lounge to watch him.

When the bell finally signalled the end of homeroom, Shouta felt relief wash over him and he sprinted - actually sprinted - down the hall to the staffroom. Bursting around the corner, he was greeted by Nemuri glaring at him. His blood ran cold.

“Did something happen?”

She sighed. “He’s reading his book silently, everything’s peachy. After he finished crying when you left, that is.”

He stood up with a jolt. “Hizashi...cried?”

Nemuri fixed him with a patronising look. “Shouta, do you really know so little about children? Did you tell him where you were going, or that you were leaving him in the lounge on his own?”

Well, he had been fast asleep, so he hadn’t.

“Even yesterday, come to think about it. I know you made sure someone was there to take care of him, but you just ran off!”

“But, I told him where I was going-”

“He’s not one of your students, Shouta. If that’s how you speak to high schoolers, you need at least three times as long for a child practically a third of their age.” At his lost expression, her face softened a little.

“Shouta, I know you’re still young, and you didn’t have to look after younger siblings. I did.”

Shouta nodded slowly. He knew Nemuri often had to rush home after school to take care of her younger two siblings, and Tensei had to take care of his younger brother. An only child, Shouta never had that. And Hizashi, well.

“It’s normal for children to dislike it when their parental figures leave temporarily, but you didn’t see Hizashi last night. This morning, too. If you remember, my younger brother Tobio had a lot of difficulty parting with our parents when they went to work. I wanted to be more sure before I told you but I think -”

“You think Hizashi has separation anxiety.” Shouta said flatly.

Nemuri nodded.

“Think about it Shouta: waking up in an unfamiliar place, being swept to the police station, then you come and take him home, dress him warmly, cook for him. Then you disappear. It’s not a stretch to figure out Hizashi didn’t have the most stable childhood. Even now, Hizashi hates it when things change.”

He did. Shouta remembered how back in their third year of UA, Hizashi had moped for weeks about how ‘things would be different’ and they may not see each other if their agencies were far apart or worse, across the country. Shouta had just assumed it was Hizashi being clingy. But now, that memory took on a decidedly different slant.

Peeking over the frosted lower half of the staff lounge, he caught sight of a tuft of blond hair and the flipping of pages of a book.

When he had taken Hizashi in, he knew he had to be responsible for his safety. And hadn’t he? He’d gotten Nemuri to babysit when out for patrol, he’d bought clothes for Hizashi so he’d have clean and fresh things to wear. He’d cooked for him, choosing foods that he vaguely remembered eating as a child.

“Maybe I - I don’t know how to handle him,” Shouta finally admitted in a small voice. Killer villains he could easily finish off. Disaster zones didn’t faze him, he’d run straight in without hesitation. But a young Hizashi...he felt lost. “Maybe -”

“No, don’t even think about it.” Nemuri hissed fiercely as she poked him hard in the chest. “There’s no one who would take care of Hizashi’s safety as much as you now he’s like this. But that’s the point, it has to be you. You’re who he looks to for safety now. Guess what, other people can patrol the streets, but they can’t take care of a child who already gets separation anxiety when you leave!”

Shouta took a shuddering breath. Shit, she was right. Usually, he hated it when she was right but right now, he kind of hated himself for being so blind.

“I-I’ll take leave from patrolling until he’s back....and UA too.”

She smacked him on the back. “That’s better. Now, you better check on Hizashi, and remember what I said!”

He nodded mutely and she took the opportunity to ruffle his hair affectionately before she left. “You workaholic, you.”

The staff room door clicked shut when she left, leaving Shouta alone, standing outside the lounge. He was thankful the staff room was empty. Something prickled uncomfortably in his chest as he took a deep breath and opened the door to the lounge.

Hizashi looked up when he entered, and his heart plummeted straight to the ground. The boy’s eyes were puffy and red as he sniffled, hands trembling lightly as the gripped the pages of the book a little too hard, creases already forming.

Shouta immediately dropped to the ground and enveloped the boy in a tight hug. He felt two tiny hands grasp at his hero costume, a quiet hiccuping by his ear.

He pulled away. It seemed like Shouta’s reappearance made him remember his earlier disappearance, and the tears sprung fresh in his eyes, tracing their way down familiar paths on his cheeks. Hizashi swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, trying to form words. From his experience with Mrs Yamada, Shouta had gotten pretty good at reading lips.

You….left.

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry.” Shouta repeated again and again. His heart squeezed tightly in his chest as the words spilled out, anything to get Hizashi to stop making that face. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

Shouta packed Hizashi’s book into his backpack, helping him wear it. Lifting the boy into his arms, Shouta walked down the corridor and knocked on Principal Nedzu’s door to ask for the next few days off. He was only too happy to oblige.

Silence as Shouta grabbed his own work bag, save the soft, occasional hiccup from still-tearful Hizashi. Blankness in his mind as he mechanically tapped his train pass and waited on the platform. Anger rising in his throat as he gripped the handlebars, staring silently at the child asleep in his arms.

Damn it all, he should have known.

His excuse had been work? Since when had Aizawa Shouta used work as an excuse for something? Since when did Aizawa Shouta make excuses for the important things?

When he couldn’t bear to face the years-stripped child his best friend had become, his traitorous mind supplied. Not when Hizashi had been the one steering their friendship for so long, had been since the start, that Shouta realised way too late that he didn’t know how to drive.

Pathetic.

Briefly, he wondered how bad Hizashi had it, that he would cling on so tightly to a man he had barely just met. If what Nemuri was suggesting was true, and it was because he had given him warm, home-cooked meals, fresh clothes, a place to sleep….

Shouta really felt like punching someone.

There was a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find a concerned-looking middle-aged lady.

“Excuse me, but would you and your son -”

“He’s not my son,” Shouta spat out before he could think, more forcefully than he should.

Cause apparently, he had thought he’d do a better job than all those assholes before him, however many there were, but apparently, he hadn’t. And he had no way of estimating the damage he might have done, the damage already done, the damage that would be done before this precious boy in his arms finally entered the front door of the Yamada household.

Shocked, the lady left without another word. The carriage was quiet for the rest of the ride. Good.

Arriving home, Shouta dropped his work bag on the couch and headed to tuck Hizashi into bed. Pulling up the covers to his chin, Shouta wondered when this act, this motion, became so familiar to him.

With that, he headed to the dining table and grabbed his stack of marking. Lunch came and went, Hizashi showed no signs of stirring from bed. Shouta wondered how exhausted he had to be to sleep that long, and kept a portion of his curry in the fridge for when he woke up hungry later.

Later that afternoon, Shouta put his pen down, the words swimming before his eyes. You know what, if he didn’t have work the next day, his marking wouldn’t suffer if he did it a little later. Instead, he pulled out his phone.

[To: Iida Tensei] 15:42:27
Tensei. How do you make a kid not hate you.

He had just put it back down on the table when it buzzed with a reply. A small smile made its way to Shouta’s face despite it all. Trust Tensei to be so reliable.

[From: Iida Tensei] 15:43:14
Shouta! Long time no see

I assume you’re talking about Hizashi?

Nemuri told me.

And sent photos! He’s so cute!

Trust Nemuri to be so prompt with the news. Shouta couldn’t help but glance at the open doorway to his bedroom as he replied to Tensei.

[To: Iida Tensei] 15:45:19
Yes.

I messed up.

[From: Iida Tensei] 15:45:54
I heard a little bit already. Nemuri said you’d probably text me about it, since Tenya and all.

This time Shouta snorted. The chat showed Tensei was typing, but his took a little longer to arrive.

[From: Iida Tensei] 15:47:35
Just know that while children can get hurt easily, they also forgive really easily, especially when they can feel your sincerity. It was like that for Tenya, and knowing Hizashi, I think he’d be like that too. That guy doesn’t have a single nasty bone in his body, for better or for worse.

Oh yeah, Shouta knew that full well. It stayed a secret among him, Nemuri, and Tensei that they had threatened that one senior who kept borrowing lunch money off of Hizashi, who hadn’t had the heart to say no.

[From: Iida Tensei] 15:48:07
And besides, you know Hizashi could never stay mad at you for long :-)

He knew that too. Felt like shit whenever Hizashi forgave him when he hadn’t apologised enough or repaid him enough. Shouta straightened up. No matter how short a time he had left, he would make Hizashi know the warmth of love and care that he deserved.

[To: Iida Tensei] 15:51:28
Thank you.

In reply, Tensei sent him a cat sticker with the words ‘fighting!’ in a cutesy font over it. That earned him a small huff of laughter, not that he’d ever need to know. For good measure, Shouta favourited the sticker.

“Shouta?”

At the soft call, Shouta’s head snapped up from the screen. He quickly put away his phone and turned in his chair to face Hizashi, who seemed surprisingly awake from the way he usually looked when he who had just gotten up. “Yes, Hizashi?”

There was a long pause as Hizashi seemed to gather words. Shouta’s brow furrowed because Hizashi looked scared. In fact, he looked downright terrified.

Shouta’s heart started beating faster. But no fight-or-flight instincts could prepare him for the question that came next.

“H-How do you want me to be?”

What? Shouta blinked. “What do you mean?”

Hizashi shuffled his feet, picking unconsciously at the hem of his shirt, a nervous gesture Shouta had come to know over the years. When he opened his mouth again, the words poured out. “T-They said I was too loud, then when I learned to control my quirk they said I was too soft and they didn’t like soft, then the others said I was too loud again but a different kind of loud, the ane an,” he scrunched his face as he tried to pronounce the word, “annoying, and I know you said I wasn’t your son, but I don’t want to leave and go back again, ‘cause the lady said one more time and they wouldn’t help me, but when you came to find me at the police and said you’d take care of me I thought-”

Remember the sinking feeling Shouta had felt in the staff room that morning? That had nothing on this.

Hizashi still stammering away, Shouta slid off his seat and crouched down in front of him. Hizashi took a small step back, looking extremely close to tears. Then it hit Shouta.

Not close to starting tears, close to continuing tears.

How long had the kid been awake? How long had he been lying on the bed, thinking of the right words to say what he wanted to say?

‘Not his son?’ Where’d he get the idea?

Shouta smacked himself mentally. If he hadn’t actually been asleep in the train that morning, he certainly hadn’t been yesterday on the way back from the mall. Heck, if he could hear the children from the queue, maybe Hizashi had heard him then, too.

A child would take that comment very differently. And in this context, especially. Shouta felt sick to his stomach.

Shouta’s mind raced as he stared at Hizashi. What would Nemuri do if she were here? Or Tenya? Hell, even Cementoss, Tsukauchi, Snipe? How had Mr and Mrs Yamada handled this those years back?

No, that wasn’t right was it? He hadn’t been asking the right questions all along.

What should he do?

“I’m sorry.”

That apology, undeserved and unnecessary, from Hizashi’s lips brought Shouta crashing back down from his thoughts. He bit his bottom lip as he took Hizashi’s small hands in his.

“Hizashi, are you talking about your previous homes?”

A nod. Then, hurriedly, “My real mum and dad aren’t bad people, they just couldn’t take care of me and I -”

Shouta shushed him gently, a finger to his lips. “Hizashi, let’s go through this slowly. Nod if I’ve understood you correctly okay?” He gave the child time to nod his head. “Your parents couldn’t take care of you, so you were in a foster home.” Nod.

“For different reasons, you couldn’t stay long in each.” Nod.

“They told you it was because of your quirk or how you were.” Nod, his bottom lip wobbling.

“And now you’re scared you have to go back because I don’t like you.” This time, there wasn’t a nod, but Shouta didn’t need one.

What he needed was to give Hizashi a hug right now, if that would wipe the miserable expression off his face. Shouta felt his chest constrict again, and wondered how Hizashi could break his heart so many times in one day.

Shouta looked Hizashi square in the eye. “That’s not true. I like you very much, Hizashi, and I’d like it if you would stay with me for as long as you want to. Would you like that?”

He’d expected the storm clouds to clear and sun to shine once more, but the clouds still hung stormy, even if the rain did stop. Hizashi made a choking sound as he wiped fiercely at his eyes, nodding.

“And,” Shouta brushed Hizashi’s hair back gently and crap, this was so weird, but this wasn’t his Hizashi, this was a different Hizashi. He wasn’t going to rupture some alternate timeline and mess this whole thing up, this was a Hizashi that existed only now, for this short period of time, and Shouta was the one given the responsibility, the privilege to take care of him. And he would. “If you would like, you can call me dad.”

Anything, anything, gosh, just never make that face again.

Dryly, he wondered what Nemuri would think about him being called ‘dad’ at twenty-three.

Hizashi let out a choked sob and flung himself at Shouta.

“‘How I want you to be’? I want you to be yourself, Hizashi, and to be happy with being yourself. Can you do that for me please? For yourself?” The boy nodded against Shouta’s shoulder. He rubbed reassuring circles on his back and cradled him close. “Promise?”

The boy’s voice was muffled against Shouta’s shirt, but it sounded like a promise.

“Let’s make some hot chocolate and watch a movie, okay? I don’t have to work tonight or for the next few days. How about The Little Mermaid?” He laughed at Hizashi’s expression. It was nice to see his favourite disney movie hadn’t changed.

“We could call Nemuri over, or - no? Just you and me?” He smiled fondly at the child. Hizashi had a - dare he say it? - hopeful look on his face. “Okay. Let’s do that, then.”

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Hizashi?”

“I want to be a radio presenter!”

“Oh? How come?”

“‘Cause mummy is a singer, and I hear her voice through the radio, and you know she made a special song for me that she sings all the time, even though she can’t hear so good anymore!”

“Oh? Is that why you like the jazz station?”

“ Yeah! And if I’m a radio presenter, she can hear my voice over the radio and know I’m okay too and that I’m thinking of her!”

“Dad, what’s your job?”

“I’m a hero, Hizashi. You won’t see any figurines though, because I do my work without the news knowing it.”

“I wanna become a hero like Dad too! WIth my quirk, I wanna be like that cockatoo hero!”

“...Wow, he’s self aware.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing.” A chuckle. “That’s not what you said yesterday.”

“Yeah, but then Dad said if I used my quirk for good, I’d make a good hero!”

“...You’d make an excellent hero, Hizashi. One of the best.”

Shouta awoke to assorted loud noises. He groaned, wiggling further into the futon to escape the rays of sunlight that had snuck through the curtains. He groaned. “Hizashi, you’re being too loud. Let Dad sleep more.”

The sounds didn’t stop. They seemed like they came from far away. Cautiously, Shouta peeked open an eye. He sat up and saw that the bed had already been made. Yawning and leaving his futon a rumpled mess, Shouta dragged himself to look at the clock. He glared at the offending hands reading eight in the morning.

“Hizashi?” Shouta called as he stumbled out of the room. “Hi-”

There was a light humming from the kitchen, a low tenor timbre. Shouta caught sight of long, blond hair, and his heart caught in his throat. Running the last few steps to the kitchen, he burst in to the sight of Hizashi, his Hizashi, flipping pancakes.

His long blond hair had been brushed back into a low ponytail. Shouta recognised the pink track pants and black sweater to be his. They were a little too short for Hizashi, whose bony ankles peeked out.

Laughter. Shouta missed that sound more than he ever thought he would.

“Breakfast is almost ready, so you go sit down Dad,” Hizashi chirped. “Seriously? What are you on, Shouta. You’re like, twenty-three.” Shouta’s face burned with embarrassment. Huffing, he promptly did the opposite of what Hizashi had said and padded over to peek at the pancakes. His stomach rumbled.

Hizashi whined and prodded Shouta out the door. “You’re getting in the way!”

“If you want to cook breakfast you can cook breakfast, I’m not arguing.” Shouta snorted. He wasn’t at all surprised at how easily they fell back into the rhythm of their usual banter. Idly, Shouta wondered how much of the past three days Hizashi remembered.

Soon after, Hizashi waltzed into the dining room carrying two heaping plates of pancakes. Setting them down, he plonked into a seat opposite Shouta’s.

“How piss-face drunk did I get last night?” Hizashi huffed flatly, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “And why? Did I get rejected by a conquest again or something. Did I pour out Nedzu’s tea in front of him.”

“Drunk?”

“Yeah? I woke up with an awful headache - took your panadol by the way - and woke up here this lovely Sunday morning. Did you see my phone? I couldn't find it when I woke up then decided that's something for after breakfast. C’mon, there’s a reason you’re not telling me Shoooouuuutaaaa.”

Shouta blinked. “What day is today?”

Hizashi gave him a confused look. “Sunday? Duh? Why else would we be sitting at your place at eight in the morning?”

Shouta gave him a measured look. “It’s Wednesday, actually. Though without your phone I suppose -”

“Wednesday?!” Hizashi screeched, almost falling off his chair. “Classes!”

“No, no it’s fine. We got leave. You uh,” he observed Hizashi’s reaction closely. “You got hit by a quirk while out on patrol and got turned into a kid. For the past three days, you’ve been staying with me while we waited for the effects to wear off.”

Silence.

Shouta spoke up. “Do you uh. Do you remember anything?”

The other man continued to stare at his pancakes, with an expression Shouta could only describe as vulnerable. “I thought that was just a dream,” he finally said, softly.

Hizashi wouldn’t want pity. He’d never wanted pity. “Well, after these pancakes you can still cook me eight more meals. I know you’ve got that secret queso recipe somewhere. Or that udon you cooked once and never did again no matter how much I pestered you.”

That was met with a huff of laughter, Hizashi’s eyes tentative crescent moons. “You’re just my friend for my secret queso. And udon.”

“Bingo.”

“Just eat your pancakes. Asshole.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He was halfway through his first slice when Hizashi spoke again, soft enough that he might have missed it. “Thank you.”

Shouta gave a hum in response, giving Hizash’s legs a light kick under the table. Yelping, the voice hero kicked him back harder. Shouta fixed him with a glare as he continued to eat his pancakes, and apparently that was enough to send Hizashi into laughter again. And Shouta smiled too because his friend was here where he could see him, safe, happy, smiling.